#and I’m haunted by how I looked for that period of time

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Baby, Mine

Azriel x Reader - Angst/Fluff - One shot

Rhys returns from under the mountain and Azriel’s life is changed forever as a bond snaps with the female his brother brings back with him. After an unexpected pregnancy is revealed, Azriel strives to show his mate just how much she and their child mean to him. Please read warnings below.

Warnings: discussion of rape and S/A, pregnancy resulting from rape, mentions of trauma, language, mention of pregnancy termination

“We should get up. My stomach’s growling.”

“And I thought it was just the little one chatting with my shadows.” Azriel teased, flushing beneath her gaze as his scarred fingers traced lightly over the growing swell of her abdomen, becoming more apparent by the day. He’d been nervous touching it for the first time, like he’d desecrate that precious life force growing underneath with his hands that had inflicted so much pain. But the way her eyes lit up the first time he touched it, he never wanted to forget the feeling of love and joy radiating into him through that newfound bond. It was beautiful - made him feel worthy of helping raise the beautiful life she was bringing into the world.

Though her stomach growled again, she made no move to get up, and by the way her hands were holding onto him, Azriel knew better than to go retrieve a plate from the House of Wind’s kitchen for her. So he sent a shadow beneath the door to see if Nuala or Cerridwen were there and if they could bring leftovers in, that is if Cassian and Mor hadn’t devoured the entire breakfast already.

“How’s she doing?” Rhys asked into his mind.

“Better than some days but not great, Rhys.”

There was a pause before Rhys’ guilty voice reentered his conscious.

“She’s the most selfless person I know, Az. I’m glad you two have eachother. But if she needs anything, if you need anything, let me know.”

And she was. Selfless in a way that Azriel couldn’t fathom. Selfless in a way that made his gut churn, a way he wanted to roar at the moon and the stars, and anyone who would listen. Selfless when she should have never had to be. She was bright and radiant and kind. The world looked at her and saw ethereal sunshine, walking starlight, unfathomable beauty both inside and out. But there was darkness and pain there too, so buried down deep that only Azriel could feel it in the middle of the night as whimpers disrupted her sleep.

So many nights Rhys would have to come in and cradle her mind, send her soothing thoughts and visions of anything beautiful that could mask the perils that haunted her dreams.

Azriel hated himself for it, the jealousy. He wished he could soothe her in that way but no matter how much love he sent through their bond, that darkness rooted itself so deeply within her that sometimes it took significant power from Rhys to reach it.

As if Rhys wasn’t already fighting his own trauma and waging against the insurmountable guilt he carried after being under the mountain, plus worrying about Feyre in the Spring Court. And that wasn’t to say Y/N was a burden in any way, though she felt she was. It killed Azriel to see both his mate and his brother fighting so much grief and not being able to do anything about it.

She’d have been better suited to be Rhysand’s mate than Azriel’s own by their intertwined traumas, by their ability to put themselves aside for a better world. Azriel, of course, fit into this court of dreamers but she… despite only being here for such a short period of time, she was the biggest dreamer of them all.

Another rumble from her stomach snapped Azriel out of his thoughts, mentally noting to Rhys, “She could use breakfast.”

“I’ll send some for both of you. You need to take care of yourself too.”

Azriel smelled the salt of her tears before he saw the silver lining her eyes. Propping himself up on an elbow, draping a wing over her, he began to ask softly, “Hey-“. Her head immediately shaking and she choked on the word, “No.”

“Baby, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not a burden. He just wanted to know if you needed anything.”

She took a few deep breaths, willing away those tears. “He doesn’t have to check on me. It’s my f-“

“Stop that. Listen to me, I’m always here to listen to you and I know that you’re dealing with complex emotions and trauma that I cannot even begin to fully fathom but this.. it’s not your fault.”

Her eyes welled up further as Azriel continued,

“I don’t want to lecture you or invalidate what you are feeling. Your emotions are justified but… these thoughts will eat you alive, they’re vicious lies that have been conditioned into you, and I can promise you that nobody blames anything on you. This entire family is so fucking grateful to have you as a part of it. In a world of darkness, where you had every right, every reason to bring that darkness with you, you chose light.”

He choked on his words as those tears flowed down her face. “You chose light when it only brought more darkness upon yourself.”

She cut him off. “She’s not darkness.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “She?”

And through her tears, he saw the slightest gleam of radiance in her eyes. “I can just feel it. Feel her.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to Y/N’s belly. “Yes, you are absolutely right. She is not darkness - she’s a beacon of light, the brightest star in the sky, perhaps aside from her mother - but the mental load you are carrying, it is dark and it’s heavy. And yes, you would carry darkness with you regardless of this spark of hope” he rubbed her belly in tender circles for emphasis. “But I know that mind of yours. That you are telling yourself that you’re a burden, that you made the wrong choice, when there was no wrong choice.”

At this point, the tears were streaming down her face, his shadows dutifully whisking them away, but only gratitude and love flowed from her.

A knock came on the door. Azriel’s eyes glazed over as Y/N recognized the telltale signs of what was happening. A line creased in his brow before she placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay, he can come in.”

“You sure, my love? He understands when you need space.”

She nodded. “I know but I think I need to see him today.” Azriel brushed his thumb in soothing ministrations across her abdomen until she pulled her night gown back down to cover herself.

The door creaked open and Rhys padded over to the bed, guilt and adoration limning his features. “Hey, starshine.” She blushed at the term. She hated her own name after Amarantha had called it so many times under the mountain. Rhys had begun calling her Starshine in secret due to her Day Court origins and the fact that he was convinced she’d been more suited for the Night Court.

Rhys had been drawn to her under the mountain, something about her reminding him of his brother. Rhysand could admit that Azriel was the most beautiful of the three brothers, his features seemingly crafted by the gods themselves. But if Azriel’s features were crafted by the gods, Y/N’s were crafted by the Mother herself. Aside from that, she had a quiet presence, though far less stoic and broody than Azriel’s, it was more of a quiet, gentle grace. A grace that Amarantha had tried so hard to shed her of but was never quite successful.

Amarantha, of course, made it her mission to both seek pleasure from her and torment her. When she never fully broke, Amarantha decided that instead of throwing her to the dark corridors she stuffed most lesser fae in, she’d make an excellent play thing. She looked mostly High Fae after all, yet had enhanced sexual appeal due to her nymph ancestry - perfect high and round breasts, long legs, a firm yet supple ass, and an arousing scent - needless to say, Amarantha delighted to add her to her roster of bed chamber accompaniment.

Y/N and Rhys developed a quiet understanding of each other and the roles they were forced to play in the year that she’d been under the mountain before Feyre arrived. They did not grow close enough for Amarantha to become concerned but enough that she knew her play things got along well enough to bring them both into her chambers at the same time.

Rhys would never forget the first time Amarantha had forced he and her into her chambers at the same time. Y/N tried to be strong, and she was. Another aspect of her that reminded him of his brother.

But she began to crack slightly, and Rhys knew Amarantha would make it so much worse for her if she did. So he did the only thing he knew to do and held her mind. He showed her visions of the Night Skies of the Night Court, the spirits of Starfall, the laughter of a family surrounding a table in a beloved restaurant, anything that could help her through it.

As he held her mind, she’d unwittingly sent visions from throughout her twenty-two years of life prior to being captured and brought under the mountain. She was loved deeply by her family who had little more than love to give. Eventually they had been murdered by Amarantha’s cronies at the age of nineteen - she’d been able to escape and live among the High Fae who sneered and objectified her, but offered enough coin to sleep with her to keep a roof over her head.

Rhys had determined that night that if they ever made it out of there alive, he was taking her to Velaris with him. She’d never live like that again.

He even smiled at the thought of introducing her and Azriel when she was ready to meet his family, already picturing his brother’s rose-dusted cheeks in her presence.

“Thank you” Azriel’s low voice withdrew Rhys from his thoughts, taking the plate from his hands.

A familiar scent wafted off of Rhys to Y/N. Pregnancy had heightened her sense of smell substantially.

As she sniffed the air Rhys gave a soft, sad smile at the eye brow she raised at him before asking, “Where is she?”

He shook his head, darkness rolling in waves off of him. “Tamlin locked her in his fucking manor. She had a breakdown.”

Her face drew tight. “That bastard!” Azriel flinched at the rage flowing down the bond. “She must have been terrified.”

“She certainly terrified the servants in his manor. She shrouded herself in darkness and nobody could get through to her.”

“He doesn’t deserve her.”

Rhys nodded. “He doesn’t.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Rhys. Where is she?”

“At the Town House.”

Her eyes blew wide. “Cauldron boil me, is she staying?”

Azriel smiled as he felt her excitement flow into him. A bit of that Day Court sunshine returning to her.

“I don’t know. She knows she can’t tell anyone if she goes back, but…”

“I felt it through the bond, Y/N. I think she’s here to stay.”

Azriel’s shadows agitated at the pause in verbal conversation, chattering back and forth,

“Secrets”

“Secrets”

He rolled his eyes and dismissed them, already knowing there were some things that remained between just Y/N and Rhys. He’d accepted it the very moment he’d shown up after he received word that Rhys was finally home and the bond snapped as soon as he laid eyes upon the radiant female by his side. He knew it snapped for her too when she walked right up to him, touched the hands he tried to hide behind his back, her eyes speaking everything she couldn’t. “I see your scars. I bear them too.” And pressed a kiss to each hand.

“Do you want me to leave? I assume she’s at the Town House but I’m sure she’ll be visiting here too, yes?”

Azriel bristled. No way in hell was Rhys going to make his mate leave, whether this home was his or not, she had a right to be present wherever she wished.

“Easy brother.”

Azriel shook off the feeling. The mating instinct was still so strong that he had a hard time not jumping in to defend her at the thought of any threat, physical or emotional.

“Y/N” Rhys took her hand.

“Don’t bite my head off for holding her hand, either.”

Azriel huffed before firing back to Rhys’ mind “I can’t wait for you to find your mate someday so you can see what it feels like to be so wound up like this.”

Rhys only gave a small, secret smile in return.

Y/N interjected. “Are you two done gossiping or can I know whether I should pack up or not?”

“This is your home just as much as it is my home. You are my family and I want Feyre to meet all of you. Cassian has already barreled through the door of the Town House along with Mor begging to be fed. Feyre went up to nap and recollect herself.”

“Can we have dinner with her… if she wants to?” She asked softly with a mixture of excitement and nervousness to her voice.

Rhys gave a nod. “I was thinking that same thing. Would you be comfortable?”

She nodded before the reality of the situation caught up with her.

“Y/N.” Rhys leaned in, gently tilting her head up to look at him. “I am not ashamed of you. I will never hide you or the life you are selflessly bringing into this Court of Dreamers.” His eyes lined with silver. “And I will always be so proud of the love that you both share. I knew from the moment I met you that my brother would adore you. And the fact that you two are mates? It’s one of the greatest things to come from that shit hole of a mountain. A reminder of the beauty that can prevail, even after the most dreadful of circumstances. I love all three of you.”

Azriel held his mate closely, ensuring she felt just how loved she truly was.

“She kicked for the first time the other day.”

Rhys raised a brow.

Y/N let out a sigh. “Ugh, you two are so skeptical. I really believe that this baby is a girl.”

Rhys eyed the scarred hand protectively placed over her round bump, so many complicated emotions running through him, with love being the strongest.

“Feyre will likely ask questions tonight regarding all of us, our stories. Nobody has to share anything they do not wish to, but you also may share if you are comfortable doing so. I would really like for Feyre to become a member of the Inner Circle-“

Rhys looked to Y/N rolling his eyes at the smirk and waggling eyebrows she gave him.

“Stop that. My point is just that, I would like for her to know all of you. I know she’ll love you all just as I do. Hell, she’ll probably love all of you before she’s ready to even fully tolerate me.”

Azriel let out a chuckle as his mate quipped “Tell me the story of the time she threw a shoe at you. It’s my favorite!”

“You cruel, lovely little thing.” Rhys laughed. “See you both for dinner.”

As Rhys exited them room, Y/N sighed. “You were awfully quiet.”

Az nudged her. “And that surprises you?”

“Okay, quieter than usual.”

Azriel pulled her in close, peppering kisses across her forehead. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for. You are still healing and now you’ll be facing someone else that was under the mountain with you.”

“She saved us all, Az.” She looked up into his hazel eyes with nothing but genuine adoration. “Without her, I never would have met you. And what kind of existence would that be?”

She began picking at the plate Rhys had brought in. Letting out a moan as the flavors burst on her tongue.

Az couldn’t help the involuntary twitch of his wings at the sound.

She laughed. “Don’t get any ideas until I’m finished with my food.”

Azriel raised his palms. “I’d never get between my pregnant mate and her meal. With the way she’s started moving, she’d likely kick me away anyway.”

She took another bite while nonchalantly commenting, “I thought of a name for her.”

“Oh yeah?” Azriel’s brows raised in anticipation of a potential name for their child.

“Azure. The same blue as the skies. I thought…”

Azriel cut her off, marveling at the name. Whispering more to himself than her. “Blue like the Day Court skies, blue like the skies that I love to take you flying in.”

She flushed. “Yes, exactly. And though it’s a different shade of blue, like your siphons.”

A lone tear escaped his eye. “And,” she continued with a coy smile. “We could call her ‘Az’”

Azriel sat still for a moment. And she would have thought he didn’t like it had it not been the rush of pure shock and awe flowing through the bond.

Suddenly he took her face in his hands, barely giving her time to swallow the bite of bacon she’d just taken, and crashed his lips into hers. And after her lips were swollen and puffy from the heat of his lips, he began pressing kisses all over her belly, whispering between them, “I love you, little Az. I love you more than the skies I fly in. More than my own name. More than any dreamer could dream of being loved. I can’t wait to fly you through the open skies, and show you every shade of blue this beautiful world has to offer. Nothing in this world matters more than you and your mother. I couldn’t be more proud to be your father.”

And he meant it. Every single word. The blood running through the baby growing inside of his mate didn’t need to be his, what mattered was the love flowing within the child and he intended to pour every single ounce of love he had into their baby.

It was Y/N though who broke down at those words. She and Azriel had spent every free moment together since meeting. He’d healed her in ways that she never could have dreamed. Finding her mate changed the time after Under the Mountain from the lonesome trauma reckoning hellhole she’d anticipated and into a time of healing. He listened to her, understood her, let her set the pace in every aspect. And he’d shared his trauma with her, all of it.

The child who had been abused by a wicked stepmother and horrid step-brothers, overlooked by his own father had grown up to be loving, caring, and patient in every way. And now, he was going to be the parent of a child that was not his by conception, choosing to love the child just as he would his very own. A vow he’d sworn in their mating vows and sealed with a bargain.

“What is it, love?” Azriel wiped away her tears.

“Stupid hormones. I just love you so much and I need you to know that you are so much more than I ever could have dreamed of. If I had to, I would go through it all again as long as it led me to you.”

Azriel’s eyes began watering again. “Look at us, Y/N. We’re quite a sight. Whatever you say tonight, just don’t let Cassian know that I’ve gotten so soft.”

Her glassy eyes sparkled as she gave a sweet smile. “I have a feeling that softness has already been there, my love, I just had the privilege of coaxing it out of you.”

He smiled. “Truth Teller personified.”

————————-

“We’re heading up now.” Rhys’ voice cut into Y/N’s mind.

“Are you sure about this, Rhys? Most of them do not know what all happened under the mountain. What if it’s too much for Feyre to take in?”

“She’s my mate, I have to hope that she will love and accept us all in time. It may be a lot to meet us and hear our stories but they’re a part of us, a part of loving us. I’m worried about Cassian scaring her off more than anything.”

“Valid concern. See you soon. Despite the circumstances, I’m so happy she’s here.”

“You know,” Rhys chuckled. “I feel the same way about you, Starshine.”

“You flatter me. Now enjoy your flight with the literal girl of your dreams.”

“She’s glaring daggers at me right now. Pray I make it there alive.”

“Where’d you go?” Az nudged.

Leaning into her mate’s side, embracing the warmth of his arms wrapped around her shoulders she replied, “Rhys and Feyre are on the way.”

“Are you ready for this?” He asked.

“I’m sure you can already feel my nerves down the bond but I appreciate you for asking.” She teased.

Azriel kept his pace slow as they wound through the hallways of the House of Wind toward the dining table. “If you’re not ready…”

She took a steadying breath. “No, he needs to get off on a solid foundation with her. And Cassian, Mor, and Amren have eyed us for a while, they realize that something is off. Plus, I mean, look at this thing.” Her delicate hands found her stomach. “They’re going to figure out that the timelines don’t match up soon enough.”

“Our girl IS growing.” Azriel spoke, not missing the opportunity to feel the life growing within his mate.

She teased, “You’ve referred to the babe as “her” a few times now. Coming around to the idea?”

“I know better than to go against your intuition.”

With that, Y/N gave a wicked grin. “Mother knows best.”

As they approached the dining room, Azriel pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right by your side.”

She beamed. “And I’ll be by yours too, with whatever you may share tonight…and forever, of course.”

As everyone arrived and gathered at the dining table, Y/N couldn’t help but admire how lovely Feyre and Rhys were together. Though she hated the situation that brought her there, that Tamlin tried to hoard her away in his manor, she couldn’t help but feel joy knowing that she was finally beginning to see the true Rhysand.

The Inner Circle kept up with the typical antics and plenty of laughter filled the space, but the conversation eventually turned more serious as everyone took turns giving Feyre insight into themselves.

Feyre looked to Y/N with curiosity. “You were under the mountain, but Azriel was not?”

Her hands shook as she prepared to share. A warmth covered them as Azriel gave a gentle squeeze, sending waves of that reassurance in abundance. She took a breath.

She began by sharing the background of her family, their deaths, that she’d sold her body to survive afterward, how she’d only been under the mountain for a year before Feyre arrived.

“You didn’t know Azriel before they took you?” Feyre asked. Not harshly, just inquisitively.

Y/N held her head high. Her story was not one to be ashamed of.

“I did not. Rhys was one of the only souls to show me kindness under the mountain. I have nymph ancestry with primarily High Fae features. Amarantha took an interest in me and….”

An unreadable expression covered Rhys’ face. This was his trauma too, but he gave a reassuring nod.

“She began taking me to her chambers. I had no choice. It was warm her bed, or face physical torture until death.”

Feyre flinched along with Rhys. Y/N recognized that they were remembering the human girl Amarantha had tortured to death just before Feyre’s arrival.

“She also, against our hopes, realized that Rhysand and I had an understanding of eachother - serve her or die. Being the lust-driven wretch that she was, she began taking us both to her chambers. There was no room for weakness in there. She wanted us just weak enough to submit to her, but we had to remain strong in every other aspect. The first time she had Rhys and I, together,” she cleared her throat, giving pause before continuing, “Rhys saved me. I began to crack, and he held my mind. I will let Rhys speak on his own trauma and the mental load he carried, but he didn’t hesitate to help me get through it. It was not the last time he had to help me through it.”

The table was completely silent. Heart-wrenching expressions filled each face at the table. Palpable rage could be felt radiating off of Amren, though her face remained straight.

Her voice began cracking. Azriel pulled her close into him. “When you saved us,” She looked to Feyre. “I don’t mean to fawn or gawk over you, but Feyre, you did save us.” Feyre gave an empathetic look, nodding to Y/N to continue. “Rhys brought me back to Velaris because he couldn’t bear for me to return to the life I was living, because this Court of Dreams is made up of individuals who have lived through terrible traumas and, despite every reason to lead bitter lives- have chosen to dream of a better world. To fight for a better world. And he knew a certain Shadowsinger and I would get on quite well. In fact, he’s been a smug bastard ever since over just how well things went between us.”

“When I met him.” She stared lovingly to Azriel who swallowed a lump in his throat. “The bond snapped between us immediately. The same day I was brought here, I met my mate.”

Instinctively she placed her hands on the swell of her abdomen. “Rhys gave Azriel leave to spend time with me, for him to help me through the aftermath of what I’d been through…”

“But two weeks after arriving back, my scent began to shift.” Mor’s brows furrowed in contemplation.

“I became very sick shortly after that. Rhys called in a healer, Madja, who confirmed that I was two and a half months pregnant.”

Cassian audibly gasped and Mor murmured “Oh my gods.”

Azriel kept his composure for the sake of his mate, but this was killing him. His brother and his mate being forced by that fucking witch. “Azriel is not the biological father of this baby. The child was conceived under the forced coupling of Rhysand and I by Amarantha.”

Feyre’s face was a mix of sadness, and rage, and sympathy.

“There were options to terminate the pregnancy. However, due to my Nymph ancestry, such options can have negative, potentially deadly effects. Aside from that, though I never planned to have a child - I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another family member. Rhys, after losing his family, felt the same, which he only expressed after I shared my feelings with him. He was completely supportive of any decision I made.” Feyre looked to Rhys and then back to Y/N, no negative judgement written on those lovely features.

Y/N looked to Azriel with a loving grin “And Azriel- he took me to a priestess that night. We both wanted to accept the bond from the moment we met, the connection was unbelievably strong, I never believed in the power of the bond until I found him. And now because he’s ever the romantic, though I see him already blushing at the mention of it, he wanted to make a vow before the Mother - a vow to love me no matter what choice I made, a vow to love the life within me as his very own child, to love and cherish us both until his last breath.”

She pulled the sleeve off of her shoulder, revealing the intricate tattoo solidifying his vow.

“And Rhys,” She gave a soft smile. “He made a bargain to love and care for this child and to recognize Azriel as its father. We will not hide the parentage from our child. And Rhys, I know, already loves them dearly, but mine and Azriel’s decisions for our baby come first and will be respected as any biological parents would.”

She’d left out the part where Azriel had gone under the mountain to investigate later on and found that Amarantha had begun supplying a fertility tonic instead of birth control to Y/N after the Calanmai that Rhys had gone to the Spring Court and seen Feyre. Though she didn’t know who Rhys saw, she likely suspected he’d developed interest in someone else and become jealous, hoping an accidental pregnancy would either create a rift in any potential relationship or, even worse, that the baby could be used as leverage against him.

The table remained silent until Rhys chimed in. “So my brother is my child’s father. I’m sure stranger things have happened.”

Despite that sadness the Inner Circle felt, Rhysand’s comment elicited smiles. Azriel gave his brother a nod of thanks for breaking the tension while affectionately caressing his mate.

Mor eased the tension further by chiming in “Y/N! You are further along than we realized which means….. we get to go shopping for our newest family member sooner!!!”

Feyre decided soon after that she would like to work with the Court of Dreams.

————————-

Epilogue

Because his mate was always right, Azriel was indeed the father of a beautiful little girl, clever and stubborn like her mother, and the light of his life. Her mother the sun, and she the moon.

He and Rhys had just returned from taking “Baby Azzie” who was now a toddler to get pastries along the Sidra. Azriel returned with his half-asleep daughter in his arms, who perked up upon seeing her baby brother cooing in his bassinet. “Nyxie!!” She yelled, hurrying over to the winged babe. Rhys, however, arrived with numerous shopping bags in his own arms.

Feyre, who had been lounging with her head on Y/N’s shoulder gave the two a big smile. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “All of that better be for Nyx.”

Azriel and Rhys shared a laugh before Rhys spoke. “Well, half of it is, but only because someone batted her little lashes at us repeating ‘Brother, present. Brother, present’ until we took her into what is conveniently her favorite toy store.” Az cut in, “And because my brother is getting soft in his old age” before Rhys could remind Azriel that he was, in fact, the older of the two, Az continued, “Rhys had to buy something for her for every item she picked out for Nyx.”

Y/N groaned. “Cassian literally just bought her five new toys and six new outfits on their last outing.”

The raven-haired toddler with her mother’s nose and radiant skin, Rhys’ smile, and by some gift of the Mother - had Azriel’s golden-flecked hazel eyes, toddled up to Feyre, giving her a big hug. She then turned to her mother, leaning in to whisper something, that came out as quietly as a yell. “I got something for sissy too. Daddy has it in the pocket realm.”

Y/N’s face flushed as Rhys and Feyre gaped. “So much for keeping that a secret for a little longer.”

Feyre squealed leaning in and throwing her arms around Y/N. “I thought that maybe I was getting allergies, your scent hasn’t been as strong but you were glamouring it!”

Rhys pulled Azriel into a long hug, then walked over to Y/N with a wide smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Azriel placed a hand on his chest as he took in the sight of his blended family. It wasn’t what he’d ever expected but, to him, it was everything.

[matty-bear]

The Elevator Game Gone Wrong PT.2 [M.S]

type: fic! 

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: VERY long, sfw, fluffy, alternate universe, paranormal activity, getting an attachment, seeing spirits, elevators

summary: As you and the triplets join Sam and Colby in investigating the most haunted hotel in Texas, the two ghost hunters suggest that Matt participates in a ritual called The Elevator Game. Little did everyone know that the ritual would actually work and your boyfriend would get stuck in another part of existence. 

notes: part two is finally here ! hope you guys enjoy it ^^ I really did NOT expect the first part to get so much attention but tysm for all the love ! I appreciate all of you very much <33 also, yes thats how this fic is gonna end there will NOT be a part three ;3 anywho, happy reading ! 

WC: 8969

PT1

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Matt?” You call out, your voice echoing rather loudly inside the empty elevator. You feel tears prick your eyes as you crouch down and take the discarded camera and horse necklace up off the floor. You practically cradle them both to your chest and shut your eyes tightly, your mind starting to spin as you begin to spiral. 

This can’t be happening.

The stupid ritual actually worked and Matt is gone. 

He’s stuck, by himself, in another plane of existence and you have no idea how to help him escape it. 

You should’ve persuaded him to not go. You should’ve been a good girlfriend and held him back. (As mean and selfish as that sounds) 

I mean if you didn’t let him go in the elevator the second time, this wouldn’t have happened right? Hell, if you didn’t let him go in the elevator period none of this would’ve happened. 

Sam and Colby probably would’ve gone in the elevator together. They could handle it, right? Of course, they could! They fucking professional ghost hunters for crying out loud! 

Forget about them… Matt is gone. Your boyfriend is gone and the chance of seeing him again is slim to none. What the fuck are you gonna do? 

You feel your chest tighten as you feel a lump form in your throat. As tears begin to cascade down your cheeks at a slow pace, you find it more difficult to breathe. Maybe it was because of the small space you were in or how your clothes were starting to become rather unbearable. 

Who are you kidding, Matt is fucking gone. 

You feel your chest tighten as you struggle to take air inside your lungs. The feeling made you panic more than you already were and you found yourself crawling back on your hands until your back hit the wall of the elevator. You hurriedly set the camera down next to you and begin to claw at your chest as you bring your knees up to your chest. 

As more choked sobs escape your lips, the muffled sound of footsteps approaches you. You see a tall figure in your peripheral vision but can’t distinguish who it is. Everything was so blurry and you couldn’t hear a thing except for your heartbeat that began beating loudly in your eardrums. 

You flinch rather harshly when you feel someone wrap their arms around you. You keep your head down as you allow the person to bring you against their chest. 

“y/n.” The person calls. They tap your shoulder a few times to get you to look up at them. At the sight of an all too familiar mop of red hair, you find yourself relaxing a little. “There you are! Look, I need you to listen to my voice okay? Can you hear me?” Nick asks, his voice nothing but soft as he looks down at your trembling frame. It takes a moment for you to register the male’s question but when it finally clicks, you slowly nod your head. 

“Okay, I need you to try your best and follow my breathing okay? Chris went to the car to grab some headphones and he’ll be back but as of right now, we need to try to ground ourselves okay? I’m right here. Just try to follow me.” 

You manage to focus your still slightly blurry vision on Nick’s mouth and wait for him to start going through a few simple deep breathing exercises before you attempt to follow. The moment you try to inhale, you immediately begin to cough your heart out. You shake your head with a small whimper and lean your head against the redhead’s bicep as you feel your heart tighten. 

“No, no, no. y/n, we need to try again. Come on, lift your head please.” Nick leans back a little to get you off him before he gently cups the side of your face, the sight of your tear-stained cheeks and pained expression as you begin hyperventilating breaking his heart. “Where the fuck is Chris? Does that mother fucker not know how to unlock a car and find a single pair of fucking headphones?” Nick looks behind him and locks eyes with Colby who’s looking down at the two of you worriedly. 

“He’s coming!” Sam exclaims, heavy exhales escaping his lips as he runs back to the three of you. 

“Fucking finally. God, my grandmother would be faster than his ass and she’s half fucking blind.” Colby smacks both of his hands over his face to muffle his laughter as Sam giggles and covers his mouth with his hand. Nick smiles softly and focuses his attention back on you as Chris runs up to the four of you. 

“Here. I could only find yours.” The younger pants out as he holds the redhead’s Apple headphones out in front of him. 

“That’s fine. What took you so fucking long?” Nick grumbles as he takes the headphones with his left hand and hurriedly digs in his pocket with the other. 

“I couldn’t find the car.” Nick quickly looks up and sends a glare to Chris who’s rubbing his nape and looking down at his shoes. 

“Of course you couldn’t.” After taking his phone out, the redhead quickly connects his headphones and opens up Spotify. “y/n look at me for a second. I need to put these on you.” You hesitantly comply and lift your head to allow the male to gently set his headphones on your head. After ensuring they’re comfortably over your ears, he quickly searches for a playlist that you and he often listen to and pushes play. The moment the soft beats of Halley’s Comet by Billie Eilish fill your ears, you find yourself claiming down nearly instantly. 

You shut your eyes and allow yourself to get absorbed in the music as you lean against Nick again. You feel the latter wrap his arms around you in a tight embrace, one of his hands softly hitting your back in a steady rhythm. Your heartbeat begins to follow the beat made and you soon find yourself calming down. When you’re finally able to breathe properly, you let out a soft exhale and slowly open your eyes. 

“Thank you, Nick.” You mumble softly, a faint sniffle coming shortly after your comment. 

“Of course,” Nick replies with a small smile. The boys allow you to take a few minutes to get yourself together before you pull away from Nick’s embrace and pull the headphones off your head and set them around your neck. The redhead intently watches as you stand up to your feet, his eyes watching your every move as you heavily exhale and look down at Matt’s horse necklace in your hand. 

“We need to get him back. I don’t care what we have to do, I need him back.” You state as you lift your head and look at Sam and Colby who are a few steps away from you. 

“I don’t really know how to hit the rewind button on this ritual per se. I didn’t think it’d work so I didn’t bother looking up how to bring something back.” Sam says as he looks down and rubs his nape, his lips forming into a straight line as he stares at the floor. 

“Well if you guys don’t figure out a way to get Matt back, I will not hesitate to do this stupid ritual over and over again until it takes me to the same universe he’s in. I'm sorry if I sound like a total jackass but I literally can’t live without Matt. And neither can Chris and Nick. We all need him back” 

“Sam and I will scavenge the internet to try to find a way to fix this, promise. But as for right now, we need all of you guys to get out of the elevator.” Colby says, his voice soft as he mentions for you and Nick to step out. You exhale heavily and gently nod your head before you walk out of the elevator, Nick following close behind you. 

You immediately make your way over to Chris who’s sitting on a bench across from the elevator. You look over at the male after sitting next to him and gently tap his knee to snap him out of the faint daze he’s in. After a moment, the male finally looks over at you and a frown immediately takes over your features at the sight of the male’s tear-filled eyes. 

“Oh Chris…” You mumble. You quickly wrap an arm around the latter’s shoulder to pull him against your side. When you do, the male doesn’t hesitate to bury his face in your neck. 

“I want Matt back.” Chris mumbles, his voice breaking slightly as he bites back the tears threatening to spill from his glossy eyes. 

“I know. We all do.” As you begin to rub comforting circles on Chris’ back, Nick takes a seat on the other side of the male and joins your attempts of calming him down. 

“Hey, guys?” Colby calls, his voice echoing in the elevator and seeping out into the hall. 

“What’s up? You find something else?” Sam asks as he quickly makes his way over to the male. 

“Yes, actually. I found a note under the camera but I can’t decipher it for the life of me.” 

“What?” You quickly pick your head up and look over at Colby who’s stepping out of the elevator and looking intently at the camera in his hand. “Lemme see.” 

The ghost hunter makes his way over to you and takes a small sheet of yellow paper off the bottom of the camera. You watch as his eyes skim over it a few more times before he hands it to you. Colby was right. On the small yellow sheet was horrible handwriting that was in… 

Crayon? 

“It looks like a kid wrote it.” You say, your eyes squinting as you try your best to decipher the words written. 

“A kid?” Nick asks as he and Chris quickly turn around to look at you. Both boys lean closer to get a better look at the note in your hand, the same bewildered expressions appearing on their faces as they stare at the writing. 

“Yall don’t think that Samantha wrote it, right?” Chris asks as he rips his gaze away from the note to look up at Sam and Colby who are already looking down at the three of you. 

“I’m not sure... How could she send a note to us?” Sam asks as he crosses his arms over his chest, his face deep in thought as he also stares down at the note in your hand. 

“Wait, is the onvoy still out?” You ask as you hand the note to Nick who has his hand out in front of him, gesturing you to give him the small piece of paper. 

“Yeah, it’s right here,” Colby replies as he walks over to the said device that has been discarded in the middle of the floor. “You wanna ask something?”

“Yes please.” Colby gently nods his head and sets the onvoy next to you on the bench. You force your lips together in a straight line, a sudden surge of fear filling your veins as you stare down at the device. After inhaling and exhaling deeply, you ask your question. 

“Samantha, are you the one that wrote the note that’s under the camera?” 

Silence fills the lobby the moment the question escapes your lips. You take a glance up at Colby before you turn your attention back to the onvoy, nervousness filling your body as you begin to hear your heartbeat loudly in your ears. 

Why isn’t it- 

Your thought gets cut off when you feel a quick jab on the side of your thigh. Your breath quickly hitches as you flinch and quickly turn around, fear glossing over your eyes as you move closer to Chris. The moment you go to open your mouth to say something, the sound of the onvoy dinging alters the five of you. You quickly turn your head around at the sound and lean in closer to the onvoy to read the glowing response. 

“It says yes.” You read, quickly leaning away from the device after you feel a cold shiver run down your spine. 

“Wait, how the hell did she get the note to us?” Colby asks as he picks up the device and switches it off. 

“I have no clue. And I kinda don’t wanna know so.” You reply, your voice trailing off as you hug your torso. 

“I know what this says,” Nick states as he holds the yellow note in between his fingers. At the male’s statement, you and the rest of the boys quickly look over at him. 

“What does it say?” Chris asks as he leans against the redhead’s shoulder, smiling slightly as he manages to make him fall back a little. 

“It says mirror room but it’s just horribly misspelled. I mean it makes sense since Samantha is a literal child but.” Nick replies, a faint grunt escaping his lips as he pushes Chris off him and sits upright. 

“Mirror room?” Sam repeats, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he takes a glance over at Colby. 

“Is she talking about the Maximilian room inside The Mezzanine?” Chris asks, his head slightly tilting to the side as he looks up at the two ghost hunters in front of him. The moment the question escapes Chris’ lips, a small giggle escapes you at the feeling of two pokes coming in contact with your side again. 

“Samantha, I am not built for this, please do this to Chris. He’s right here.” You beg as you quickly slam your arm firmly against your side. When you use your free hand to gently pat the younger triplet’s shoulder, the male’s face grows pale as his eyes widen in pure fear. 

“Why would you say that?” Chris asks through gritted teeth. “Samantha, she doesn’t mean it. Please keep messing with her, not me.”

“Wait, maybe Samantha is trying to communicate with us through y/n. You know, considering how she touched her immediately after Chris asked the question.” Colby says as he points a single finger towards you and he looks over at the blonde next to him. 

“Samantha, if you would like to communicate with us through y/n instead of the onvoy, could you poke her two times for us?” Sam asks, his question causing your jaw to drop to the floor. 

“Guys, this is fucked uP-!” You say, your speech getting cut off by you giggling at the feeling of two pokes being delivered on your side. Your giggles soon turn into a small whine as you cover your face with both your hands and lean against Chris’ arm. 

“Did she poke you once or twice?” Sam asks. 

“Twice.” You grumble in response. “This is so fucked up why me out of all of us?” 

Sam shrugs in response. “Not sure. But at least we know how to communicate with her better.” Colby nods his head at the blonde’s comment as he lands a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Now, Samantha, would you like us to go to the Maximilian room inside The Mezzanine? Remember, one poke no, two pokes yes.” 

