#labor day weekend = finishing things

[buckets-and-trees]

Bird Home in the Darkness

Characters/Pairings: Mean Mafia!Bucky x curvy!Millennial Female!Reader x Mean Mafia!Steve Word Count: 2.7k Summary: Your introduction to your new life has been relentless. Night and day, you're theirs. Period. Sequel to Little Lark and Bird on a Wire.

Content/Warnings: dub-con, explicit smut, somnophilia, oral (male receiving), PIV sex, vaginal fingering (male receiving), double cream pie, overstimulation, use of pet name (little lark), light degradation

Author Notes: Deliciously Debauched Labor Day Weekend continues! Late, but I'm determined to finish, so this is week ten of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer - using the SOMNOPHILIA prompt.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

They’d only been back in Brooklyn for two days, but earlier tonight Steve had already had to go deal with a business matter. Things were quiet in the penthouse when he got back, but that was to be expected since it was well past midnight.

He made his way through the living rooms and back to the bedrooms.

He was not shocked to find Bucky in the room they’d given you.

Bucky looked up briefly when Steve entered, and Steve surveyed the scene before him. The sheets were pulled back, leaving your body fully exposed. You were wearing a silk camisole, but your bottom half was laid bare, and Bucky’s hand was working between your thighs.

Steve narrowed his eyes as he gave your form a once-over again. “Is she…?”

Bucky nodded, “Sleeping. Out cold.”

Steve chuckled. “Not a surprise. We’ve certainly kept her,” he paused, and licked his lips, considering the best word to describe the last two days in their company, “immersed in her new life.”

Kidnapped, extracted, procured - your opinion differed from that of the two men as to you being brought into this new life. But Steve and Bucky had been forthcoming with what they wanted from you in their world, and over the last two days, they had proven how serious they were. Your role was to please them in whatever way they needed, and their appetites were abundant. Although you weren’t with Steve and Bucky constantly since they’d taken you away from your old job, you had not had a moment alone, one of them always with you - sleeping, eating, showering.

And the sex.

There had been so much sex.

Your body was beyond spent and exhausted.

But although you were completely overtaken by sleep, even now you weren’t left alone, nor could they leave your body untouched.

Steve quickly undressed down to his briefs, then got up onto the bed, kneeling on the other side of you from Bucky.

Steve watched intently as Bucky's fingers worked your slick folds. Even in sleep, your body reacted, your hips shifting subtly against Bucky's hand. A soft moan escaped your parted lips.

He could smell your arousal, a scent that had become intoxicatingly familiar over the past days.

Steve watched intently, his eyes darkening with desire. He leaned in closer, mesmerized by the glistening moisture coating Bucky's fingers as they glided over your sensitive flesh.

"How long have you been at this?" Steve asked, his voice low and husky.

Bucky smirked. "About an hour. She's so responsive, even like this. Watch."

He slid two fingers inside you, curling them just so, and your back arched as another moan slipped out. Steve's breath caught in his throat at the sight.

"Let me," Steve whispered, reaching out to trace along your inner thigh.

Bucky shifted slightly, making room for Steve's hand. Together, they explored your body - Bucky's fingers circling your clit while Steve's dipped inside, curling to stroke that spot that made you whimper even in unconsciousness.

Your breathing quickened, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the thin silk of your camisole. Steve's free hand moved to cup your breast, thumb brushing over a hardened nipple through the fabric.

"God, she's perfect," Steve murmured, his eyes roaming hungrily over your body. "I can't get enough of her."

Bucky nodded in agreement, increasing the pressure of his fingers against your clit. Your hips bucked involuntarily, chasing the sensation even in sleep.

"Think we can make her come like this?" Steve asked, voice thick with arousal.

"Only one way to find out," Bucky replied with a wicked grin.

They worked in tandem, fingers moving in practiced synchronization. Steve curled his fingers inside you, stroking that sensitive spot while Bucky circled your clit with increasing intensity. Your breaths came in short gasps, body tensing as pleasure built.

Suddenly, your back arched sharply off the bed as a cry escaped your lips. Your inner walls clenched around Steve's fingers as waves of orgasm washed over you.

Steve and Bucky continued their ministrations, drawing out your climax until you fell limply back onto the bed, chest heaving.

"Fuck," Bucky breathed, withdrawing his hand. "That was gorgeous."

Steve nodded, slowly removing his fingers from inside you. He brought them to his mouth, sucking your essence off his digits with a groan of satisfaction.

"She tastes even sweeter when she's sleeping," he murmured, eyes dark with lust.

Bucky watched intently, his own arousal evident in the tenting of his boxers. "Think she'll wake up if we keep going?"

Steve considered for a moment, gaze roaming over your still form. Your chest rose and fell steadily, face relaxed in deep slumber despite the intense orgasm you'd just experienced.

"Probably not," Steve replied with a smirk. "She's completely out of it. But even if she does..." He trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air. It didn't matter if you woke - you belonged to them now, to use as they pleased. “I'm not ready to stop yet. Are you?"

A wolfish grin spread across Bucky's face. "Not even close."

With practiced ease, they repositioned your sleeping form. Bucky slid behind you, pulling your back flush against his chest. He hooked one arm under your knee, lifting your leg to open you up. Steve settled between your spread thighs, his large hands gripping your hips.

"Ready?" Steve asked, lining himself up at your entrance.

Bucky nodded, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Do it."

Steve lined himself up and slowly pushed inside your slick heat in one slow, smooth motion. Your body yielded to him easily, and a low groan escaped him as he bottomed out.

Steve paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of being fully sheathed inside you. Your warmth enveloped him, still pulsing slightly from your earlier orgasm. He began to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm.

Bucky's hand roamed over your body, caressing your curves and kneading your soft flesh. He paid special attention to your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers through the thin silk of your camisole. His other arm kept your leg hitched up, giving Steve better access.

"Fuck, she feels amazing," Steve grunted, picking up the pace slightly. Your body rocked between them with each thrust, still completely lax in sleep.

Bucky hummed in agreement, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder. His own arousal was evident, pressing insistently against your lower back.

Steve's grip on your hips tightened as he picked up the pace, driving into you with increasing force. Your body rocked between them, completely pliant in your unconscious state. Soft whimpers and moans escaped your parted lips with each thrust, your body responding instinctively to the pleasure even in sleep.

Your brow furrowed slightly, the first signs that you might be stirring from your deep slumber.

"I think she's starting to wake up," Bucky murmured, nipping gently at your shoulder.

"Good," he growled, snapping his hips forward with renewed vigor. "I want to see her face when she realizes what's happening."

As if on cue, your eyelids began to flutter. A low moan escaped your lips, louder than before. Your body tensed slightly as consciousness slowly returned.

"That's it, little lark," Bucky whispered in your ear. "Come back to us."

Your eyes opened slowly, blinking in confusion as you tried to make sense of the sensations overwhelming your body. Steve's thrusts became more forceful, deliberately pushing you further into wakefulness.

"Wha-" you started to mumble, voice thick with sleep. But your question was cut off by a sharp gasp as Steve hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

"Wake up, little lark," Steve said with a predatory grin, never breaking his rhythm. "Sleep well?"

Realization dawned in your eyes as you became fully aware of your position - sandwiched between the two men, Steve buried deep inside you while Bucky held you open for him.

"Oh god," you whimpered. Your walls clenched around Steve as full awareness crashed over you. A mix of shock, arousal, and resignation flashed across your face as you took in the scene.

"There she is," Bucky purred in your ear, his hand sliding down to circle your clit.

You gasped at the added stimulation, your hips bucking involuntarily. "I... what... how long...?" you stammered, struggling to form coherent thoughts as pleasure overwhelmed your senses.

"Shh," Steve soothed, never breaking his rhythm. "Don't worry about that now.

We already made you come once while you were out."

Your mind reeled, trying to process the situation. But coherent thought was difficult with Steve pounding into you and Bucky's clever fingers working your sensitive bud. Your body responded eagerly, already primed from the earlier orgasm you'd experienced in your sleep. Every nerve ending felt electrified, hypersensitive to their touch after being worked over for so long without your knowledge.

"That's it," Bucky encouraged as your breathing quickened. "Let go for us, little lark."

You whimpered, torn between giving in to the pleasure and resisting on principle. But your body made the decision for you, waves of ecstasy building rapidly under their expert ministrations.

"Oh god, oh god," you chanted, your back arching as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open in a silent scream as your orgasm crashed over you.

Steve groaned, feeling your walls clench and pulse around him. He gripped your hips tighter, driving into you with renewed vigor as you writhed between them. "Take it all," he growled.

Bucky's fingers never stopped their relentless assault on your clit, drawing out your climax until you were shaking and gasping for air. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of it all.

As the last tremors subsided, Steve's thrusts became more erratic. With a guttural moan, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, spilling his release deep in your core.

For a moment, the room was filled only with the sound of heavy breathing as you all came down from your respective highs. Steve carefully withdrew from you, eliciting a soft whimper at the loss.

But before you could catch your breath, Bucky was already maneuvering you.

He gently and swiftly rolled you onto your back, positioning himself between your thighs. His eyes roamed hungrily over your flushed skin and heaving chest.

"My turn," he growled, voice thick with desire.

You whimpered softly, still sensitive from your intense orgasm. But Bucky wasn't deterred. He lined himself up and pushed into you in one powerful motion, groaning at the feeling of your slick heat enveloping him.

"Fuck, so wet," he grunted, starting to move. "All filled up with Steve's cum."

You gasped at the vulgar words, fresh wave of arousal and humiliation washing over you despite your exhaustion. Bucky set a punishing pace, driving into you relentlessly.

Steve moved to lay next to you, one hand tangling in your hair while the other caressed your cheek, and then his thumb pressed at your lips. "Open up, little lark," he commanded softly.

You obediently parted your lips, allowing Steve to insert his thumb. “Now suck,” he said.

You complied, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked on Steve's thumb. His eyes darkened with renewed lust as he watched your lips work around his digit. Meanwhile, Bucky continued his relentless pace, each thrust pushing you further up the bed.

"Perfect little slut," Bucky grunted, his hands gripping your soft thighs.

Your mind was hazy with pleasure and exhaustion, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of Bucky pounding into you and Steve's thumb in your mouth, pressing on your tongue. Soft whimpers escaped around Steve's digit with each thrust.

Steve leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. "You're being such a good girl for us," he murmured. "Taking everything we give you."

You moaned around Steve's thumb in response, your body betraying you as it responded eagerly to their ministrations. Your hips began to move of their own accord, meeting Bucky's thrusts. Bucky groaned in response, his rhythm faltering for a moment before he redoubled his efforts.

"Fuck, she's close again," Bucky panted. "I can feel it."

Steve removed his thumb from your mouth, replacing it with his lips in a bruising kiss. He trailed his hand down your body, pausing to tweak a nipple through your camisole before continuing lower. When he reached the place where you and Bucky were joined, he pressed his fingers against your clit.

You cried out at the added stimulation, breaking away from Steve's kiss. Your body tensed, hovering on the edge of another orgasm.

"That's it, little lark," Bucky growled, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Come for me one more time."

Steve's fingers worked your sensitive bud in tight circles, perfectly in sync with Bucky's powerful thrusts. It was too much - the dual sensations, the exhaustion, the overwhelming pleasure. Your back arched off the bed as you came undone, walls clenching around Bucky's length as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

Bucky groaned, burying himself deep inside you as your climax triggered his own. He pulsed inside you, adding his release to Steve's.

For a long moment, the room was filled only with the sound of heavy breathing. Bucky carefully withdrew from you, eliciting a soft whimper at the loss. You lay boneless between them, completely spent.

Steve's hand gently caressed your cheek, brushing away a stray tear. "You did so well, little lark," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you against his chest. Bucky pressed up behind you, sandwiching you between their warm bodies.

You felt yourself drifting off again, utterly exhausted from the intense session. But before sleep could claim you, Steve's voice cut through the fog.

"Don't fall asleep just yet, little lark," he murmured, his hand trailing down your side. "We're not done with you."

You whimpered softly, your body trembling from overstimulation. "Please," you whispered, though you weren't sure if you were begging for more or for mercy.

Bucky chuckled darkly behind you, his hand joining Steve's in exploring your curves. "You should know better than to think we'd let you off that easy."

Their hands roamed your body, reawakening nerve endings you thought were spent. Steve's fingers found your breast, kneading the soft flesh before pinching your nipple. Bucky's hand slipped between your thighs, gathering the mixture of fluids there before bringing his fingers to your lips.

"Clean them," he commanded softly.

You obediently parted your lips, allowing Bucky to slide his fingers into your mouth. The taste of your combined essences flooded your senses as you sucked.