The moment the question is asked, you feel Chris jerk away from you, a stream of panicked giggles spewing from his lips as he reaches for Nick. 

“Thank you, Samantha.” You say aloud, a small smile visible on your lips as you look over at the two boys next to you. 

“Did she poke you, Chris?” Colby asks, a small laugh escaping him as he watches the latter hurriedly rub his left side. 

“Yeah. Twice.” Chris replies, a frown forming on his lips as sends a quick glare in your direction. At the male’s intense look, you give him an innocent smile and quickly jab your hand into his side. A chuckle escapes you when Chris lets out a choked laugh and stumbles off the bench. “Bro, this isn’t funny!” The male exclaims as he lays on the floor and covers his face with his hands. 

“It’s a little funny,” Nick says with a smile as he bends down to reach the younger male on the floor. He lands a quick poke near Chris’ underarm and giggles when the male squeals and rolls away from him. “Dude, you squeal like a little girl.” 

“Nick, I will fucking rock your shit. Don’t play with me right now.” Chris says through gritted teeth as he sits up and leans against his arms. Nick raises his hands in defense and takes a seat closer to you as Sam walks up to the male on the floor. 

“Come on, I think we should head over to The Mezzanine,” Sam says as he holds his hand out in front of him. Chris looks up at the blonde for a moment, a small smile sneaking onto his lips as he grabs his hand and allows the male to help him to his feet. “y/n you wanna lead the way?” 

You slide your tongue over your teeth as you look over at Sam, your stomach churning out of anxiousness before you quickly avert your gaze from him to Nick. When you turn to the male, the redhead gives you an encouraging smile and gets up. The moment he holds his hand out for you, you smile widely and grab it as you follow suit in getting up. 

“Yeah. Let's head over there.” 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

“Okay, someone go in first I don’t fuck with the dark.” You say. After a few minutes of searching the hotel, you and the boys managed to find the Maximilian room inside The Mezzanine. The moment you walked up to the doors and saw that the room was pitch black inside, you quickly backed away and walked behind Nick and grabbed both of his arms, basically making him your shield. 

“Hell no, I'm not going in first either!” Nick exclaims as he turns around and puts you back in front of him. 

“God, y'all are a bunch of pussys,” Chris mumbles as he walks past you and Nick to get to the door. After swiftly opening it, the male enters the large room and begins his short search for the light switch. Upon finding it, the boy turns all the lights on with a single flick of the finger. “Yall coming in or what?” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming.” You mumble, sending a look to Nick before you join Chris inside the room. As the rest of the boys trail behind you, you begin to wander deeper inside the room, your eyes staying glued onto the mirrors as you quickly observe them. 

“Okay, now why would Samantha bring us here? It’s just a room full of mirrors.” Nick asks, his eyes following your frame as you continue to walk around the room. 

“Maybe she left another note?” Colby suggests as he sets his backpack and camera down on the floor against the wall. 

“Let’s start looking around the-“ 

“Matt?” At your sudden exclamation, all the boys quickly whip their heads around in your direction. They silently watch as you run up to the mirror at the end of the room with wide eyes before they all run up after you.

“What happened?” Nick asks as he stops behind you and sets both his hands on your shoulders. 

“I saw Matt in the mirror.” You say, stumbling over your words slightly as you point to the mirror in front of you. “I managed to catch a glimpse of his hair before he walked to the left.” 

“Are you sure you saw him?” Colby asks, his voice holding a sense of uncertainty as he raises an eyebrow and looks up at the mirror in front of all of you. 

“I swear on my life it was Matt! I could recognize his ass from a mile away!” You slip away from the group to walk to the mirror to your left. The mirror that Matt walked towards. You stand in front of the said mirror and your hold on his horse necklace tightens as you desperately look around the glass. 

You needed to prove to the guys that you weren’t seeing things. They probably think you're going insane right now and you can’t have that. 

The moment you go to walk to the next mirror, you feel a small tug on your sleeve. You quickly jump away with wide eyes and cover the area where you got touched. 

“Samantha is that you?” You call out, your statement drawing the attention to the group of boys still standing in front of the other mirror. At the feeling of two small pokes on your knee, you heavily exhale and nod your head softly. “Can I see Matt in the mirrors?” Another two pokes. “See! She said yes!” 

“But how is that possible? You can’t see another person in a mirror unless they’re in front of it.” Sam says as he walks up to you, the rest of the boys following close behind him. 

“I have no idea how it’s possible but Samantha confirmed that I’m not going crazy.” You don't wait for the blonde to stop in front of you before you walk off to the next mirror. Sam stops in his tracks and looks back at Colby, a look of uncertainty clear on his face as he locks eyes with the male. The latter simply shrugs in response and pats the blonde’s shoulder before he, Nick, and Chris follow you. 

“Matt?” You call you again, your eyes desperately searching the mirrors in hopes of seeing your boyfriend again. You let out a frustrated huff when you reach the end of the wall. No Matt here. You quickly turn on your heels to begin your search on the other wall. The moment you walk up to the first mirror, your breath gets caught in your throat when your eyes land on an all too familiar mop of chocolate brown hair. “MATT!”  

You run up to the mirror showcasing your boyfriend curled up in a tight ball against a wall with both of his arms covering his head. The closer you got to the mirror, the more you could faintly make out his rapid and labored breaths. 

“Matt?” You shout as you delicately set your fingertips on the glass. You watch with wide eyes as Matt quickly looks up and whips his head around, trying to find who called him. 

“Hello?” The male calls out, his voice sounding rather muffled as he hurriedly stands up. 

“Matt it’s me, y/n! Can you hear me?” 

“y/n?..”

At the sound of quickening footsteps approaching you, you quickly turn around to see all the boys coming up to you. The same shocked expression can be seen on all of their faces as they look up at the mirror. 

“It’s fucking Matt.” Chris breathes, tears welling up in his eyes as he grabs onto Nick’s bicep.

“How the hell…” Colby mumbles.

“Matt!” Nick shouts as he drags Chris up to where you are standing directly in front of the mirror. 

“Nick?” Matt calls, his voice wavering slightly as he clutches his clothed chest. 

“Matt, we’re all here. Me, Nick, Chris, Sam, and Colby. Can you see us?” You ask. You all watch as Matt rubs his eyes with his palms and looks around aimlessly. 

“No...” Matt replies sadly as a frown overtakes his lips. 

“Matt, do you see a mirror anywhere by any chance?” Sam asks as he and Colby walk closer to the mirror. 

“Umm…” Matt’s voice trails off as he begins to walk around. The moment he goes to walk outside of the mirror, you all yell at him. 

“NO, MATT!” You all exclaim in unison. The male jumps at y’all’s exclamation and quickly walks back to where he was. 

“Look in front of you,” Chris instructs, a small giggle escaping him as he watches his brother cross his arms over his chest with a frustrated exhale. Matt complies and looks straight ahead, his eyes widening slightly when his gaze lands on a small mirror with a black frame. 

“I see one!” Matt exclaims as he quickly runs up to it. As he does so, he nearly takes up the entire space of the mirror the five of you are looking in, his tall frame looking over you guys as he scans the mirror on his side. You and the boys immediately begin to back up to get a better view of the male, small chuckles escaping a few of you at the sight of Matt mimicking a mine as he sets his hands on the glass. 

“Can you see us in-“ You cut yourself off when Matt suddenly yelps and jumps to the side. 

“What the fuc-“ The male starts, cutting himself off when he looks to his side and sees something. 

“What happened?” You ask, worry washing over you as you see Matt take a few steps back, his eyes wide in fear. 

“Samantha’s next to me.” 

“WHAT?” Chris exclaims, his jaw-dropping as he quickly whips his head around to face Sam and Colby, the two sharing the same expression as him. 

“Wait, we can’t see her,” Nick says, his eyebrows furrowing together as he over at the space that Matt is looking down at. You watch intently as Matt reaches his hand next to him, your eyes widening when you see a yellow sheet of paper appear in his hand moments later. 

“That’s the same sheet that was under the camera,” Colby states, earning a small head nod from you and the other boys. 

“Thanks,” Matt says slowly. You see the male smile slightly before he looks down at the paper in his hand. “Awh, this is wonderful Samantha thank you.” 

“What’d she give you?” The moment the question slips out of Sam’s lips, Matt flips the paper over and holds it against the mirror, allowing the five of you to see it. You can’t help the large smile appearing on your lips when your eyes land on the shark drawn with a blue crayon on the yellow sheet of paper. 

“Awh, that’s so cute!” Chris gushes as he jumps a few times. 

“Do they like it?” You hear a small voice ask. Collective gasps emit from you and the boys the second you guys hear the voice. 

“Yes, they love it,” Matt confirms with a smile. A small, high-pitched giggle rings through your ears before Matt faces the mirror again. “Guys I'm fucking petrified here please bring me back.” 

“We’re not finding anything on how to get you back, Matt,” Colby says, a frown appearing on his lips. Matt covers his face with both his hands as a shaky exhale escapes him. You find yourself shaking your head slightly as you force your lips together and dig your hand in your pocket to take your phone out. The moment you unlock the device, you feel a sudden weight on your shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” Nick says softly, his minty breath fanning over the right side of your face as he peers down at your phone. 

“Trying to find a way on how to bring Matt back.” You reply, your thumbs quickly tapping the screen as you google the ritual Matt did in the elevator. Silence fills the room as you type away on your phone, your eyebrows knitting together as a determined and focused expression spreads across your face. 

“Home?” You quickly pick your head up the second Samantha’s voice fills your ears. You watch Matt remove his hands from his face, your expression falling into one of worry at the sight of your boyfriend’s glossy eyes, before he looks down at the space he was looking at previously. 

“What was that?” Matt asks softly, a small sniffle escaping him as he quickly wipes away the tear that escapes his eye. 

“You wanna go home?” You hear Samantha ask. 

“Yes, I really wanna go home,” Matt replies as he furiously nods his head. 

“You don’t belong here?” 

“No, I don’t. I belong somewhere else.” 

“Where?” 

“Just somewhere else.” 

“With y/n?” You feel your heart skip a beat the moment your name escapes the little girl’s lips. 

Matt’s eyes widen and his words get caught in his throat for a moment before he hurriedly replies. “Yes with y/n. With my two brothers and friends too.” 

“How did you get here if you don’t belong here?” 

“I decided to play a little game that I shouldn’t have played by myself.” 

“What game?” 

“Just a little game in the elevator.” 

“Oh! I know that one!” 

Matt’s face falls into one of worry the moment Samantha answers. “You do?..” Matt asks, his voice trailing off as he takes a glance over at the mirror next to him. 

“Yes! I like to play it with my friends! We get to go somewhere else if it works! It’s a lot of fun.” 

“Wait, do you know how to take me back to where I belong then?” 

“You belong in the place where me and my friends go?” 

“Yes! Yes, I do.” As you hear the small girl hum softly, you quickly turn around to look back at the boys behind you. 

“She knows about the elevator game.” You say, your voice soft and low as you try to not get Samantha to hear you. 

“Let’s hope she knows how to send Matt back,” Chris adds as he begins to nibble on his bottom lip. 

“I think so.” You hear Samantha say. You could tell she was rather unsure with her reply due to her voice going up a few octaves at the end of her sentence. 

“Could you try to send me back, please?” Matt asks as he looks down at the girl, a pleading expression clear on his face. 

“Yeah! Come with me!” Without allowing the male to get another word out, Samantha grabs Matt’s hand and pulls him away and out of the mirror. The second the male vanishes, your face drops and you quickly turn around to face the boys behind you. 

“We have to go back to the lobby. Now.” You state, giving all the males a stern look before you exit the Maximilian. 

“y/n, wait up!” Nick exclaims as he begins to run after you, the other three boys soon running after the both of you. 

Matt’s POV

The constant colors of blue and yellow have been blinding my vision the entire time I’ve gotten to this universe. This world is a replica of the regular world apart from the fact that the majority of this world is in those two colors. While wandering around this universe’s hotel, I did encounter a hallway that was a different color. However, I didn't think about walking down it considering how it was a deep red color. And if my representations of colors were correct, I know that you should always stray away from red since it’s often tied to danger. 

Honestly speaking, I didn’t expect this elevator ritual to work so when it did, I had a full-blown freakout. I mean, why would I not? I’m in a different universe and couldn’t contact anyone. Not to mention how the camera I was using to record myself and my horse necklace completely vanished into thin air the second I got ‘transferred’ over here. 

Adding to my list of things I didn’t expect, I didn’t expect to be able to see hundreds of spirits walking around. No one seemed to care about how I was there and kept going on their merry way, floating around the hotel grounds as I wandered around like a lost child in a grocery store. I almost gave up on my search trying to figure out where the hell I was and how to get out but when I heard y/n’s voice, I gained a little bit of hope. But the fact that I couldn’t see her and the rest of the guys frustrated me heavily. And they could somehow see me? I have no idea how that makes sense but I didn’t even bother asking because I was sure they wouldn’t have an answer. 

My first encounter with Samantha while I was talking with y/n was absolutely terrifying. The little girl that I saw in a painting was standing next to me and communicating with me. She had a bright yellow aura surrounding her, which was a great contrast to the other spirits who held a dull gray one. I’m assuming that she was the only one who had this aura because she’s a kid and still has that child-like innocence to her. But the moment she mentioned that she and her friends played the elevator game for fun, I could not believe my ears. 

I mean, she doesn’t know better and probably thinks it’s all fun and games but to me, it’s the complete opposite. That little game of hers got me here in the first place. Now, I'm not blaming her because she's a literal child and has no control over this but the elevator game being fun??? That’s just mind-boggling. 

“Wait, where are we going?” I ask, my eyes squinting as Samantha’s aura begins to blind me. 

“The elevator, silly!” The little girl replies, a small giggle emitting from her smiley lips as she continues to drag me down the blue and yellow hallways. A small sigh escapes my lips as I continue to let Samantha lead me to the first floor, thankfully with the use of the stairs, and to the lobby where the elevators were. “Get in!” With a small push of a button, the elevator doors open to reveal a purple-filled space with blotches of yellow coating the brims of the elevator walls. 

“Good to know there’s no red in here,” I mumble under my breath.

“What did you say?” Samantha quickly turns around on her heels, her dress momentarily twirling around her as she looks up at me with large doe eyes. 

“Nothing.” I give the girl a small smile before I enter the elevator. I immediately excuse myself to go to the corner as Samantha enters right after me. As she walked up to the panel of buttons, I could faintly hear her humming a soft tune, her body subconsciously swaying along to the tune. After pushing the button for the first floor, she turns back around and walks up to me. 

“Will you come back to visit me?” Samantha asks with a large toothy grin. I feel my heart ache as the small girl looks up at me. As I force my lips into a straight line, I begin to have a small mental battle about whether or not I should be honest with her. 

“I’m not sure, Sammy. I really wanna go back home.” I reply softly. 

“Can I come with you?” The moment Samantha asks me that question, I feel my heart drop. Panic immediately fills my body as I blink down at the girl in front of me. 

“No, I'm sorry. You need to stay here with your friends. They’ll miss you if you don’t come back.” 

As Samantha’s smile forms into a pout, the elevator dings faintly before the doors open. I watch as the small girl turns around and goes to push the next floor, her pout not faltering.

“y/n seems nice,” Samantha says softly as she makes her way back to me. 

“She is a wonderful girl. I’m very lucky to have her in my life.” I comment as my lips form into another large smile. 

“I think she’s scared of me.” My smile falls into a slight frown as I look down at Samantha. 

“What makes you think that?” 

“Every time I try to get her attention, she always looks so scared. She hasn’t looked as scared the last few times I poked her but I know she’s scared of me.” As Samantha picks her head up to look at me, I feel my heart shatter as I take in her large and glossy doe eyes. “Am I scary?”

“Oh no, not at all Sammy.” The moment I open my arms, Samantha runs closer to me and crashes into me. As I wrap my arms around her and gently pat her head, the small girl nuzzles her face into my stomach. 

“Are you sure?” Samantha asks, her voice cracking as tears begin to run down her small face. 

“I’m sure, sweetheart. You are not scary at all. In fact, you are quite adorable and so sweet.” I reassure the girl as I begin to run her back comfortingly. As Samantha sniffles softly, the faint ding of the elevator doors opening causes me to lift my head. I let out a small sigh before I bend down and lift the girl into my arms. As I make my way over to the panel of buttons, Samantha wraps her arms around my neck and rests her head against my shoulder. 

Carrying this small kid has to be the weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced. She practically weighs nothing and my skin is tingling. 

Why am I tingling?.. 

“Hey, Sam?” I call, my index finger gently poking the said girl’s side. I smile softly when she squirms away with a high-pitched giggle. 

“Yes?” Samantha replies as she lifts her head off my shoulder to look over at me. 

“What floor do we go to next?” 

“Six!” 

“Alright, thank you.” Samantha hums softly in response and returns to her spot on my shoulder. After I push the bottom to the sixth floor, I walk back to the corner I was previously at. Comfortable silence fills the elevator as I continue to hold Samantha close against me, her soft breath tickling my neck as she begins to faintly hum the same tune from earlier. 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

Your POV 

You find yourself pacing back and forth in front of the elevator as Salt In The Wound by boygenius fills your ears. You can see Sam and Colby talking to one another in your peripheral vision, however you can’t make out their voices due to the headphones on your head. 

You had no idea how to wrap your head around what happened 15 minutes ago. You thought you lost Matt for good yet you were able to talk with him through a mirror. The whole thing sorta of reminded you of Bloody Mary but minus all the scary aspects. The fact that Matt was able to physically see and communicate with Samantha while he was in the other universe was pretty shocking to you. You hope that the girl will stay true to her word and help your boyfriend back in this world. 

God knows you desperately need him back. 

You get snapped out of your pacing and your daze by a small tap on your shoulder. You flinch rather harshly and rip the headphones off your head, your eyes mimicking those of a deer caught in headlights as you stare wide-eyed at the person who tapped you. 

“Fucking hell, Chris. You scared the shit out of me.” You say as you clutch your chest. 

“My bad.” Chris apologizes with a small smile. “Nick wants you to eat something.” At the male’s statement, you turn your head and immediately make eye contact with Nick who’s holding his hand out, an open pack of fruit snacks on the palm of his hand. At the sight of the snack, your mouth shapes into a small oval before you scurry over to the redhead and take a seat next to him. The moment the male hands you the pack, you shoot him a large toothy grin before you indulge in the snack. 

“I can’t be the only one who can’t believe what just happened,” Colby says as he rubs the side of his face with his hand. 

“No, I can’t either. That was fucking insane.” Nick agrees as he quickly points over to the male before he fishes another pack of fruit snacks from his pocket. 

“It reminded me of Bloody Mary a little bit. You know since they both deal with mirrors.” Sam chimes in as he nibbles on a single club cracker. 

“Me too!” You exclaim, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as you continue chewing on your gummies. 

“Do you guys really think that Samantha will help Matt? I mean, she is a little kid after all.” Nick asks as he stuffs a few fruit snacks in his mouth. 

“I don’t know but I hope she’s able to bring him back.” You reply as you sigh gently and continue chewing. 

“Hey guys?” Chris calls. You and the rest of the boys quickly look over at the male who’s looking at the elevator with slightly wide eyes. 

“What’s up?” Sam asks as he lifts himself off the wall he’s leaning against to walk over to the youngest triplet. 

“Was the elevator always on the fifth floor?” Your head quickly turns to look over at the number atop the elevator. And low and behold was the number five shining brightly above the golden doors. 

“Wait, why is it blue?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing as you stare at the bluish glow emitting around the number. “Wasn’t it always white?”

“Yeah, it was…” Colby replies, his voice trailing off as he takes a stand next to you. “That’s weird.” 

The moment you go to fix your gaze back to the half-empty pack of gummy snacks in your hand, the sound of Chris gasping rather loudly causes you to pick your head up again. 

“What’d I miss?” You ask quickly as you look over at the male. 

“The number is going down,” Chris replies as he points up to the number shining brightly atop of elevator doors. Your eyes widen the moment that statement escapes Chris’ lips and you quickly look over at the elevator again. 

“What the actual fuck…” You hear Nick mumble next to you. You feel your heart beat loudly in your ears as you watch the number above the elevator slowly go down. The moment the number one appears, your eyes quickly shift over to the elevator doors. You had no idea what was happening but you knew that the elevator arrived at the floor all of you were currently on. It could be that another person is taking the elevator and they’re coming to the lobby but why was it stuck on the fifth floor? 

You get pulled out of your thoughts when you hear a small ding coming from the elevator. Subconsciously, you reach over to Nick and grab his hand for mental support as you hear your heartbeat quicken in your ears. After a few moments, the elevator doors slowly begin to open. After it finally opens halfway and you don’t see anyone, your gaze falls back to the pack of fruit gummies in your hand. 

Stupid fucking haunted ele-

“MATT!” You hear Nick exclaim, his hold on your hand vanishing as he quickly gets up and runs to the elevator. You quickly pick your head up at the mention of your boyfriend’s name and see all the boys rushing inside the elevator. Your mind seems to lag for a minute as you sit there, frozen, until you finally get back to reality and join everyone in the elevator. You nudge your way through the small crowd of boys to get to the middle and the moment you see an all too familiar set of blue eyes look down at you, tears immediately begin to well in your eyes. 

“Matt.” You sob. You immediately crash into your boyfriend’s arms when he walks closer to you and opens his arms out. You bury your face into Matt’s chest and curl your fingers against his clothed back as a steady flow of tears runs down your cheeks. “You’re back.” 

“I'm back, I'm right here,” Matt whispers softly as he begins to land soft kisses on the top of your head. The male shuts his eyes tightly and takes in your comforting scent as he begins to tear up himself. 

“I thought I’d never see you again.” You remove yourself from Matt’s chest to look up at him. “Never do that shit again. I won’t let you.” 

“I won’t, I promise.” Matt brings a hand up to the left side of your cheek to cup your face, this thumb beginning to wipe away your tears as he locks eyes with you. A few beats of silence pass by before the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts y’all’s small moment. 

“I apologize for interrupting but I’m feeling quite claustrophobic here,” Nick says as he gestures to the small space around him.  

“Yeah, and I think I’d like to leave this trauma-inducing elevator,” Matt adds with a smile, his statement earning faint laughs from all the boys. You watch as all the guys file out of the elevator and walk back into the lobby. Before you grab Matt’s hand to pull him out with you, you turn back to face the male with a small smile. The brunette shifts his gaze down towards you and smiles softly before you decide to grab his face and pull him down to capture his lips for a quick kiss. 

“Never thought I’d be able to kiss you again.” You say after you pull back, the same smile visible on your lips. 

“Hey! No sucking face in the elevator!” You both hear Chris exclaim. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the boy’s statement before you take Matt’s hand in yours and pull him out of the elevator. 

“I think it’s safe to call it a night,” Colby says, a heavy exhale escaping his lips as he picks his backpack up off the floor. 

“I thought we still had the Estes Method to do,” Chris says, his eyebrows furrowing as he watches the two ghost hunters collect their equipment. 

“Well…” Sam starts as he detaches the light from one of the cameras. “We do but a lot has gone down and I think we should wrap things up here. Right, Matt?” 

“Most definitely. I saw and interacted with enough spirits today.” Matt confirms as he rapidly nods his head in agreement. 

“We can pick up another day if you guys want. I think we have plenty of footage for the video but we’ll release something at the end explaining what happened with Matt without giving away too much information.” Colby suggests as he swings his bag over his shoulder, one of his hands resting against the strap to hold it in place. 

“We can pick back up in two days,” Nick says, taking a glance over at Matt and Chris and waiting to gain small head nods of approval from them before he looks back at Sam and Colby. “We do have another week here.” 

“Well, let us know. You guys do not have to continue the investigation if y'all don’t want to. As Colby said, we should have enough footage for the video.” Sam reassures, a small smile appearing on his lips as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.  

“We will,” Matt says with a smile of his own. 

“Well, we’ll see you guys later. We still have that dinner reservation in three days so don’t forget!” Colby exclaims as he points a finger at all of you. 

“We won’t.” Chris chuckles. “Thanks for inviting us guys!” 

“Dude, of course.” You and the triplets begin to share quick hugs with Sam and Colby before the six of you begin to head towards the exit of the hotel. Upon arriving at the front doors, Matt holds the door open for you to allow you to be the first person to step outside. When you do, you take in your first breath of fresh air with a content smile. 

“God, how much I missed seeing the outside world.” You sigh as you turn around to face the rest of the boys. 

“Oh me too.” Colby agrees with a rapid head nod. 

“We’ll see y'all later! You guys make it back to your hotel safely.” Matt says as he walks up to you, his left hand instinctively going to reach out to grab yours 

“Yall too! Goodnight guys!” Sam shouts with a large smile as he and Colby wave goodbye to the four of you. You and the triplets bid farewell to the ghost hunters before walking through the parking lot in search of the van. 

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see a car in my entire life,” Matt mumbles as he takes his car keys out. As the male unlocks the car, you giggle softly and watch as Nick and Chris hop in the back. Matt looks over at you and lands a quick kiss on your forehead before he brings you to the passenger door. You slip inside the car with a small smile when the male opens it and gently shuts it when you get yourself situated in your seat. 

“God I'm fucking exhausted.” Nick breathes as leans against the car window, his eyes shutting in the process. 

“Ima knock out. I kid you not.” Chris adds as he pulls his seatbelt over his body. 

“Y'all better wake the hell up when we get to the hotel. I’m not carrying y'all up to the room.” Matt says as he slips in the driver's seat, a soft thud coming from the door after he shuts it. 

You manage to catch Nick making a talking gesture with his hand in your peripheral vision as you look over at Matt. You watch silently as the male puts his seatbelt on and pulls the gearshift down to drive. Before he begins to drive off, he looks over at you and sends you a large smile before capturing your lips for a quick kiss. 

“I’m never leaving your side again.” You say as you shift in your seat to lean your head against the cold window. 

“Same here. I’m never letting you out of my sight.” Matt smiles as he takes a glance at all his mirrors. After backing out of his parking spot, your boyfriend reaches over to grab your hand as he finally drives off. As the male gently caresses the back of your hand with his thumb, you find yourself drifting off into a deep slumber. 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

A week later… 

“Okay Matt, this is starting to scare me. Do I need to make you an appointment right now?” 

“No, I'm fine.” 

“Matt you’ve been on the floor for the past five minutes and you look like you’re fucking giving birth. You are clearly not fine.” 

“What’s happening?” You ask as you walk inside the warehouse, the door shutting close behind your heels as you forcefully pull it shut.

“Look at your boyfriend,” Nick says as he points down at the said male. You follow the redhead’s finger and worry washes over you when you see Matt curled up on the floor, his eyes screwed shut as a pained expression paints his face. You quickly set the McDonald's bags in your hands down on the nearby sofa before hurrying over to Matt. 

“Baby, this is the third time I’ve found you like this this week.” You say as you sit down near the brunette’s head. After Matt doesn’t say anything and simply rests his head in your lap, you let out a small sigh and begin to card your hand through the male’s hair. “Is it still your lower back?” 

Matt gently nods his head. “It really fucking hurts. It’s like a bunch of tiny needles pricking my skin. It feels so weird and tingly.” Matt mumbles, a sharp hiss escaping him shortly after he finishes his sentence. 

“Matt, again?” You hear Chris ask, his footsteps becoming louder as he walks into the room. You hear the male sigh before you take a glance up at him. 

“You guys are acting like I'm in control of this fucking happening. Cut me some slack, holy shit.” Matt grumbles as he digs his face into your thigh. 

“Have you texted Sam or Colby?” Chris asks, averting his question to you as he raises a single brow. 

“No… why would I?” You question back, your eyebrows knitting in confusion as you send the male a look. 

“I have a gut feeling that they have an idea about what’s happening. Just saying.” Chris shrugs as he makes his way to the McDonald's bags on the sofa. You shake your head with a small chuckle when the male digs in one of the bags and takes out his food before he walks off. 

“Should I text one of them?” You ask as you look over at Nick who’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. 

“You can if you want. It’ll shut Chris up.” The redhead replies with a shrug. You gently nod your head and pull your phone out of your pocket. “Maybe text Colby. He responds a lot quicker than Sam.” You give Nick a thumbs-up before opening your chat with Colby. You twirl your thumbs around the keyboard for a moment trying to figure out what to say before you finally start typing. 

You: hey colby ? I have a question to ask you 

Colby: Ask away! 

You: so matt has been having these pains in his back and i was wondering if you had an idea as to why he’s been having them 

I know it’s random but chris had a hunch that you guys might know soo … 

Colby: His back…? 

You: yea

Colby: Like his lower? Upper? 

You: lower 

Colby: Oh shit

You: what … what’s wrong 

Colby: I think Matt got an attachment 

You: a WHAT ?!?

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· TagList ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

@freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @patscorner @rootbeerworshiper @dracoflaco @xxloveralways @frankdelreyy @sturnssan @kileybankzz @sturniolho @iammattswife @nomournersonefuneral @maddisqnx @noirpxrker @isa942572 @Irs-jenkinson @wronqness99 @wolfstarfate @bxbynyah7 @marauders3 @cind2224 @aoxash @ladybunny44 @mattslovelygf @flynnriderishot @loveflimsz @mrsmattyb @firexovni @furiouswitchtyphoon

comment to be added to the taglist and click here to know more abt it!

[euno11a]

Tattooed Hearts VII

Genre: No one to someone Tattoo artist! Jungkook X Reader

Summary: What happened to us? Why did we end up like this? It was only a one time thing. Now it’s ruined us both.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, mentions of hookups, insults, arguing, blood, mentions of period, insecurities

Pt I • Pt II • Pt III • Pt IV • Pt V • Pt VI • Pt VIII *** God, she was meant to be a quick fuck and leave. Why couldn’t I get her out of my mind? I need her…

It was stupid of me to get drunk, and even stupider that I went to her apartment. She didn’t want me there, but she looked so cute in her pjs, I couldn’t help staying. I wasn’t so drunk that I couldn’t move, how’d you think I got there? It was a good excuse, even if she didn’t know it, to get her to touch me again. Her touch was intoxicating, something my body craved, yearned for, but I fucked it up. Ever heard the saying ‘drunk words are sober thoughts?’ “M’missed you…you looked s-so good in that long thing you were wearing in the flower home…”; “Baby, I know what I’m saying…miss you…miss your pussy…miss your love…”; “So pretty…su..such a good girl…my baby…” Even if some thought are more vulgar than others, they’re still true. Showing up drunk probably proved her point of how reckless and selfish I am, but you don’t know how much I miss you. I couldn’t get you out of my head, your curves, your eyes, your laugh…I need you beside me.

Playing limp body was fun, I got to hold her leg, cuddle up to her and even kiss her a little. So I have to pretend to be drunk all the time? No, no, bad idea! You’re trying to prove to her that you need her and only her. It was supposed to be a romantic gesture of some kind, but it failed…miserably. What happened to me? Every time I see her now, talking with Eloise, laughing with V, something burns inside of me. It’s an emptiness that I can’t explain, eating me from the inside out. Using other women to try and fill the hole was a shitty idea, especially since she found me with one. I think I get somewhere with her, but then I fuck it up again. She kicked me out of her apartment, “Stop coming to me when you’re high.” That one sentence haunting my mind, making me lose sleep at night. I fucked it up so bad, I need to earn her trust again, I can’t breathe without her. She doesn’t know the things she does to me, making me spend hours in my office, fucking my hand imagining it was her. My blood boils every time I see her with V, she laughs at his jokes, he gave her juice. He gave her the juice I bought for her, waiting for her to come back! Of course I had to lie to the others, saying I mixed up the flavours, no way I was telling them about the girl I was pinning over that I was also waiting for to return. God, I was whipped…

You were hard to find. I had to dig through the fucking system at work to figure out how to contact you. I swear, I wasn’t trying to be a creep, I just knew you wouldn’t willingly give me your number! And I doubt Lindsay would give it to me either. You sounded so sweet over the phone…your voice was like honey, something I’d be willing to drown in if it came from you. Yeah, you hung up on me, but I got to talk to you for a little! I’d call that a win. Another win was when you took the bouquet…I knew you’d like them. You always told me how you loved secret stories behind things, even if I could T give them to you, I’m glad Eloise could. Building that bouquet was hard! I wanted to take all the flowers you liked, but that wasn’t allowed. If I had a dime for the amount of times Eloise slapped my hand and told me to express my emotions through the flowers instead of pick what was prettiest, I’d be a millionaire. All those flowers that were strategically placed to tell you a story were working. After work, I’d come in to ask Eloise if you’d stopped by, gladly listening to her as she told me about your sweet smile and laugh, the way your nose scrunched up when you found a new flower and wanted to know what it signified. All of this will be worth it in the long run. Seeing you at the bar alone, sipping your rum and coke made me smile. The drink you ordered the first time we met. Sitting down, I expected you to leave or to tell me to leave. But you didn’t. Sure, you put up a fight, telling me to spit out what I wanted, so you could be alone and drink in peace but I wasn’t expecting you to listen. “I want you,” it just slipped out. But it sent shockwaves through me when you spoke “If you want me…like genuinely want me, you have to beg for it.” I had never been one for begging, but if that’s what it takes to have you in my life, I will beg for hours and hours, days, weeks, months. I need you in my life.

Taglist: @talyaaas-blog @cassies-cookies @junecat18@jk97bam @bluewarmsunshine @diame93 @bangtans-momma @lil0u0 @borahoe @peterstarkchrishiddleston @telepathytae @apobangpo444 @gimeow @taekritimin123 @butterymin @skzthinker @someone-1997 @kookswifesblog @jjk-1999 @bulubulubulublabla @xo79 @thesmutconnoisseur @nikkinik485 @coldcoffee2121 @jjk97091 @onlybunss @kopiosuam @nanmolla @peachtown @kopiosuam

[kissitbttr]

exhale

summary: miguel’s trauma doesn’t stop you from loving him

a/n: fluff and bit of angsty? enjoy!

-

the first time you met miguel, you learned that he’s indeed a complicated man. haunted by a trauma that he can’t seem to let go nor move past from and you were okay with that.

you learn to live with his anger and grief that he has to carry everyday. he warned you beforehand that he is a complex being, how you won’t be able to take the amount of ‘burden’ he has weighing on his shoulders because it won’t be fair to you.

but your stubborn self refuses to go. your arms crossed, face forming an annoyed expression as he gave you a long speech about how he doesn’t deserve you. and he hates the fact you had an answer to everything. why were you so keen to loving him despite the flaws he has.

through that, you told him that you were willing to wait until he’s healed. no matter how long it takes.

from that moment, his soul burns for you. his love grows each day because you were indeed patient. luck had been in his favor ever since.

even that one night, where you watched him sit on his chair. watching clips of him and his late daughter ‘gabriella’ being replayed over and over. his expression soured each seconds with tears forming from the corner of his eyes.

who could blame him? grief is one hell of a feeling.

as you stand by the doorway, already in your nightgown getting ready for bed, you softly knock on the door.

“my love, are you coming to bed?”

hearing your soft voice speaks, miguel regains his composure. head craning towards you and you watch how his frown forms into a small smile,

you look like angel. how is it even possible?

“in a second, mi amor. just need to revise a few technical problems that keep happening back at the HQ, i’m sending the reports to Lyla right now” he confirms, eyes looking directly to you.

with a nod, you stride yourself closer to him. taking one good look of his state. and he looks exhausted.

“how are you, baby?” you sound concerned, kneeling down in front of him as you observe the details of his gorgeous features. “you look tired. what is it?”

as your knuckle reach out to thread lightly against his cheekbone, he sighs in contentment. eyes closing momentarily and feel your soft touch.

“nothing” he lies with a smile, grasping your wrist before giving it a kiss,

one thing you hate. you don’t like being lied to. especially by him.

“don’t lie to me, miggy” your tone sounds stern yet still soft. “what is it?”

he contemplates for a while, only finding himself get lost in your beautiful eyes. heart soaring at the sound of your concerns, which makes him feel like the only person he belongs to is you. and he loves the fact that his heart only beats for him and yours for his.

but, there are times where he wonders is it worth it? to drag you into his mess and makes you wait for him to finally break free from the grief that has kept him cages for a long period of time.

is he a good person to you? are you actually meant for him? he doesn’t want to let you go. you’ve become a part of his life and he sees a future with you,

“how could you always tell, cariño?” he breathes a small chuckle. he tends to feel amazed at how well you could read his mind

“you’re my person, miguel… of course i could always tell” you give him a smile, fingers softly running through his hair, earning a sigh from his mouth.

you watch how his eyes move down, gaze empty as he lightly shakes his head. a sob breaks from him and the way he hides himself from you makes your heart torn. because you know what has been occupying his mind,

‘dear god please let me heal him’ you think to yourself

“i just—I miss her— very much” his voice begins to crack, chest heaving as the tears now start to freely roll down his cheeks. “and fuck—lo siento mi amor—this is not…It’s been done too many times now and i—“

“hey no, stop” you hate how he has to say sorry for something he can’t control of. you move your body closer to him, palming his cheek. “you don’t have to apologize. never, miguel. do you hear me?”

“but it isn’t fair to you” he speaks, jumping his eyes back to yours. “it isn’t fair because—“

“what, because we’re married?” your eyebrows raised, seeing him nod with confirmation. “no. that is nonsense. you don’t have to put up this Mr.Tough guy with me. you get that? you can be vulnerable around me. I’m allowing you to be vulnerable around me.”

and it is true. you don’t find him crying is a sign of weakness nor is being tough is some sort of act like manliness. you want him to be comfortable around you because you love him.

“we made a vow to each other, remember?” your hands are cupping his face now, thumb grazing under his eyes. “ ‘through good shit and bad shit—

“ ‘i’ll pick you up when it gets too heavy’ “ he finishes the sentence before you do, remembering the vow you both took the night at your wedding.

his lips pulls into a smile. he remembers how the crowd erupted in laughter at your both silly antics, and how miguel had his hands around your waist and dipped you for a kiss before the revenant could even finish the ‘you may kiss the bride’ speech,

he couldn’t wait to make you his, that’s why he had to do it.

you let out a small laugh, nodding as you find the tears starting to build in the corner of your eyes as well. “that’s right baby.”

both of you gaze into each other’s eyes. millions thoughts of love comes into your minds and hearts, it feels like an eternity watching each other like this but none of you care.

it’s home.

“and i am telling you once again… that you get to exhale now. you get to breathe with me, and i will be there by your side and allow you to express you feelings and be whatever you want to be because you are my husband and i love you.”

he adores how you speak to him. a true poet that you are who manage to give him warmth and closure. things that he has been longing for and he had no idea he would be this lucky.

“i love you most, mi alma” he mirrors your expression before leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips,

lust, happiness, adoration… he’s pouring it all into that kiss.

for the longest time miguel had prayed for an angel, instead he received something better.

he received you.

and nothing could ever compare to that feeling.

-

a/n: fun fact that vow? it was one that my parents took at their wedding night hehe, I’ve consulted with my mom about that. anyways hope u guys love that😚🫶🏻

[hoes4lino]

A Love Letter I wish It Didn’t Exist 💌

A/N: I been doubting to post this, since this story is an adaptation on a real letter I made about my first love. Hope you guys enjoy! (This is also written in first person)

Genre: Romantic, First love, Angst, Suggestive

Word count: 5k

Reading Time: Approx 18 min

Pairing: Reader x Minho

Warnings: Mentions of substance, Reader can’t express emotions, some suggestive content nothing too explicit, happy ending? is as happy as real life can get.

Do you ever wish to fall in love? Hold someone’s hand in the cold breeze of autumn as the leaves fall. Be someone’s lover as the flowers bloom in spring. Be someone’s warmth during the freezing temperatures of winter? Be someone’s shadow on the strong sun rays of summer?

Yeah, well this doesn’t work for me.

Why you may ask, Ever since I was a child I was spoiled with love from my family and friends, growing up I wondered what I did in my past life to deserve such love.

As I went through my teens I started to despise such attention, why? I wish I knew. Growing up I didn’t have any crushes at all, just people I admired. I would often hear my friends babble about boys, fantasies I wished I never heard, and rant about their love life.

Though I never understood why, why couldn’t I be like them? Feel such a desire to love someone and have that feeling reciprocated.

Faking crushes became part of my life during middle school and high school, I felt like an outcast whenever my friends spoke about love, they were all experienced, yet I barely knew how to love myself.

I started dating a boy, not because I was in love but because I felt I had to, everyone I knew was experienced, yet I kept turning down boys.

I craved to get that tingly feeling my friends always talked about. I wanted to know what was the big deal about, and why people found it so addictive.

What is wrong with me?

This is the phrase that would haunt my mind every time I stared at couples walking on the cold breeze of autumn. ———

My high school years felt like something experimental, I went to parties, drank alcohol, did some weed, and hooked up… not because I was into those things but because I wanted to feel. I wanted to care about something. Yet I never felt anything but regret.

Why can’t I express my emotions? I know they are there. It’s as if they are locked up in a box inside of me.

On the first day of college, I was in a room filled with strangers, not a single familiar face, I felt like an outcast. Everyone is sitting next to someone but me.

As I sat at the back of the class next to a window, my eyes followed the leaves that fell from the trees announcing the beginning of fall.

My mind drifted into a peaceful scenario, everyone’s voices being muted by my brain as I took in such a beautiful scene. My chest felt heavy with emptiness, I would usually have a friend to share this moment with, yet here I sat alone.

I must have been too distracted cause I didn’t notice when he sat next to me, my body slightly jumping at the sudden appearance of the boy who sat next to me.

He was rather handsome, sharp nose, cat-like eyes, dark brown hair, and plump lips. He didn’t say a word though I know he must have felt my eyes on him, maybe he was trying to not embarrass me or maybe he was waiting for me to say something, yet I didn’t.

Once I was done staring I went back to stare at my window, noticing him shifting to look at it too, I couldn’t help but feel some warmth.

Why did I feel like that? He is just a stranger looking at the window… but why out of all these strangers he somehow make me feel at ease?

Freshmen year of college passed by, and I didn’t talk to this man, god knows what’s his name, but for some reason, he felt familiar, as if we had some type of bond. Maybe I’m crazy.

Our interactions that year went from walking to class together to sharing a couple of words when needed during class, it wasn’t until the last marking period that I realized I spent most of my time with him yet we were never close enough.

I felt weird. It felt weird.

Like imagine spending 70% of your day with the same guy for an entire school year and yet you don’t know his name or talk to him at all.

What’s crazier to me is that I feel like I got to know him through that silence… is this feeling what my friends call delusional? Is this real at all? Is it all my head? Can he feel it too?

Summer depression hit me like a truck, I’m not a sad person why do I feel this way? Empty… it’s like my body is craving something yet I don’t know what. I started getting frustrated, I thought spending time with friends and family would fix it, yet it didn’t… I’m missing a part… something.

During summer I went to a bunch of places, all of them filled with hundreds of people, yet my mind seemed to look for one each time… is it… him? ———

Sophomore year of college… I was too excited for my liking, I am usually terrified of new school years, afraid for what awaits me, but today my heart seems to beat faster than usual and it's not because I am nervous, it feels as if I'm waiting for something and I can’t wait to see it.

My day went by pretty fast, I went to my first two classes my heart filling with disappointment each time I scanned the room. At that moment I didn’t exactly know what I was looking for, I never really felt that way before.

The cold breeze was hitting my face as I sat in my business class, my mind focused on whatever I was working on.

“Is this seat taken?”

His voice sent shivers down my body, and my ears immediately recognized his soothing voice.

I look up to glare at him, the breeze coming from the window slightly moving his hair. I could feel my heart beating fast, my tummy doing backflips in excitement… I felt happy… but why?

“No, you can have it” I could feel my voice trembling as I spoke. As soon as he sat down I could only think of one thing.

Should I talk to him? What if I annoy him?

These thoughts consumed my head until the slight shift of his gaze moved toward me, my head immediately snapped to look at him.

“It's been a while,” He said softly with a thin smile on his face, I am not quite sure how I looked at that moment but I felt so self-conscious as I could see his eyes looking at me.

I nodded in response not quite sure what to say to that, I had a million thoughts running through my head, why do I feel this way around him?

“Minho” He continued, it must have been the way my eyes blinked in confusion as he slightly laughed “I figured you didn’t know my name, since we never really introduced ourselves last year” He explained. I wish the earth could eat me whole at this moment, I’m being too awkward. Say something y/n. SAY SOMETHING.

“uh oh,” I chuckled nervously, jesus christ why do I feel like imma puke right here “I’m y/n” I smiled, my gaze moving back to my computer. I was not too fond of the way I was feeling, It felt unknown and that scared me a lot.

Like why am I craving his attention but at the same time I wished he could disappear and leave me alone?

From that day on we became good friends, We would often greet each other and have casual conversations during class.

How much I loved your attention Lee Minho, yet you were clueless about it. If I had to name something I loved about him, I would stay and talk for hours.

“Y/n you are clearly in love” Those words repeated over and over in my head as my friend's voice muffled in the background. Love? “Y/n?” Is this how love feels like? “Y/N!”

I turn to look at my friend as she nudged my shoulder “All you talk about recently is about that damn boy, maybe you are finally catching feelings”

That night I stared at my ceiling, my eyes feeling heavy. Even when I was half asleep I would think of him. It wasn’t until I was almost asleep that I realized I was smiling hard at the thought of seeing him tomorrow.

I quickly sat on my bed, the darkness of my room surrounding me. Is this what love feels like? On one side I felt warm, but on the other side, I felt cold and afraid… what if he doesn’t like me? what if he does? Am I confused? Do I like him? Why him out of everyone? Why now and not before?

The next day I was so excited to see him, waking up a little earlier than usual to look good for him. I made my way through the lengthy hallways of our college when I spotted him. I felt nervous as I walked up to him, my heart falling to my stomach as I spotted him next to this beautiful girl.

She had long black straight hair, she was short and had a fit body, her curves were out of this world… and her face… don’t get me started.

I turned around with heavy feet, immediately searching for a bathroom.

I locked myself into a stall, it was 8:36 am.

Rule #3 don’t cry. Ever since I was a child I learned that crying doesn’t solve anything and that crying makes things worse, therefore I always hold my tears no matter how big the urge to cry.

In all my years of living, I never felt such an urge to cry as I did at that moment. I sat on the toilet concentrating on my breathing. The number of thoughts filling my mind was suffocating, I needed fresh air. Why do I feel like this? Why does my heart feel so heavy?

I left the stall to go to my business class, seeing him that day felt different, I was mad at him for some reason. Why? Is it because of the girl? He can have friends, is not like we are something, I remind myself.

That day I rushed to get home, the intrigue to know who this girl was, eating me alive.

I should have stayed curious.

Jasmine Kim, president of the architecture club, Asian student union, business manager of the robotics club, Academic weapon, and athletic.

How come have I never seen her before?

“ouuuu seems someone is jealous” My friend teased me through the phone, making me even more mad. I called her seeking help not to be made fun of. Ever since I did an FBI-type research on this girl I can’t help but compare myself to her. I never knew how to love myself, and this… this brought me to my lowest.

I hate feeling this way. I wouldn't say I like it. But no matter how mad I was, I couldn’t hate him.

Sophomore year went flying by, Minho seemed to grow close to Jasmine, and as much I wish I could say that didn’t affect me… it did. I decided to distance myself, after all, it was all a one-sided thing and it was for my well-being… right?

He had no clue about my feelings, so it wouldn’t matter if I suddenly disappeared from his life.

I felt selfish during this time, selfish of the way I treated him, I would ignore him during class or even his texts and he wouldn’t know why. He didn’t deserve this treatment, he didn’t deserve to be affected by my own emotions. ———

It’s the last summer days of 2023. Junior year started and it feels like it’s about to end. This year I haven’t seen Minho at all, my heart dies to see him but we have no classes together and my tight schedule keeps me busy from thinking of him.

“Remember Minho, The guy you had a crush on” My friend spoke on the the phone as I was too concentrated doing homework “What about him” I asked as I felt a knot forming in my stomach. I hated the way his name could get under my skin.

“He just joined my division in the robotics club and let me tell you that man is a complete dickhead” For some reason I felt the urge to fight back, defend him, and ask for an explanation; but I was too embarrassed for feeling this way I ignored her words “He is a man after all” Is all I managed to say, the curiosity eating me alive as I tried to not seem interested on what he could do to upset my friend.

After I found out about him being on the robotics club, I found myself going to the club often, I wasn’t part of it but I would make excuses to go and get glimpses of him.

The way he looked with his goggles on and thin layers of sweat on his skin. That man was dreamy no matter what he did.

No matter what I did to forget him, he would always be on my mind. In every room with hundreds of people, he would be the one I would look for.

“Excuse me” I raised my gaze to be met with a blond guy, he was the opposite of Minho, blond hair, a soft innocent face, freckles, and light brown eyes.

He was indeed pretty, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in knowing who this man was “I’m Felix” He said cheerfully.

I couldn’t help but compare him with Minho, unlike Minho he was friendly and straightforward “I’ve seen you around and I would like to get to know you”

To this day I feel so selfish for what I did. I thought that having someone's attention would make me forget you, yet you would still live rent-free on my head 24/7. I would often catch myself thinking about you. How was your day? Why do you look tired? Did you eat anything?

How much I wished I could get you out of my mind Lee Minho.

Putting him to the side, I and Felix spent a lot of time together, we had an art history class together, so we often met at the library to finish our projects.

“Would you like to go out for some beers with me and my friends?”

How much I wish I would of said no that day, maybe, just maybe that would have changed the track of things now. ———

I showed up, wearing my favorite cargo pants and a cute lace top, I had my favorite jewelry on and I went for a half-up hairstyle. I didn’t wanna go full-on dress up but I wanted to look classy and comfy at the same time.

How much I wish I would have worn something else.

I could feel my heart dropping to my stomach as the first person I spotted was him.

There are at least 100 people in this bar, yet there he is, sitting under the dim neon lights of the bar, he is wearing a full-on black outfit, his shirt unbuttoned showing a bit of his chest.

Talk about a man whore.

I jolt as I feel the warmth of a hand on my waist, turning around to be met with Felix. To this day I remember all this crystal clear, detail to detail.

I could tell he already had a couple of shots by the way he would slur his words.

“This is my homie Minho” He patted his back as he introduced me to him “We have known each other since high school, he can be our best man at our wedding”

I tried my best to not scoff at his words, wedding? We not even dating. I can tell Minho didn’t like this comment either by the way his posture became stiff and sat properly.

“Damn Felix, already feeling drunk,” He said in a tone that I can’t decipher to this day. It sounded annoyed but at the same time playful.

Minho stood from his chair and let Felix take it, he ordered him another drink and took me to another table.

“So you and Felix huh?” He sounded annoyed. At that moment I felt like I had to give him an explanation “We are not dating” I said briefly, why did I say that? That’s not his business.

“I see,” he said shortly. I remember the way my heart would pound, my hands were sweaty and I could feel my stomach doing backflips. I have never been so nervous around him till this day.

Maybe it was because it was our first time alone outside of school hours… or the shot of tequila I had was hitting.

As we both sat at a table away from our friends I could feel the way his eyes would travel around my body, I felt self-conscious.

The way his eyes would burn my skin is a feeling I miss with my whole heart. The chokehold you have on me Lee Minho.

“I love your necklace” He leaned to take a better look, his hand hesitating to grab the little Swarovski swan that hung on my neck.

His breath tickled my neck and I could feel myself shiver. I'm not sure if he was doing this on purpose but he was driving me crazy.

“Thank you, It’s my first ever expensive necklace,” I said as I tried to ignore the warmth of his breath on my neck “I bought it for myself on my birthday” I smiled as his gaze moved to look at my eyes.

“You gifted it to yourself?” I nodded “It’s expensive, I didn’t expect someone else to get it for me” I’m not sure if I was tripping but by the look on his face I could tell he wasn’t pleased with my answer.

His eyes looked at me with a million expressions written in them, the soft neon lights of the bar shone like a galaxy in them.

“I would treat you like a princess if you were mine”

I hate you.

How can you say that to me and then leave Lee Minho?

To this day I can hear your voice saying those words to me at night. It’s like if you engraved it on my brain so that every time I'm about to go to sleep I can hear it.

After he told me those words, I felt him getting closer, his hand on my hand as his eyes begged me for permission.

“May I?” His voice was as soft as the singing of an angel. Next thing I remember his plump lips were against mine. It was a sincere kiss.

There was no way he liked me back… I mean… I saw the way he treated Jasmine. This had to be a sick joke. I gently pushed him away, his face pouting as my lips left his.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped” He backed away, as he was getting ready to leave. I panicked. I didn’t want him to leave.

I grabbed his wrist out of instinct “What’s your relationship with Jasmine?” My impulsive thoughts got the best of me. He looked at me with a puzzled look “Jasmine?” He chuckled.

“Answer me,” I said coldly, no expression on my face. I was trying to not crack in front of him. I wanted to hear the answer I craved for months.

“She is a mutual childhood friend, she is captain of my robotics subdivision, so we keep in contact” His words lingered in the air as I tried to fit the pieces together in my brain.

Does that mean he likes me? Why he kissed me?

“Is that why you pulled away?” He asked softly as if he was trying not to scare me away. On the other hand, I was embarrassed, I didn’t have the guts to say yes so I simply nodded.

He chuckled one more time.

If he only knew how much I adored his laugh, the way it would fill my heart with joy. His laugh was like listening to my favorite song for the first time. How much I miss it.

He sat down again and leaned closer, his hand cupping my cheek as he stared at me with soft eyes. How much I wanted to kill him in that moment, why would he ever look at me with such a gaze?

“That was my first kiss” My world stopped. What? No way… he was playing games with me.

Before I could even talk he stood up from his chair and offered me a hand.

“Would you dance with me?”

That night we danced under the neon lights of the bar, without a single worry of the world. I was shy but with him, I felt like the most confident person in the room.

This was the beginning of an intoxicating relationship. ———

Maybe our story didn’t last long but the time we spent together is something I will treasure my whole life.

Dating Minho was like walking by the shore late at night. It was peaceful, too good to be true. I was too drunk on his love I wished it would never fade away.

I'm grateful for the amazing experience he gave me those years we dated. I learned to love, but most importantly I learned to love myself.

“You look beautiful” I opened my eyes to see him laying next to me, eyes in awe as he moved my hair away from my face. “Ur lying” I giggled trying to cover myself from his gaze. It was 8am, this man was definitely blind in love if he thought I looked beautiful in the morning.

That day something felt off, he was not the type to speak his mind, he talked through gestures not words. Yet today he was too talkative. Complimented me every chance he got.

It was around 7pm, he was in the kitchen cooking dinner while I was in our bed scrolling through TikTok mindlessly. I heard a notification coming off from his phone. Im not the type to check my boyfriend’s phone but the notifications weren’t stopping.

I stood up to pick it up from his desk and go leave it to him, whoever was texting definitely had something to say; however as I saw who was texting him, I couldn’t help myself but take a peek.

‘Minho you need to tell her now’

‘Don’t make this harder for yourself’

‘Think about her happiness’

I was puzzled as I read the texts, it was Jasmine who was sending them… what she meant by that… I was startle when he called me name “y/n dinner is ready”

I placed his phone down. Anxiety consuming me, tears threatening to fall, thoughts suffocating my mind.

As I sat in the dining table I contemplated whether I should confront him or not, he looked happy. What was he hiding.

“If someone ever asked me what I love the most about you” His words brought me back from my thoughts. I looked at him, my face had no expression, I didn’t know how to feel. “I would say your eyes” I could see the way his face lit as he spoke about me, his cheeks flushing as he giggled like a teenage girl in love.

I couldn’t help but smile, this was something I loved about him, he always knew how to make me smile. “What is this compliment for?” I knew he had something to say, I looked directly into his eyes, trying to make him crack. Reveal his secret.

“Nothing special, I have always loved your eyes but I was too shy to say it” He said vaguely while he ate his pasta “And why say it now?” I never took my eyes off him, I saw the way his eyes looked at me nervously, he was definitely hiding something.

He didn’t answer my question, he just smiled “Would you love me even if we were kilometers far away?” His tone was serious, I felt shivers running down my spine as I felt the coldness from the question.

“Of course I would silly, why?” I said trying to kill the tension that suddenly sparked in the room. He remained quiet but then he shook it off and offered me a smile, though there was something off about it.

We were preparing to go to bed, I was already changed into my nightgown while I brushed my teeth. Minho was taking a quick shower before bed, although he was taking longer than usual, so I decided to wait for him in bed.

About an hour had passed my eyes felt heavy, debating whether I should check on him or try to sleep, His behavior today kept worrying me, he was acting weird and he wasn’t getting off the shower. I didn’t like the tension that has been lingering since dinner.

I entered the bathroom, the shower was still on, the hot water causing the mirror to fog “Honey?” I said softly, the water turning off at the sound of my voice. He took his towel and dry himself vaguely, wrapping it around his waist.

He stood in front of me, hair wet, eyes glossy and lips parted. Im not quite sure if it was steam trapped in the bathroom or his breath taking appearance that made it hard to breathe.

Without notice he kissed my lips, his body pushing me towards the counter, I gasped as he picked me up so I would sat on the counter, he kept kissing me, so desperate so passionate. Something was off.

Minho was the type to take things slow yet today he was kissing me like it was his last time. That’s when my stomach dropped, the texts flashed in my head, his glossy eyes, the long shower, his question during dinner.

He was leaving me.

I placed my hands on his shoulder, gently pushing him, my heart shattering into pieces as I saw his tears rolling down his cheeks. I was quiet. Should I say something? Should I let him talk first?

He just stood in front of me, his gaze on my chest. I took a deep breath, a breath that held back my emotions, I know Minho and the last thing he would want to see is me crying for him.

I gently placed a hand on his cheek, ever so lightly like I was touching his fragile soul, and slowly I leaned to kiss his lips.

“I love you” I muttered in his lips, his hands moving to wrap me into a tight hug. This was the first time in three years of our relationship I ever said ‘I love you’ ———

The next morning I was cradled in his arms, my fingertips gently rubbing the scratch marks I left from last night.

I looked up to see him in a peaceful slumber. I looked at his plump lips I was busy kissing last night, I heard his stable heartbeat that brought peace to my mind, and I felt his warm skin touching mine. I wish I could capture all this in time. In all our years of knowing each other, that day felt like we truly got to know each other.

“I’m leaving to study abroad” My heart stopped. His words repeated in my head, tears threatening to fall “I’ll go wherever you go” My body betrayed me as tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Y/N” He hugged me as I tried to push him away “Your life is here, you can’t just abandon everything for me” He started crying as he hugged me tighter. I kept fighting back I wanted to push him away and look him in the eyes.

“You are my everything Minho” I screamed into his chest, my words being muffled. I could hear his heart-stopping, and that’s when I realized he was equally heartbroken as me.

I stopped fighting to hug him back, breaking into an inconsolable crying, he cried with me, our bodies dropping to the floor as we never separated from each other.

I had to let go. ———

A year passed after our break up, our memories playing vividly every time I walked by our favorite restaurant or the park he took me on our first date.

It was a cold day in the fall of 2023, I was making my way into the subway. I was listening to our shared playlist. I always listen to it when I have a bad day, it brings me comfort, and our memories warm my heart.

That’s when I saw him. My eyes must have been playing with my heart, I didn’t have time to process it when I found myself running towards him.

“Minho..” I said shyly, I hadn’t seen him in a year and now he dared to appear. His expression when he saw me copied mine. We were both equally stunned to see each other.

He hugged me without saying a single word, though I’m not surprised he spoke through actions, not words.

However, this is not a Disney fairytale where everything has a happy ending. We caught up with each other’s life, we had a great time together, and our connection didn’t fade away although we spent a year with no communication; however, it was time to say goodbye again.

It’s up to fate if our future is meant to be together, but something we both left clear is that we will always love each other.

So in conclusion. Lee Minho I hate you for stealing my heart but at the same time the love I profound you is a light in my heart that will never turn off no matter what the Universe has planned for us.

A love letter I wish it didn’t exist.

The end

A/N: The amount of tears I shed writing this is astonishing- anyway hope y’all liked it, the timeline in this is very inaccurate and my brain kept messing up, so if something looks off please tell me. Thank you <3

[bosbas]

Alternate Ending: I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

series masterlist original ending || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader, anthony bridgerton x wife!reader WC: 5.2k words (whoops I got carried away)

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, benedict being so down bad for this woman, unrequited love, pregnancy and discussions around pregnancy/birth

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: The timeline for this ending diverges after chapter 12!! This is how life would look like if Chapter 13 and onward didn't happen.

March 3, 1820 - B, 

I apologize for my delayed response – I’m sure you’ll understand that I was a tad occupied giving birth. But she’s finally here! It was easier than the other three, so I'm personally delighted, though Anthony seemed just as stressed as usual. And, as usual, he'll most likely be resting for the next five days. If he ever stops looking at her in awe, that is. It would be quite adorable if I didn't need to wrestle her away from him to nurse her every few hours! 

Although, I will say that Anthony being taken with her has worked out quite well for me. I was able to finish my novel and get a full night's sleep last night. I'd love to see you soon if you're up for it. You can meet her and we can discuss your latest painting, which I heard was absolutely breathtaking. Anthony and I will both be home for the next week at least, so feel free to pop by any time.

Yours, Y/I

You finished addressing the envelope to Benedict right as Anthony walked into your bedroom holding the tiny form of your newborn daughter. Twisting in your seat to face them, you cooed when you saw her fast asleep in his arms. She was wrapped in a soft pink blanket, and you couldn’t help but marvel at her tiny fists opening and closing absentmindedly as she slept. She looked so peaceful in Anthony’s arms, and it was terrifying to think that a human being this small would grow up to be an adult and that you would have to guide her through it. Well, she would have Anthony too, you thought. And the thought did a lot to quell your fears.

For as long as you had known him, Anthony had been a steadfast figure in your life. He’d been the eldest of the Beaumont-Bridgertons, and he certainly acted like it, too. The responsibility he felt for his family was evident in everything he did, and it was one of the qualities you admired most about him. Now, seeing Anthony cradle your newborn daughter with such gentleness and awe only solidified your feelings for him.

You had decidedly not been in love when you had married him, but one couldn’t simply have four children with someone and not develop at least a little affection for them. The two of you had been wonderful friends even before you were married, and you still were, but along the way, it seemed that you had learned to love each other in your own funny sort of way. It wasn’t the sort of all-consuming love you had for Benedict all those years ago, and that perhaps you had still in a corner of your heart. But it was comforting and safe and built upon a deep respect for one another, and your life was all the better for it. 

Perhaps you and Ben had never been destined for a life like this, you thought. Your childhood intention to wed Benedict had been just that: a naïve plan. That night in the studio with Benedict, after he had found out in the most unfortunate manner that you and Anthony were courting, you had needed something safe and constant. And Benedict had given you the complete opposite. For so many years, he had been your anchor, but that night you felt like the ground had fallen away below your feet and you were in free fall. You had so much love for Benedict that you didn’t even know where to put it. You could feel it from your heart to your fingertips, and it was terrifying. You thought about Violet and Edmund in that moment, and how destroyed Violet had been when Edmund passed. The thought of that happening to you and Benedict made you sick. The thought of taking the risk and putting your heart in his hands only for it to crumble. 

Maybe running away from Benedict at that moment was the cowardly thing to do. Maybe you should have faced your fears and given in to the overpowering love. Maybe you should have kissed your best friend and dealt with the consequences later, holding his hand the whole way through. But you hadn’t. You had sought out safety instead, running up the stairs to Anthony’s room and knocking incessantly until he opened the door, eyes startled and hand holding a handkerchief to his cut lip.

“We’re getting married,” you had declared, breathing ragged and arms crossed tightly over your chest. 

“Who’s ‘we’?” he asked, hoping you meant you and Benedict but suspecting otherwise given that you were currently at his door looking furious. 

“You and me. And we’re going to do it as soon as possible.”

Anthony uttered a soft, “Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say. “And Benedict…” he added in a questioning tone.

“No,” you said firmly. “No Benedict.”

He had expected you to say more, but you just stood in front of him, unmoving. 

“I suppose I can start the arrangements,” Anthony said finally. “If you’re sure this is what you want.”

“I am sure.” 

God, Benedict must have truly done something stupid, he thought. “Very well, then.”

“Good night, Anthony. We can inform our families of our engagement tomorrow morning.”

He just nodded in response, still too stunned to fully process your words.

You cleared your throat and your stoic façade faded slightly. “And thank you, Anthony. For everything,” you said, suddenly very aware of what being married to Anthony might mean.

He shook his head. “No, no. It was nothing. You are family.”

A month later, you were married at the church near Aubrey Hall. Benedict barely stayed long enough to see the two of you say your vows, citing an urgent problem with his cottage in the countryside. His family was kind enough not to question his obviously fabricated excuse, but he couldn’t miss the endless looks of pity sent his way. He had been hurt. Well, you had hurt him. You hurt him when you walked away from him, and you hurt him when you announced your engagement to your family without telling him first, but most of all, you hurt him when you chose Anthony even after two decades of history with Benedict. 

Maybe none of your fears would have come true, and you and Ben would have been happy. Maybe he would have treated your heart with the same love and care with which he always treated you. But it didn’t do to dwell on what could have been. Your marriage with Anthony was real. It was concrete and it was grounding, and you couldn’t imagine a more stable presence in your life.

Bringing you out of your musings, you felt Anthony kiss your cheek in greeting and ask, “Do you want to take her?”

You nodded eagerly, setting down the letter in your hand so you could hold your daughter. “I’m surprised you’re willingly letting me have her,” you teased, laughing as Anthony all but collapsed onto the loveseat across from you, clearly exhausted.

He had been an awfully attentive father the past few days, ecstatic to finally have a girl after three boys. Though she had brought out a heightened sense of protectiveness he couldn’t seem to shake. It was rather endearing to see him so frazzled over a baby that weighed less than eight pounds, but you suspected there might be something more to it.

“She’s so tiny!” he defended, gaze fixed on her admittedly minuscule form in your arms. “I can’t help it…” He trailed off, deep in thought. You glanced up at him, noticing the change in his tone and his hunched posture. After five years of marriage, you had him memorized, and reading him came as naturally as reading a book. 

“Is anything the matter?” you asked gently, already having a general idea about what was plaguing him.

But he shook his head, murmuring a soft no and focusing on the writing desk behind you instead. “Is that for Benedict?” he inquired, nodding in the direction of the letter.

“Yes, I’m just telling him that she’s here and asking him to come visit,” you answered, still eyeing him carefully.

“So, he’s coming to visit, then?” pressed Anthony, eyes back on your daughter, who was currently sleeping soundly in your arms.

“Well, I don’t see why he wouldn’t. Why do you ask?” You changed tactics, trying to seem nonchalant about your concern. 

“Alright. That’s good. Yes, that’s good,” he muttered, seemingly satisfied with your answer but his mind was obviously miles away. 

Growing increasingly worried, you stood up and carefully laid your daughter in her crib, ensuring she remained undisturbed. With her settled, you approached Anthony, who hadn't shifted his gaze from where you had been sitting. Kneeling beside him, you reached out and gingerly placed your hand on his. The touch seemed to quiet his restless thoughts, and he turned to meet your eyes, acknowledging the weight of his anxiety.

Anthony spoke softly, carefully. “I just want to make sure that you and the children are taken care of. In case something happens to me. I want you to have someone.”

You should have known that this was what plagued him. During the first year of your marriage, you settled into a comfortable dynamic with Anthony. It was not quite love, but something like it had blossomed between the two of you. However, it was after the birth of your first son, Arthur, that Anthony reached a breaking point. He realized that his grand plan to marry someone he didn’t love to avoid any undue heartbreak was not, in fact, foolproof. Even if there hadn’t been growing affection between you, Anthony completely fell in love with Arthur from the moment he was born. It was like nothing he’d experienced before; beyond anything he could have imagined. And it was terribly frightening. 

He had shared his fears with you–he’d had no choice in the matter when you were as stubborn and insistent as you were–and you had shared that you, too, were scared. But you trusted one another, and so the two of you navigated parenthood in tandem and Anthony’s fears subsided. Regardless, you could understand that the birth of your daughter brought back this fear in full force, and he felt a greater need to protect her from danger than he would with his sons.

“Anthony, I won’t need someone. You’re right here, and you always will be.”

He shook his head, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. “How can you know that?”

You pursed your lips, brows furrowing. “Even if you aren’t, it won’t be your fault. You’re a wonderful father. And a wonderful husband.” 

With a deep sigh, he clasped your hand and stood up, bringing you with him. “Just promise me you’ll ask Benedict to take care of you if I go?”

Your heart softened. Knowing he needed to hear you say it out loud, you nodded, “I promise.”

---

 March 5, 1820 – Y/I,

One would think Anthony had been the one to give birth instead of you! I’ll pop by today to give him a talking-to. And to meet my lovely niece, of course.

Yours, B

You found yourself in the nursery this afternoon, your three boys gathered around you and your daughter fast asleep in her crib. It was a lovely day out; sunny but not too hot, but the boys hardly noticed. Instead, they sat still, completely enthralled as you read from your current novel. Though you adored reading to your children, you found children’s books rather boring and repetitive. Thus, you had shifted to reading them excerpts from your own reading material. It made the endeavor much more interesting, and the boys seemed to love it too, evident as they hung on your every word.

“‘Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder,’” you read, and your sons gasped, not quite understanding the meaning of the word but easily catching onto your surprised reaction. You continued, “‘and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man! Yet I ask-’”

“Surely I’ve heard wrong and you’re not reading to your children about murder!” came Benedict’s voice from the doorway. 

Immediately, three voices squealed in delight and Frankenstein was completely forgotten as your sons rushed over to their uncle. Charles was only one year old, but his brothers’ excitement only fueled his clumsy crawl toward Benedict’s waiting arms.

“They don’t exactly know what it means, Ben,” you laughed. “Besides, it’s wonderful literature. And it keeps them entertained.”

He picked up Charles in one arm and Arthur in the other, making his way over to you as Bernard clung to his leg. “Well, I’m sure you know better than me, darling,” he commented and kissed you sweetly on the top of your head. 

“Isn’t that usually the case?” you teased, standing up to properly greet your best friend. Though you hadn’t joined the welcome committee, you were positively glowing now that Ben had arrived. It had been over a week since you had seen him, and you had missed him terribly. You smiled brightly, instantly at ease in his presence.

Eyebrows raised and eyes shining with mirth, he teased back, “You forget I have three very bloodthirsty boys on my side who have just learned what murder is.”

You looked at Arthur, who was completely focused on attempting to undo Benedict’s cravat, and Charles, who had two fingers in his mouth and was unsuccessfully attempting to put in a third, then glanced back at Benedict. 

“Quite bloodthirsty, aren’t they?” you deadpanned as you gently pried Charles’ hand from his mouth. 

Ben couldn’t help the waves of laughter rolling off him as he observed your sons. “It seems they still have a way to go before they get there.” 

Then, spotting the pink crib across the room, he gasped and set down Arthur and Charles and somewhat successfully shook Bernard off his leg. Walking over to the crib, he stared at her, completely awestruck.

"She’s so tiny!” he exclaimed, careful to keep his voice down so as not to wake her.

You giggled, making your way over. “That’s exactly what Anthony said,” you smiled at him. 

But your smile did nothing to soothe the dull ache that had blossomed in his chest as he remembered all the things he could have had with you. The pain was not as unbearable now as it had been five years ago, but he was inclined to think that it would be there for the rest of his life. In the back of his mind, Benedict wondered if he would have been as good of a father as Anthony. He supposed he would never know, having devoted himself completely to his art and extinguishing any lingering hopes Violet had that her second son would ever marry. But you seemed happy, and that was truly all that mattered. 

Ignoring the pain in his chest, he smiled sweetly back down at you. “What’s her name? Something starting with a D, I’m sure. Otherwise, Anthony will have lost his mind.”

“Yes, naturally,” you giggled. You tugged on Ben’s sleeve to bring him closer to the crib. “Benedict, meet Diana Bridgerton.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Bridgerton,” he murmured, intently observing your daughter as she slowly blinked her eyes open. 

“Quite eager to meet her uncle,” you observed, but Benedict was too mesmerized by her to respond properly.

“She’s got your eyes,” he whispered after a few seconds, turning back to you and placing an arm around you. Your arm snaked around his back, and you drew him in a little closer.