Steve's hand slid down your body, fingers trailing through the wetness between your thighs. You whimpered around Bucky's fingers as Steve began to circle your oversensitive clit.

"So wet," Steve murmured. "Our perfect little slut, always ready for us."

Your hips jerked involuntarily, caught between wanting to pull away from the overwhelming sensation and pressing into his touch. Bucky removed his fingers from your mouth, trailing them down to join Steve's between your legs.

"Please," you gasped. "I can't... it's too much."

"Shh," Bucky soothed, nipping at your earlobe. "You can take it. You're going to take as much as we decide to give you.”

You felt Bucky's length hardening against your lower back as Steve's fingers dipped inside you, gathering more of the mixture of fluids there before returning to your clit. The dual stimulation had you writhing between them, soft cries escaping your lips.

Steve captured your mouth in a deep kiss, swallowing your moans as he worked your sensitive bud. Bucky's fingers joined his, sliding inside you and curling to hit your g-spot, making you go rigid.

You could only moan in response, your body betraying you as it responded to their expert touch despite your exhaustion. You could only hope they would yield to sleep soon, unsure how much more your body could take. They certainly seemed determined to carry on all night.

Would you survive them?

Would you even refuse them if given a choice?

You wanted to protest, to remind them that you weren't some object to be owned. But sleep was already pulling you under, your mind hazy and unfocused. As consciousness slipped away, you felt a mix of emotions - resignation, arousal, and that grudging sense of belonging.

You don’t know how many more orgasms they exacted that night, but you felt them over every one of your muscles the next morning. Blessedly they were both asleep, but even in sleep they each had a hand somewhere on your body.

Theirs.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Read more stories from the Deliciously Debauched Labor Day Weekend!

DO THESE TWO HAVE ME IN A CHOKE HOLD? YEP. AM I COMPLAINING? NOPE.

[songforeddiemunson]

Into the Woods

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (description vague apart from AFAB)

Summary: Eddie and Reader engage in some camping shenanigans.

Warnings/Tropes: Established relationship, smut, fluff, crimes against tents. Just a silly little smutty cute thing.

WC: 1550

Note: I'm sorry, I know I should be working on my series (and I am! albeit sloooowly), but I just couldn't stop thinking about this scenario. Labor Day is coming up and I've got nature on the brain. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The weather forecast for Labor Day weekend looked wonderful, so you decided you were going to drag your boyfriend to the mountains to go camping. Eddie hadn't gone camping since he was little, so when you suggested it, he looked at you as if you had just turned purple.

“Why would I want to sleep outside on purpose?” he said. “I used to have to do it after I got kicked out of the house and I’d rather not repeat the experience.” He finished with a soft chuckle; his usual deflective technique when referring to his difficult past.

“Yes, but this is different…” you countered. “The sun and fresh air and scent of nature, ah, it’s wonderful. It’s good for the soul and might help your peace of mind.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Ok look,” you sighed. “If we go, I’ll pick a really secluded spot and we can spend the majority of the time mostly naked.”

“And what time will we be hitting the road?” he replied amenably, and you burst out laughing.

You could feel the stress flowing out of your body the moment you left the city limits, and the long highway flanked by trees beckoned you deeper and deeper into the wilderness.

You were not destined for some family campground full of screaming children with quiet hours after 10pm; you wouldn't dream of it. You wanted true seclusion, and no meddling eyes unless they belonged to some sort of forest fauna.

You drove deep into the preserve down a bumpy dirt road until you reached a secluded lake shore, and the late afternoon sun glinted tantalizingly off the water. You couldn't mask your happiness as you stepped out of the truck. Eddie only looked around, unsure of how to feel about his surroundings.

You chose a flat, shady spot to set up the tent, and twenty minutes later you stepped back to admire your work.  "Not bad,“ you said appraisingly.

“Have you done this before?” Eddie asked.

"Yes, but it’s been ages. I’ve been dying to get back out here.” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you inhaled the sweetness of the air.

Eddie nudged your arm and you looked over at him. He waggled his eyebrows at you. “Ready to break it in?”

You laughed. “Seriously dude? Fine, fine, we did have a bargain,” you admitted, and the two of you stumbled into the tent whilst clumsily pulling your clothes off.  

After you finished undressing– which you had to do on your knees because the tent ceiling was so low– you collapsed onto the sleeping bags in a tangled heap.  You began to kiss each other fervently as Eddie hummed softly in a low pitch; obviously he was quite aroused. He trailed his fingertips lightly up the side of your rib cage en route to your bosom, making you giggle. The other hand took a more southerly route.

"I can’t wait any longer,” he murmured into your ear, as he stroked and teased.  

"Then what are you waiting for, Munson?” you replied breathlessly.

Eddie raised himself on his knees and tugged the zipper of the tent door closed, sealing you inside.

"I don't think that was necessary," you laughed.

"I don't want a bear to see my ass bobbing up and down and mistake me for something to eat," Eddie said, making you laugh harder.

"You do have quite the peach," you said. "Very edible."

"Why thank you," he said, as he lowered himself back down between your legs and kissed you deeply. He positioned himself at your entrance, and after a subtle coo of consent from you, he sank inside fully and ground his hips in a circular motion.

You keened at the sensation, and Eddie began to pump; gradually picking up speed and force as he went.  He alternated shallow thrusts with deep ones, using his hips to pull the most delightful sounds out of you. His pelvis slapped against your ass and thighs audibly, and before long you were thankful that you were in a secluded space; the soccer moms at the KOA would not be amused by your cries.

You rode out one intense climax as Eddie fucked you, and your second was rapidly approaching.

When you were in bed back at home, you had a habit of reaching back and grabbing a bar from the headboard during moments of intense pleasure, and you instinctively reached up to do the same as you succumbed to orgasm number two.

Unfortunately, you were in a tent and not a bed, and the headboard was really a bar holding the tent up. When you arched your back, cried out, and reached back to grab it, the entire tent collapsed on top of you. Your cries dissolved to giggles, and Eddie breathlessly cried, "Ah fuck!”  

"Oh my god!" you screeched with shock and hilarity, but Eddie didn’t stop thrusting. You couldn't tell if his grunts now were from frustration or pleasure-- probably a bit of both, but he was determined to finish, despite your current situation. It didn't help that every thrust now swished with the sound of nylon fabric that enveloped you, but it wasn't long before his thrusts faltered, and he moaned as he painted your walls with his completion.