Leaning down to place his cheek on your head and hugging you tighter, he spoke softly, “I thought you might name her Daisy. Flower names and all that. Besides, it starts with a D.”

Benedict didn’t quite know where the comment had come from. You hadn’t mentioned flower names in years, but the thought had suddenly popped into his brain quite unexpectedly and he had been unable to stop the words coming out of his mouth. He knew he was so incredibly lucky to know you and to love you and to have a friendship with you, but it was at times like these when he wished he didn’t know you quite so well. At times when knowing you was only a reminder of what he lost.

In that moment, you were thankful to be facing Diana’s crib instead of Benedict, because you could feel the tears prickling at your eyes. The flower names. Of course Benedict would have remembered. You had never truly regretted marrying Anthony, but what you had with Ben transcended anything you could ever have with anyone else, and sometimes it was hard to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t your person anymore.

Shaking your head to will the tears away, you responded, “No. No, I could never.”

“What? You always said you wanted to name your children flower names.”

“No, Benedict. I wanted to name our children flower names.”

He felt all the air in his lungs escaping all at once. It felt as if someone had reached deep inside of him, taken hold of every organ inside his body, and squeezed very tightly. Wanted to name our children. Our children. Our. Just a simple word, three letters in total, had managed to leave him completely disarmed. 

It was silly, really. You were married and had four children with his brother, of all people. And Benedict was still completely and irrevocably in love with you. He rather thought that he would always love you, in some form or another. Benedict suspected that Anthony knew this too, though his older brother was far too tactful to ever broach the subject. 

Seemingly unaware of Ben's internal turmoil as he tried to reduce his feelings to their usual dormant state, you grabbed hold of his hand and led him away from Diana toward the door. “Nurse Edwards can watch the children while we go downstairs to have some tea. I must hear about your painting displayed at the National Gallery! I wish I hadn’t been about two days from bursting so I could have gone to see the unveiling.”

---

November 17, 1820 – Benedict,

Y/N has fallen ill, and I am away on business unable to tend to her. Go to Aubrey Hall as soon as possible and make sure she’s alright.

Please.

Anthony

Benedict could barely hear the rain pouring down outside his carriage over his racing heartbeat. Anthony’s frantic note had left Ben in a state of panic. He had left for Aubrey Hall immediately upon receiving the note, but he still worried that he might be too late. What on earth had frightened his older brother to the point of asking Benedict for help? A million possibilities, each one as devastating as the other, raced through his mind. 

The sight of your home interrupted his catastrophizing, and he swung the door open and ran toward the entrance before the carriage could come to a complete stop. Benedict was somewhat aware that he was getting completely drenched in the rain, but his mind was far too focused on getting to you to care. 

The front door was already open when he reached it, and Benedict burst through, barely hearing the butler’s, “Upstairs in her bedchamber, Mr Bridgerton,” before he was frantically climbing the stairs to get to you. 

Once he reached your door, Ben stopped quite suddenly. He didn’t want to startle you by bursting in unannounced, so he waited a few seconds to catch his breath. Finally, he turned the doorknob slowly, hands shaking nervously as he entered your bedroom. 

In between shockingly vivid dreams and a splitting headache, you vaguely registered what looked to be Benedict’s tall frame standing in your room. You shook your head, confused by his presence and not quite trusting your own eyes, but the effort left you breathless and you coughed violently. 

“It’s alright, darling. You just rest,” he shushed you, shrugging off his drenched coat before he came to your side. 

It killed him to see you like this, pale and sweaty as shivers wracked through your tired body. He had never seen you look so ill, not even when you came down with influenza when you were ten years old, and he was trying his hardest to hold himself together.

“Have you called for a medic?” his voice came out a bit strangled as he asked your lady’s maid, Rose, who had been nervously fidgeting off to the side. 

"Yes, Mr Bridgerton. It's pneumonia," she said softly, her voice filled with concern. "The best we can do is keep her comfortable and give her fluids until her fever breaks."

He nodded, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm down. But you had drifted into fitful sleep, and your shallow, ragged breathing was only making him more worried. 

Nevertheless, he had to think clearly. Anthony was away, meaning that Benedict was now entirely responsible for you. The realization steeled his nerves, so he straightened his waistcoat and released a controlled breath, ready to face whatever came his way.

“Where are the children? I trust Nurse Edwards is with them now,” he said firmly.

Rose nodded. “They’re asleep now, but she is there in case they need anything. They’re taken care of,” she reassured.

“Very well. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance to them.” Then, clearing his throat, “Ring for tea, please,” he instructed. “And bring me towels and a bowl of lukewarm water.” 

She nodded, hurrying out of the room. Benedict moved closer to your bedside, his heart twisting at the sight of you in distress. He didn't hesitate, pulling a chair close to the bed and sitting down beside you. Gently, he reached out to feel your burning forehead, but you immediately flinched, the pain evident in your eyes as they shot open.

“Too cold,” you rasped. “Please don’t.”

He cursed under his breath, heart cracking slightly at your reaction. But he withdrew his hand immediately, settling instead for sitting on a chair next to your bed, watching you intently for any signs that your condition was worsening.

You looked awfully pale, paler than he’d ever seen you, and your lips had turned a concerning shade of purple. Though even when you were drenched in sweat and shivering, you still were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, he thought. Even now, years after you had married another man, you remained his muse. The heartbreak he experienced that summer had been an admittedly excellent source of inspiration, and his new works helped propel him forward in the art world. It had served as a distraction, proving especially useful when Ben heard the news that you were pregnant for the first time so soon after the wedding. But now he supposed that art was no longer a distraction, and had instead become his life. 

Maybe it was better this way, he sometimes thought. Maybe fate had never intended for him to be with you, though he couldn't fathom why the universe seemed so cruel. But the conclusion that he most often came to is that this was some sort of punishment. And he supposed he rather deserved it. He had continuously run away from the person he loved most, his best friend, the love of his life, time and again while you had only waited patiently for him to love you back. 

Looking down at you now, he still felt the need to take care of you. The instinct would never go away. But it was a shame that the only reason he was allowed to do it now was because your husband had asked him to.

Your lady’s maid cleared her throat, standing at the doorway with the items Benedict had requested. He waved her in and had her place the tea on your bedside table, but he took hold of the towels himself and dipped one of them in the bowl of water.

“How long have you been here?” Ben asked Rose, taking in her exhausted appearance.

“Since midmorning, Mr Bridgerton,” she responded, stifling a yawn. "But I'm happy to do it. Lady Bridgerton seems to need it, too."

“Well, I think you ought to go to bed now, Rose,” he responded, gently placing the damp towel on your forehead. You let out a soft sigh of relief, and the tightness in Benedict’s heart loosened the tiniest bit. 

Hearing his words, Rose could have collapsed right then and there. “Thank you, Mr Bridgerton. Please call for one of the servants if you need anything,” she said gratefully. And then, before he could change his mind, she hurried out of your bedroom. 

The towel had seemed to rouse you from your sleep, and you sat up weakly so you could take in your surroundings.

You opened your eyes, happy to find Benedict still in your room. “Hello, there,” you croaked, but he shushed you, immediately holding a teacup to your lips. You took a hesitant sip, but the warm liquid ran down your throat so soothingly that you grasped the cup with your own hands and drank the entire thing. 

Ben laughed softly, delicately taking the teacup from you so as not to touch you, not having forgotten your earlier protests when he placed a hand on your forehead.

“How long have you been here?” you asked Benedict, a particularly strong shiver making your teeth chatter. Noting his look of concern, you rushed to reassure him, “I’m fine, Ben. Promise.” However, you didn’t know how convincing you had sounded, given that you started violently coughing immediately after the words left your lips. 

“I can see that. You look great,” teased Benedict. 

“I bet,” you shot back, and he was unable to keep the fond smile off his face. “I’m–” you started, but another coughing fit prevented you from continuing. He looked at you, eyes overflowing with worry, and exchanged the towel on your forehead for a fresh one, hoping it would provide at least some relief.

Once your coughing fit subsided, you were overtaken by a wave of exhaustion. Sliding back down into bed, you turned to Benedict. “I think I need to sleep if that’s alright,” you said softly, eyes already drooping shut.

“Mmm, I think so, too,” he agreed.

You reached out and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and bringing your joined hands to your chest. “Please stay, Ben,” you said, eyes already closed. 

His heart nearly skipped a beat, having completely forgotten just how right your hand felt in his. “Always,” he murmured, reaching over to kiss you on the forehead. Benedict settled into the chair beside your bed, carefully watching you to make sure your breathing remained even. 

An hour later, a particularly intense shiver ran through you and you woke up to find that you were still clutching Benedict’s hand. He was staring at you intently, and you felt an overwhelming sense of tenderness for him. Even though you had married Anthony, he was still here by your side, ensuring that you were safe. Even though you probably looked about two minutes away from death, and even though he probably had much more interesting things to do, he was here.

“I’m sorry, you know,” you whispered, not quite sure you wanted him to hear but needing to say it anyway.

His brow furrowed, not quite sure why you were apologizing. “It’s quite alright.”

“No, I am. I’m so sorry,” you said, barely registering the tears running down your face and mixing with your sweat. 

Ben wiped away your tears with one hand, the other still holding yours. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered.

You shook your head and the towel fell from your forehead once again, which he immediately replaced with a new one. “I don’t regret marrying him, but I regret hurting you,” you choked back a sob. “It was cowardly of me, and I’m sorry.”

Benedict was at a loss, your confession bringing his complicated feelings to the surface. But before he could find the right words, you had fallen asleep once again, eyes closed peacefully and your breathing even. He sat back in shock, attempting to process the meaning behind your words while still being careful not to move his hand too much so you could sleep peacefully. 

Benedict sat there for what felt like hours, his mind in a whirlwind of emotions. Guilt weighed heavily on his heart as he watched you sleep, your hand still clasped in his. Surely you were at least a little delirious, he reasoned. How could you apologize for something he had caused?

Hours later, the morning sun filtered through your curtains and you stirred awake. You blinked your eyes open, a bit disoriented as you took in your surroundings. You glanced down, seeing Ben sitting in a chair next to your bed, fast asleep in what looked to be an incredibly uncomfortable position. Your hand was still clasped in Benedict’s, his thumb absently stroking the back of your hand. You felt a pang of guilt at the sight and cringed slightly as you remembered your tearful apology the previous night.

Sensing that you were awake, Benedict stirred, half opening his eyes to make sure you were alright. Wincing as his neck cracked, he sat up and asked groggily, “How’re you feeling this morning, darling?” 

“Much better, actually,” you responded.

A sudden wave of panic washed over you. “Who’s with the children?”

“Don’t worry! They’re alright. Nurse Edwards is with them,” he assured you. “Perhaps it’s for the best; they might get to engage with some books actually meant for children.” He kept his tone light and teasing, not entirely sure if you remembered your apology and not wanting to open up the conversation if you didn’t.

“Oh, thank you,” you sighed in relief, relaxing against your pillows once again. Then, swatting his arm, you scolded, “And they enjoy the literature, mind you!”

“I suppose you are feeling better if you had the strength to hit me,” he remarked amusedly.

You rolled your eyes. “I could have hit you last night. Easily.” But your expression turned sincere. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t mean to be a burden; I know you’re working on a new piece.”

“It’s nothing,” he waved his hand. “You could never be a burden.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, suddenly looking anywhere but at him. “And I meant what I said last night. It was ill-timed, I know, but I am truly sorry.”

“Nonsense,” he shook his head. “There is nothing to apologize for. I didn’t treat you the way I should have and I was the one who hurt you. I’m just glad I can still have you as a best friend.”

You smiled at him, pulling him into a hug. “We seem to be quite good at that, don’t you think? Being best friends.”

“Oh, the best,” he smiled at you, adoration clear in his eyes.

—

orginal ending || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List: @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld @5sos-calm @elissanatok @titanicnerd-blog @noonenuts @moonwayne @lilasblogg @mmontgomeryb @fulltacoparadise @joyfullymulti @sopanngon @fanfiction-she-wrote @aureolinb @ambitionspassionscoffee @bbubbllejisoo @marvelspogue @avengersgirlloriannaa @loliakeoghan23 @cierrajhilll @sadprose-auroras @merlieve @khaylin27 @cherrytop02 @little-duck @angerpearl @shondlenoodle @lyssamay52 @bags10 @angerpearl

[augiewrites]

“scott street” - richie jerimovich

summary: y/n is back in chicago for the first time in years and reunites with an old flame (inspired by phoebe bridgers’ scott street)

pairing: richie jerimovich x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, grief, family/parental death, the usual warnings that come along with the bear

a/n: i love emotionally unintelligent men

Y/N was never good at making decisions. Big, life changing decisions? No big deal. Abandon everything they know to move across the country for college? Didn’t even think twice. Their last living family member was not-so alive anymore and left a massive mess behind with no one to clean it up? The U-Haul was packed before the week was over.

The cooler of soft drinks in front of them right now? Y/N had been staring at the frosted doors for well over five minutes, periodically opening the doors but taking nothing out.

“Y/N?”

Holy shit, he grew up.

“Carmy?” Y/N smiled at the young man, pulling him into a brief embrace, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could, uh, ask you the same,” Carmy smirked.

“I’m taking care of Ma’s old building.”

Carmy’s brows knitted together, “Right—I’m sorry about your mom, by the way. Shame.”

“Yeah,” Y/N shuffled their feet, “you avoiding the question?”

“Maybe,” he smirked, “I took over the Beef. Been back in town for a few weeks.”

“Oh? How’s that going for you?”

Another smirk. “It’s not, really.”

“Wow, look at us,” Y/N knocked his shoulder with theirs, “both said we’d never come back and here we are…dealing with a couple steaming piles of shit.”

He let out a breath that slightly resembled a laugh, “Yeah—listen, you should come by for family tomorrow afternoon. Take a look at the pile for yourself.”

“Oh, Carmy, I don’t know—”

“I’ll make sure he stays in line.”

“We both know that’s not possible, Bear.”

“Still, everyone would love seeing you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Carmy opened the cooler and wordlessly pressed a Diet Coke in their hand before walking out of the store.

It took everything in them to not cry.

_________________________________________

Y/N knew it was a bad idea, but the next day they found themselves standing outside the Beef, willing themselves to go in.

They scoffed and opened the door.

Pussy, they chastised themself.

The restaurant was pure chaos, and Y/N stood there for a moment, completely unnoticed and taking it all in. They would be lying to themselves if they said they didn’t miss the mayhem.

Unsurprisingly, Richie was the first to notice them—he had a habit of doing that.

“Yo, what the hell?”

Y/N was barely able to get a word out as they were suddenly flanked by Tina and Ebra, who were simultaneously saying how good it was to see them and chastising them for being gone so long with so little communication.

It was Carmy that intervened, gently pulling Y/N away with a small laugh and saying, “okay, guys, let ‘em breathe.”

Richie was frozen in his spot behind the counter, feeling like he just saw a ghost.

Which, in a way, he did. It had been years since he saw Y/N, and no matter how much he tried forgetting about them, they haunted his thoughts. They had been high school sweethearts, and even though things didn’t end well between them he couldn’t help but still care deeply for them.

First loves were like that.

Y/N’s mind was on overdrive as Carmy walked them around and introduced them to the new faces working in the kitchen. Richie was being too quiet. Usually when he was avoiding a topic he didn’t like, he talked about everything else under the sun. Richie being quiet was dangerous territory.

They were pulled out of their thoughts once Tina slammed a large pot in the center of the larger tables in the dining area and yelled, “Family!”

Y/N took a seat between Tina and Fak, and was for once thankful for the man’s dedication to rambling. He was currently going on about how he should come inspect the building they were now the owner of, despite the building already having been cleared by state inspectors and having a fully staffed maintenance team.

“I wouldn’t waste my time if I were you, Fak,” Richie broke in, “it’s only a matter of time before they leave and make that place someone else’s problem. Right, Y/N?”

Y/N didn’t have it in them to fight back, even though they knew that was what the man wanted. They were too tired.

“That’s what you do best, huh, Y/N? Run away from all your problems and leave everyone else to pick up the pieces?”

Carmy sent Richie a warning glare, “Cousin.”

“No, Cousin,” funny how Richie can manage to make a term of endearment sound like an insult, “you had no right inviting them here.”

“I have just as much a right to be here as you do,” Y/N glared at Richie.

“That’s a load of shit, and you know it, toots.”

That was all it took for a screaming match to break out between the former lovers. Their voices drowned each other out, and all Carmy could make out was a slew of insulting names, curse words, and years of unpacked baggage.

He let them go at it for a couple of minutes before he dragged Richie out the front door with a cry of “enough!”

Y/N could hear the two men arguing outside from their place at the table before deciding that they’d had enough. They muttered a lame “excuse me” before moving through the kitchen to the back alley, their face heating up in embarrassment. It was nothing that most of the Beef’s staff hadn’t seen before, but Y/N could feel themselves reverting to a version of themself that they hadn’t been for a long time—they couldn’t help the embarrassment that came along with it.

They were halfway through their second cigarette when they heard the back door open and a familiar pair of track pants entered their field of vision.

“I got you those over a decade ago,” they exhaled the smoke and pressed their lighter into Richie’s outstretched hand, “isn’t it about time you get some new clothes?”

Richie kicked his leg around, inspecting the pants, “Ain’t nothing wrong with ‘em. Why get rid of something that works?”

“Big words coming from you.”

He met their half-assed glare with a furrowed look, “you were the one that left.”

“Not before you ended it.”

“We would’ve gotten back together. Always did,” a scoff, “You left.”

“And you moved on, had a kid—seems like things worked out.”

“Toots, if this is things working out, I don’t wanna know what it would have been like if they hadn’t.”

Y/N needed to change the subject before the tension killed them.

“How’s your girl doing, anyway?”

Richie grinned at Y/N, “Ev’s doing real good. Loving her new gymnastics class. Just turned nine last month.”

“Shit, that makes me feel old.”

“Well, what does that make me?” Richie asked with a rough laugh.

“Fucking ancient.”

Another laugh. Maybe things would be different between them this time.

“You in town for good, then?

“Yeah, I think so. Got a good thing going. Think I might start renovating some of the units in the apartment next year.”

“Hmm, sure,” Richie muttered absentmindedly around his cigarette.

Y/N decided it was better to not say anything.

Richie finished off his cigarette, tossing it in the general direction of a makeshift ashtray.

He made to walk back to the back door before turning and offering Y/N his hand, helping them pull themselves off the ground. He wiped his hands off on his track pants before finally going to move away.