When he was finished, the two of you lay there panting, covered with the collapsed tent in a heap. Eddie started to chuckle, which progressed to full-blown laughter.  The two of you laughed together for several moments before he slid out of you and tried to raise himself to his knees.  "Shit!  Fucking tent,“ he laughed, and the sight of him trying to struggle free of the nylon made you laugh even harder.  "Oh quit your laughing,” he scolded jokingly, “are you going to lay there or help?”

You managed to disentangle yourselves from the tent and stood naked looking at the mess. “Oh for crying out loud, let’s do this again,” you laughed, and the two of you set about the process of putting the tent back up.  Fortunately it was a warm day, and your nakedness didn’t present a problem.

“Fancy a dip in the lake?” Eddie asked when you were finished with your task.

“Eddie, no. You’re crazy. That lake will be cold as shit.”

“But it’s so warm out! C'mon, how bad can it be,” he pleaded. It was true; the day was quite warm for September in the wilderness, and you were a little sweaty from your recent exertions. You knew better though. A warm day in the mountains did not mean the water was a pleasant temperature.

You gestured to the lake. “See for yourself.”

“Very well, I will. You can watch and miss out on the fun.”

You laughed.  "Oh I’ll have fun watching all right. By all means proceed, daring one.“

He did precisely that. In the absence of a dock to jump from, he settled for running toward the water at full-tilt.  He plunged in; feet splashing in the shallow water at first, then slowed as the water reached his torso.  He pushed slowly onward for a couple of steps before stopping. The water had reached his chest, and he slowly revolved to face you.  His face was slack with shock, his eyes bulging.  "Juh-jesus,” he stammered. “Jesus fuck! This water is fuh-fuh-FREEZING!”

“I told you that,” you said calmly.  

Eddie frantically splashed his way back to shore, and he stood before you; naked, dripping, and covered in goosebumps.  "G-g-g-god damn,“ he said, teeth chattering. He wrapped his arms around himself for warmth.  "You weren’t joking!”

“Of course not,” you said resignedly. “The air may be warm, but that water was probably sixty degrees at best.”  You went back to the tent and retrieved a blanket.  "This will do,“ you said, as you wrapped him in the blanket. You threw on a T-shirt and shorts, and began to gather wood and twigs with which to start a fire.

"You’re never going to let me live this down, are you,” Eddie asked as you busied yourself with getting the fire started.  You laughed. He looked like a gnome all huddled up under his blanket by the fire. Adorable.

“Definitely not. You should see yourself. Lucky for you you were only in the water for a minute. Nevertheless, you should sit by the fire for a bit.”

Eddie's shivering began to taper off as warmed himself.  He looked at the lake whimsically.  "But the water is so inviting,“ he pouted.

"I know,” you said. “But much in the way a venus fly trap is irresistible to flies, that shit will kill you.  Camping in the wilderness is fun, but you need to keep your wits about you. These are just the things you learn.”

“Consider myself taught,” Eddie said.

The sun was beginning to sink below the trees by the time Eddie was dry and dressed in dry clothes. The timing couldn’t have been better; as the sun dipped lower, the temperature began to drop as well.  You lit a couple of lanterns and retrieved a bundle of food from your pack.

After finishing your snack, you walked back down to the water.  You watched the spectacular sunset as you sat between Eddie’s legs with your back against his chest.  He wrapped his arms around you, and you sighed contentedly at the perfection of this moment.

“Wow, it really did get chilly,” Eddie said, rubbing your arms with his hands.

“Like I’ve said–”

“I know, I know,” he laughed. “Things are different out here.”

You smiled. "Did you have a good day though?“

"Sweetheart, I’ve been taken to the middle of nowhere, had a tent fall on me, nearly froze to death, and I need to hide my food in a tree to prevent bears from coming to eat me.”

“I’m sorry, we don’t have to do it again,” you said, dejected, as you turned your face away.

“Silly girl,” he said, and turned your face upward so he could kiss your lips.  "I’m having the time of my life.“

Thank you so much for reading! As always comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of any fic writer. Please consider showing us some love.

MASTERLIST

[vellatra]

You knitted your wedding dress?? That is so cool!

Thank you! I had two main objectives - keeping the cost of our wedding down (so we DIYed a lot), and also simply not wanting to hunt forever for something that fit my tastes. (I'd had enough of the "hunting" experience when I went shopping for a prom dress haha!)

I started in January and finished the whole thing in August, just a few short weeks before the wedding, which was on Labor Day weekend that year. Had a lot of fun with it - learned some new techniques, did lots of little fancy details (like knitting tiny beads into the fabric!), and ended up with something completely unique. :) I'd never want to do it again; there were easily millions of stitches involved. But as a one-time experience, it was pretty cool! :D

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 12- I Love You. I Know.

Summary: As the end of October approaches, you and Javi learn more about celebrating Halloween and Dia De Los Muertos together. After a sleepless night, and a Halloween party at the Murphy's, Javi begins to open up to you about his past.

Word Count: 15.6K (I'm sweating)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, creampie, praise kink, semi-public sex (Oh the poor Murphy's...), PTSD/Anxiety around grief, loss and Javi's past, some angst/tension, mentions of drinking/being drunk (Steve is getting PLASTERED), mentions of food/eating, SO MANY STAR WARS REFERENCES, literally this chapter made me sob while I was writing it, editing it, and re-reading it, I am SO sorry

A/N: You guys. Holy shit. This chapter really had me in my feels. This chapter was def a labor of love, but I'm really happy with how it turned out!! Thank you for as always for all you kind words, you truly, truly, TRULY have no idea how much your support means to me 😭💖 Also please don't kill me after you finish reading this chapter I PROMISE *things* are happening so soon I can literally taste it, but I needed for this chapter to happen first, and you would be silly to think that *things* didn't get its own whole ass chapter and I am just as excited as you AH

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

The excitement of October’s conclusion was in the air, and the joys of getting to celebrate what you hoped would be the first of many holidays with Javi was at the forefront of your mind. While the end of summer meant school was here and your carefree days were gone until next June, October meant it was time for one of your favorite holidays- Halloween. It was one of your most cherished things to celebrate as a kid, and even still as an adult. The memories of jumping into leaf piles off your swingset with your brothers, dressing up in goofy, homemade costumes to trick-or-treat (because your mom was not about to buy 4 new sets of costumes every single year), carving pumpkins, and stealing as many of your brother’s Kit Kat bars as you could without getting caught, filled your heart with a warmth and joy that you couldn’t quite describe. While the 80 degree temperatures and lack of bright reds and yellows painted across the leaves falling from their trees was much different from the Chicago Octobers you were accustomed to, it hadn’t stopped you from heading full steam into Halloween. 

“So do you have any thoughts on what we should be for Steve and Connie’s? I have no problem going out to buy stuff for costumes, but I can already hear my mom yelling at me for wasting my money on cheaply made clothes I’m gonna wear for 5 hours when I have something perfectly good in my closet.” You rolled your eyes as you shuffled through the hangers, Javi sitting on the edge of your bed folding the laundry you were working on putting away. 

The two of you had gladly accepted the invitation from Steve and Connie to spend the weekend with them in San Antonio, as the Murphy’s planned to host a Halloween party at their house for their friends and co-workers, giving you and Javi a chance to have a fun weekend out of town together. 

“Hmmmm?” He asked, looking up at you as you grabbed a few shirts, examining them for costume potential. “We’re dressing up for this thing?” 

“Yeah, that’s like, the whole point of Halloween, dummy.” You giggled, throwing a few options on the floor before making your way over to your pants. “Didn’t you dress up as a kid for Halloween?” 

Unlike yourself, Javi had spent his whole life celebrating Día de los Muertos, Halloween having nowhere near as much relevance to him as it did to you, spending the end of October and first days of November gathering with his family to spend the day making Pan de Muerto (Day of the Dead sweet bread),  watching the parades on the streets of Downtown Laredo before visiting the cemetery where his grandparents were buried, decorating their graves in cempasúchil (marigold flowers), candles and photographs with his primos (cousins). Since his mom had passed, Javi hadn’t been home to celebrate with his family, and had almost forgone the tradition completely during his time in Colombia, the pain and loss of his mother and the solemn sadness of celebrating alone leading him to try his best to forget about the holiday all together. 

“Uh, no, not, not really. Didn’t really do Halloween, isn’t really as much of a thing down here. My family always celebrated Día de Los Muertos instead.” He replied, almost embarrassed by his answer, not wanting to damper your excitement as you dug through your closet for costumes. 

Your heart sank to your stomach, feeling awful that you hadn’t even taken into consideration that Javi's traditions around this time of year were completely different from what you were used to. The two of you had never really talked about how you wanted to celebrate future holidays, and always had wanted to make sure that the important parts of your lives were celebrated equally. Javi hadn’t said anything after you had spent the past few days putting up Halloween decorations around your apartment, and now you felt like an idiot assuming he had spent his whole life celebrating just like you. 

“Oh… Shit. Javi, I’m so sorry, if you don’t wanna do costumes, we don’t have to, you just hadn’t said anything about Día de Los Muertos so I just assumed that-” 

“Baby, it’s okay.” He pushed himself up off the bed, the width of his broad palms wrapping around your hips, trying to ease the guilt he could tell was rapidly consuming you. “You’re right, I never told you about it. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything to celebrate it, and I haven’t been home for it since I’ve gotten back from Colombia. I just- I don’t really know how to feel about it, I guess. The last time I did anything for it was before my mom died. I was never able to bring myself to do anything about it while I was gone, and I guess now I just feel really shitty that was the way I decided to handle it.” It broke your heart to see the pain in his eyes, pulling yourself closer to him as you wrapped your arms around his stomach, leaning your head against his chest. It was then, the realization had hit you too- This would be your first year of holidays without Patrick. You didn’t know as much as you would have liked to about Día de Los Muertos, but you did know that it was to celebrate the lives of loved ones you’d lost, a feeling that you and Javi were both all too familiar with. 

“Listen…” You raised your head, looking up at him, arms still intertwined around his waist. “I don’t- I don’t wanna make you do anything that you’re uncomfortable with. I guess this is the first time we’ve ever really talked about this kind of stuff. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, Jav, and that means celebrating the things that are special to both of us. The things that are important to you are important to me too. I want our lives for us, for our future family, to be filled with all the things we care the most about, whether that means keeping old traditions or making our own new ones. It would mean a lot to me to get to celebrate Día de los Muertos with you, and if it’s okay, I would love to sprinkle in some Halloween too, because I’m fucking dying to carve a pumpkin.” 

You smiled up at him as his hand slid under your jaw, his thumb tracing across your cheek as he tried his best to hold back the tears welling in his eyes. It took everything in him to not ruin his plans, wanting to run into the bedroom, grab the ring out of his sock drawer and propose to you that very instant. Even after all this time, Javi still couldn't believe that he was the person you wanted to share the rest of your life with. That you wanted to intertwine your past, present, and future with his, to have a life, a family, together that the two of you could cherish forever. Never in a million years had he assumed he’d be anywhere close to where he was today, holding the world’s most beautiful, perfect woman in his arms, as she told him how she wanted nothing more than to build a family and spend the rest of her days with him. 

“Osita… I fucking love you so much, you know that?” He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft and deep kiss, your heart racing as he pulled you in tighter. 

“Yeah, I mean, I guess, just a little bit…” You giggled, poking fun at him, considering not a day had passed since the first night he had said it that Javi hadn’t told you just how much he loved you. 

“Shut up, you dork.” He chuckled, making you squeal as he picked you up, playfully shaking you in his grasp before setting you back down. “I’d love nothing more, Hermosa. I don’t know how the fuck you’re supposed to carve a pumpkin or what the hell you have planned for these costumes, but I’m all in. I want it all with you, Osita. Thank you.” 

“Of course. For as much or as little as you want to do for Día de los Muertos, I’m all in too. I’m gonna be honest, I love Hallowen. Not as much as Christmas, but it’s a close second. It means you’re gonna have to trust me with a giant ass knife and cover yourself in pumpkin guts, though.”

“My trust is quickly starting to fade. Seriously though, what the hell are we supposed to dress up as?” He raised an eyebrow at you, nodding over to the pile of clothes you had pulled from your closet, now piled on the floor. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got some ideas.” 

  The weeks leading up to the holidays had made for fun at home date nights, the both of you genuinely looking forward to learning about the traditions you had both held so dear to your hearts. Almost every night after work, you had done something to celebrate the events leading up to the day. You had shown Javi a few of your favorite Halloween movies, including It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, Beetlejuice, and Ghostbusters, very adamantly insisting to him that those movies were about as scary as you were going to get, blaming your brothers for scarring you after forcing you to watch The Exorcist at the ripe age of 7 years old. In addition to the movies, you had told him about other funny Trick-Or-Treating stories from your childhood, Javi’s favorite being how your brothers, (being the ruthless idiots they were) paid one of their friends in all of their halloween candy to jump out of a bush dressed as a terrifying old lady to scare the absolute shit out of you, and making you quite literally pee your pants. In return Javi shared his favorite memories of cooking in the kitchen with his mom as she made Pan de Muertos for his family, the two of you even attempting to make it one of the nights after work, milling about the kitchen together as Javi told you about his family you had yet to meet, or had passed away long before you. 