“Anyway,” he gave them one last look before turning around and walking away, “don’t be a stranger.”

~~~

part two

[ghcstao3]

dunno if this is anything but i have in my head a ghostsoap persuasion au just rattling around…

i hope you mean the jane austen persuasion because if not i am so very sorry. here’s a little drabble but i’d love to hear your take

(period-typical homophobia is nonexistent here) (setting is also tweaked a little)

-

John stands frozen, feeling as if a bucket of cold water has just been poured over him as his eyes catch those that have continued to haunt his mind for nearly a decade.

Eight years. Eight years since he had broken off his engagement with Simon; eight years since John has seen the man last. And against all odds, eight years later, here Simon stands at a gathering in the very house where John had called things off after immense pressure from his family to do so.

Simon looks... good. He's always been handsome, but the years have lent him a certain ruggedness that adds to his charm—surely a cause of his time in the navy. Simon had only been enlisted for a short time before things ended between him and John, but John sees now that his uniform indicates he's climbed the ranks to Captain.

He must've recently come home.

John still can't bring himself to move, so it's Simon who ends up approaching him.

"John," Simon greets, and how it stings, "it's been some time, hasn't it?"

"It has." John tries not to wince at the words catching in his throat. "How—how have you been? I—"

"Well enough,” Simon says. Then he ducks his head, lowering his voice so as to not allow others to eavesdrop, “What are you doing here, Johnny?”

John swallows thickly. Though Simon's words are terse, his tone isn't at all resentful like John might've imagined it would be. No, no it's—it's almost... pained.

If John revels in the warmth of their closeness for just a moment, then he should just hope that Simon is none the wiser.

"Was visiting my sister,” John says. “And I was asked to check on the house. My parents, they—“

“They’re renting to my brother and his wife,” Simon finishes. He shrinks back, shoulders relaxing with a mix of relief and realization and... something else. Something John can't quite place.

A terrible silence falls over them, in spite of the low hum of chatter from those all around the gathering.

"...I'm sorry," John blurts. Simon's brows immediately knit together, but he says nothing to dismiss the sudden apology. The slight curve of Simon's frown, the new scars that adorn his skin—they all spur John on to continue. So John's words all tumble out at once: "I'm sorry for how things ended, Si—Simon. I never should have—if you can't forgive me, then I can't blame you."

John braces himself for a scoff, for a response marked by disdain, but it isn't either of these reactions that he receives. Instead, all Simon does is offer a sad, subdued smile.

“I could never fault you,” says Simon. “As much as I’ve missed you. But we’re different people now, Johnny. And—“

“But do we have to be?” John pleads.

Taken aback by the response, Simon wets his lips before pulling them into a thin line. He sighs and glances around, a certain hollowness weighing on his expression that hadn’t existed in all the time John had known him prior.

Ultimately, Simon hangs his head a moment before those dark eyes return to John’s, far too earnest and hurt.

“I’m afraid we do.”

John opens his mouth to argue, but eventually his jaw can only snap shut with nothing to say. Numbly, he nods, and makes no move to stop Simon from returning to a conversation with a group of guests.

And now with no more reason to stay, John takes his leave with his spirits dampened.

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 16

summary: It’s obvious Javier Peña loves you, it just catches you by surprise how he decides to finally tell you. 

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, Soft Javier Peña, alternating pov, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie(s), oral sex (f & m receiving), rimming (f receiving), cockwarming, overstimulation (m), spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, nude photos, Javier begging, love confessions, miscommunication, arguing, angst with a happy ending, period typical sexism, canon typical drug talk, emotions, dysfunctional family, past relationship trauma (Javier), Not Lorraine friendly, Javier’s poor little ass being bruised, Javier being so in love, the most romantic sex I have ever written)

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

word count: 17.8k+ (This is who I am)

a/n: Here we go! The first draft of this chapter was 3k… I’m as shocked as you are. I know some of the tags aren’t my norm, but I promise it’s a good time and things are resolved quickly. Shoutout to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing this. I love you. 

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The time you spent reading had dwindled quite drastically since Javier Peña waltzed his way into your life, and you weren’t necessarily upset about this new development. 

Generally, you’d get home from work, shower, have dinner, then unwind by reading or watching a movie, wanting to relax after the busy day. Getting a couple of chapters in before bed was a must, needing it to lull you to sleep; that is, you did, up until Javi showed up, and now your bedtime routine had changed to either getting fucked and being so blissed out that sleep came easily, or laying in bed cuddled up with him while the two of you talked, getting so warm and cozy that you found yourself drifting off in no time.  

So, you weren’t getting much reading done, and your to-read pile on the living room bookshelf was haunting you, knowing that at the rate you were going, it’d probably take you years to get through the dozen or so books. 

It was a sunny Saturday, and not at all surprising that you’d awoken to a naked Javi pressed against your bare back, his hands ghosting over your skin while his lips trailed over your shoulders and neck, making you smile as you came to. 

He’d eaten you out until your legs were shaking, and the sheets below you were wet from your release, Javi telling you he’d take care of washing them after breakfast. 

God, there was something about a man taking the initiative. 

The windows in your apartment had been opened to let the early sunlight in and to air out the place; Javi not only putting the sheets into the wash but also replacing the bedding and folding the laundry that had been in the dryer, all while you’d tackled organizing the three junk drawers in the kitchen. 

It took everything in your power not to suck his dick when he asked if he’d folded your panties okay, knowing you had a special way of bundling them up. You’d approved of his efforts and smothered his face in kisses, him looking very pleased with himself. 

When your task was finished, the drawers finally organized, and Javi extremely happy with what you’d done now that he knew where he could find things, you’d decided to spend the afternoon reading. 

Settling on the couch, your legs curled underneath you, you’d opened to the first chapter of a book you’d gotten almost two weeks prior. Javi was sitting beside you, so close your bodies touched, his hand on your thigh as he watched tv with the volume low. 

This was another very welcome change in your life. 

None of your ex-boyfriends would have wanted to spend their Saturday morning cleaning your apartment, then be content to just sit on the couch and watch television while you read. 

They would’ve wanted to go out and do something, not waste their day lounging around, always needing to be active when they weren’t working—if you wanted to just relax and spend the day in, you were left to do it alone. 

But Javier Peña was different. 

All he wanted was to spend time with you, and he didn’t care what you did. 

Want to go to the diner for breakfast? He’s down. The farmers market? No problem. Run errands? He’ll drive. Clean the apartment? Tell him what to do, and it will be done. Relax on the couch and read? You’ve got cable, and there’s a Lethal Weapon marathon that will keep him entertained. 

Honestly, he was clingy, just not annoyingly so. You found it endearing and adorable how he had to be touching you if he was sitting next to you, a hand on your thigh or feet in his lap, and he loved when you’d lay on top of him; showering with you was essential after work, he honest to god pouted if you took one alone; in bed, you always ended up wrapped in his arms, him seeking you out even in sleep, needing you close. He never let you cook alone, him wanting to help, or at least keep you company, if not distract you a little with some impromptu dancing. 

Here you were, cozy on the couch, Javi rubbing circles into the skin just below where your shorts stopped, so caught up in what you were reading you weren’t entirely sure how much time had passed. 

The book was surprisingly good and had sucked you in; an orphan boy finding out about a secret magical world and his life changing for the better, reading page after page, chapter after chapter, wanting to know what was going to happen next. 

“Want more water, Cielito?” Javi asked. 

“Yes, please,” you murmured, eyes glued to the words, but knowing you’d finished your glass in the time you’d read six chapters. 

“I’ll be back.” 

He squeezed your thigh, groaning as he got up from the couch. 

At some point, he returned to set down the cup on the coffee table, letting you know it was there and noticing he didn’t sit back down. 

You were engrossed with the story, fascinated by the magic and world-building, and metaphorically on the edge of your seat when suddenly the light of the television was blocked by a mass, realizing Javi was standing in front of you. 

“Need something?” you asked, eyes not leaving the book. 

“No,” he answered. 

“Okay,” you distractedly answered. 

He didn’t move, which made you realize he was trying to get your attention. 

“Want something?” you asked instead. 

“Maybe,” he replied. 

Glancing over the pages, he was standing there with his hands on his hips, noticing his damp hair from showering, your eyes taking in the nakedness of his broad shoulders and moving down his chest and soft belly to the tantalizing trail of hair that you knew led to his big di—your eyes went wide when they landed on his crotch. 

“Underwear,” you breathed. “Oh my fucking god.” You blindly reached on the table beside you to grab your bookmark to shove between the pages, the book practically getting thrown onto the tabletop. 

Your eyes were stuck on his bulge, the white material hiding nothing, seeing the clear outline of his cock, your hand moving without thinking, reaching to touch your fingertips to it, and seeing him noticeably getting harder. 

“Holy fuck,” you said, maneuvering on the couch to get on your knees. You took in how they sat on his hips and hugged his thighs, rubbing both your hands up them, feeling the soft material and his muscles flexing, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “You fucking spoil me,” you purred. “This is what you grabbed before we left last night?”

The previous night you’d met Javi’s father for the first time, and everything had gone better than you expected, Chucho making you feel welcomed into their family. When you were leaving, Javi had run back into the house for something, and you hadn’t bothered to ask, so caught up in all you’d learned about your boyfriend and his parents. 

“Yeah,” he answered, a smirk on his plush lips, looking proud of himself. You couldn’t help pressing your face against his half-hard cock. “If I’d known I’d get this kind of reaction, I would’ve—fuck,” he groaned as you mouthed over him, wetting the boxer briefs with your saliva. 

Pressing a loud kiss to his now fully hard dick, you grabbed his hips, leaning back to forcefully make him turn to see how he looked from behind, but he didn’t budge. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, confusion showing on your face when you met his eyes. 

“Let me see your ass,” you said. 

He was frowning. 

“I liked what you were doing.” 

“And I’ll blow you after I see your butt. I need to know how it looks.” 

Grabbing your hands, he held them. 

“Or I can eat your pussy?” he bargained. 

Your eyes narrowed, realizing something was up. 

“Why are you being cagey about this? What’s going on?” 

He sighed, looking away, his thumbs rubbing circles on the backs of your hands. 

“I just don’t want you looking at it.” 

“Because..?” 

“I got bit by a horse…” he said slowly and matter of fact. 

It was just hitting you that you hadn’t seen his ass since showering after work the previous day. He let you shower by yourself the night before, which you should’ve found suspicious. If he didn’t want you to see it, that meant he knew you were going to freak out, worry swirling in your stomach. 

“Javier, how bad is it?” Your tone was serious. 

He grimaced. 

“It looks worse than it is.” 

“Turn around.” 

“Baby…” 

“With the way you hate clothes, I’m going to see it. Pull off the bandaid, babe. Let me see your ass.” 

He let out a long sigh, dropping your hands to perch his own on his hips, slowly turning. 

Fuck, he looked amazing in the underwear, the way they clung to the globes of his ass, it taking everything in you not to grab handfuls of him, wanting to squeeze the little bit of butt he had. 

Your fingers moved up to the elastic waistband, sliding them under and slowly peeling them down, gasping when you saw his right asscheek. 

“Javier Peña, you fucking liar!” you exclaimed, staring at the large black and purple bruise that had to hurt like hell and was about the size of his fist, and his hands were so fucking big. “Please tell me you washed it with soap and water,” you said, automatically going into nurse mode, examining as best you could, needing to make sure he was okay and that it wouldn’t get infected. “Do you want me to pull out my first aid kit? I can put some antibiotic cream on it, and are you up to date on your tetanus shot?” You leaned in closer, gently feeling it. “I can’t tell if he broke the skin, and it can be transmitted through animal bites. Shit, babe, it looks so fucking bad.” 

“I’m okay, Cielito,” he sighed. “Washed it when we got back to Pop’s and got a booster the first time that fucker bit me,” he seethed. 

“Javi, be real with me. Are you in pain? I can’t believe you sat next to me for hours! Your poor little butt. Do you need some Tylenol? Want me to ice it?” 

“It’s fine, baby—I can handle it.” He twisted his upper body to look down at you behind him, his eyes rounded. “I promise I’m okay. Just fucking sore.” He frowned. 

“Let me get you some pain medication then,” you said, starting to get up, but he stopped you with a shake of his head. 

“Already took some—I’m good.” He gave you a reassuring smile. 

Your eyebrow quirked.

“You really took some Tylenol to make sure you could fuck, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah,” he answered with a smirk. 

“And you really thought you could hide your ass from me while wearing underwear? Javier, you know how I feel about your butt.” 

“Love it as much as I love yours.” 

“Exactly! Oh!” you exclaimed, remembering something. 

Leaning forward, you pressed a loud smacking kiss to his bruise, followed by smaller ones all around the area, Javi chuckling. 

“Does it feel better?” you asked, meeting his gaze. 

He smiled, “Yes, Cielito,” he replied. 

“You’re a lying liar who lies,” you accused amusedly. Smiling at him mischievously, you said, “I do know something that will definitely take the pain away, but it has to be administered orally.” You grabbed onto his tiny waist and made him turn around, his cock still hard in his underwear. “God, just look at it,” you marveled. 

“Fuck, baby,” Javi groaned, his head falling back. “Keep looking at my dick like that, and I’ll need to put it in you.” 

He looked down to meet your eyes, seeing his own had gone darker, his cheeks and chest pinking up.  

“I want you in my mouth,” you replied, stroking him over the boxer briefs. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard. “Can I, Javi?” you asked. “Can I have your dick in my mouth?” 

“Yes, Cielito,” he answered, the words coming out rough. “You can have anything you fucking want.” 

Smiling, you hooked your fingers into the waistband, slowly pulling them down to uncover his straining cock and heavy sack, wanting to taste and feel him, your mouth watering at the prospect. 

“Have I ever told you,” you started, eyes locked on his as you took him in hand, feeling him hard and hot in your palm. “That you have the prettiest dick?” 

The head of him was reddened, a pearl of precum beading at the tip, stroking him up and down. 

“Fuck,” he gasped. 

“I dream about this dick,” you continued. “Fucking crave it. Want you inside me—my mouth, pussy, ass.” His eyes squeezed shut, groaning loudly, his cock twitching at your words. “You’ve ruined me for all other men, no one could ever compare, but that doesn’t matter because I only want you.” 

He met your gaze again, pupils blown wide. 

“It’s yours,” he rasped. “It’s only fucking yours—I’m yours, you fucking own me.” 

Hearing him say that had your body going warm, your pussy throbbing. 

“And I’m yours—all of me belongs to you, Papí.” 

A strangled noise came from his throat, his cock twitching in your hand again. 

“Take what you want, Cielito.” Desperation was in his tone. “Fuck, do whatever you want. Please.” 

Precum was steadily flowing from him, helping your strokes glide. Letting go, you licked your palm, taking him back in hand and gathering spit in your mouth, hovering your head over him as it dripped onto the tip. He groaned when your mouth followed, the heft of him sliding along the broad flat of your tongue and relishing in his taste, moaning around him. 

Your hand continued to work his shaft while your head bobbed, letting your saliva coat him, hearing the slick sounds as you worked him over, moans and groans filling the room. His hand went to the back of your head, his eyes on what you were doing, looking up at him as you licked from base to tip, and swirled your tongue around the crown, his mouth falling open in a gasped fuck. 

Moving back down again, you went lower, drawing a ball into your mouth, sucking on the delicate skin, Javi moaning loudly, his eyes squeezing shut with furrowed brows. 

“Shit, baby,” he panted. “So fucking good—so good to me.” 

At the tip, you let more spit fall onto him, taking him back into your mouth, your hand like a sheath around the base of him, pumping easily from how wet it was, while your head bowed forward, letting him hit the back of your throat before swallowing him down. 

He was breathing hard, his fingers digging into your hair as his hard cock carved out space in your throat, tears pooling in your eyes, saliva dripping out the corners of your lips. His dick was so solid, loving how it felt inside you, humming appreciatively around him that earned a punched-out groan that shot straight to your cunt, making you clench hard. 

You were so turned on, loving the noises he was making and hearing just how much he was enjoying himself. 

“Gonna make me come,” he groaned. “Don’t wanna come down your throat.” 

Coming off of him, you were panting, his dick glistening as your hand wetly stroked him. 

Looking up through your lashes, seeing his attention on you, you asked huskily, “Where do you want to come? My face?” You pressed your breasts together in your shirt. “My tits? On my ass?” 

“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes wild, looking wrecked with his pinched brow and the gorgeous flush all over his skin. “Wanna be inside you.” 

A grin turned up on your lips. 

“Of course, you want to finish inside. You’re fucking addicted to cream pies.” You rubbed your hands up his thighs, feeling the muscles tighten. “You like coming inside me, baby?” you asked. “Love filling me up—knowing you’re the only one who gets to?” 

His cock jerked. 

“Shit, fuck,” he gasped. “Yes, please, Cielito.” His eyes had gone round, pleading. “Please, baby. Can I fuck your pussy? Wanna feel you come around my dick—wanna fuck you full of me. Please.” He was begging, and it thrilled you, your cunt pulsing with want, panties drenched, wanting him as bad as he wanted you. 

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely? Javi, baby, you have to know I want you. My pussy is all yours.” 

He was on you immediately, his big hands cupping your cheeks as he bent to press his mouth to yours in a hungry kiss, his tongue eagerly licking into your mouth. 

It was almost disorienting how quickly he got your clothes off; his lips leaving yours to tug off your shirt and sports bra, pushing down and off his underwear, laughing when his hands grabbed onto your ass, and he practically picked you up, manhandling you onto your back on the couch, his hips slotting into the cradle of your thighs. 

He kissed you deeply before sitting up on his knees between your legs, a look of concentration on his face as he pulled off your shorts and panties in one go, dropping them to the floor. 

His eyes were locked on your pussy, moaning when he spread open the glossy lips of your sex with two of his fingers. 

“Fuck, that’s pretty,” he murmured, his other hand stroking his cock, hearing the slick slide of his hand working. “Look at how fucking wet you are for me, Cielito.” He slid a thick finger through your slit, pressing it inside your sopping entrance. “Mmm, you’re fucking soaked. Bet you don’t even need my fingers.” He pushed in a second, and you gasped, bucking your hips into his hand. His eyes met yours, all dark with want, languidly pumping his digits. “Want me to get you off like this, baby?” 

Shaking your head, you answered in a moan, “No—want your dick. Wanna feel it. Love the stretch.” 

He smirked. 

“Always hungry for my dick.”

“Yes.” You nodded. 

His fingers left you, watching as he sucked them clean with a groan. 

“Taste so good,” he said, pulling them from his mouth with a wet pop. “Keep your legs open—don’t move.” 

He moved toward the coffee table, reaching to grab the Polaroid camera that had been gifted to you both the day before, your heart hammering in your chest, realizing what he wanted to do. Your lip was pulled between your teeth as he looked at you. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, holding up the camera. 

“Yes.” 

“Press your tits together for me.” 

Doing as he said, he leaned back, holding the Polaroid camera up to his face. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said, the flash going off, the device whirring as the picture came out.

The photo was put on the table, Javi’s free hand spreading open your pussy, dipping his head down, his jaw working as he spit onto your clit, getting a shot of the hot saliva dripping down to your opening.

You were so into what he was doing that your cunt was throbbing in tune with your heartbeat. 

“I’m gonna fuck my hand looking at these,” he murmured, setting the picture with the other. 

“Really?” 

He glanced at you, smiling. 

“Oh, yeah. If I jerked off right now, I’d be thinking about this tight little pussy.” He cupped his large palm over your center. “Now, I have visuals. Wait—” His hand moved to grip his dick, knees shuffling to get closer so his thighs were flush between your legs, letting his cock drop onto your mons and stomach to see how far he’d reach inside. “Look at that.” The flash went off again. “Shit, what’s that thing you say about your guts?” He asked, meeting your eyes, the photograph getting placed with the others. 

Saliva and precum were smearing onto your skin, feeling how hot and hard his dick was. 

You snorted. 

“That I want you to rearrange my guts?” 

“Yeah.” He smirked. “I get so deep in there; I really do rearrange your guts.” 

You noticed his chest puffing up a little in pride, and it had you lowering your voice to speak in a sultry tone. “Yes, you do,” you purred. “You’re so big, making me feel so full. No one else has ever filled me so good or gotten so deep—only you, Papí.” 

His cock twitched. 

“Fuck,” he gasped. “One more.” 

He pressed his length through your folds to get himself wet, notching at your entrance, your eyes squeezing shut as he pushed in, moaning in unison. 

That first stretch was always the best—the slight burn, the way he made space for himself inside your depths, your inner walls hugging him close and pulling him deeper. He slid home in one smooth thrust, your back arching at how fucking good it felt to have him filling you.

“Fuck, Javi,” you breathed. 

The camera went off, and you knew it was a picture of him inside you, making your cunt clench. 

“Shit,” Javi groaned. 

There was the sound of him setting the camera down on the coffee table.  

His big hands gripped your thighs to hold you open, rocking his hips, letting you feel his thick cock move slowly in and out of you. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he rasped. His hand pressed to your lower stomach over where his dick was inside you. “Always take me so fucking well.” 

“So good,” you whined. 

He was sliding along all those spots that made your toes curl, loving how full you felt, how deep he went, filling you so perfectly it took your breath away. He sped up, getting into a steady rhythm that had his hips slapping into yours, hearing the rough sounds from his throat and the wet suck of your pussy taking him. 

You were panting out breaths, feeling the heat in your belly starting to build with every deep kiss of his cock inside you, pushing in and pulling out, your head fuzzy with pleasure. He pressed his thumb against your clit, making you gasp from the shock of ecstasy shooting to your core. 

“Want you to come for me,” he said through gritted teeth and heavy breaths. “Wanna feel you, Cielito.” 

It felt like every nerve in your body was lit up, your skin hot and buzzing, the fire in your core growing hotter and hotter while soft sounds spilled from your lips. 

You were getting closer, moaning louder, it building higher and higher. 

“I know you’re almost there—fucking fluttering. Give it to me.” 

He was thrusting harder, his thumb moving faster. 

“Soak my dick, Cielito. Come.” 

His order had you shattering, coming with a cry of his name, your body clenching up so tight he had to slow to a grind, letting out a long, low groan. 

“My good girl,” he said thickly. “So fucking good to me, baby. Shit.” 

Waves of pleasure radiated through your body, him drawing them out with every thrust, letting you ride it out, your pussy pulsing around him. 

She was so fucking gorgeous, spread out for him on this couch, his eyes locked on her pussy, all wet and puffy, swallowing his dick to the hilt. He took in her body—the sheen of sweat on her skin, her eyes closed, lips parted, her perfect tits rising and falling as she panted. 

She looked absolutely blissed out, pride swelling in his chest that he was the one to make her feel like that—that he was the only one that got to feel her come while balls deep inside her. 

Fuck, his dick was throbbing, heart pounding, knowing he was close to his own end, waiting for her high to subside, shallowly thrusting into her wet heat. 

The moment her breathing got under control, and she relaxed, Javier was pulling out, seeing her eyes spring open in surprise. 

“Want you on your knees,” he grunted, grabbing her legs that were bracketing his hips and helping her flip onto her belly, pulling her ass up by the waist to get her into position, shuffling her knees apart so he had more space. 

And if it wasn’t the prettiest sight, seeing her all open and ready for him, his tongue peeking out between his lips, wanting to taste the slick that had dribbled down between her asscheeks to her tight hole, mesmerized by how it shined in the light of the room. 

Looking over her shoulder, their eyes met, causing a sharp spike of arousal to shoot down his spine at her lust-blown gaze. 

“You gonna fuck me?” she purred, wiggling her backside. 

“Maybe,” he replied, seeing her eyebrows crease in confusion. 

His knees sunk into the couch cushion as he shuffled back a little, slapping both of his hands down on the plump flesh of her ass, hearing her moan as he grabbed handfuls, squeezing it hard and spreading her open. 

“Fucking love this ass,” he growled.

He bent his head, gathering spit on his tongue and letting it drip onto her asshole, following that up by licking a stripe from her entrance back up to the tight ring of muscle, groaning into her sensitive skin at the salty-sweet tang enveloping his tastebuds, her tasting so good. 

“Oh, fuck,” she whined. 

His hand moved to squeeze the base of his cock, needing to restrict the blood flow and calm himself down, the flat of his tongue lapping at her hole, feeling like fire was prickling under his skin, hungry for more of her taste—working himself up almost to his breaking point, needing to stop before he stained the couch in his come. 

He pressed a kiss to her asscheek before sinking his teeth into her skin, leaving a slight imprint as he sat up, taking his dick in hand, not wasting any time to sheathe himself back inside her drenched cunt—the way she cried out his name made him jerk inside her, and his breath go shaky, a low groan rumbling from his chest. 

Shit, he was so fucking hard he could probably fuck her through a brick wall. 

His fingers dug into her hips, swallowing hard at how tight and warm she was, her pussy fluttering around him, pulling out until just the tip of him remained, and thrusting back in, setting up an even rhythm that had her moaning. 

“Love being inside you, baby,” he groaned, looking down to see his wet cock disappearing inside her. “Push back on me—get me deep.” 

“Yes,” she gasped, pushing her ass back, Javi meeting her over and over, the wet slap of their bodies colliding sounding in the room. 

He wanted to get her off again, but pleasure had his stomach knotting up, fucking into her harder, the tight squeeze of her cunt overwhelming him, compelling him, making him lose his fucking mind at how good she felt—he was fucked, gone, he’d hit the point of no return, his balls tightening up. 

“Shit,” he grunted, pounding into her, “fuck, fuck, fuck, no.” 

His cock thickened, pushing into her hard one last time, a strangled moan ripping from his throat, his come flooding her hot depths, gushing into her. He rolled his hips with a shuddering hiss to get it deeper until it was too much for him, coming to a stop while euphoria coursed through his body. 

He felt wrung out and dreamy, wanting to touch her, needing to feel her skin, practically collapsing as he blanketed himself over her back, shoving his nose into her neck to breathe her in. 

“‘M sorry,” he slurred. “Mmm, you smell so fucking good.”

She giggled. 

“You came really hard, huh, baby?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” He nuzzled his face against the side of her head, holding himself up on an arm beside her own, and moving his other hand under her body to the apex of her thighs, feeling her tense when he rubbed her wet clit—his dick so tender that when she clenched around him, his eyes rolled back in his head, moaning at the sensitivity. 

He was panting, sweat soaking his skin, pushing through the discomfort of her pulsing around him to keep circling her swollen nub—her arms and legs trembling, soft sounds spilling from her mouth as he worked her up, her body crumbling to the couch, him going with her, using one forearm to keep his upper body off of her.

His cock was still hard, it feeling like his nerves were on fire, shallowly thrusting until the pain became pleasurable again, the familiar heat building in his gut. 

He pressed his lips to her ear, asking through gritted teeth, “You gonna come for me, Cielito?” His hips fucked into her faster. “Gonna be my good girl?” 

“Yes, Papí,” she whimpered. “So, close.”

His eyes squeezed shut at the knife-sharp pleasure that cut through him from her words, his wet strokes moving in and out of her, his insides getting hotter and thicker as he built her up—her mewling beneath him, stoking the flames in his belly. 

He kept going, feeling her pussy contracting, arousal dripping down his dick and coating his balls, her finally seizing up beneath him as she came choking him inside her and squeezing him so tight that it sent him with her—the pressure inside him expanding to the point Javier was coming with a shuddering groan, pulsing inside her, pumping her full of himself. 

Pleasure washed through him, grinding his hips, the slide of his cock making his come leak out and around him, stilling when it all became too much. To make her more comfortable, his arm wrapped around her middle, him turning them on their sides while he stayed inside, spooning her from behind. 

The TV's low volume and heavy breaths filled the room, Javi kissing her bare shoulder, rubbing his hand over her belly, and moving up to grab her breast. 

“Did you come again..?” she panted. 

“Yeah,” he answered breathlessly. 

He kissed her neck, loving the scent of her shampoo and how it made him feel warm and cozy. 

“That has to be a record. You usually need a break.”

“Finished too quickly, had to make up for it.” 

“...What?” she sounded confused, finally catching her breath. “You were a gentleman and made me come before you. How did you finish too quickly?” 

He buried his face in her hair. 

“Wanted to get you off again,” his muffled voice said. 

There was a pause before she spoke. 

“Babe?” She put her hand over his on her breast, lacing their fingers together. 

“Yes, Cielito?” 

“I know you’re really into making me orgasm so many times my legs turn to jelly, and I can barely speak, but you know one is enough, right?” 

He pulled his head back, eyebrows dipping together. 

“What..?” he asked. 

“We don’t need to have spectacular mind-blowing sex every single time.” 

“Why… not?” His heart had sped up, nerves making his chest feel uncomfortable. “Do you not like how we fuck?” he asked uneasily.

“Pause. Can you pull out real quick?” 

He did as she asked, feeling confused, and worried that he’d done something wrong, her flipping around to face him, pressing her hand to his jaw and looking him in the eyes. 

“Thank god, I got the couch protector. There is so much come dripping out of me right now.” 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, frowning. 

She smiled reassuringly. 

“Nothing to apologize about. I enjoyed myself very much—all nice and stuffed full.” She beamed, arousal stirring in his belly at the thought. 

Her fingers ghosted over his cheek and up to press into his sweat-damp hair, stroking lovingly through it. Fuck, he loved when she played with his hair; he always turned to putty under her touch. 

“Now, back to what we were talking about,” she said. “I love how we fuck, very much. Like, best sex of my entire life, and you’ve ruined me for anybody else—I love fucking you.” 

He could hear it coming. “But…?” he asked. 

“But, sometimes, I just like how you feel inside me and how close we are, and god, the kissing. It’s the connection and being with you, doing something so intimate. I don’t know. I just feel closer to you when we have sex, baring myself not just literally, but metaphorically, too, because I’m comfortable with you, I trust you, I lo–like—” She stumbled, eyes widening, his heart stuttering “—like you so fucking much. Javi, you’re the only man I’m genuinely okay fucking with the lights on.” Suddenly panic came over her face, her eyes getting big, “Fuck! The windows!” 

She started getting up, and he kept her where she was with his hand on her hip, Javier saying quickly, “I already closed them.” 

Her head rose to look over the couch armrest to the back windows, then in the direction of their feet to the large front windows, seeing that they were all shut with the blinds and curtains closed. 

She let out a breath, moving to kiss him hard, her fingers tangling in his hair. He moaned against her lips, loving her mouth on his, kissing until she broke away, smiling.

“This is what I mean,” she said. “You thought to close up the apartment before initiating sex because you care about me and wouldn’t want to put me in a compromising situation when you know I’m thinking with my pussy.” 

“You’re the one that initiated.” 

Her eyes narrowed, poking him in his bare chest. 

“Because you seduced me by wearing underwear!” 

He smirked, grabbing her hand to kiss her knuckles. 

“I’d think it’d turn you on more if I was naked.” 

Her eyebrow rose. 

“Javier, you’re constantly naked. You put on clothes, and suddenly I’m a Victorian woman going into hysterics over the slightest sliver of skin because I know what’s underneath—the feeling ten times worse when you’re in underwear or sweats ‘cause it’s like you’re teasing me, just Mr. Look-at-me-naked-from-the-waist-up-you-know-what-I’m-hiding. So, yeah, it fucking gets me.” 

He was well aware, able to see her undressing him in her mind, and it always went straight to his dick. 

“I know,” he replied. “Can tell by how you look at me.” 

He kissed her. 

“You fucking tease,” she murmured into his lips. 

“How I feel when you wear your dresses—know I can just lift it up and pull down your panties.” 

He was kissing her deeper, his hand grabbing her ass. She pulled back to pointedly look at him.

“You’re distracting me,” she said, making him pout. “As I was saying, I can trust you, and I like the closeness of fucking you, and every time doesn’t need to be toe-curling orgasm central. It’s cheesy as fuck, and I honestly cringe at saying it out loud, but I’d love to, god—” Her eyes squeezed shut, her face pinched in disgust “—it’s so gross. I’d love… to…” She was really struggling, and he wanted to know what was making her so uncomfortable. “Make… love… with… you,” she finally forced out. “Oh, yuck.” Her nose crinkled when she looked at him. 

The difficulty it took for her to say it had his stomach dropping, insecurity squeezing his chest tight. He swallowed hard, eyes darting away from her. 

“I don’t think you do…” he said slowly. 

“Fuck.” She cradled his cheek. “Please, look at me.” He did, her looking apologetic. “I can see how I came off, and I’m sorry, it’s not you; it’s the fucking phrase.”

“Okay..?” 

He was so fucking bewildered trying to follow along with everything she was saying, not sure what she meant about making love but understanding the things she said about the connection and closeness during sex, he felt it, too. When he’s inside her, it feels like everything is right in the world, and it’s where he’s supposed to be. He just wasn’t sure what she meant about only one orgasm or not every time needing to be mind-blowing—it was all he had to offer. 

Javier was broken, his head fucked from everything with Lorraine and Colombia, trying to do his fucking best navigating this new relationship, not knowing what the fuck he was doing. Cielito tried hard to guide him like a bright star on the horizon, leading him, helping him, but what did he bring to the table aside from knowing how to make her come? He didn’t think his love and devotion were enough; she needed more—deserved more, and all he had to give was his body, wanting to make her feel so fucking good that she wouldn’t want him to leave. 

And she’s not happy with what he has to offer—at least, that’s what he thought she was trying to say. 

The day before came to mind when she told him she felt the same, that she loved him, too, but would wait for him to say it first, and that gave him hope that maybe he just wasn’t understanding this conversation—his worries getting the better of him, which was a problem of his; spiraling, something negative having him play out all of the worst case scenarios and making dread wash over him thinking the other shoe was about to drop.

He took a deep breath, his hand flexing, listening intently, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. 

“You know how people hate the word moist?” she asked. “Like it makes their skin crawl and is just so cringy?” She shuddered.  

“Yeah, it’s the same in Spanish. People don’t like húmedo, which means the same thing.” 

“Love that it’s universal. I have the same kind of aversion to the phrase-that-shall-not-be-named.” 

He was curious. “Why?” he asked. 

“Oh, it’s overused by people who think sex is a dirty word, and ‘fuck’ is just way too profane for their sensibilities, but they aren’t actually… making love.” She cringed. “It’s usually the guy getting off without a care for his partner—so, basically, it makes me think of really bad heterosexual sex, and it’s gross.” 

Javier snorted. 

“This is why we fuck,” he pointed out. 

She grimaced, and he frowned, rubbing his hand over her back, needing to feel her, grounding himself in her comfort. 

“I would like to do the real thing with you…” she said softly.

“I’m sorry…?” 

What did she mean?

“To me, I think it’s the perfect way to describe that really tender, intimate fucking where you’re staring into each other's eyes, and taking your time, just enjoying one another. There’s no rush, no pressure to make the other person come over and over, it’s just being in the moment with your partner and feeling it, you know? I wanna do that with you.” 

His eyebrows were in his hairline. 

“You do?” he whispered. 

She smiled, nodding, “Yeah, I do, very much, ‘cause I don’t know if you’re aware, Javi—I really fucking like you. A lot, and I’d be so into it.”

“Oh.”

He was stunned. 

She stroked his cheek, worry etched on her features as she asked, “Are you okay, babe?”

It took him a second to wrap his brain around it. 

“You don’t care how many times I get you off…” he started. “You just want to have sex with me because you like it… You like me, and not how many times I make you come…?”

That didn’t seem right…

“One orgasm is enough. Multiple isn’t necessary, but sometimes nice,” she answered, shrugging her shoulder. “I like the intimacy and don’t care how many times you get me off. You finishing before you wanted was totally fine—it’s honestly really fucking sexy that you couldn’t hold out, like, fuck, I got you that worked up? Me? Makes a girl feel really good about herself.”

He saw in her eyes that she was telling the truth, and his mouth fell open. 

Her eyebrows furrowed, asking, “Why do you look so surprised?” 

“Fuck,” he sighed, closing his eyes tight. “You like me.” 

“I more than like you, but yes, I do.” 

Hearing her say it out loud made his heart pick up in speed. 

“Shit, I’m so fucking stupid.” 

“Javier, what’s going on?” 

He looked at her, seeing the concern on her face. 

“A long time ago, fuck,” he sighed. “A long time ago, with my ex—”

“What the fuck did Lorraine do?” she cut him off, seething. 

A smile crept up on his lips, warmth filling his veins at how protective she always got over him. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he said, rubbing her back. “It was so fucking long ago, but, uh, one time I came too quick, and she bit my head off about not getting her off.” 

“You made her come during foreplay, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah… Figured it wouldn’t be a big deal, so I let myself go, and she got so fucking mad.” 

“That greedy bitch.” 

“I should’ve seen it sooner—I can’t believe I was so fucking dumb.” 

“About dating her?” 

“Yes. My mom tried to warn me, and I fucking brushed her off because I thought she was just being overprotective ‘cause I was her only kid, su bendición, her blessing.” He sighed. “Pop told me when I came back from Colombia the first go around that they knew she was using me to get back at her dad—he thought I wasn’t good enough and fucking hated me dating her. And it’s taken me over fifteen fucking years to realize she was using me for sex, too. She didn’t want me,” he spat, anger simmering in his gut. “She wanted my body and what I could fucking do with it.” His eyes were beginning to burn, pressing his hand to Cielito’s cheek, swallowing hard, his voice thicker when he said, “You want me. You like me. You care about me, and I thought the only fucking thing I have worth anything to give you in return is my body.” A tear rolled down his cheek. 

“Javi,” you gasped, tears brimming your eyes, so utterly upset by what he just said. Guilt had your chest aching, thinking about how he’d wanted to take things slow at the beginning—the three dates he wanted to go on before sex, and now it was dawning on you how important that was to him. “I really fucking hope I haven’t made you feel like all I want from you is sex—you know, right, that I more than like you, and the sex is just a bonus?” 

“Cielito, baby, I know.” He stroked your cheek, his eyes rounded. “Our relationship is so fucking good, and I’ve felt every goddamn day since I met you how much you care about me. It’s just—” He sighed “—in the back of my mind, I wonder what the fuck I have to offer you?” 

It broke your heart how he didn’t see his worth, answering quickly, “You, Javi, not your body, but you, just you,” you said. “You cherish me, you care about me, too, and show me every day with the things you do and say that aren’t even sexy. Do you have any idea how much I love that you wanted to spend time with me today while I read? It made me so happy because none of my exes would’ve wanted to do that, and you keep my water refilled, which is so fucking romantic. I like your company. I like being with you and talking to you. I like everything about you, even if you get into your head sometimes.” You smoothed your hand through his hair. “But Javi, I more than like you a lot, and you give me so much—offer me so much of yourself, and I have never been happier in my entire life.”  

“It’s enough?” He asked, barely above a whisper, and you could see the worry in his eyes. 

You took his hand from your face, lacing your fingers together. 

“It’s more than enough, it will always be enough. You’re enough.” 

His eyes were rimmed red, smiling as he crushed his mouth against yours in a searing kiss that lasted until your lungs protested with a need for oxygen, Javi pulling you into his body and holding you close. 

Learning about Javi’s past over the last two days had given you a clearer picture of who he was and what he’d been through. He was like a puzzle that, since the first time you spoke, you’ve been putting together piece by piece, starting with the edges—him telling you some of his favorite things and about his job with the DEA; a large chunk in the middle coming together with the story of Lorraine, filling the rest of it in with little clusters of information he’d revealed, and at this point, it was almost completed, there was just this one big empty part in a corner that was still missing—Colombia, and all of the horrors he’d gone through. One day he’ll tell you, and you’ll be there to hold him tight and kiss away the memories. 

Time passed, both of you cleaning up, getting dressed, putting the couch protector in the wash, and ordering food to be delivered. 

The entire pizza was eaten, the box lying open on the coffee table with six empty beer bottles surrounding the cardboard. You were sitting in Javi’s lap, his arms wrapped around you with your head resting on his bare shoulder, the man only wearing sweats as you both watched the first Lethal Weapon movie, the marathon having started over. 

The characters work for the Los Angeles Police Department, one of them being a sergeant in the narcotics division, and it had you wondering something while you watch. 

“Javi?” 

“Yes, Cielito?” he asked, kissing your hair. 

“What made you decide to become a cop?” 

He took a deep breath. 

“You know how we’re on the border with Mexico?” 

“Yeah?” 

“There’s a fuck ton of drug smuggling. I couldn’t show you all of Pop’s land, but the Rio Grande runs along it, and if you go out to the edge of the property, sometimes you can spot people on boats.” 

“Maybe they’re fishing? Enjoying the sun? Not all boats on the river are smugglers...” 

“Right.” He didn’t sound convinced and frankly a bit paranoid. “Well, somehow, even with a heavy fucking border patrol presence and the DEA breathing down their necks, drugs are getting into Laredo—my money’s on the river.” 

“I can tell. So, you’ve just always hated drugs?” 

“No.” 

“No?”

Turning your head, you looked at his face, Javi meeting your eyes. 

“When I started elementary school, I didn’t speak a single word of English—had no idea what the fuck anyone was saying. They had me in the ESL program, but my regular teacher didn’t know Spanish, and I struggled. The kid I shared a desk with helped me.” There was a sad smile on his lips. “His name was Neil, and he came from one of the wealthier families in town, so he had a nanny who’d taught him some Spanish—he was my first best friend. If you remember from the photo albums, the random white kid with the curly brown hair, that was him.” You nodded. Chucho had said it was Javi’s friend when you’d been going through pictures, remembering him popping up through the ages they were in elementary school, not recalling if he was in any of the later photos. “As we got older, we drifted apart. His dad’s a hardass. He got into high school and pretty much wasn’t allowed to do anything that wasn’t academic or fucking extracurriculars ‘cause his dad wanted him to get into a big university. It was a lot of pressure, and he started smoking pot freshman year to relax—he got me to try it.” 

You gasped dramatically. 

“Javier, you snorted the mari-j-uana? You? A narc?” 

His eyes narrowed. 

“Did you just call me a fucking narc..? Snorted..? You don’t snort weed, baby…” 

“That’s something a narc would say,” you teased.  

He pinched your thigh, making you giggle. 

“I smoked it and didn’t like it. Not my thing—prefer booze.” 

“Like the narc you are,” you said, kissing his cheek. 

Javi sighed. 

“By junior year,” he continued, “he was under a lot of pressure, and I guess he asked his dealer for something stronger.” He inhaled deeply, letting the air out slowly, before he spoke again, “Kid overdosed.” 

“No,” you gasped for real this time. “I’m so sorry, Javi.” Throwing your arms around his neck, you hugged him, Javi pulling you closer. 

“Yeah, it was fucked.” There was an edge of anger in his tone. “They caught the guy who sold it to him, but at that time, police didn’t give a fuck about cocaine possession, pretty much got a slap on the fucking wrist, and they didn’t bother finding out his supplier. A great fucking kid with his whole life ahead of him, dead, and the man who caused it was out before I went off to college—didn’t sit right with me that Neil didn’t get any fucking justice.” 

“And so you helped take down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel—Jesus Christ, Javier, you don’t fuck around. I think Neil would be proud of what you accomplished.”

“Maybe.” 

The frown was evident in his voice, leaning back to look at his face. It was clear what he was thinking, asking him, “Why don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

His eyes were on yours, “There’s still all the shit here.” He swallowed. “I was asked to go to Mexico after I took down Cali, but I was so fucking tired of all the bullshit.” 

You could see the exhaustion, sliding your fingers through the hair above each of his ears. 

“Babe, you’re one man. I know you want justice and to right all the wrongs, but you can’t single-handedly dismantle the drug trade—you did more than enough. Rest, let other people handle it.”

He let out a long sigh. 

“You’re right, Cielito.” He smiled softly. “I’ve got you now, and I’m so fucking happy about it.”

You smiled back. 

“Good,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him. 

When you pulled back, he asked, “What made you want to be a nurse?”

“Oh, when I was eight, my appendix burst, and I had to be hospitalized.”

“The scar,” he said, touching your belly. 

It was so long ago it was barely visible, it surprised you he’d even noticed. 

“Yeah, the scar.” You smiled. “My mom stayed home with my little brother, and aside from my dad being the doctor he is, checking that the surgery was done properly and I was healing okay, I was in the hospital alone for almost a week.” 

Javi was frowning. “Nobody was with you…?”

“Nope.” You shrugged. “But, this lovely nurse who had the daytime shift would keep me company as much as possible and make sure I wasn’t lonely. She was wonderful and so fucking funny. I just knew I wanted to be exactly like her—I wanted to make being in the hospital less scary and people smile even when they’re feeling miserable. So, nursing.”

His hand came up to cup your jaw, looking deep into your eyes. 

“It’s the perfect job for you—you’re so fucking warm and bright that I know people love you taking care of them ‘cause I sure as fuck do.”

It felt like you were melting at the sincerity in his voice. 

“That’s very sweet of you, but you’re not my patient,” you said. “You’re my boyfriend and get special boyfriend treatment, they just get silly jokes and compassion.”

“What’s the special boyfriend treatment?” He asked, head tilting in interest. 

“Cuddles, kisses, naked stuff, food, basically anything you want from me is yours.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, saying into your lips, “I like the sound of that.”

“I’m glad.”

He broke the kiss, meeting your gaze with a frown, “I’m, uh, gonna be honest—your family has left a bad fucking taste in my mouth, and I’m happy to meet them or talk to them on the phone, but I don’t know how I’d handle them treating you like shit.”

“Well, we’ll have to figure out different plans for Christmas, then.”

His frown deepened. 

“You don’t have to skip because of me...”

“Oh, don’t worry.” You waved away his concern. “You’re giving me an excuse, and I’m taking it. It’s bad enough I talk to my mom once a week or so—if I was strong, I’d go no contact, but I’d feel too guilty.” 

His eyes were big, the honesty showing as he said, “Whatever you choose to do, baby, I support you, and know that my family will welcome you with open arms.” 

“Are you sure?” you asked softly. 

He smiled, “Oh, yeah. Pop loves you, and I know everybody else will, too.”

“That makes me happy.” 

“You make me happy.” 

Laughing, you replied, “You’re so fucking cheesy, but—” you moved your face closer to ghost your lips over his “—I more than like you, a lot.” 

“I more than like you a lot, too.” He closed the space kissing you with such passion that you knew what he said was true, those three little words screaming in your brain. 

The sun was high up in the sky, the straw cowboy hat atop his head keeping it out of his eyes. It was hotter than hell today, the heat making sweat rise on his skin as he walked over the neatly cut grass, taking the same route he’d taken hundreds of times before, ignoring the slight ache in his knees. 

He came to a stop, groaning as he bent down a little to wipe away some dirt that had accumulated on top of the grey stone with one hand. The white leather ring box was slightly discolored from age, not as pristine as it once was. Chucho set it down where he had just cleaned, popping it open, the diamonds on the ring sparkling in the sunlight. 

Straightening, he said, “Mi amor, nuestro Javiercito conocio a una chica maravillosa (My love, our Javier met a wonderful girl).” 

His eyes tracked over the engraved letters of Antonia’s name, imagining how she’d react to the news, seeing so clearly in his mind that bright smile he’d loved so much and her excitedly saying, ‘Háblame de todo (Tell me everything).’ 

A smile was on his lips when he continued, “Yo la amo y tú también la amarías (I love her and you would love her too). Él va a casarse con ella y limpie tu anillo de compromiso para cuando él lo quiera (He’s going to marry her, and I had your engagement ring cleaned for when he wants it). I’m probably jumping the gun,” he chuckled. “Pero sabes que soy un romántico (But you know I’m a romantic).”

“Ojalá pudieras ver lo feliz que está con ella (I wish you could see how happy he is with her). Todo sonrisas, mi amor (All smiles, my love). Los que nos perdimos y pensé que nunca volveríamos a ver (The ones we missed and thought we’d never see again).” 

His eyes were starting to water, feeling his throat get tight. 

“Él está contento otra vez (He’s happy again). Ayer pasé horas con ella y ella es perfecta para el (I spent hours with her yesterday and she is perfect for him). Ella es amable, y muy divertida (She is kind and very funny). Puedo ver cuánto lo ama (I can see how much she loves him).” 

He chuckled again, thinking about what Javi’s Cielito had said the day before. 

“Ella dijo que mataría por probar tu comida (She said she would murder to try your food). Hubieron cocinado juntos y Javiercito los habría distraído a ambos (You would have cooked together and Javier would have distracted you both).” Chucho laughed. 

“Ellos son buenos juntos, mi amor (They are good together, my love). Me recuerdan a nosotros y estarán juntos para siempre, también (They remind me of us and they will be together forever, too).” He pressed a hand to the stone. “Te amo, mi media naranja (I love you, my soulmate). Déjame contarte sobre mi semana (Let me tell you about my week)...”

One month later…

The cordless phone was pressed to your ear, using your shoulder to keep it in place while you cooked, not paying attention to what your mother was saying, seeing as she’d been going on and on for the last—you checked your watch—fifteen minutes about how perfect your little brother was and all of the amazing things he’d done since the last time you spoke a week prior. 

“...and they’ve decided to try for another baby,” your mom gushed, unable to stop the look of disgust on your face.

“Wow, that’s so exciting,” you replied, not sounding excited at all. 

It was honestly such an odd thing how couples were so happy to announce they were having unprotected sex to their friends and family. 

Javi was running late coming over after work because he had an errand to do. The sauce was simmering in the pan, the noodles boiling, and the side salad was already prepared in a bowl on the kitchen table. 

“It’s high time you started thinking about settling down,” she said, making you groan, not wanting to have this discussion. “You know, your father was in Boston this weekend at a surgeon’s conference—he was the keynote speaker and ran into Daniel—Dr. Andrews. I miss Daniel, he was so wonderful and talented. I heard he’s up for an award for a new procedure he invented. Whatever happened between you two?” 

Daniel Andrews was a cardiothoracic surgeon you’d met five years ago while working at a hospital in Dallas. He was pretty with his blue eyes, perfectly styled hair, and clean-shaven face, honestly surprised he’d taken an interest in you, and so you’d dated for about six months—him even meeting your family, but it definitely wasn’t meant to last. 

“Remember he had the accident?” you replied. 

“What accident?” 

“When he slipped and fell into another nurse’s vagina.” 

“That is so vulgar!” She sounded appalled, and it made you smile. “Why are you like this? If you weren’t so… independent, you could find a nice doctor to settle down with, have his children, and become a stay-at-home mother like your sister-in-law.” 

“Wow, mom, it’s not the fifties anymore, and some women like having careers and don’t want to make motherhood their entire identity. I’m happy she loves being at home with her kids, but that’s not something that calls to me—I love working, and if I had children, I’d keep working after they were born, and my partner and I would have equal responsibility taking care of them.”

She scoffed. 

“It’s the mother’s job to rear the children while her husband provides for the family.” 

“I think you personally just caused a regression in women’s rights, and another thing—” You were getting heated. “—I don’t need to meet a ‘nice doctor,’ I’m dating a wonderful man, thank you very much.” 

“The farmer?” The disdain was evident in her tone, and it pissed you off. 

With how your parents had welcomed your exes and how charming Javier was, you assumed they’d like him, too, especially since he’s so amazing. It was your mistake to make assumptions because when you finally revealed you were seeing someone, and your mother asked what he did at the hospital, finding out he didn’t work there, she was not very welcoming and outright dismissive of your relationship. 

“I’ve told you multiple times he’s a rancher—Javier told you he’s a rancher on his dad’s ranch.” 

She’d talked to him one night when he’d answered your house phone, and to your absolute horror, she’d grilled him about his job and how much money he made before you could take the receiver from him. 

“Right, but he isn’t a serious relationship—just something to work out of your system, and eventually, you’ll meet a man who makes actual money and can take care of you.” 

Your blood was boiling, rage making your heart pound, absolutely done with the bullshit. 

“We’re very serious, for your information, and I don’t give a flying fuck how much money he makes because I can easily support the both of us with only my job, that I, a woman with a degree, work!” you yelled. There was the sound of knocking on the front door. “Well, I’ve got to go. My very serious boyfriend, who I plan on marrying, is here! Have a nice night, mother,” you spat, ending the call, the phone thudding across the counter. 

Quickly, you were heading out of the kitchen, relief washing over you when you pulled open the door to find Javi standing there with a concerned look holding a small bouquet of sunflowers. Seeing him and the flowers, Javi always bringing you a new bouquet every Monday had you going soft. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I thought I heard yelling?” 

“My mom,” you sighed, anger flashing across his face. 

“Fuck.” He stepped forward to pull you into his arms while still holding the sunflowers, walking you into the apartment and closing the door with his foot, hugging you tight in the entryway. 

Leaning back, he held your chin with two fingers, moving to kiss you so tenderly it made your heart squeeze. Breaking it, he looked at you with round eyes, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked. 

His presence had calmness spreading through you, so happy he was there. 

“I’ll tell you while I finish making dinner.” 

“Okay.” He nodded. “I’ll take care of the flowers.” 

You smiled. “You’re the best.” Quickly kissing him, Javi toed off his shoes by the front door and emptied his pockets in the bowl on the console table in the entryway, following you back into the kitchen. 

You moved the sauce to a cold burner before getting the strainer out of a cabinet, putting it in the sink, and pouring in the pot of noodles while your boyfriend discarded the dead flowers currently on the dining table into the trash. He grabbed scissors, expertly trimming the stems on the new ones before sidling up next to you to fill a clear glass vase with fresh water. 

It was nice how comfortable the two of you moved about the kitchen together, Javi bumping his hip against yours and kissing your hair to make you smile, him waiting for you to start talking. 

Sighing loudly, you finally spoke, “Like, because I’m not a fucking doctor, the next best thing for me to be is the wife of one, popping out kids and raising them.It’s just so fucking sexist.” 

Javi was listening while he arranged the sunflowers in the vase. 

“It’s fucked up,” he mused. 

Shaking out the rest of the water from the pasta, you continued, “Don’t get me wrong, stay-at-home moms work their asses off, but I never saw myself being one—I wanna be a nurse in a hospital, doing the thing I love.” The noodles were put back into the pot and onto the stove, pouring in the sauce, Javi taking the flowers over to the kitchen table and setting them in the middle. “It’s just so fucking exhausting not being good enough.” 

Arms wrapped around your middle, Javi hugging you tight, his mouth at your ear as he whispered, “Fuck what your mom thinks. You’re incredible and hardworking. No one gets to tell you how to live your life.” 

It had you going gooey, tears threatening to spill, stirring the pasta. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

He kissed the side of your neck. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Dinners ready.” 

“I’ll get water for us.” 

The dining room wasn’t much of a room but more of an attachment to the kitchen that featured a two-person table and a window that you’d shut the blinds on so you had privacy while you ate. 

The salad bowl was next to the flowers, Javi sitting across from you, each with your plates full of food.

“How are Daphne and Velma?” you asked before taking a bite. Those were the two calves Javi had basically raised from birth that you both jokingly called your bovine children.

A sweet look came over his face, smiling as he said, “Our hijas (daughters) are doing great with the rest of the herd and picked up grazing quickly, but I knew they would.” 

He sounds like a proud father, and it makes you wonder if he’d be the same with his human children, deep down, knowing he would—he’d be a fantastic dad, ignoring the sting of sadness that he doesn’t want to be one.

Grinning, you reply, “We’ll have to go have a picnic with them next weekend.” 

During the week, sometimes you’d meet Javi out at the ranch after you got off work, and the two of you would sit in his dad’s backyard eating dinner with the two little cows lying down next to you both. With them now out on the land, it’d require a horseback ride, but you loved the picnics and the two girls, who were like giant puppies, always happy to see you guys. 

“They’d love it,” he replied. “Any other news?” Javi asked as he started digging into his food with gusto. 

“You know, the same shit,” you answered, waving your fork. “Mandatory fifteen to twenty minutes of waxing poetic about my brother. Oh, he’s fucking his wife raw now.” 

He choked, coughing as he grabbed his water to take a big drink. 

“Sorry!” you exclaimed. 

Setting the glass down, his voice was rough, looking confused, “It’s okay—why do you know that..?” 

“They’re trying for a baby—like people just broadcast that? ‘We’re trying for a baby,’ wow, thank you so much for letting me know you’re only serving cream pies. My boyfriend fucks me raw on the daily, too. Love when he comes inside me, but I’m not telling my fucking parents.” 

His cheeks were flushed, clearing his throat while he reached across the table to hold your free hand. “Baby, are you okay?” he asked gently. 

“Yeah, sorry, it wasn’t a good phone call—it’s never a good fucking call, and recently they’ve been worse.” 

“I’m sorry.” His thumb stroked over the back of your hand, frowning as he said, “It’s all my fucking fault.” 

“Don’t say that,” you replied in a serious tone. “It’s not your fault, and you’ve done nothing wrong. They’re too fucking stuck up, and after today, I think I’m done trying—there’s no point with how set in their ways they are.” You were getting angry again over what your mother had said. “I won’t fucking sit back and let anyone talk shit about you, my family included, so they can get fucked. I’ve got you, and that’s all that fucking matters.” 

His eyes were misty, squeezing your hand, saying barely above a whisper, “You’d choose me?” 

“I am choosing you. Zero hesitation. Next time she calls, I’m letting her know if she says anything negative, then it’s over, and I won’t be answering anymore.” 

He was giving you that look, the one where you could see in his eyes how much he loved you and that he was struggling not to just blurt the words out loud. 

“You know I support you,” he said thickly. “Whatever makes you happy.” 

“You make me happy.” 

He chuckled. 

“You make me happy, too. Want me to eat you out after dinner?” 

That had you perking up, nodding your head, “Yes, that would be wonderful. I planned to serve you ice cream for dessert, but if you’d prefer pussy…” 

He crookedly smiled. 

“I always prefer pussy for dessert,” he said, winking, making you laugh. 

Focusing on eating, it was quiet as you forked bites into your mouths, Javi groaning around bites. He ate like he hadn’t eaten all day, which you knew was a lie. 

“Slow down,” you giggled. 

“No. It’s too fucking good.” 

His plate was empty before yours, serving himself up seconds and finally taking his time. 

He was very nonchalant when he spoke like it wasn’t anything to get excited about, his eyes on his plate, saying after swallowing a bite, “I start a new job next month.” 

The sentence had you pausing, your fork inches from your face now in limbo. Your eyebrows knit together, eyes narrowing, trying to process the words, thinking maybe you’d misheard. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” you asked. 

“I start a new job next month. Is this a new recipe?” 

“Yeah… what do you mean a new job? Like something different at the ranch?” 

He’d told you he was happy working for his dad, finding the manual labor pretty relaxing compared to what he’d been doing with the DEA, and preferring the animals to people. 

“No,” he answered between bites, shaking his head. “Sheriff hired me.” 

“The Sheriff hired you…?” 

Why would he want to get back into law enforcement? He’d been through so much in South America and put it all behind him to live his life, and now he was going back? This wasn’t making any sense to you—the DEA exhausted him, he was miserable, and now he suddenly wants to be a cop again? 

Finally looking at you, he set his fork down, you doing the same. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Since I came back to the states, agencies all over the entire fucking country have been trying to get me to work for them—the Webb County Sheriff has been up my ass about it, making house calls and sending letters trying to get me. I went through all the job offers I’ve gotten, found the one with the best shit, went to the Sheriff today, and told him if he matches it, I’ll work for him. He did.” Javi grinned, looking pleased with himself. 

“Okay…” you said slowly. “I’m proud of you for swindling cops, but why are you getting back into law enforcement? I thought you were done after Colombia? What about your dad, the ranch, Daphne and Velma?” 

“Our hijas (daughters) will be okay. We can keep going out there during the week, maybe a day on the weekend, if you want. They’ve got all the other cattle to keep them company, but they’d love seeing us, Pop, too.” 

“We can do that…” 

“And the ranch will keep going without me—they’ve got it handled. It was time I got a job.” 

“You have a job.” 

“I needed a real job.” 

“Your current job is pretty fucking real,” you pointed out.

He sighed, his eyes darting away. 

“I need a job that I can support you with,” he said. 

That had you so taken aback you jolted. 

What was he talking about supporting you? As you told your mom, you made more than enough money to care of both of you... Shit, your mom. 

“Javi, is this because my mother gave you the third degree over what you do for work?” 

His eyes met yours, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about since we started dating, and your mom sure as fuck didn’t help—but I do need to be able to take care of you.” 

Take care of you? What the fuck? Does he expect you to quit your job? You were literally just so fucking upset with your mother for being sexist, her saying it was the man’s job to provide for his family, and now Javi had your hackles rising; this was so unlike him. 

“I don’t need you to take care of me financially, Javier,” you said carefully. “Things are perfectly fine how they are, and there’s really no reason for you to be getting a new job.” 

You’d thought what the two of you had was great, working similar schedules and spending all of your free time together. If he became a cop, you doubted he’d have that same regularity, expecting he’d work long hours. 

He let out a long breath, pressing his fingers to his forehead. 

“Things aren’t fine, Cielito.” 

Your body tensed, dread coming over you. 

“What?” you asked softly, your eyes beginning to burn, afraid of what he was going to say, automatically thinking the worst, like he didn’t want to be with you anymore, or he was unhappy, maybe that he hated your career. You felt sick to your stomach, pushing your plate away. 

His hand ran through his hair, meeting your gaze. 

“I’ve got money saved from the DEA, and the change Pop pays me to work, but when I think of renting an apartment or buying a fucking house, it’s not enough long term. I’m here all the time, staying over, eating your amazing fucking food, and I haven’t pitched in on your rent and only pick up groceries when you ask. I need a real job to provide you with the life you deserve.” 

You had to take a deep breath, processing what he said because now you were upset that he hadn’t been listening about how you wanted to work and didn’t need a man to take care of you. Not once had you mentioned a need for money, frankly living quite comfortably, and this just sounded like he hated that you made more than him, and he needed to save his ego by getting a better-paying job. 

“Firstly,” you started, trying to keep your voice even, “I don’t need you to pitch in. I’m happy to offer my home and food to you because you’re my boyfriend, the one I more than like, who always pays when we eat out. Secondly, I was employed and completely self-sufficient before you came along, and I am beyond capable of contributing my share and more for both of us. Thirdly, I will not be told that you need to work a dangerous fucking job that you hated, all for the archaic notion that because you’re the man, you need to ‘support me.’ Not in this house, not ever, Javier.” 

His jaw flexed, his right hand clenching, saying in a tone that brokered no argument, “I’m not letting you be the sole provider in this relationship.” 

Your eyebrows shot up, your mouth falling open at his audacity, hitting your fucking limit for this shit today. 

“Excuse me?” Your voice rose. “You’re not letting me?! Why can’t I, a woman, provide for us?!” 

His eyes narrowed in confusion, “What the fuck are you talking about? This has nothing to do with you being a woman. I respect you! I respect women!” he exclaimed, exasperated. 

“You said you needed to take care of me and that I couldn’t support us!” you shouted, your chair scraping across the floor as you stood up, staring down at him with your hands on the table. “That doesn’t sound very fucking feminist, Javier! What, are you going to tell me to quit my job, too?! Have me be your good little housewife who waits on you hand and foot?!” 

His face reddened, scrunching up in anger, getting up from his seat so forcefully it slammed into the wall behind him, “You’re not getting what I’m fucking saying!” he yelled. “You’re turning this into something it’s fucking not!” 

“Then what the FUCK are you trying to say, Javier Jesús?!” 

Your heart was pounding hard, blood rushing in your ears, so fucking angry it had your stomach in knots, not believing your sweet boyfriend was being such a dick. He was mad, too, seeing it on his face and how he was so tense, his hands clenched tight at his sides. 

He knew you hated your mother implying you needed a man to take care of you, and then he decided it was time to show his true colors and that he wanted to do just that—have you rely on him, be the man of the house, and make the most money. You felt off balance because it made no fucking sense. This was not the Javi you knew and loved. Your Javi respected your job, your hardwork, you, and he’d never take away your agency.  

“I’m trying to fucking tell you I love you!” he shouted. 

It felt like time had stopped, your eyes going big at his outburst, stunned—speechless—not imagining this would be how he’d finally tell you those three words you’d been waiting so long to hear. It shocked you so much that the hot anger inside you fizzled out as if you were doused in cold water. 

It was clear how upset he was with the tears in his eyes, lowering his voice, his words coming out thicker from emotion, “I love you so fucking much,” he continued. “I want to spend the rest of my fucking life with you,” he choked on the last word, a stray tear falling down his cheek. His gaze was locked on yours, seeing the truth in the depths of his eyes. “I love you, Cielito, and me getting a job and wanting to pay for shit isn’t me trying to fucking control you, fuck, I’d never want that. That’s not me. It’s not me being fucking better than you either, and it has absolutely nothing to do with you being a woman.” His fingers slid through his hair, his other hand on his hip. “We’re building our future together, and I want us contributing equally—I don’t think it’s fucking fair that you’re taking the brunt of the money shit.” He inhaled deeply. “I want us to be equals—you’re my equal, my other half, my fuckin’ media naranja (soulmate). I want to share my life with you, share everything with you, and live with you in a bigger apartment or a house, fucking anywhere that I don’t have to see Mrs. Hernandez glaring at me like she wants me dead ‘cause you were screaming my name the night before.” 

The last bit had you laughing, tears falling down your cheeks, it all finally making sense. This was your Javi—the man who had the utmost respect for women, hated toxic masculinity, was fair and loved you. He was a good man, the best you knew, and you felt stupid for jumping to conclusions that made zero sense for his character. 

Standing up straight, wiping your eyes, and smiling, you replied, “I love you, too, and I’m so happy you said it.”

He ducked his head, looking a bit sheepish. 

“I was gonna tell you after dinner…”

“Wait, what?” 

Looking at you, he said, “It’s so fucking stupid, and I should’ve told you the moment I knew I loved you, but I was scared. So fucking scared that it was too soon, and it had to be too good to be true, except it wasn’t—it was real.” His hands were on his hips, weight to one side. “A couple of weeks ago, I started figuring my shit out, looking into how much money I had and the cost of living—crunching the fuck out of the numbers. I’ve got a pretty good amount saved up since the government basically paid for everything while I was in Colombia. It’s just not enough for me to retire early—too young. So, it was time for me to return to work because I love you, and we’re equal in everything else, like splitting chores and taking turns cooking. I think we’re pretty fucking good at this relationship shit.” 

“I think we are, too,” you giggled. 

He smiled, nodding, “Yeah, we are. I got the job, and it just felt like everything came together, you know? The universe or whatever the fuck was confirming we’re meant to be together, that it was fucking time for me to just tell you, and I rehearsed how I would say it on the drive here.” He sighed, “But your mom kinda fucked things up, and you didn’t react to my news the way I thought you would…” 

“I’m so sorry, the whole conversation with her was a clusterfuck, and then you hit a nerve.”

“Yeah, some of it’s my fault for not saying the right thing, and I’m sorry for that and also for yelling at you.” He looked at you with puppy dog eyes, a sad frown on his lips. “I didn’t like that shit.” 

Guilt was roiling in your gut, feeling so fucking terrible. 

“Javi, I am so insanely sorry that I lost my cool and upset you. I’ll do better not to let it happen again and make sure that we communicate like adults.” He nodded. “Are we okay?” you asked. 

Smiling, he answered, “Yeah, we’re okay. We’re more than okay.” 

“Good.” You felt relieved, your mouth curling in a little smile. “Wanna know a secret?” you asked. 

His head slightly tilted in curiosity. 

“Yeah?” 

“You told me you loved me before you fell asleep Friday night in Spanish.” He’d whispered it when he thought you were sleeping. “I fucking knew you were gonna break soon,” you said, grinning.  

Flush appeared on his cheeks, scratching at the back of his neck. 

“Shit, I usually wait for you to start snoring.” 

“I don’t snore.” It came out defensive. “You snore,” you accused, pointing at him. 

He smiled. 

“You snore, baby. It’s cute. You wanna know a secret?” 

“Is it that you’re lying about me snoring?” 

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Something better.” 

“Tell me.” 

“Remember that first time we went over to Pop’s last month?” 

“Yes?” 

“That’s the first time que dije te amo en español (I said I love you in Spanish). Told you every night after.” 

He, along with some of your coworkers, had been helping you learn Spanish, which was your second language when you were in school.

“Why is that so romantic?” you asked. “Friday, I said it back in English, but, te amo, mi amor (I love you, my love).” 

He gave you a beaming smile, pressing his hand over his heart.

“Te amo con todo mi corazón—eres el amor de mi vida (I love you with all my heart—you’re the love of my life).” 

There was a possibility you would melt into a puddle, hearing and seeing his devotion for you. Remembering what you were discussing had you sobering up, needing to talk about the matter at hand, worry beginning to well up inside you.

“You’re such a fucking sweetheart! Ugh, I love you so much.” Taking a deep breath, you said, “We’ll get back to being disgustingly in love in a minute. I just need to know why you didn’t talk to me about getting a job? And why you’re doing law enforcement again?” You were frowning, continuing in a softer voice, “You’re going to hate it and be so fucking miserable you’ll end up resenting me.” You worried at your lip between your teeth. 

There was no point in sugarcoating your fear. Colombia fucked him up, and he was still recovering from it; going back to that kind of job again won’t be healthy for him—guilt will eat at you because he’d be doing it for you, and he’d absolutely resent you for it, you didn’t see it going any other way. 

He looked like he’d been slapped. Suddenly, he was moving around the table, his big hands cradling your face, making you look at him. 

“Resent you?” His voice was gentle. “How the fuck—” he choked. “I could never resent you. Cielito, baby, no, I love you too fucking much. It’s nothing like the shit I did with the DEA, I’d be consulting.” His thumbs stroked over your cheeks. “Basically, I’d be doing training and offering my expertise—a fucking office job, really, nothing dangerous, no stress, I get  to choose my schedule, so I lined it up with yours. Pays pretty fucking good, too, and uh—“ He looked a little nervous. “—I thought when your lease was up, we could see about getting a bigger place together.” 

It was a relief to hear that what he’d be doing at the Sheriff’s department would be different from his previous work; now feeling much better about everything and happy, so fucking happy. 

“Javi, I own this apartment,” you said. 

His eyes widened in surprise.  

“What..?” 

“It’s a condo that I bought with cash. The big south-facing windows sold me, and I figured it’d be a better investment than renting,” you answered, shrugging. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. Planned on living here at least a year to make sure I loved my job, then wanted to buy a house—need room for more plants and a garden.” 

That was your dream, planning on a little house for just you, but now you’d need something a bit bigger with Javi. 

He looked a little downtrodden, his eyes moving away from yours.

“Yeah, that’d make sense...” 

“Javi?”

Hopeful big brown eyes met yours. 

“Yes, Cielito?” 

“Wanna move in with me, and then we can buy a house together next year?” 

He visibly brightened, thinking his dimpled smile could outshine the sun, a happy chuckle coming from his throat, crushing his mouth against yours, kissing you passionately, reverently, feeling his joy. 

“Yes,” he murmured into your lips. “Fuck, yes. Please. I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

Happiness was overflowing inside you, thinking it would seep out of your pores, flinging your arms around his neck, Javi pulling you into his embrace, holding you so close to his body like he was trying to fuse you together, his mouth never leaving yours. 

For so long, you’d known how he felt, seeing it so clearly in how he looked at you, hearing it in the words he said, feeling it in his touches. He may not have said the sentence out loud, but he still made you feel loved regardless. Now you’ve heard those three little words that, when said from his lips, felt like the heavens above had opened wide, showering you in contented bliss, spreading the warm fuzziness through your body, and cementing in your brain that he was it—he was home, and now you’d share a home, a life, and your future with him. 

Javier Peña loved you, and you loved him, and nothing else in the world seemed truer than that fact. 

Neediness hit you like a freight train, wanting him inside you so badly there was a throbbing ache between your legs, Javi greedily licking into your mouth and swallowing your moans, his tongue tasting every bit of you he could reach. 

The tension rose until you couldn’t take it anymore, breaking the kiss, Javi chasing your lips as you leaned back to start opening his shirt's buttons. His hand cupped your jaw, his lust-blown eyes on your face. 

“I fucking love you,” he said, moving to kiss you again, your fingers getting the last button undone, pushing the material off his shoulders, him shrugging it off. 

Grabbing the bottom of your cotton t-shirt, his mouth left yours to get it over your head.

“I fucking love you, too,” you panted, and he grinned, kissing you hard. 

The majority of things Javier and you were on the same page about—pineapple did not belong on pizza, coffee was necessary for survival, Coca-Cola is superior to Pepsi, Star Wars is better than Star Trek—and many more you were having trouble remembering, because you both understood each other so well, that you knew at this moment your clothes needed to come off as soon as possible, and you weren’t making it out of the kitchen. 

There was eagerness, impatience, and kissing as you stripped one another—which probably wasn’t the best decision when Javi was trying to peel off one of his socks and ended up falling backward onto his bare ass, the air leaving him in a grunt.

Your hand flew to your mouth, unable to stop yourself from chortling while standing completely nude, him trying his damndest to keep a straight face, laughter sputtering out of him with a big, shining grin. 

“Your poor little ass!” you giggled. 

The rogue sock was thrown haphazardly, finding yourself pulled down into his naked lap, your knees bracketing his thighs. 

“My ass is fine,” he chuckled, his lips finding yours again. Big hands grabbed the globes of your backside, him saying into your lips, “Your ass is more than fine.” Squeezing it and pulling you forward to feel the hard line of his cock pressed between you, making you rub your wet cunt against him, moaning at how it was hitting your clit just right to have sparks igniting in your belly. 

“Javi,” you gasped. 

Kisses were pressed along your jaw, moving lower to your neck, the roll of your hips coating his length in your arousal. 

“God, I love you.” His voice was muffled in your skin. He ducked his head down, pulling your hard nipple into his hot mouth, you moaning at the sharp jolt of pleasure. 

“Fuck, Javi, let me sit on your dick,” you whined, wanting to ease the needy ache between your legs. 

He came off your stiff peak with a wet pop, meeting your eyes, him looking at you with such a tender expression. 

“It’s yours,” he rasped. “I’m yours—I love you.” 

Every time he said it, a thrill ran through you, a smile immediately on your lips, the happiness consuming you. 

“I love you, too,” you replied, holding his cheeks. “And I’m yours—forever.” 

That had him kissing you, feeling him smiling into it, you pushing on him to lay down flat on his back, keeping your mouth on his. 

Moving to settle yourself over his hips, you held yourself up with one hand beside his head, the other moving between your bodies, lifting up to guide him to your entrance. Sinking down had you both moaning, feeling him stretching you to your limits, savoring the slight burn as everything pulled taut inside you, so incredibly full when you bottomed out. 

He’s been inside you so many times you’ve lost count—double digits? Possibly triple? You’re not sure, and even though you’re intimately familiar with the feeling of his dick filling you, nothing had prepared you for this—it had both of your jaws going slack, your eyes locked on each other, staring in wonder at how perfect it felt. The world faded away. Nothing else mattered but the two of you, your love and devotion; this feeling that mind, body, and soul, you were one person in two bodies, and now you were whole once more. 

“Fuck,” Javi whispered in awe. 

“Do you feel it, too?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded, his hands coming up to your face. His throat worked, swallowing hard, his eyes shinier, voice deeper, raspier, “Te amo tanto, no puedo vivir sin ti, mi Cielito (I love you so much, I can’t live without you, my Cielito).” You could see and hear the honesty in his words, your heart pounding in your chest, feeling the prickle of tears. “No puedo respirar sin ti—me muero sin ti (I can’t breathe without you—I’d die without you).” 

“Javier, you can’t just say exceptionally romantic things during sex and make me cry,” you sniffled. 

He chuckled, lifting his head to kiss you. 

“Yes, I can,” he murmured against your lips, his broad palms moving to skim along your back. Nipping at your chin, he grabbed your ass. “You feel so fucking good. How is it better?” 

“Magic.” 

He was thinking it over. 

“Your pussy is pretty fucking magical.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggled, reaching behind you to grab his hand, moving to press it beside his head, one then the other, interlacing your fingers and holding his hands—him happily, letting you pin him down. 

“It’s the truth.” 

“I’m gonna start calling your dick a ‘magic stick,’” you replied, circling your hips to end the sentence, watching in delight when his mouth fell open. 

“You think my dick is magic?” he gasped. 

Rocking on him, feeling him so deep inside you, answering breathily, “Absolutely, it’s fucking magic how perfectly it fills me—doesn’t leave any empty room.” 

He groaned, his cock jerking inside you, making you smile. 

“Can, uh—” he was breathing a little heavier “—can you stay still and kiss me?” he asked, looking up at you with those big eyes of his. 

“Of course, baby.” Lowering your head, pressing your body into his, staying seated as you gave him what he wanted, kissing him. 

You understood what he wanted completely—that ache in your core quelled by him filling you, loving having him inside you, feeling him throbbing and every vein and ridge pressing up against your sensitive walls, him so hot and hard. Slick was soaking him, gathering where you were joined, knowing it was probably dripping down him, happy to stay like this as long as he wanted, comfortable; Your body relaxing, melting into him, contentedness warming your very soul. 

He kissed you fervently, his tongue pressing between your lips to slide along your own, squeezing your hands beside his head, the two of you losing yourselves to each other, basking in one another—your bodies intertwined so tightly, it all blurring where you ended and he began. 

It was almost too much how he encompassed everything. Your brain could think of nothing else but him—feeling him, tasting him, hearing him, seeing him, smelling him–it was all Javi, realizing nobody else had ever affected you like he does, nobody else had ever treated you like he does, nobody else had ever loved you like he does. 

The saddest part was you were positive that went for family, too—Javier was the only person to ever truly love you, but he was the only man you’ve ever truly loved, too. 

The kissing became languid, minutes passing with him stuffed deep inside you, feeling so full and getting worked up from all the emotions you were feeling—happiness, relief, joy, tenderness, love. You were fluttering around him, your tongues tangling, beginning to squirm with the need for friction.

Breaking the kiss, he asked, “Need to come, mi amor?” through labored breaths. 

“Yes.” 

His hooded eyes showed earnestness, immediately saying, “Use me, Cielito. Take what you need. I’m yours.” 

“Fuck, I love you,” she said. 

He felt her words in his heart, them dancing across his skin, leaving warmth in their wake that seeped down into his bones, pretty sure he might be drunk on her—feeling euphoric, floaty, so unbelievably happy that it should be illegal. This was the high they tried to achieve in manufacturing drugs, something so addictive the user won’t want to stop, and Javier was hooked; addicted, gone, letting himself enjoy this bliss and the high of hearing her tell him she loved him. 

She loved him. 

It was embarrassing how giddy it made him feel, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know how she felt—she’d made it known without saying the words, leaving little doubt in his mind. Everything she did, and said, made Javier feel how much she loved him, but hearing her say the sentence out loud made it real; it brought life to the three little words that would title the next chapter of their lives together and solidified how they felt for each other. 

Add in her asking him to move in with her, and he was the happiest man on the entire fucking planet. 

His throbbing cock was buried to the root inside her, feeling her velvety walls pulsing, burning around him, so wet he could feel her dripping, soaking him in her slick. Sweat had their bodies sticking together, neither giving a single fuck, her face so close he could feel her breathing. 

“I love you, too,” he replied. He’d never tire of saying it, planning to tell her every single day for the rest of their lives because she needed to know—she had to be aware of how he felt and that his love for her grew stronger the longer they were together. 

Her mouth collided with his in a heated kiss that was over too soon. Unclasping her hands from his, she moved them to his chest, leveraging herself to sit up on top of him. A small noise left his throat as she rolled her hips. His fingers itched to touch her, grabbing her hips before moving over the soft, supple skin of her belly, up to palm the familiar weight of her breasts, her breath hitching when he tweaked her pebbled nipples between his fingers. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he husked. 

The shitty hanging light over the dining room table glowed behind her, making her look ethereal, angelic, a goddess above him chasing her bliss. He was enraptured by how she looked with her eyes fluttering closed and lips parted, watching her throat work as she swallowed her moans—thinking she was the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and she loved him. 

She started moving, working herself up and down his dick, her body shivering in pleasure, feeling her cunt squeezing him tightly as she slickly slid along him. She felt so fucking good that it had his breath going shaky, his heart hammering in his chest. The pressure was slowly building at the base of his spine, so turned on by how she was riding him, finding it so fucking sexy watching her take what she needed and using him to feel good. 

It was true that he loved getting her off and probably knew her body as well as his own, learning all the little things that turned her on and got her there. He was aware that if he played with her clit, it’d have her coming quickly; teasing her tits enough could get her to finish, too, but he wasn’t the one calling the shots right now; she was in control—she had the power, and he’d do anything she asked. 

Her heavy-lidded eyes met his, making his cock twitch. 

“Touch me,” she moaned. 

Quickly he was pressing his thumb to her clit, rubbing it the way he knew she liked it, his mouth falling open when she clenched around him. Her moans were getting louder, it getting even wetter between her legs, and he knew she was almost there. 

He was breathing hard. “You gonna come, Cielito?” he asked. “You gonna let me feel you?” 

“Yes,” she gasped. “So close.” 

“I know you are, baby.” He pressed a little harder. “Wanna feel you come. Can you do that for me, mi amor? Be my good girl and come for me?” 

“Yes, Javi,” she moaned. 

Her thighs were quivering, and the way her cunt was beginning to spasm had him feeling dizzy, ignoring the heat growing in his belly. 

“Dámelo, mi amor, give it to me. (Give it to me, my love).”

It wasn’t much longer that her body was tensing up, crying out his name as she came, her clenching down hard around him. 

“So good to me,” he groaned. “My good girl. Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito).”

He grit his teeth, grabbing onto her ass, and started thrusting up into her to extend her high, grunting as he pistoned. Her moans were stuttered, digging her nails into his chest, and when he came to a stop, needing to catch his breath, she’d left half-moon imprints in his skin. 

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” she croaked. 

His head came up to look at her. 

“What?” he panted. 

She had a lazy smile on her lips. 

“I’m gonna marry the man I love one day, and that’s you.” She poked him in the chest. 

A laugh escaped him at how adorably fucked out of her mind she looked, groaning as he moved to sit up, an arm around her back to keep her on him, spreading his legs with her in his lap. 

They were face to face now, him smiling. 

Leaning in, he nudged his nose against hers. “You’re gonna marry me one day, huh?” he asked. 

She slid the fingers of one hand into the hair at the back of his head, pressing the other to his cheek. 

“Oh, yeah. You’re my dream man; you check off all of my boxes.” 