After a lengthy hunt, you were able to find pumpkins, bringing them to Chucho’s house to carve them since you had nowhere to put them inside your apartment. You offered him the rest of your Pan de Muertos in exchange for a place to work on your pumpkins, and while he gladly accepted the bread, the three of you knew Chucho was always happy to have you and Javi over, regardless. 

“So tell me, mija,” Chucho spoke in between mouthfuls of sweet bread, rocking back and forth in his chair, “is there a meaning behind carving the pumpkins, or is it just for fun?” 

“Just for fun! Okay, it looks like we’re ready, you want me to show you how to do it, or just let you go for it?” You smiled at Javi, the two of you sitting cross legged on Chucho’s porch, pumpkins open in front of you. 

“You just scoop them out, right?” Javi questioned, looking into the pumpkin with an unsure grimace. “It seems like there's a lot in here, Osita. I have to get all of it out?” 

“Yeah, or else you can’t see the design when you carve it. C’mon you big baby, just stick your hand in there and pull the guts out!” You laughed, digging your hand into your pumpkin, scooping out hearty globs of pumpkin guts, slopping them into the bucket Chucho had set out for you. Reluctantly, Javi joined, you and Chucho both absolutely dying at Javi’s face as his hand met the squishy fibers inside his pumpkin. 

“Jesus, that feels fucking gross!” He laughed, shaking his head as he threw some of the seeds and strings into the trash next to him. 

“You need me to do it for you?” You giggled, flicking a pumpkin seed at him as he winced with the second handful he pulled out. 

“No, cabrón (asshole), I can do it.” Javi grumbled as he rolled his eyes at you, the both of you scooping hearty handfuls of goop. 

“You hear that, Chucho? Calling me an asshole because he’s too scared to pull out pumpkin guts.” You looked back at his dad, giving him a playful grin, his smile already wide from the enjoyment of watching the two of you. With your back turned to Javi, you hadn’t noticed the small handful of seeds he had collected in his hand, lining up his arm to aim right at the back of your head. “I can’t believe that- HEY!” You whipped your neck around, running your hand over the back of your neck, picking seeds and strings out of your hair, seeing Javi snicker to himself as your jaw dropped open in shock. “Did you seriously just throw pumpkin guts at me?!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, must have been a ghost.” He shrugged, smirking to himself before digging his hand back into his pumpkin. 

“You see this?!” You looked back at Chucho, pointing your finger at Javi, pretending to be stern, although your laughter quickly escaped. “Absolutely ridiculous, I swear.” 

“Javier, that is no way to treat your future esposa! (Wife) No quiero mis nietos ser cubierto en calabaza! Me encantáran en cualquier caso, pero todavía! (I don’t want my future grandchildren covered in pumpkin! I will love them either way, but still!)” Chucho scolded with a smirk, you and Javi silently smiling to each other at the thought of one day doing this with your own children. Javi had tried to stop fighting off his dad’s comments about grandkids a while ago- Chucho knew just as well as the two of you that he would have his grandchildren soon enough. 

“Ella lo pído… (She asked for it…)” Javi muttered under his breath, shooting his gaze up at you as he felt cold goop hit the side of his cheek, wiping the pumpkin you had just thrown at him off with the back of his hand, watching you smirk silently to yourself as you continued to scoop out your pumpkin.

“Ahora… Estamos a mano. (And now… We’re even.)” 

The 3 of you chatted on the porch, the sky now painted a dark black, filled with twinkling constellations above as you finished carving your pumpkins. Yours, a cute ghost with a little smiley face, and Javi’s, what he had tried to convince you and Chucho was also a ghost, even though it looked more like he had just carved a squiggly hole in the middle of his. It took a little prodding and convincing, but as you all talked about how the Peña family had spent many a Día de los Muertos, you and Chucho were able to get Javi to agree to go visit his mom’s gravesite on the Sunday after you got back from Steve and Connie’s party. Chucho had even promised to keep his tias, tios, and primos (aunts, uncles, and cousins) completely out of the picture this year, wanting to give Javi all the time and space he needed to go see his mom for the first time since her funeral. He was reluctant at first, riddled with the guilt of leaving her unvisited all these years, but as he felt the gentle squeeze of your hand, your silent reassurance was all he needed to know that you would be by his side, every step of the way. As you said your goodbyes, Chucho hugged you just a little extra tighter than normal, as if to thank you for everything you had done for his son, and just how thankful he was to have you in his life, too. 

Even though the Murphy’s had very graciously offered to let you and Javi stay on Friday night as well as Saturday, both Steve and Connie very much understood when you had told them on the phone that the only thing that you wanted to do after coming home from the chaos of managing an elementary school Halloween party was take a very, very long nap. You and Javi had spent the night ordering pizza and watching Young Frankenstein, only lasting about 20 minutes into the movie before you were dead asleep, snoring against Javi’s chest, still dressed in If You Give A Mouse A Cookie costume from earlier today. Carrying you to bed and undressing you from your mouse ears and oversized overalls, Javi curled into bed next to you, pulling your body against his as he stared at the ceiling. Despite how hard he tried to fall asleep, he laid there, wide awake as ever, as his head raced with the tornado of thoughts brewing inside his brain. 

Javier Peña had never really considered himself to be an anxious person. For most of his life, he couldn’t be. For the sake of his job, the sake of his family after his Mom passed, Javi had survived the only way he had known how- Block it out, and ignore it. And so far, that strategy had seemed to bode for him pretty darn well. But that was before he had anyone who depended on him, cared about him, anyone who made his life worth living for. That was before he had met you. Now, Javi found himself at the crossroads of a moment he had been waiting for since the moment he had first laid eyes on you. Something that brought him absolute joy and sheer terror at the same time- Javier Peña was going to propose to you, and he was an anxious fucking mess. 

If that in itself wasn’t enough, things at the Laredo County Sheriff's Department had been an absolute shit show. Mexico was the only thing on anyone’s radar, making for long days and high tension at the office, trying to do anything to slow the spread of the cartel’s influence across the border. Day after day, report after report, it felt like the department was drowning in the endless shitty news of new death tolls, record breaking trafficking stats, and lack of control as cocaine moved across the Rio Grande at a groundbreaking pace. Even though he found himself even further removed from Mexico than he ever was in Colombia, he couldn’t help but feel that painful, searing wrench in his gut when he sat down to really think about it. 

You. 

Spending your lives together.

Having a family.

Protecting his wife and kids. 

The things he would do to keep you safe.

The terrible things he had done he had justified were keeping other people safe. 

The imagines of the things he wish he could unsee.

The pain and hurt he wished he could take back. 

The fear of what he was capable of doing. 

So with a knot in his chest from work, a ring hidden away in his sock drawer, and the beginnings of a plan to ask the woman he loved more than life itself to marry him, Javi coped with the weight of his stress the only way he knew how. He couldn’t fucking sleep. 

The thoughts played in his mind on repeat, torturing him with every loop around his brain. He tried his best to close his eyes, to empty his head for a moment of peace, but no matter how much he wished he could have willed himself to sleep, it was no use. By the time the alarm clock on his nightstand read 2:05 AM, Javi had completely given up on the idea of rest for the night, quietly making his way out of bed to go wander around the living room. It wasn’t long before you too were also awake, rolling over in your sleep to find Javi’s space in the bed cold and empty. Rubbing your eyes and propping yourself up against your pillow, you scanned around the darkness of your room as you came to, realizing that Javi was nowhere to be found.  Draping one of the blankets from your bed over you, you crept into the hallway, greeted by the soft light of one of the living room lamps painting shadows against the wall. 

“Javi, are you up?” Your voice still soft and sleepy, rubbing your hand along your face, squinting from the sudden brightness that lit up the room. 

“Osita, baby, did I wake you up? I'm so sorry. Go back to bed, okay?” Javi shot up from the couch, setting down whatever book he had been half focused on reading as he watched your bed headed figure meander into the living room. 

“No, it’s okay.” You grumbled, holding out your blanket covered arms for Javi to melt his body into yours, wrapping you in a tight hug. You pressed your head into the bare skin of his chest, snaking your hands around his waist as he planted his lips against the the top of your head, burying his nose in your tangled hair. “Baby, what’s going on? Why can’t you sleep? I’m worried about you, Jav.” 

“I’m… Yeah, I’m okay, Hermosa. Just a lot on my mind.” He sighed, his exhale still buried in your hair as he savored the smell of you, still lingering even in your sleepy state. 

His pause alone was enough to know okay wasn’t the word that you would use to describe Javi right now. His words were burdened and fatigued, making it clear that whatever was on his mind was weighing on him more heavily than he wanted to admit. 

“Are you sure? Javi, if you wanna talk about anything, you know I’m always here, right?” 

You wanted so desperately to pry. Everything in you had a feeling that whatever was keeping him up were entangled in the parts of his dark parts past, the last secrets holding up the final wall between the two of you. You knew from your brothers how hard it was to talk about the pain and suffering they had witnessed, and begging them to talk about it before they were ready only seemed to make it worse. Hell, after Patrick died, it felt like you didn’t sleep for weeks, and it had taken you months to open up about it. You knew Javi hurt, and as much as you wanted to, digging deeper into the things that plagued him in his restless nights wasn’t what he needed right now. Right now, he just needed someone to be there for him. 

“Is there anything I can do, Javi? I just wanna help.” The breath of your sympathetic whispers were hot against Javi’s skin, squeezing your arms to pull him as close to you as he could. He paused for a moment, letting out another deep breath as cradled the back of your head with his palm, running his hands through your hair. 

“Will- Will you stay up with me? Just a little bit longer?” His voice trembled as you turned your head to lock your eyes with his, the gentle nod of your head bringing him a moment of relief. 

“Of course, baby. Of course I’ll stay up with you. Do you wanna turn on the TV or put on a movie? Sometimes that helps me sleep.” You stretched your arms over your head, scrunching your face as you yawned before tugging your blanket tighter around your body. 

“Believe me, Hermosa, I know it does.” He let out a soft chuckle as he pressed a soft kiss against your forehead. 

“Oh shit, yeah that is true. I don’t even think I made it halfway through Young Frankenstein tonight, which is a crime. It’s such a good movie. I don’t even remember getting into bed.” You yawned again, this time taking one of your blanket covered fists to try and rub the sleep out of your eyes, forcing yourself to stay awake. 

“Well, if you give a mouse pizza and a movie after a long day at school, then she’ll probably need her boyfriend to carry her to bed because she’s so tired.” Now awake enough, Javi’s cute jab at your costume for school made you let out a little giggle, giving him a little shove with your blanket wrapped body. “Why don’t we turn the rest of it on, so you can finish watching?” 

“I don’t wanna fall asleep on you, Javi.” You grumbled, pouting up at him, considering he had just asked you to stay awake with him. 

“It’s okay. As long as I have you by me, I’ll be alright, I promise.” Reluctantly, you nodded in agreement, plopping yourself on the couch as Javi turned on the TV, rewinding the VHS tape to the point where you had fallen asleep earlier before joining you, draping his arm around your shoulder as you tucked in your knees and scooted closer to him. You sat for a few minutes in silence, letting the sounds of the movie fill the background. As you turned your head to look up at Javi, you could tell that even though his eyes were pointed at the screen, there was no way he was really watching the movie. Reaching up your hand, you ran your fingers across the length of his strong jaw, his stubble scratching against your palm, forcing him to look back at you. Your eyes met his, the sweet, chocolate brown looking back at you, with a confusing mix of exhaustion, guilt, want and helplessness. You brought your face closer to his, your lips now only inches apart as your whispers danced against his mouth, desperate to find something to ease his pain. 

“What do you need, Javi? Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you.” 

His tongue swept against his bottom lip, taking one last shaky breath before his words left his body with his exhale. 

“You. I need you.” 

His hands found their way to the bare skin of your thighs, his fingertips barely brushing against your flesh as he traced his way up to your torso, toying with the hem of one of his shirts that always looked so much better on you than him. Pressing his palm against the soft curves of your stomach, he tugged at the waistband of your sleep shorts, causing you to shift your body so he could slide them down your legs. Reaching over towards his lap, you grasped at his boxers, feeling him already half hard under the fabric as you rubbed your hand against him. Javi held your hips, slowly guiding you to straddle him as you kicked your shorts off your feet, leaving them in a pile on the ground. Slowly, you began to grind deeper into his lap, the feeling of him now fully hard beneath you. Gently prompting you to raise your arms over your head, Javi lifted your shirt, leaving you bare as he dropped it next to your shorts. 