Her thighs were on either side of his hips, his hands gripping her ass, helping her to start moving on him, pressing a soft kiss to her chin. 

“What’s on the list?” he asked against her skin, moving to peck one side of her mouth, then the other. 

“He’s gotta be loyal.” 

“I am,” he replied, kissing her jaw. 

She was sinking down his hard cock slowly, canting her hips to get a better angle. 

“He’s gotta love me.” 

“I do.” A peck to her cheek.

She listed the items, rising up on her knees and falling back down, Javier responding, kissing anywhere he could reach that wasn’t her lips. 

“Considerate.” 

“I try.” One over her pulse point. 

“Affectionate.” 

“Always.” A kiss to the tip of her nose. 

There wasn’t any rush, her rocking in his lap, sliding along his length smoothly, her inner walls massaging him.

“Romantic.” 

“I am,” he said, pecking the side of her mouth again. 

“Fun.” 

His lips paused, her continuing to slowly ride him. 

“Maybe?”

“You are.” 

“I am.” He smiled, kissing her other cheek.

“Easy going.” 

“I try.” A press of his lips under her jaw. 

“Gives me his pickles.” 

That had his head coming up to meet her eyes, his eyebrow quirked. 

“My dick?” he asked. 

She gave him a look, slowing to a grind, her arousal wetting his lap. 

“I said ‘pickles,’ not ‘pickle,’ Javier. Literal pickles.” A smirk pulled up on her face. “But, yeah, your dick, too.” 

He chuckled, finally kissing her mouth.

“You can have both,” he murmured into her lips.

She held onto his shoulders as she started moving faster, his mouth falling open in a moan, her all warm and wet, fucking herself on his cock. The knot was tightening in his belly, their eyes locked on each other, groaning when she nipped at his bottom lip. 

He could feel himself getting closer, her slowing down, grinding on him as they lazily kissed before pressing their foreheads together. They stared into each other’s glazed-over eyes while they shared breaths, him helping her move with his grip on her ass. 

There wasn’t any other place he’d rather be than right here, with the woman he loved, who he knew without a doubt he was going to marry one day. 

She picked up in pace again, sweat beading on her forehead, his lap wet from her slick, letting her control the speed and intensity. Javier was happily at her mercy, feeling their connection of the love they shared, taking their time, and being in the moment—zero pressure, just doing what felt good and enjoying one another. They found themselves kissing when the need became too high, wanting to feel the other’s mouth—quick kisses or drawn-out ones, biting lips, and tangling tongues. 

He knew he’d come soon, could feel it building inside him, but wanting to stay like this for as long as possible. 

Through panting breaths, she asked, “What’s on your dream girl list?” 

He was so fucking lost with her fucking him that he answered in a weak voice, “What?” 

“Your dream girl. What’s on your list?” 

There was only one answer that was coming through his pleasure-addled brain. 

“You,” he gasped. 

She grinned. 

“I love you,” she said. 

He was quick to reply, “I love you, too.” Kissing her until it got sloppy, breaking apart when she started riding him fast and hard, Javier’s eyes squeezing shut, whimpering, his body trembling with the tension winding tighter inside him—he was so close, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer. 

His eyes went wide when she clenched around him on a downstroke, her continuing to do it. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whined. 

A knowing smirk was on her lips. 

“You gonna come for me, Javi, baby?” she panted. 

She was doing it on purpose, riding him hard and tightening up to squeeze his dick over and over, trying to fucking finish him. 

He smacked her ass, making her laugh. 

“You’re—” he gulped, it hard to speak when it felt like he was going to explode “—you’re playing fucking dirty.” 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

His insides were burning up, the pressure getting to the point that he was done for. It was over—his cock thickening, falling over the edge with a guttural moan, her sitting flush against him as he came, gushing so deep inside her he’d be in her for days. 

Euphoria had his mind going blank and body lax, her pulling his head into her tits, cushioning him on the pillowy softness as he came down. 

He was in heaven. 

Both literally and figuratively. 

Your fingers rubbed through Javi’s sweat-soaked hair, his face pressed into your bosom. 

His shoulders started shaking before you felt his hot breaths and heard his muffled laughter. 

“What’s so funny, Chuckles?” you asked. 

He said something into your chest, unable to make out the words.

“Gonna need you to get out of the boobies.” 

Lifting his head, he looked beyond amused, him trying to hold back his laughs. 

“You’re my Cielito,” he said. 

“Yes…” 

“My little heaven.” Air left his nose in a snort, having to compose himself. “I’m literally inside heaven.” His breath sputtered, his eyes crinkling at the edges as a short burst of laughter sounded from him, ending in his body silently quaking, smiling from ear to ear. You couldn’t keep a straight face, joining in the merriment. 

“You’re so fucking dumb,” you laughed, playfully slapping his shoulder. 

His arms pulled you in for a hug, shoving your face in his neck, the two of you working out the giggles in your system, bodies shaking against each other. 

It took a minute for him to calm down, finally saying, “But you love me.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, his hands rubbing along your bare back.

“I do.” Moving your head to look into his eyes. “I love you very much.” 

His chocolate brown eyes were shining brightly, giving you a dimpled grin. 

“I love you, too, Cielito.” He kissed you sweetly, pulling back to hold your face, as he said, “Mi vida estaría vacía sin ti (My life would be empty without you). Te amo más que a nada y soy feliz de compartir de mi vida contigo a mi lado (I love you more than anything and I’m happy to share my life with you by my side). Eres el amor de mi vida y mi media naranja (You are the love of my life and my soulmate). Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito).” Your eyes were watering, holding the tears at bay, his lips pressing against yours in a tender kiss that had you sighing happily. Breaking it, he asked, “Do you need me to translate?” 

“No.” You shook your head. “I got it, and you can’t just say exceptionally romantic things after post sex giggles to make me cry.” You were so fucking happy, it was taking everything in you to keep from crying. “It’s rude.” 

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled. He kissed you, saying into your lips, “I’m gonna keep doing it, because I love you, Cielito—mi amor (my love).” 

“I love you, too, Javi.”

“My back is gonna be fucked,” he said between kisses.

“I really fucking love you, too.” 

“Fuck, I love you.” 

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The New Moon

Rafe Cameron x Goth!Fem!Reader

ᴄᴡ: none

ᴡᴄ: 1k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: this is part one of i dont know how many, but i’m seeing where it takes me! there aren’t any physical descriptions this chapter except for the color of clothes and the reader wearing makeup.

next →

Rafe had known you since senior year high school. If he’d paid more attention he would have realized you’d worked at the country club long before he transferred to public school. The original plan was to have him attend one year outside of the academy in public school to teach him a lesson. Ward was tired of his antics, even if they hadn’t reached extreme points yet.

Rose, on the other hand, had whined and moaned against the decision. Imagine how it would look with Rafe being at public school, Ward couldn’t have cared less. He believed a punishment was needed and he made sure it was delivered. Rafe had reluctantly showed up to public school for a singular day, only to go home and beg his dad to not send him back. He promised to straighten and do whatever necessary. Anything was better than enduring a second day.

After long deliberation (and bribing), Ward had finally relented, warning Rafe to shape up or else he’d go back there. While Rafe hadn’t exactly fixed everything, he became adept at not getting caught. He’d learned from that one day of public school. Don’t draw unnecessary attention to yourself. To anyone else his reaction may have seemed overdramatic, and it was, but to Rafe public school was haunting.

He’d gone there expecting that people would recognize him and be intrigued, instead, he was another face in the crowd. The school was located towards the middle of the island, filled with all the students that couldn’t afford the academy. To them Rafe was a nobody. He had no power there. He especially had no power on how others judged him.

In the academy Rafe could freely snark at anyone he pleased. In public school, Rafe had been shoulder checked numerous times, snickered at from mouths behind hands, or completely disregarded. He despised it. He missed when people looked up to him, or were too scared to start something with him. Rafe had realized how isolating it felt when he entered the cafeteria to see groups of people already arranged at tables.

No one welcomed him. There was no fanfare. He was only met with suspicious glares. He deserved them no doubt, but suddenly being at the bottom of the social ladder was jarring. Rafe stood there to glare back at the room, as if it would help somebody invite him over, when someone abruptly slammed into his back.

“Fuck, sorry-“ A voice cursed behind him. Rafe turned around to spout out an insult when his eyes landed on you. Oh. was his first thought. There you stood decked out in all black attire. All the intricate layers and unique cuts fit together like you’d spent hours curating the perfect outfit. Even your makeup seemed expertly crafted to fit your vibe. Rafe could only imagine how long it took you to get dressed. He was accustomed to people spending long periods of time to get ready, but none of them looked like you.

Rafe wondered if anyone else dressed like you here. Was it more accepted in public school? Not that it mattered when you were right in front of him. He had never met a goth person, and had never realized how attractive he would think your style was. Usually his type were kook girls who liked him, but damn. “Are you just going to stare?” quickly snapped him out of his thoughts.

“What?” he responded cluelessly. You laughed—a genuine laugh! It wasn’t directed at him, but rather at the situation itself. Rafe watched as your hand covered your smile, already wanting to see it again. As you shook your head his blue eyes locked on yours. “Look, don't bother with the cafeteria, it's a shit show. Anyone who’s not boring sits in the courtyard.” He nodded slowly, “And are you one of those people?”

Rafe had expected bite in your response to his prompt but you merely shrugged. “Hmm, maybe.” He grinned dumbly as you walked away to join the line for lunch. “Will you be out there?” Rafe called out to your back. “You’ll see, Rafe Cameron.” He paused when he was met with his full name. You knew him and yet he didn’t know you. Rafe had wanted all day for someone to know who he was, but now he was silently cursing his family. He could only hope you didn’t know some of the shit he’s pulled.

Pushing away the thoughts, his feet hurried out to the courtyard to find a seat under a tree. Rafe waited and waited to see your figure step out of the doors. But as the bell rang you still hadn’t shown up. He really hadn’t wanted to dwell on the fact that the one positive thing about the day had slipped through his fingers.

As burdens continued to piled up onto his lap his day spiraled downhill. The teachers were just as relentless as the students, dumping an overwhelming chunk of makeup work on him. If the front doors weren’t locked Rafe may have made a desperate run for it. He had never realized the stress of public school, finding himself mentally praying for time to swiftly pass by. As the end of the day rolled around he sprinted to his car, which was boxed in by cars on either side, and sped home.

After the scare and being able to go back to private school things started to settle. After a few days, and a few dreams featuring you as the star of them, he went to the country club to golf on the weekend. Rafe needed the break and the opportunity to rant about public school to Topper and Kelce. It was senior year for fucks sake, why should he had to even go there in the first place!

The rounds flew by on the course, leaving him thirsty. Rafe unsuspectingly made his way towards the bar only to stop short at sight of the person serving an older man. Fuck, it was you. And what else could Rafe do except turn the other way and speed off, not catching your intrigued gaze.

You giggled under your breath seeing Rafe shove his hands in his pockets and dash the other way. Did you intimidate him that much? You truly couldn’t remember anything bad happening between the two of you. What a strange guy. The man you served, Bob, caught your eye, following your view to see what you were looking at. “Oh, that Cameron boy?”

You hummed and looked at the man. “Yeah…is he always like that?” “Weird and shifty?” Well, you wouldn’t have described him like that, “Sure.” Bob swirled his glass before sipping from it for dramatic effect making you suppress an eye roll. “Yeah mostly. Make sure to stay away from that boy. He isn’t known for kindness.” Huh. That was certainly not how he had acted towards you. If anything he seemed dumb in a sweet way.

Your eyes found their way back to where he was making an excuse of why he hadn’t gotten a drink to Topper and Kelce. Interesting.

[accirax]

Nene’s Role in Wonderlands x Showtime

The release of The Miniature Garden’s Coral seems to have confirmed some things I’ve recently speculated might transpire in future Wonderlands x Showtime events-- namely regarding Nene and how she may actually be the most important member of the troupe-- so, let’s talk about them! I’ll be using zui’s lyrics video for my translations, so hopefully they’re accurate.

With the past couple of WxS events in mind, it’s easy to see that this 3DMV is also about endings. While the MV begins in a sunny blue afternoon light...

...the characters and set eventually bask in a beautiful sunset orange, signaling the end of the day. The lyrics even mention being “between the end of the blue sky and the beginning of the night sky,” further emphasizing that we’re in the middle of the story. When the sky is blue, the troupe expresses uncertainty: Rui mentions that he feels lost, and Tsukasa, scared. But eventually, Nene admits that, in this beginning period, she was “spoiled by the sound of the waves,” AKA that the commotion surrounding WxS’s formation led to a troupe that became a source of comfort for all of them.

Once the sun sets, there are a lot of “even ifs.” Nene sings about how she’ll continue to sing this song, even if things are starting to look unsteady and she’s not sure if she should proceed. However, by the end of the song, she resolves to "still sing this song” while keeping up a smile.

I think that the fact that Nene says she will sing this song is incredibly important, because, as established, this song is about endings. Meanwhile, back in Mr. Showtime, Tsukasa firmly didn’t want WxS to end, and was holding out until closing time. Rui’s What Sort of Ending Are You Wishing For? and Emu’s Starry Sky Orchestra seemingly both acknowledge an ending as well, but it’s not at all easy. Rui seems to fall into a resigned depression at the thought, keeping a whimsical facade up when the very thought of separating kills him inside. The thought haunts him, MV riddled with hourglasses that he can’t get out of his head. Emu can only tolerate taking the first step towards a breakup with tooth-rottingly sugarcoated promises of eternal togetherness and literally holding hands as they go (I love her btw this is not Emu slander). She never even says the word “end,” only “tomorrow.”

Rui, Emu, and Tsukasa are basically Denialx3. Rui tries to deny his emotions regarding disbanding, Emu tries to deny that the ending is coming at all, and Tsukasa tries to deny that there’s nothing he can do to keep them from inevitably drifting apart. And that’s where Nene comes in again.

Rui’s dream is to perform technically complex shows that will resonate with an audience. He can do that from Phoenix Wonderland. Emu’s dream is to keep the Wonder Stage up and operating forever. She has to do that from Phoenix Wonderland. Tsukasa’s dream is to become the number one world star and make everyone smile. While this would likely take him away from the park, in another story, I could see it being possible that, in the end, Tsukasa decides that making the people in his local community happy is more important than trying to change the entire world. Thus, he could also follow his dream from Phoenix Wonderland, even if it’s not ideal.

But then there’s Nene. Her dream is, and always has been, to perform in Broadway musicals. Broadway is a live performance in New York City. There is no possible way for Nene to get what she wants while staying in Phoenix Wonderland. And that is possibly why Wonderlands x Showtime’s ending is the easiest for her to process.

Now, I’m not trying to say that Nene doesn’t love her friends. She adores them. Her three previous commissions have proven that. It’s the amount of love she has for them that will propel her to make what is actually the best choice for their dreams. Nene is the little mermaid, both when swimming freely the oceans with a beautiful, unstoppable song, and when enduring pain herself to stand with and for the ones she loves. Her friends, in this situation... are coral.

Remember that coral, “blurred” and uncertain in the water and “stained orange by the setting sun”? The miniature garden is Phoenix Wonderland; the coral is Emu, Rui, and Tsukasa; and that coral is stained orange by its desperation to keep rereading the final chapter instead of closing the book for now and putting it away to revisit in the future. Coral, while a beautiful living organism, is also completely static.

Static like stone statues which, at least by my interpretation, is what the rest of WxS turns into at the end of the 3DMV. The three of them (and Kaito) are paralyzed with the fear of the suffering an ending would bring. Only Nene is alive and human to be the one to show the group the benefits it can bring as well.

There are a lot of aspects of this song and Nene’s entire personality that lead me to believe that she will be the one to bring about change in WxS. First, she most often “has the braincell,” so to speak. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she performs this song with Kaito, the most mature of the WxS vocaloids, either. During April Fool’s 2023, she was put into the Solid Heart class. One might think that troupe leader Tsukasa should be the Solid Heart, and that shy Nene should be the Cautious Heart, but they (accurately) sorted it the other way.

Nene is a very strong-willed person. In other stories, it might be seen as a negative that Nene is always the most hesitant one to get into shenanigans, or that she would even dare to be the one to suggest a WxS split in the first place. What an ungrateful wet blanket Nene is, willing to throw away her friends for the sake of her own selfish dream. But in this story, staying at Phoenix Wonderland isn’t really what will make Rui or Tsukasa happy, and even Emu may have to graduate to focusing on the entire company instead of just one stage someday.

Nene’s friends brought her out of the darkness and into the light of day, and she is so grateful for that. She knows how amazing they are, which is how she knows that they can make more friends and continue to do even more amazing things in the future if they can bear to leave their high school part-time jobs behind and enter the real world, just like her.

So, Nene’s role is to be Wonderlands x Showtime’s guiding light. She’ll tell Rui what sort of ending she’s wishing for, and then console him when he can’t repress his tears. She’ll be the one to hold Emu’s hand while they take that next step into tomorrow. Her three best friends helped her to grow from the loner who operated a robot from the theme park bushes, and she’ll help them step out of that theme park and be who they truly want to be.

There is one other thing I wanted to mention, though...

Tsukasa.

As I mentioned previously, while all three of Rui, Emu, and Tsukasa are in denial, Tsukasa is the most actively in opposition to an ending. He’s also the troupe leader, and the sole creator of the Wonderland Sekai. If someone is going to actively try to stop Nene from suggesting separation, it’s definitely going to at least start with him. But as Nene has already stated in The Miniature Garden’s Coral, despite any opposition that makes her question whether or not she should proceed, she already plans to continue singing her beliefs about a bittersweet yet timely goodbye.

And, their conflict is something that’s basically been foreshadowed from the beginning too, right? Nene has always roasted Tsukasa, giving a counterpoint to his blindingly bright worldview. In upcoming chapters, however, I believe that may start to transform from simple fun banter into a genuine conflict with clear sides drawn...

And THAT’S why ColoPale gave them Childish War.

Nenekasa nation get ready, ‘cause I don’t think this is the last Nene and Tsukasa fight we’re going to see.

[likeadevils]

Speak Now Timeline

This is a very long post that puts all the songs on Speak Now in order of Taylor creating them. I’ve also added a few other songs she wrote while writing Speak Now and quotes from Taylor and her collaborators talking about her process.

If you don't want to read all that, check out this playlist of the album in order or this playlist of her entire discography.

Due to a surprising amount of digital decay and her life not being highly documented yet, exact dates are bit harder to come by then they are with following albums, but you can still find a few! I’ve added this color coded scale of how sure I am of the date: 

Confirmed: There is some type of official source for the date

Inferring: Nobody has officially said “This is when we wrote it,” but everything points to that date

Speculation: This date is based off pure vibes and guesswork and is highly likely to change.

Unknown: All that is known is the year (from the US Copyright Offices)

More notes: I will probably be editing it as information about vault songs and new details about old songs get come out, so it probably won’t be finished until July, so check back in with this post and/or follow me if you want updates. Most tweet dates come from crawling through the wayback machine, but if you want further sourcing, feel free me an ask/dm.

Without further ado...

Sparks Fly: Late 2006 (Inferring)

Taylor opened up for Jake Owen on October 31, 2006 In Portland, Oregon (the secret message for the song), and wrote Sparks Fly about the experience shortly after. I’ve seen a few second hand sources say she wrote it on the airplane ride back to Nashville later that same night, but I can’t find Taylor herself saying that, so it might just be an old fandom legend, or the source has been lost to digital decay, or I just haven’t looked hard enough. She first performs the song in May 29, 2007.

Haunted: 2009 (Unknown)

Taylor: "Haunted" is about the moment that you realize the person you're in love with is drifting and fading fast. And you don't know what to do, but in that period of time, in that phase of love, where it's fading out, time moves so slowly. Everything hinges on what that last text message said, and you're realizing that he's kind of falling out of love. That's a really heartbreaking and tragic thing to go through, because the whole time you're trying to tell yourself it's not happening. I went through this, and I ended up waking up in the middle of the night and writing this song about it.

February 17, 2009: Tweets "It's 3:58 am in London.. And I accidentally fell asleep at 6:30 pm, so now I'm wide awake and have no idea what to do. Write a song?"

It’s possible that this was what Taylor was referring to when she said she “ended up waking up in the middle of the night and writing [Haunted]”, but it’s also very possible that Taylor didn’t write a song on February 17, and waking up in the middle of the night and writing a song is not a rare occurrence in Taylor’s life, so one tweet doesn’t really prove anything.

March 13, 2009: Tweets "A day off in Sydney. Drove two hours out of the city and spent the day on the beach. Wrote a chorus you'll hear on the next record. :)"

Pure speculation, but I think she was working on Mr. Perfectly Fine. It was created in 2009, and in my opinion, of the possible songs it has the most notable chorus.

March 19, 2009: Posts on Myspace “I’m wiped out. I’ve been in the studio all day ( I know, I know.. We JUST put out a new album. I think I have a problem, I cannot stop writing songs.) It’s so much fun knowing that you can take your time, because you have like a year and a half to make something you’re really proud of. I love recording a few songs, waiting a few months, recording a few more.. Instead of devoting a few weeks to “record the album” and then it’s just done. I like dragging it out, that way you can be meticulous about every detail. Daydream about different ways to put the songs together, and then take them apart. I’m pretty obsessed with the whole process. So needless to say, it was good to be back in the studio with my redheaded producer who I missed terribly.”

If This Was A Movie: April 2009 (Inferring)

Taylor has literally never talked about this song, but April would be six months after and Joe Jonas broke up in late September/early October 2008.

April 24, 2009: Taylor plays in Jonesboro, Arkansas, and possibly writes a song: "I'd get my best ideas at 3:00 AM in Arkansas, and didn't have a co-writer around and I'd just finish it. And that would happen again in New York [likely Enchanted], that would happen again in Boston [likely Long Live], that would happen again in Nashville." (x)

May 23, 2009: Taylor records Half Of My Heart with John Mayer

On March 1, 2009: John Mayer tweeted: “Waking up to this song idea that won’t leave my head. 3 days straight now. That means it’s good enough to finish. It’s called Half of My Heart and I want to sing it with Taylor Swift. She would make a killer Stevie Nicks in contrast to my Tom Petty of a song.” On May 23, John Mayer tweeted "I couldn't get Taylor Swift on my record so I found the world's greatest impersonator, Laura Jacksheimer" with a picture of Taylor.

Superman: Spring 2009 (Speculation)

This could have been written any time in 2009, but due to it's general sound and the following quote, I’d guess it was written sometime in spring, when her and John Mayer first started working together. Taylor: “This was a guy that I was sort of enamored with, as usual. This song got its title by something that I just kinda said randomly in conversation. He walked out of the room, I looked over at one of my friends and said, ‘Man, It’s just like watching Superman fly away.’”

May 29, 2009: Posts on Myspace “Tomorrow, after the performance on the Today show, I’ll fly back to Nashville and record a lot of new songs I’ve written in the last few weeks. I’m really excited about that.” (She also posts "Tonight I went shopping at Top Shop in New York with the band. I got purple shoes. I’m really excited about the purple shoes, and I just needed to tell someone. I got purple shoes. Ok. That’s done." Which. If I had a nickel for everytime Taylor teased her new album by posting about shoe colors I'd have two nickels, which isnt a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.)

June 4, 2009: Posts on Facebook "In the studio. I don't know whose computer I'm using. Pssh.. Such a rebel right now.."

June 9, 2009: Tweets (about recording Thug Story) "If I said I was in the studio with T-Pain, would you believe me?"

Better Than Revenge and Let’s Go (Battle): June 2009 (Inferring)

These were probably written sometime between June 12, when the Jonas Brothers released “Much Better”, and July 1, when Taylor posted on Myspace: “What else is new.. Recording a bunch of new songs. Lots of new things to write about…..”

Last Kiss: 2009 (Unknown)

Taylor: "The song "Last Kiss" is sort of like a letter to somebody. You say all of these desperate, hopeless feelings that you have after a breakup. Going through a breakup you feel all of these different things. You feel anger, and you feel confusion, and frustration. Then there is the absolute sadness. The sadness of losing this person, losing all the memories, and the hopes you had for the future. There are times when you have this moment of truth where you just admit to yourself that you miss all these things. When I was in one of those moments I wrote this song."

July 22, 2009: Tweets "Hanging with my producer Nathan, discussing the next adventure" and then in a separate tweet "...album #3."

Never Grow Up: Fall 2009 (Speculation)

Lover Diary Nathan Chapman: "The song 'Never Grow Up' is just she singing and I on acoustic guitar. We recorded ourselves live. That song probably happened in two hours." This could’ve been written at any time in 2009, but I put it here because she bought her Nashville apartment sometime before October.

September 8, 2009: Tweeted "Last night in nash before heading out tomorrow for 4 shows, then VMA's. But right now I can't put the guitar down."

September 13, 2009: VMAs Incident

Enchanted: September 15, 2009 (Confirmed)

On September 15, Taylor attended an Owl City Concert in New York Taylor: "It was about this guy that I met in New York City, and I had talked to him on email or something before, but I had never met him. And meeting him, it was this overwhelming feeling of: I really hope that you're not in love with somebody. And the whole entire way home, I remember the glittery New York City buildings passing by, and then just sitting there thinking, am I ever going to talk to this person again? And that pining away for a romance that may never even happen, but all you have is this hope that it could, and the fear that it never will. I started writing that in the hotel room when I got back. Because it just was this positive, wistful feeling of: I hope you understand just how much I loved meeting you. I hope that you know that meeting you was not something that I took lightly, or just in passing. And I think my favorite part of that song is the part where, in the bridge, it goes to sort of a stream of consciousness of ‘Please don't be in love with someone else/Please don't have somebody waiting on you.' Because at that moment, that's exactly what my thoughts were. And it feels good to write exactly what your thoughts were in a certain moment.”

September 26, 2009: Taylor plays in Little Rock, Arkansas, and possibly writes a song: "I'd get my best ideas at 3:00 AM in Arkansas, and didn't have a co-writer around and I'd just finish it. And that would happen again in New York [Enchanted & Back To December], that would happen again in Boston [Long Live], that would happen again in Nashville." (x)

October 17, 2009: Tweets "Travis: you look so out of it. Me: I'm writing a song in my head. Travis: oh, I apologize. I didn't realize you were working."

November 30, 2009: Tweets "If I had a dime for every time my producer and I blurt out the same thing at the same time, followed by an awkward, uncoordinated high five..."

Ours: December 6, 2009 (Inferring)

Myspace Post on December 6: “I just got back to Nashville this morning after being in LA all week. Today I was out and about and in the studio all day” Taylor: "I wrote this when I was about to turn 20. I was in a relationship I knew people wouldn't approve of, and it was just a matter of time before everyone found out. When you're first getting to know someone, it's a fragile time, and then you add newspapers and magazine covers and it can get kind of rough. I wanted to have this song to play for him when it got difficult. Singing it for him was one of the sweetest moments I can remember."

December 22, 2009: Tweets "I was writing a song and my pen fell into the piano. Still trying to figure out if I should do anything about this."

January 2010: Starts polishing up the demos made in 2009 into fully produced tracks

Billboard: "Swift and Chapman had begun recording new songs almost as soon as "Fearless" was released. The two cut demos in his basement studio and would only take those songs to larger facilities once they felt they had an emotional foundation in the basic tracks. Still, it wasn’t until early 2010 when the album truly began to coalesce." Nathan Chapman: "We stripped it down and made the demos first. Taylor came to my studio and I played all the instruments on the demos, and because I have a good vocal booth, her demo vocals ended up being the vocals you hear on the record. After finishing the demos, we went out to different studios, and tried different combinations of engineers and musicians to replace some of the elements of my demos, mostly the programmed drums, and to do additional overdubs. [...] A pop artist would probably release what we'd done after five hours, but country artists don't want to hear programmed drums, they don't want to hear fake stuff. So once we had recorded the demos, we would book whatever studio we wanted for each song, to replace the drums, in many cases the bass, and to add whatever overdubs we envisioned, like fiddle, keyboards, percussion and strings. After we got the demos right, we opened it up and allowed ourselves to spend money and cut a big record." Taylor tweets on January 11: "Studio-ness with all the same boys who played on Fearless" and on January 13: "More recording. So excited. So excited. So excited. See, I said that three times. Once for every album we've made in this studio."

January 13, 2010: Posts on Myspace “Thank you January. I have had this month off. I have walked on snow-covered grass and discovered new coffee shops and laughed hysterically with friends about things that probably weren’t technically funny. I’ve written songs on napkins and sat at a giant table with my whole family on my mother’s birthday, all of us in one place for the first time in too long. I’ve gotten to take what has happened to me and process it to my full capability, and celebrate it the way it deserved to be celebrated. I’ve made new music. I’ve gone over the memories and jumped up and down with my producer and floated around with nothing on my schedule other than just appreciating what my life has somehow turned into. [...] Getting back in the studio with the same guys I trust and know and love.. (right, the pointing one: my producer Nathan Chapman) (Left, the waving one: Bass extraorinaire, Tim Marks. Clearly marked on his road case.) [...] Nick Buddha is in charge of the drums.”

February 22, 2010: Posts on Myspace "I’ve been writing lots of songs"

February 13, 2010: Writes in her diary "I’ve been obsessing over the new album. I always do that until it’s just right. I don’t know if I have the formula just right for this one yet. I know there are great songs. I just need to figure out the strands that bond them together into a great album. And I will obsess until it’s there. This album, any album, is the next 2 years of my life. It has to be more than amazing. It has to be great enough to keep my attention for 2 years."

Mine: March 10-12 2010 (Inferring)

Taylor (above interview, at 5:17): "I wrote Mine somewhere on the road, I think in Texas, actually." Nathan Chapman: "The demo for 'Mine' apparently took less than five hours to record, and sounded, according to Chapman, "almost identical to the record. After that we worked on the track for another four months, off and on, and spent $30,000 to make sure it sounded perfect in the real world."" Taylor: "This song is the first single because it has this…there was this moment between Nathan and I, my producer, when I brought this song in and when we made this demo in one day in his basement and we just kinda looked at each other and we were like, "This is it. This is the one. All of the times that I've had "The Moment" with songs of "This is the one," it's been a good call, so I'm hoping for the best on this one. Wish me luck." Scott Borchetta: "Mine" was a turning point in the album’s development. Swift and Chapman had begun recording new songs almost as soon as "Fearless" was released. The two cut demos in his basement studio and would only take those songs to larger facilities once they felt they had an emotional foundation in the basic tracks. Still, it wasn’t until early 2010 when the album truly began to coalesce. Swift presented "Mine" to Borchetta in his office [...] "We probably played that song four or five times," Borchetta recalls. "I’m jumping around playing air guitar, she’s singing the song back to me, and it was just one of those crazy, fun, Taylor teen-age moments."

March 13, 2010: Taylor records Mine, brings it to Scott Borchetta, and says she’s done with TS3

Scott Borchetta: "I said, ‘Keep going,’ [...] She kind of looked at me like, ‘You’re challenging me.’ And I said, ‘Yeah. You’ve found true north here. Keep going.’ " Taylor: “During Speak Now, when I went to (label head) Scott Borchetta and said, 'The album’s finished,’ he said, 'No, it’s not – you need to keep writing.’” (Right after playing in Texas, Taylor leaves for a vacation in the Bahamas, meaning Taylor likely had about a day in Nashville between the two trips).

Innocent: Late March 2010 (Inferring)

Billboard: “It was some time in the period after that challenge — between February and June — that Swift wrote “Innocent,” her response to the Kanye West incident.​​” Taylor: “Some songs take 30 minutes to write, and some take six months, which was the case with “Innocent.” When things affect me intensely and really hit me hard, it can take a while to figure out what I think about it and what to say about it.” (March would be just over 6 months since the VMAs).

March 24, 2010: Taylor goes lunch with Taylor Lautner and both of their publicists, inspiring Back To December.

Taylor: Swift says she based the song on a conversation she had with the guy about whom she's singing. "It's not loosely based," she says. "It's almost word-for-word. It is a song and a conversation that needed to happen, because I don't want to hurt people. If you unintentionally do so, you've got to make that better."

Speak Now: Early April, 2010 (Inferring)

On April 3, Taylor attended the wedding of Josh Farro as Hayley Williams (who is Josh's ex) plus one. That day she also tweeted: ""Nathan you smell really good! Is that a new cologne?" "Thanks! Actually it's a two in one shampoo and soap. From Dial." My producer rules." implying she was in the studio. The conversation below could have happened any day after the VMA awards in September, when Hayley first reached out to Taylor, but I think Taylor probably wrote the song fairly close to naming the album after it. Taylor: "This song was inspired by one of my friends who was telling me about her childhood sweetheart, crush guy. They were kind of together in high school and went their separate ways, and it was kind of understood that they were gonna get back together. Then, she one day comes in and tells me he's getting married. He had met this girl who was just this mean person who made him completely stop talking to all of his friends, cut off his family, had him like so completely isolated. And I just, kind of randomly, was like, "So, you gonna speak now?" She was like, "What do you mean?" And I was like "Oh, you know, like storm the church, speak now or forever hold your peace? I'll go with you. I'll play guitar. It would be great." She was just kind of laughing, and later on I just was wrapping my mind around that idea of how tragic it would be if someone you loved was marrying somebody else. Later I had a dream about one of my ex-boyfriends getting married, and it just all came together that I needed to write this song about interrupting a wedding. For me, I like to think of it as good versus evil, and this girl is so completely painted as the evil one. So this is "Speak Now.""

April 13, 2010: Names TS3 Speak Now

Lover Diaries: "So I’ve been obsessing over the new record to the point where it’s all I can focus on. I’m majorly stressed and borderline losing it, with all these lists and chronic dissatisfaction. Perfectionist-ness. I keep growing tired of songs because I know I’ve raised the bar and I can beat half the songs. Scott and I had lunch the other day. We were talking about the record and I had this epiphany. I didn’t talk in interviews about how I felt about much of what has happened in the last 2 years. I’ve been silent about so much that I’m saying on this album. It’s time to Speak Now. Scott freaked out. He loved it. We have a title, ladies and gentlemen!" Scott Borchetta: ""At one point, the record was not called ‘Speak Now.’ It was called ‘Enchanted,’ [...] We were at lunch, and she had played me a bunch of the new songs. I looked at her and I’m like, ‘Taylor, this record isn’t about fairy tales and high school anymore. That’s not where you’re at. I don’t think the record should be called "Enchanted."’” Swift excused herself from the table at that point. By the time she came back, she had the "Speak Now" title"

Dear John: Spring 2010 (Speculation)

This was likely written sometime after February 2010 (Taylor implies she's single in her vlog and her diary). Beyond that, it could have been anytime between February and June 2010.

Brief Interruption: The next two songs (Back to December and Mean) are going to use quotes from this interview that @1989worldtour found. If you've already listened to the interview attached to the Mine section, then it's the same interview

Back To December: Early May, 2010 (Inferring)

Taylor (above interview, at 5:12): "Back to December was written in New York City. Taylor was in New York city from May 3-5, and May 12-15 2010. she was not photographed in New York any other time in early 2010, and given her busy touring schedule, I doubt she was in New York at another time. USA TODAY: “Swift says she based the song on a conversation she had with the guy about whom she's singing. "It's not loosely based," she says. "It's almost word-for-word. It is a song and a conversation that needed to happen, because I don't want to hurt people. If you unintentionally do so, you've got to make that better."”

Mean: May 29, 2010 (Speculation)

Taylor (above interview, about 6 minutes in): "I started this song called Mean on my, like sitting on my kitchen counter, just playing it, and then, you know, took a plane and flew to the venue where we were gonna play that night and finished it in the dressing room." Now, this may be a too literal interpretation of "took a plane and flew to the venue where we were gonna play that night," but if we want to theorize: the only tour date (that Taylor could've conceivably written Mean during) without another show right before or after it was in Baton Rogue on May 29, 2010.

Long Live: June 2010 (Confirmed)

Lover Diary She likely wrote this around June 5, when she ended the Fearless Tour at Gillette Stadium (Wikipedia counts two festivals as being part of the Fearless Tour but Taylor doesn't, so I'm going with her opinion), since she said that she wrote a song for Speak Now in Boston (which is the closest major city to Gillette)

The Story Of Us: June 9-16, 2010 (Confirmed)

Taylor attended the CMT Awards (Which goes on to be the secret message for The Story Of Us) on June 9 and was sat very close to John Mayer. Taylor: "The people closest to me are used to me deserting a conversation and bolting into some corner of the room with my phone out, hunched over, singing some melody or lyric or hook into my phone. I wrote “The Story of Us” about running into an ex at an awards show, and I came home and sat down at a kitchen table and told my mom, “I felt like I was standing alone in a crowded room.” She tried to console me, but I was gone at that point." Lover Diary: "So I’ve been a little studio rat since the tour ended [...] Ever since, I wake up to my cell phone alarm around 9:30 each morning. Throw on a sundress, skip make up, tie my hair in a messy side braid, and head out the door with no shoes on. Because the only walking outside I’ll be doing is from my house to my car, then from my car, three steps to Nathan’s basement studio. [...] I worked on a song for a few days, then basically finished it in the car on the way to Nathan’s this morning. It. Is. So. Good. And I can safely say I am DONE writing this record!! This song is up-tempo, and hooky and sort of torn-sounding … like this horrible stressed confusion that comes on when you knew the person you’re pining away for is in the room. And for some reason, there are these invisible walls keeping things from being ok. So you’re not fine. And they’re not fine. And I’m so happy I wrote that song!! Footage of Taylor working on TSOU

June 30, 2010: Taylor tweets “@amosjheller is SLAYING a bass part in the studio right now. http://twitpic.com/21am7t” 

Footage Nathan Chapman: “We tried several bassists until we had a bass part that worked, which was played by Amos Heller, of Taylor's live band. In Nashville, it's rare for a road musician to be on the record, but he earned his way into this record by kicking ass. In fact, all Taylor's road musicians played some parts on the album, which was important for me and her.”

July 15, 2010: The orchestra for Back To December and Haunted are recorded (footage here, same outfit as these candids)

Taylor (talking about Haunted): “I wanted the music and the orchestration to reflect the intensity of the emotion the song is about, so we recorded strings with Paul Buckmaster at Capitol Studios in Los Angeles. It was an amazing experience - recording this entire big, live string section that I think in the end really captured the intense, chaotic feeling of confusion I was looking for."

And that's all for this timeline! Check out my others:

TIMELINES: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights PLAYLISTS: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights • entire discography GENERAL: tag

[shellshocklove]

blurb: i want to forget | tom holland

pairing/AU: university AU - modern king!tom holland x female!reader

summary: your last encounter with the King has left you in quite the pickle.

warnings: swearing, mentions of vomiting, abortion, blood

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is the last post-epilogue blurb. this is their ending. it makes me really happy that people have enjoyed this story so much. like beyond happy:( i’m still open to do blurbs pre-epilogue for them, but i’ll only do them if i get a request. if not this will be the last thing i write for them. also full disclosure: i’m not british, which means idk if this is accurate portrayal of a british school. so, if it’s not, then please excuse that lmao

series masterlist

You’re so fucking stupid.

So incredibly stupid.

A cold crept up your back as you leaned against the tiled wall of your bathroom. Squeezing your eyes shut you tried to stave off the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

You shouldn’t have gone to the reunion. But when The Vice-Chancellor of your old university calls you personally, basically begging you to attend – what were you supposed to do? And you definitely shouldn’t have drunk so much wine, but the servers kept pouring it, and every time you’d looked at Tom, he’d looked a little rosier.

You missed him. Missed him every day. The painful look on his face as you’d left the palace, right after he became king, haunted you every day. You hated being the one to hurt him. But he hurt you, too.

Why did he have to want to see you? Make someone else beg you to be there. And why did you say yes? Why did you need to see him just as badly?

“Soo,” Tom had started, digging into his scallop entrée, “how’s life?”.

You’d giggled in response, sending him a ‘Are you serious right now?’ look, before taking a bite of your own entrée.

“What?” he’d faked innocence, “I’m only making conversation– can’t I do that?” he’d shrugged.

You’d giggled again, “No, you can”. You took another bite, buying yourself some time before you’d answered, “Life’s good, I guess? No complaints at this point in time”. Except the constant longing for someone you can’t have.

“At this point in time? So… there was a time where you had complaints?” he’d queried, with a worried kink in his eyebrow.

“Don’t we all have difficult periods in our life?” you’d mused, trying to keep your face from revealing too much. He didn’t need to know how heartbroken you’d been after his wedding. He’d moved on… and so should you.

“Yeah…” he’d agreed, eyes drilling into his plate, “we do”.

You’d felt your body fall at his tone. He’d given you a rare peek into his psyche. A look into a beaten king.

“What about you?” you’d asked softly, “You doing okay?”. You’d wanted to reach out and touch him, comfort him, but you didn’t.

A weak smile spread across his face before he’d nodded, “Yeah… I’m fine” he’d said unconvincingly. Then he’d cleared his throat changing the topic before the conversation got too personal,

“Are you still working at that primary school?”.

“No,” you’d shook your head, “I teach sixth form now– history A-levels”.

“Really?” he’d perked up, a smile ghosting over his face.

“Yeah,” you’d chuckled, “shaping the future or whatever”.

“Good for you, darling!” he’d smiled with moony eyes, “Do you like it?”.

“I actually do– teenagers can be…” you’d given him a look which made him laugh, “but the pay is better, and maybe it’s silly, but I really feel like I’m making a difference!”.

“It’s not silly– you’re not silly” he’d reassured you.

You’d felt your heart swell in your chest and grow two sizes. He had to stop doing that to you. You shouldn’t be pining for a married man.

“Well…” you’d started, tongue kissing your teeth, “We can’t all be kings and run multiple charities” you’d shrugged, teasing.

Your words made him giggle, before he’d shot you a teasing side eye.

You hated how easy you’d gotten swept up in conversation with Tom. How easy it was to forget everything around you. The world blurring at the edges like a vignette, as Tom took centrefold in your life again.

It had felt like it did all those years ago. An ease between you, one you’ve never felt with anyone else. He pulled away all your restraints – and you let him. How could you not? When his touch felt like buzzing electricity against your skin. And his kiss burned your lips with longing. Everything felt right with him. Every worry, and all guilt went quiet.

And you hated yourself for it. It was eating away at you. Growing inside of you alongside something else.

Two lines. Pregnant.

You couldn’t even look at the test. It only made you want to cry. You were pregnant with the King of England’s baby. How could you be so stupid?

You couldn’t stop the scenarios from flashing behind your eyes. Tom standing over a crib, a loving smile on his face as he watched over your sleeping baby. Or Tom with his hands reaching out to your toddler taking their first wobbling steps towards him. Birthday parties and first days of school. Holidays and road trips. Fights, and first loves and first heartbreaks. Growing your family and growing old together.

Wrapping your hands around your stomach you allowed a sob to escape you, echoing against the tiles.

“Love? You feeling okay? You look a little green” Mr. Khan asked you as he plopped down beside you in the corner sofa of the teacher’s lounge.

“I feel a little green” you admitted and sunk deeper into the pillows.

Morning sickness, you’d realised, had been wrongly named. It should’ve just been called sickness because that’s how you felt all the time. Sick. Morning, day, and night.

If your calculations were right, you were only about two months along. To have it confirmed, you had a doctor’s appointment later, after your last class of the day. You didn’t look forward to it. You obviously needed an abortion, sooner rather than later, but it was an awfully hard decision to make.

Maybe it serves you right to suffer. This was the consequences of your actions. Of being the other woman.

In a way, you wanted and didn’t want Tom to know. He should know about his baby, his child – it’s only right he knows. But… how would he react? Would he be happy? Sad? Angry? Would he blame you for being irresponsible? Would he blame himself? Your head and heart hurt thinking about it. But the choice was taken from you, and from him. You had no way of contacting him. No phone number, no email, nothing.

“Want me to get you anything?” Rhys asked, rubbing a friendly hand on your shoulder, “I could get you a Coke from the machine?”.

“That would be great– thank you Rhys!” you smiled weakly.

Mr. Rhys Khan, maths teacher, and probably your best friend at work (or maybe just your only friend. You didn’t go out much). He was only two years older than you, which made him easy for you to gravitate too when you’d started working here a year ago. The rest of the staff was pushing fifty, and sometimes it was nice to speak to someone who wasn’t a moody teenager, or a middle-aged man educating you on proper lawn maintenance. You didn’t even own a house. Only renting a shitty flat, in what would probably be classified as a not so good neighbourhood. Rhys was a welcomed sight, and it didn’t hurt that he was funny, and kind, and… good looking.

“Here you go M'lady” he cracked open the can for you, “One of our finest Cokes straight from our cellar”.

You didn’t think you had it in you to laugh in your state, but you did. He handed you the can and sat down beside you again. He watched you as you took a small sip.

“Better?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“After one sip?”

“Yeah! I cast a spell over it on my way back– it’s supposed to make you feel better in an instant” he said.

“Thank you, Rhys!” you gave him a meek, but grateful smile before taking another sip. His hand came down to rub at your shoulder again.

“Are you sure you’re okay though? As beautiful as you are, you really don’t look well” he said, concern coating his words.

You didn’t have time to answer – your words cut off by the headmaster, Mr. White, entering the teacher’s lounge with a booming voice.

“Thank you all for coming to this lunch meeting!” he clapped his hands, making sure to get everybody’s attention. “I’m gonna keep it short and sweet, ok guys!? I know we all have lunches to eat, and emails to reply to, and classes to prepare.”.

This man was too enthusiastic for his own good.

“I have an announcement!” he said solemnly. Pressing his lips together you didn’t know if he wanted to create suspense – he didn’t – or if he was psyching himself up to deliver bad news.

“I’ve called this meeting to inform you all that next week we’ll be visited by the King and Queen!”

The news sunk like a stone in water. You were gonna be sick. Nervously you shifted forward in your seat. A hand wrapping around your waist, as the other held your Coke can in a shaky grip.

“They’re here with their charity– who we all know contributes funds to our school. There will be press, and the royal couple wants to visit every class– so let’s all make sure that we’ve prepared our pupils for the visit, before then. I will be sending out an email with more information, and don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions! That was it guys! Let’s get back to our lunch!”.

You flinched as Mr. White clapped his hands again – signalling all his staff to get back to work. Rhys rubbed your back soothingly. Unaware of your panicked heart.

You were definitely going to be sick.

“Good morning, everybody!” your voice cut through the steady hum of conversation filling the classroom.

You got a few ‘good morning’s back from your pupils, which you honestly looked at as a win. Some days you didn’t even get a ‘hello’. But it was early, and they were teenagers – when you looked back at yourself at seventeen – you were glad you’d never be seventeen again. So, you gave them a pass.

As your pupils settled in their seats you got your computer ready with today’s PowerPoint.

“As you all know,” you started, taking a deep breath, “We have some very special guests coming later. A royal visit. That means that the rest of the day will be a little different, and after lunch you’re all free to go home”.

The promise of school being out, got a few cheers. It made you chuckle before you clicked to the next slide on your presentation, showing the plan for the day.

“We started working through our curriculum on the British monarchy a few weeks ago, you guys remember we talked about Queen Victoria last week?” you got a few nods.

“Anyone remember how long her reign was?” you asked, looking at your half-asleep pupils.

In the front, a hand shot up in the air. It was Louis. He was kind of a history nerd, and your most devoted pupil. He got picked on by the others a lot and you tried your best to look out for him a little extra.

“Yes, Louis?”

“Sixty-three years, seven months and two days” he answered dutifully.

In the back of the classroom, you heard a snicker. You decided to ignore it for now.

“That’s right, Louis! And her reign is known as the Victorian era. She became queen when she was very young! She was only eighteen years old– can you guys imagine that? She was only a year older than you are now. She has that in common with our king– King Thomas. He was only twenty-four when he became king” you tried to keep your face neutral when you talked about him, but it was hard. It felt weird talking about him like you didn’t know him, not when you were carrying his baby in your belly.

“Ms. y/l/n” a hand shot up in the back. It was Fatima.

“Yes, Fatima?”

“Why do we need to be visited by the king and queen? They’re colonisers and I don’t understand why we’re celebrating them!?” she said.

“That’s very true, Fatima! Great point– and we’ll be talking more about this topic next week…” you paused for a second before you continued, “To be completely honest with you– the reason they’re here today is because one of their charities supports our school. It’s because of money, like so much else in this world. I understand your concern– I really do, but there’s nothing I can do about it unfortunately”.

“So, even if we don’t want to meet them– we have to?” she countered.

You stepped around your desk to lean against it. “I’m not gonna force you to do anything– I completely understand wanting to not meet them” you understood more than anything actually, “but I can’t promise the same from Mr. White” you gave her a beaten smile.

“That is such bullshit!” she said.

You stepped back behind your desk, “That is very true, Fatima!”.

You continued going through the plan for the day, trying your best to tie what you’d already talked about, about the British monarchy, into Tom and the modern monarchy. You quickly went through the etiquette of meeting a member of the royal family (this was extremely important that you go through, according to Mr. White).

“The King and Queen will be arriving soon,” you glanced quickly at the clock over the door, “then we’ll all gather in the auditorium where the King will be holding a speech, and then after that we’ll all go back here, and they’ll visit each class. I’m not sure what they’ll do– but I’m guessing they’ll greet you all, and ask you guys a few questions, and maybe answer some if you have them. After that you can all go home for the day. That sound alright?” you finished.

You got a few nods.

“Okay, then– let’s clean up in here and walk together to the auditorium”

Leaning back against the wall, standing on the stairs of your school’s auditorium, reality hit you.

Your stomach actually hurt. Nerves travelled through you like electricity all the way to your fingertips. You were sure that if you were unlucky enough, you’d meet the eyes of Queen Genevieve, and she’d know what you’d done. Scared you’d look like a guilty puppy after being caught making a mess.

“You excited?” Mr. Khan said over your shoulder, startling you. He stood on the step above you with a wide grin, teeth bared, as you turned to look at him over your shoulder.

“Would it be treason to say no?” you whispered in his ear.

He laughed, barely noticeable over the high-volumed conversation, “Probably!”.

“What did you say your dad called the monarchy again?” he asked, leaning back against the wall like you did.

“A fascist regime” you recalled, “After the Sex–”.

He cut you off, remembering with a nod, “After the Sex Pistols song”.

“God,” he started, “I would’ve loved to see King Thomas’ face if you told him that” he laughed.

You felt your body freeze to ice at his words. “Wh–What do you mean?” you stuttered out.

“Later, when they’re visiting our classrooms– how do you think he’d react if you told him that” he continued laughing.

Letting out a nervous chuckle, you said “Oh… I don’t know– maybe he’d find it refreshing to hear?”.

A memory flicked before your eyes for a second. You and Tom in your room – when he’d visited your flat for the first time. The night you had your first kiss. You knew for a fact he found it refreshing. It was the reason he’d kissed you. You didn’t dare linger on that memory too long. It made your stomach hurt even more. A sharp stabbing pain, moving from your front to your lower back.

It made you wince, and Rhys noticed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern coating his tongue.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “I–I just have a stomach ache” you explained.

“Again? You need to get that checked out, love!”.

You gave him a meek smile. Maybe you should tell him you were pregnant. It wouldn’t matter either way if he knew – you had the date for your abortion scheduled already.

“Settle down, settle down– LIAM! SIT DOWN!” you heard the voice of one of your colleagues. You pushed yourself off the wall, sending Rhys a sorry smile for having your conversation cut short before you joined your colleagues in quieting down your pupils.

A moment later, your heart stopped as you watched him walk through the auditorium door, with his wife on his arm. Beside them, they were escorted by the headmaster Mr. White. The room went quiet immediately.

You leaned back against the wall again beside Rhys, trying to steady yourself. Tom looked as handsome as ever, and you ached. That wound in your heart ripped open again. Instinctively, a hand came down to rest over your belly, soothing both yourself and your baby.

Dragging your eyes away from him, they landed on his wife, Queen Genevieve. She looked stunning. Her hair was perfectly curled, bouncing with every step she took. Her make-up was smooth and spotless. She was wearing the most beautiful dress that fit her perfectly. You couldn’t help but wonder what he’d ever seen in you. He’s married to the most perfect woman in the world. Her smile shone like diamonds as she waved to the pupils.

Mr. White escorted them to the front row, where two seats had been picked out just for them. Carefully, Tom helped Queen Genevieve sit. He treated her like she was made of glass, asking her if she was okay, if you read his lips correctly. After her affirmative nod, he stood up straighter and gave a wave to the audience before Mr. White led him up the stairs to the stage.

He waved again as he walked with sure steps to the middle of the stage. He was clad in a light grey suit, still clinging to the end of summer. Slipping a hand inside his jacket, he fished out a stack of cards. He looked happy. His smile pearly white, eyes crinkling.

Another sharp pain stabbed you.

You couldn’t look at him as he started his speech. His voice echoed through the room, but you felt so far away. You pressed your hand a little harder to your belly. You couldn’t hear a single word he said, just his familiar voice. It used to be calming, and it still was. But now guilt bit its sharp teeth in you.

Another sharp pain knifed your lower half, twisting its way to your lower back. Involuntarily, you hunched forward, clinging to yourself.

“y/n? Love?” Rhys whispered beside you, a comforting hand coming down to rest against your back, “What’s going on?”.

He sounded worried – which made you worried.

The pain came with quicker intervals, and you started to find it hard to breathe. Panic washed over you. Hand tightening around yourself, both trying to keep yourself standing upright, but also helping you cling to the reality of the situation.

A tear rolled down your cheek, but not from the pain.

Gathering all your strength you turned your head to look at Tom. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe, somehow, he understood what was happening. His eyes locked with yours in that exact moment.

He stumbled over his words. A mixture of happy recognition, and sadness flicking over his face, which then turned to concern. You shook your head. You don’t know at what. To tell him you’re okay, and not to worry? To tell him that it was over? To tell him your baby is dead?

“y/n!” it was Rhys in your ear, his voice erratic, “You have blood coming down your legs”.

“I–I think I’m having a miscarriage” you stuttered.

He looked at you like his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Then he started nodding. Like he was coming up with a plan in his head. He didn’t say a word, only wrapped an arm around you to help you down the stairs. One step at a time.

You felt Tom’s eyes on you, as he struggled through the rest of his speech. Thankfully the lights were dimmed enough to make your shaky exit nothing but an annoying stain in the audience’s side vision.

That was the worst day of your life. And the last time you saw Tom in person. Rhys took you to the emergency room where they confirmed your suspicions. You were having a miscarriage. The rest of the day was like a black hole in your memory, and you were glad. You wanted to forget. The only thing you remembered was Rhys. He never left your side – not even once.

You managed to get the rest of the week off work, both to recover and to mourn. It was strange. Mourning someone you’d already decided not to have.

On the day you’d had your abortion scheduled, flowers got delivered to your flat. It was a big bouquet of white roses. It came with a card. Only two words were spelled out in a handwriting you recognized right away.

“I’m sorry

- T”

You didn’t know what he was apologising for, at the time. For falling in love with you? For getting you pregnant? For your loss? But how could he even know about your loss, and his.

Your answer came a couple of weeks later. A simple news push-notification on your phone.

“ROYAL BABY!” it read.

previous: the reunion |

tags (tagging the i want to forget taglist and a few other people that have shown interest after it was finished): @justapurrcat, @lnmp89, @petrspideyparker, @hollandweather, @userholland, @imawhoreforu, @onepieceya, @sparklingsin, @annathesillyfriend, @mayal0pez, @transparentpsychicempathkid, @fic-rewind, @spideysmb, @the-unknown-fan-girl, @mannien, @moonlightdotmp3, @padlockedhearts, @moniffazictress11, @all4koo, @angelayse, @svechnibrock, @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx, @xxtomspideyxx, @i83andrew, @clockblobber, @fangirlinggalore, @luciwritesstuff, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @lol-just-kidding002, @allywthsr, @captainsbestgal, @readheadwriter, @parkersdahlia, @cosmicryuz, @tomxxxhollandxxx, @the-not-so-silent-back-up​, @rebloggingtheficsilove, @peterdarlingg​, @obsessedprincess​, @alltoowelltom​, @hey-im-bored504​, @storybookholland​, @sadisticsongbird​, @prettyjendeukie​, @marsbars09​, @mixedfandxms​, @ahalliwell5, @t-lostinworlds​

[ink-sunflower]

A token of servitude (Sukuna x Reader)

No spoilers Words: 1095 Warning: yeah, it’s a sukuna ff after all, so there might be present some violents, dark content (though not something too much)

Summary: Reader travels to Heian age and meets Sukuna

✧❁❁✧✿✿✧❁❁✧

Time is a thread with innumerable beads that are brimmed with life occurrences. It’s like a jewellery, and the treasure of it can never be purchased by a mortal. But in the world of jujutsu sorcerers, curse users and curses, one doesn't seem so unattainable.

My curse technique allows me to perceive the priceless jewellery of time. I’m called the Time Walker, but the comprehension of my ability is vague. Even I can’t be sure about how my powers work.

But one thing I know for sure: the beads of the past are unalterable and do not yield to forging. Therefore, we cannot change it. The outcome we encounter in the present is a sequence of actions taken from the past. Meaning, even my ability of travelling within the thread of time can do nothing to the formed beads. The future though is flexible. Obtained knowledge help reach the desirable result.

My master has burdened me with a glorious purpose. I have to go to Heian era to find the sword of the Damned. The blade of the weapon is so sharp that it cut everything. Even in Heian period it was lost somewhere. And my task is to find that place.

One being was seeking it. Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses. Just his name brings fear. The powerful and the cruel being whose name alone is enough to make people tremble with fear.

One thousand is a significant number to pass. Yet it’s the least obstacle.

So my life brought me here. One moment, in the midst of busy streets. But after my eyes has falls shut and curse energy has started flowing through my vanes, the world started shifting. It takes no time in a basic understanding of the phenomenon. For me, though, it’s different. I can’t count time spending walking on the thread, calculating the right among of beads to bypass. Time as a measurable unit looses its senses here.

And after nothing but everything, a warmth of sun rays combined with placating breeze welcome me in an old era.

Feeling a bit drowsy, I spend some time sitting on the ground, unmindful of the outside world.

My state of was interrupted by a rustle of glass. I decipher a pair of human beings coming to this area.

Deciding not to reveal myself to them, I take a place to hide.

Now that they’ve become closer, I am able to discern the essence of their conversation.

“Do you think the rumours are truthful?” One of them babbles.

“Of course they are. He’s tall and monstrous. Thought some women would die to spend a night with him. Perhaps, If we are lucky, we’ll find one willing one,” the other replies. “Lord Sukuna rewards handsomely for nice offerings, brother.”

“And maybe we can have fun before handing her.”

Disgusting. Those pigs are not better ones from Zenin clan. But they can be of use. I think it’s time for a show.

“Help me! Somebody, please!” I yell, falling down to the ground. This got they attention immediately as they run to me. “Something was haunting me!”

They took a look around the forest but obviously find nothing suspicious. That makes two brothers glee thereof, they share a malicious grimace. One brother takes a rope to bound the prize and present it to the King of Curses like a toy enclosed with a ribbon.

“The luck is on our side today, brother.” And they have never been more wrong.

That’s what I need – to make them think of a prey that they have caught. A nameless face to give away as a some trinket. I give them something more to gloat: purity, so they think of me as even more worthy price.

I do not need my eyes to know that we’ve arrived to Sukuna’s shrine (or temple, whatever it is). An overwhelmingly magnificent and ominous energy emits from the walls, the power of which makes you suffocate on its presence.

Inside the shrine, I can behold the King himself.

There he is, sitting on his throne, his posture is confident and chin is high. Sukuna’s pink spiked hair slightly pushed upfront and black lines adorn his face and mighty body. The drawing in old books capture nothing of the real image.

For a second, a small second, my gaze is caged within his eyes. A bolt of emotions strikes though me, causing goosebumps to form on my skin. Was it dread or rather… excitement? I feel something that draws me in, something more subtle and complex.

A monstrous entity with four arms says nothing, but a predatory smirk appears, unrevealing his fangs.

Perhaps my boldness amuses him. I’m grateful to still have my head.

Two men pushes me to the ground, kneeling before the King. They’re forcing me to bend so low, that my forehead meets the ground.

My cue to act.

Breaking the robes with the help of mu cursed energy, I do not give them time to comprehend a single thought and seize their flabbergasted state to take care of brothers. With a swift motion, I punch them into their snouts of faces, making them land hard on their backs.

The smallest of them is knocked out within the first attempt, the other is tougher, it seems. He tries to stand up and blow a hit, but with a kick in the stomach, he ends up on the floor once again.

It is not enough for my satisfaction. The person does not deserve mercy.

Even though he knew he couldn’t have something in intimate senses in order not to stain his prize, it did not deter his hands from inappropriate touches. But I had to play a part, so I held back. I could tell, it was nothing new to the brothers, to treat women like this, and their misogynistic conversations made it difficult not to throw up.

I can pay back now.

With strong determination, I lift my leg and deliver a straight hit on his “valuable” part between his legs. A loud screech thunders though the walls. (🐣 An omelette is ready to be cooked)

The curtains close and I kneel before Sukuna. He exudes a powerful and sinister aura, just looking at him gives me a mixed feeling of awe and terror.

“My Lord, may I present you my offerings, these two fine pigs.”

Sukuna cackles wickedly, his deep voice rumbles, leaving a ringing in my ears. It flows effortlessly and enchants to listen to it.

“Well, that’s quite intriguing. Let’s see what else you have in you.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。

How was it? Should I continue writing the story?

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, April 7, 2024

My posts

This week feels like it has been a hundred years long (not in a bad way). 

Somehow we joined together to balance the seesaw just right so Ava Gardner and Jean Seberg could both go through in the Hot Vintage Lady polls (percentages rounded). Like, I’m wearing the Ava jersey and even I encouraged people to vote Jean when necessary. Honestly, I just wanted to see if it could be done. And it COULD. 

Round three has begun. It is already horrific. This is the first round that’s really going to hurt because we spent the last one really getting down in the dirt and championing our ladies, or learning about actresses we’d never heard of before and getting attached to them. And now? We are reminded: memento mori. Everyone loses but one. 

(I personally pitched in for Sara Montiel. “BUT JUST LOOK AT--” Yeah, I did, thanks.)

Reblogs of interest

April Fool’s Day: You were here for the Boopening, yes? The whole thing was that you only got badges for giving boops, not receiving them, which is a great way to not reward popularity contests, but also means that every last one of us was out here trying to figure out who to bap with a cat’s paw 1000 times. I said, listen, my notifications are already trash garbage today. I’ll take the bullet. Boop at will.

The Activity graph isn’t too clear on this point, but it looks like I had something like 65,000--hits? engagements? boops?--that day. Listen, I got the black paw badge too. We all did what we had to do in the Boopening. 

A Shakespearean boop of goodly length: “And, Meowntague, come you this afternoon, to know our further pleasure in this case, to old Food-bowl, our common judgment-place.” 

I had to go lie down awhile after a pun like “The Purrge.”

--

I had just gotten up from that pun and then I had to go lie down again.

Account security gothic

The Canada griffin

Dinotopia nostalgia

Two pairs of spectacles, one made from slices of emerald, and the other from slices of diamond

An old favorite: Cerberus as a puppy, guarding the gates to heck

I feel like these two posts have the same energy: Time cops will not let you travel back to the Titanic and bloodthirsty gazebos are currently in a dormancy period.

The birds are still troubled

PSA: The best sunscreens for your face

Video

A collection of various American Indian/indigenous American languages, including Navajo, Tlingit, Lakota, Colville Okanagan Salish, Cherokee, Yucatec Maya, Greenlandic, Mohawk, Yup'ik, and Mi'kmawi'simk. 

A trans health-and-wellness fundraiser (Mercury Stardust, Point of Pride, and friends) kept getting banned off Tiktok due to assholes. Here’s how to donate; I saw a few “here’s how they helped me” notes, so it seems like these programs are both legit and effective. 

You think you’re going to sit staring at this video because Chocolate Guy is weaving chocolate. Then you get into it, and it just keeps going.

“Too Sweet” is doing hilariously well on the charts for a song that didn’t even make the album proper. Hozier’s bees would like to thank you for your support.

I know I said that Stevie Nicks would make you sing backup on your own haunting, but late in this 1997 live performance of “Silver Springs,” she makes Lindsey Buckingham, the man she wrote this song about, look her in the eye while she belts it at him. This specific performance was released as a single (I was there, Gandalf) and nominated for a Grammy. Watch the video and you will see why.

The Women Those ‘Evolution Of Beauty’ Videos Leave Out

I don’t really know how to describe this rubberhose-style cartoon of Cab Calloway as a singing nightmare clown. Betty Boop is also there. “You just described it!” No, I really didn’t. 

How movable type worked 1000 years ago, from scratch.

Unrestrained seasonal yak fun

A snowy raven photoshoot

The sacred texts

I don’t know how to explain this double Sacred Text about ominous dreams that comes with its own comic, except to say that they’re so iconic that I first saw both posts in lo-res Pinterest screencaps.

April Fool’s: The ultimate sacred text.

Personal tag of the week

Wet beast Wednesday, which had both a headshake stickflip and bears on a swan boat.

[youfreakinturltle]

Protect You Pt. 4

(A/N): Okay friends! So sorry for the delay, life has definitely been interesting lately! Here is part 4 in the Protect You series! I believe this will be the final part and is kind of a long one! I based the haunted house off a house that’s actually in my home town that I visited once before it was bought. The TLDR of it, I have no idea what this house’s backstory is, it is not open to the public, nor was it when my stepmom and I decided to go take a look lol! But this is based off an experience I had when I was about 15 and the house was up for sale before being bought by a lovely family. Out of respect for the family and their safety, I won’t be giving in depth details on the exterior of the house, nor it’s location, but I will say I grew up a whole 5 minutes away from this house so it’s image is forever engrained in my mind. For the story’s sake, this will take place with the house as it was when I visited! Hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: pirate mentions, ghosts, slight violence,some language, blood mention, mild nsfw (mostly bc I’m too awkward to go past mild 🥲), death mentioned (don’t worry, no one dies lol)

As you grew accustomed to your, as you began calling it, “second life”, you noticed that all in all, not much changed. You still went on all of the guys’ adventures, stayed at their house, and kept watch over them when it came to the paranormal. When your body was returned to you, you looked exactly the same as you had when you died. Still in your black corset (which served more as armor than an accessory in your previous life), white tunic, and leather jacket, pants, and boots. And luckily, your daggers were still snugly in place on your lower back. Some time before you died you’d had the local armorer on Nassau add holsters for them onto the back of your corset, forgoing the need of a clunky belt like your crew mates. You did take notice though upon returning, the lack of bullet holes in your clothes, something you hadn’t realized Mara had taken care of until you woke.

While you knew the time you woke up to catered to far different forms of fashion than you were used to, you realized it was also a time period where most people wore what they wanted without a care. So, taking this into account, you typically styled yourself how you would’ve when you were still a pirate. Often opting for a tunic like shirt, some leather pants with knee high boots, of course lots of jewelry, and your ever reliable jacket. On occasion you would wear your corset over your tunic of the day, but typically opting for forgoing it.

Today was one of those days where you not necessarily wanted to wear your corset, but rather had to. You see, the guys decided for their first night of Hell Week to visit a little known, but very haunted house in Texas. They couldn’t find anything online about the house or its story, but had been told about it by a fan online. The mystery behind it, not knowing what could possibly be there, is what unnerved you the most and prompted you to bring your blades. The girl online had told them briefly about her experience, being too afraid to delve too deeply. Among her recount though, included a book being thrown at her head. Of course it wouldn’t be a nice spirit, that would be too easy.

You’re sitting in the front passenger seat next to Colby, who was driving, your hand held tightly in his. About halfway from the airport you noticed his hands had begun to shake, so you quickly took one in yours and had yet to let go, too embarrassed to admit you needed it just as much as he. Something about facing the dead after having your life returned to you left you feeling uneasy. Like every spirit you crossed paths with since knew your secret, and they were angry about it.

Before you know it the car is turning off the main road and into the short driveway of the faded pink house. Immediately, you get a sinking feeling in your gut, but you quickly push it away when you turn around to smile at Sam who was speaking into the camera in the back seat. Today it was just the three of you and Kat. You loved the other guys, but sometimes their antics could be a bit much during an investigation. Once the car is stopped the four of you step out and take a look around. Thankfully, because the house is foreclosed, you’re allowed to be on the property so you don’t have to worry about anyone driving past and seeing you. Going inside on the other hand, that you’re not too sure about.

After finishing up the intro for the video, Colby turns to the group and asks if everyone is ready to head inside. There is a hesitant chorus of yes’s that causes all of you to chuckle nervously.

“Don’t worry guys, I’ll protect you from all the scary ghosts,” you say laughing as you grab onto Colby’s hand again. Not wanting to waste any more time, you lead them all to the porch. Walking up the steps you notice a tin cup sitting on the railing of the porch right next to the stairs.

“That’s not weird or anything,” you think to yourself before continuing on to the door.

“How do you think we get inside? You think there’s a window unlocked somewhere?” You hear Kat ask from behind you.

“Hmm, maybe…” you say thoughtfully, your hand already traveling to the doorknob in front of you. To everyone’s surprise, the door clicks open with ease.

“Okay… getting weirder…” you think walking through the entryway. But before you can get any further, you feel a firm hand on your right shoulder. Almost like it’s trying to push you into the floor. Whipping your head around to look at Colby, you ask what he wants.

“What are you talking about? Are you okay?” He asks looking at you with concern.

“I swear I just felt a hand on my shoulder… I’m sure it’s nothing, I’m okay,” you say shaking your head a bit and smile up at him. Everyone else walks in behind you and astonishingly enough, all of them felt it too. You look around the entryway and see stairs to your right with what looks like the remnants of a reading nook to the right of them next to the door. To your left is a sunroom, chimney in the middle of the far wall with windows completely surrounding the remaining wall space. Inside are a few bookshelves on the left, half filled with old books that look to be falling apart, a small couch in the center, and a grand piano on the right. You take note of the fact that the top of the piano is wide open and the fall board, or key lid, is shut with the bench pushed under it.

Moving on, you walk past the stairs and into the living room where you see another, larger couch in the center, another fireplace, some end tables, empty bookshelves, and a large somewhat empty picture frame above the fire place. At first glance, it appears as if nothing was ever in it, but looking closer you can see that a painting had been torn out of it as some of the edges are still sticking out of the frame. This immediately causes you to begin exercising extreme caution, and your hand goes right to one of the daggers on your back.

Behind you, you hear Kat let out an ear piercing shriek as she all but launched herself into your arms.

“What?! What happened? Are you okay?? Kat what’s wrong?” Sam asked frantically, pointing the camera to the ground out of respect for his girlfriend.

“Is a- it’s- it- a- a- r-r-RAAAT!!” She finally gets the word out, still violently shaking in your arms. You all let out a breathy laugh of relief as you attempt to calm the girl down. You all are about to walk into the kitchen when you suddenly hear a rattling noise from the sunroom. Furrowing your brow, you look to Colby and motion for them to go into the kitchen while you investigate.

Walking quietly through the living room, you don’t realize you’re holding your breath as you unsheathe your daggers to hold them in front of you. Your steps stutter when you feel a finger ghost it’s way down the scar across your eye, the one you received in your fight against Captain Flint so long ago. Back when you still gave a shit about him. Chills make their way down your spine as you begin to realize something that utterly terrifies you. You can’t see this one. You could always see the spirits, even after you woke back up, no matter how strong or weak they’ve been. But this one, you can’t see, you can’t hear, you can barely even sense its presence. Like it’s purposefully keeping itself hidden. But from what you can sense, it’s bad. Very bad. It almost feels familiar but you just can’t place it.

Shaking off the feeling, you finally step into the sunroom once again. As soon as you set foot in there though, the grate that had been firmly closed in front of the fireplace came crashing open as dozens of bats came flying out at you. In an instant, you threw yourself to the floor with a loud thud, narrowly avoiding them.

“Shit! (Y/N) are you okay?! What was that?” You hear Colby call from the kitchen.

“I’m fine! Just some bats, a little creeped out, but I’m okay.” You rise to your feet once you confirm the bats have all made their way upstairs. Figuring the noise you had heard came from the bats, you make your way back to the group in the kitchen. As soon as Colby sees you he reaches his hand out for you to grab and asks if you’re sure you’re okay.

“I’m okay, but we shouldn’t linger long. I have a bad feeling about this place. There’s something watching us, but I can’t see it.” You say taking Colby’s hand in yours. He immediately looks worried as he is the only one fully aware of the fact that you can still see spirits.

“You can’t… you’re sure?” Fear written all over his face, he begins looking around as well.

“I’m still here with you guys, alright? Everything’s-“ You’re cut off from trying to calm them all down by a loud, crystal clear, music note chiming across the house. You all freeze before slowly turning your head towards the sunroom once again.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…” but before you can utter a single other word, you all hear plain as day: a beautiful interpretation of a song you hadn’t heard in a very long time. Coming from the piano that should by no means, be making any noise above a dull thud, let alone playing as clearly as it is. None of your friends can figure out why you just went as pale as a sheet as they wouldn’t have any way of being familiar with this song, for it was one sung on your old ship. One only members of your former crew should know.

“We need to leave. Immediately.” You don’t realize how badly you’re shaking until Colby rests a hand on your shoulder. You’re in the middle of trying to calm down so you can properly protect them when you hear something so jarring, it sends you to your knees. A deep, low hum, the note carrying out across the house.

“The king… and his men… stole the Queen from her bed…”

“What the hell is that?!” You hear Kat shriek from beside you. You’re now on the ground shaking so violently, you can no longer answer her. You now have a feeling as to who this could be. And you have the slightest inkling as to why this being would be so angry with you. Though the thing you can’t figure out is how he ended up here of all places. Somewhere so far from your home that it just doesn’t make sense.

“…and bound her in… her bones… the seas be ours… and by the powers… where we will… we’ll roam…” the deep, unsettling voice continued.

“You guys need to leave.” You tried convincing them to get out of the house. You so desperately didn’t want them to experience a remnant of your past. Especially one as jarring as this.

“Not a chance. I’m not leaving you here alone,” You hear Colby blurt out next to you. Before you can respond though, you hear everyone start screaming as you feel cool metal touch your neck. Right beside your ear, you hear a deep raspy voice say, “sing… the song… be reminded… of yer brethren…”

The touch of the blade seems to bring you back to your senses, as you’re suddenly calm and no longer shaking. You’re about to comply when you see another figure step out of the shadows. This new figure, you can see first off, but has a visible, heavy limp. Each step he takes, accompanied by a loud thump of wood on wood.

“Ye remember him… don’t ye? Or have… ye forgotten us… in this new life of yers…” the being behind you seems to spit out the words “new life”, as if the thought of you having anything remotely good happen would be a sin.

You finally manage to croak out a single word as tears begin streaming down your cheeks, your friends almost completely forgotten now: “John.”

You feel warm liquid trickle down your neck, indicating the skin had now been broken. More screams permeated your consciousness, bringing you back to the present. Looking up at Colby, who is now white as a sheet, you urge them to run. You make the correct assumption that they can at the very least see the blade at your throat. You’re not sure how much they can see but you aren’t taking any chances.

“I won’t leave you! Not after everything you’ve done for us!”

“Please, Colby. Take them and go. I’ll be right behind you,” you said, trying to sound calm and brave. Truth be known, you hadn’t been so afraid since before your death, but you couldn’t let them know that. Finally listening to you, Colby takes Sam and Kat’s hands and runs out of the house with them.

Letting out a sigh of relief you turn back to John, “why- what happened? Why are you here?”

Instead though, the being behind you speaks, “ye mean… ye didn’t hear… we lost… ye were right… shoulda listened to ya… they brought us here… to rot… shoulda just… hanged us wit’ our dignity…”

With this, your suspicions are confirmed. This being- no, this man behind you, is Captain Flint. Instead of being fearful though, you grow angry. So angry you can no longer even bring yourself to ask what happened to John’s leg. Your rage that had been building for over 300 years had finally boiled over. At Flint, Vane, Charleston, even John. Why? Why had they done that to you? You had been nothing but loyal to them. You did anything and everything Flint asked of you, going so far as to keep his stupid fucking secret from the crew! How many brothers had you lost because of them? How many lives were on your hands because of them? All you know is it was so many you still can’t wash off all the blood.

As your rage grows, so does your spirit energy. Something you came to realize you could still manipulate after returning to the physical world. Though instead of controlling it, your anger causes it to grow at a rate you had never experienced. Everything from furniture to photos start violently shaking as doors and cabinets slam open and shut.

“(Y/N)!!”

Whipping your head to your left, you see Colby.

“Colby… Ye silly scallywag… What on Earth are ye doing back here? I could hurt ye…” You think to yourself upon seeing him. But it’s too late, your power has already reached a cataclysmic point of seemingly no return. With the last bit of control you can muster, you send Colby flying back out of the house and slam the door shut.

As soon as the door slams to a close a scream rips from your throat and the last thing you see before blacking out is John reaching for you. You barely hear him say, “I’m sorry,” before your vision fades.

When you come back to you find yourself lying in bed. At home. But how? The last thing you remember is- oh… John. But what happened?

Climbing out of bed you see that you still have your clothes on from before. Though now for some reason your shirt has blood stains all over the collar. Stumbling your way into the living room you’re greeted with a gut wrenching sight. Kat in Sam’s arms, the both of them with tears streaming down their faces, and Colby sitting silently on the couch staring blankly ahead. You step out further and they are alerted to your presence. Kat quickly flings herself at you, sobbing all the while about how scared they were to find you “like that”. Sam gently tugs her away so Colby can step forward and take you in his arms. He squeezes like you’re going to disappear again.

“Guys… what happened back there?” You hesitantly ask them, having taken notice of the blood stained towels in the trash.

“We were so scared. We just… heard you scream and then bangingandthislightand-“ you cut Colby off as he begins speaking faster and faster. Assuming your role of group mom, you sit everyone on the couch so they can explain what happened. To make a long story short, apparently you accidentally blew the house up, sending the spirits over at the same time. When they found you you had been covered in wooden boards and debris, dirty but otherwise unharmed. Though they were highly alarmed to see blood coming from your nose, ears, and eyes. Which would explain your shirt and the towels. You calmly explain to them that there’s nothing to worry about, that just tends to happen when you overexert yourself. Though you have to contain your laughter at the bewildered looks you get from that comment.

You do ask them how they managed to get out of there without getting the attention of the authorities. You chuckle, shaking your head thinking to yourself, “ah, sink me… can’t take these scallywags anywhere,” as they tell you about grabbing you from the debris and high tailing it out of there before anyone had time to show up. “Well… they’d make decent pirates at least.”

You all take some time to decompress together in the living room before branching off to your respective rooms. Walking into your shared room with Colby you announce that you’re going to wash off all the dust and dirt from that house. You can practically feel him staring a hole in your back and you can’t decide whether it’s out of concern or intrigue. You decide to act on the latter and pull your shirt over your head as you walk into the bathroom, playfully tossing it behind you into the bedroom. Behind you you hear an excited little “Ooo!” followed by the pattering of footsteps. He rounds the corner as you’re shimmying out of your pants and turning the water on.

“So… does that shower have enough room for two?” You giggle, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Hm… I suppose it could… if only someone could help me out of the rest of my clothes.” You grin back at him sending him a wink. Turning back around you lift your hair up for him and almost immediately feel his gentle fingers on your spine. Letting out a soft sigh, you feel the clasp of your top come off. The feeling of his lips on your neck and his hands sliding down to your waistband takes over your senses and suddenly there’s only Colby. He’s all you can see, hear, feel. He’s the only thing you crave. Regaining just enough control you step under the warm water and gesture for Colby to follow you.

Since meeting Colby he’s become your happiness. Your entire world. And two years later he proves that you’re his world too. When he takes you to Nassau, back to your home, and proposes to you in the very fort where you spent most of your previous life.

The year following the beautiful proposal, you have your wedding. As Colby puts it, “One fit for a Pirate Queen.” The two of you spend the rest of your life together in bliss, hunting ghosts and chasing happiness.

*Thank you all SO SO MUCH for sticking with me through the Protect You series!! I’m so sorry for the long wait, as a reader I know how frustrating that can be, so I really appreciate you guys!!

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