“Is this okay?” Javi rasped, pressing languid kisses against your neck and collarbone as you ran your hands against the width of his broad shoulders. 

“Of course, baby.” Your reply low and horse as you began to drag the fabric of his boxers lower and lower, finally letting his cock spring free as his waistband pushed past. You brought your palm to your mouth, licking a long, wet strip across it before wrapping it around his length, thumbing over the precum already leaking from his tip. Javi tilted his head against the back of the couch as you twisted your wrist, stroking his cock, letting out a hushed moan before sitting back up to watch you. 

“You’re fucking perfect, Osita. I don’t deserve you.” He dug his fingertips into the soft flesh of your ass, his sweet, brown eyes locked on yours as you pressed against him, nibbling at his ear. 

“You deserve everything, Javi. I could give you everything in the world and it still wouldn’t be enough.” Javi grasped at your face, cupping your cheeks as he pressed his lips against yours in a deep, intense kiss, his voice shaky and lustful as his mouth parted with yours before he spoke. 

“I don’t need anything besides you, Osita. Eres mi todo. Estás todo lo que necesito. (You are my everything. You’re all I’ll ever need.) He shuttered, letting out a low groan as you continued to rub your hand along his length, Javi now reaching down to trace lazy circles around your clit before dipping his fingers inside your wet heat. His fullness made you whimper, wrapping tighter around his cock as you stroked him, now bucking your hips against his hand as his fingers curled, bumping against the spongy spot that made you lose control. “Does that feel good, sweet girl? Fuck, you’re so wet. 

“Mhmmmmm.” You gasped, rapidly nodding your head as his digits pulsed inside you, your cunt already drenched, desperate to feel the fullness of his dick, despite the thickness of his fingers. Carefully, you lifted your hips, moving yourself closer to him as you ran your fingers through the soft ends of his sleepy curls. Sitting up on your knees, Javi removed his hand as he watched you hover over him, his palms roaming to your hips as you guided his tip through your folds, collecting your arousal before lining him up with your entrance. His jaw went slack as you lowered down on to him, taking your time as you savored the stretch of every sweet inch until you had bottomed out at his base. 

“Fuckkk, baby.” He mewled, gently guiding his hands against your hips as you dragged yourself up along his length before headfully sinking back down, the tip of his cock bumping against your cervix with each movement. Javi nipped at your neck, trailing hot, wet kisses down your collarbone before stopping at your breasts, flicking this tongue along each of your pebbled nipples as you pushed deeper into his lap, whimpering at his touch. “My sweet girl, always taking me so well, like you were fucking made for me, baby. God, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” Javi pulled you in tighter, caging his chest against yours as his arms wrapped around the small of your back as he rested his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, I love you so much, Osita.” His words were desperate and needy against your bare skin, digging your fingers into his dark curls as you swirled your hips around his cock. 

“I love you too, Javi. More than anything.” You moaned as felt Javi shift his weight, thrusting upwards as he buried himself deep inside you. His fullness had you digging your nails into the nape of his neck, your body melting into his with each push and pull against each other. You could feel the all too familiar tingle creeping up your legs and through the base of your spine as Javi’s hand found its way to circle around your clit, already throbbing as the curled hair around his base brushed against your sensitive nerves. The lewd noises of your moans and tangled bodies drowned out the sounds of the TV behind you, practically hearing how wet you were as Javi cock slipped in and out of your heat, his pace pounding as he punched into you. You could feel your walls beginning to tighten around him, arousal pooling in your belly, Javi knowing you were close as you whimpered into the crook of his neck. “Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop, I’m so close.” 

“I know, baby, I know. Let go for me, Osita. Wanna feel you soak my lap before I fuck you full of me. Cum for me baby, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” Javi’s fingers rubbed faster along your clit as you rolled your hips, sinking yourself deeper onto his cock with each thrust, your vision going white as you could feel yourself come undone. 

“Javi, Javi- fuck- Javi, Jav-ahhhhhh.” You could feel yourself gush around him, crying out his name as you reached your high, your legs shaking and fingers digging into his skin, pleasure flowing through your veins. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum too, fuck myself so deep inside you. My perfect girl. Mierda- Quiero que seas mío para siempre, mi amor. Solo tú, por siempre y para siempre. (Shit- I want you to be mine forever, my love. Only you, forever and always). Fuck me, I- fuckkkk.” Javi hissed as he buried himself deep in your hilt, spilling every drop of his spend against your walls. You could feel the mixture of the both of you dripping down your thighs, soaking Javi’s lap as you slumped into his body, your heart racing as the damp curls of his hair pressed against your shoulder. You both sat there for a moment, letting your chests rise and fall together in sync as you came to. “Fuck me, Osita. I could stay like this forever, baby.”

“You and me both. Although, I feel like that would make things awfully inconvenient for the both of us.” Your soft, sleepy giggles making Javi smile as he ran his fingers though the twisted ends of your hair. Carefully, you lifted yourself up, hissing at the loss of Javi inside you. 

“Thank you, Osita.” Javi whispered, tenderly circling his thumb along your jaw as you curled up next to him. 

“For what?” 

“Just- fuck, you’re so good to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. So, I just- thank you. Thank you for being everything I need.” Planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, Javi pulled you tighter, holding you in his arms as you leaned against him. 

“I’ll always be here for you, Javi. I promise.” 

You hoped he knew. That he knew your words were true. That when the time came for him to open up to you, letting you into the painful past that loomed above him, that you wouldn’t run. You would be right by his side, just as you were right now. 

“Well good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Javi chuckled as you twisted in the passenger seat, stretching your arms over your head, scrunching your face, letting out a lengthy yawn. 

“Fuck, how long was I asleep for? How much longer do we have left? Sorry, I wasn’t planning on sleeping that long, I just wanted to take a nap for a little while we drove.” You ran your hands over your face, looking out at the bright Texas sun shining over the neat suburban neighborhood you now found yourself driving through. Javi reached over across the center console, rubbing his hand along your thigh as he chuckled to himself. 

“Baby, I knew from the moment you fell asleep you were gonna be out for the rest of the drive, it’s okay. I was just worried I was gonna have to wake you up in the Murphy’s driveway.” You grumbled as you looked over at Javi, giving him a playful swat against his arm, shaking your head, now emerging from your post nap fog. 

“Well if we weren't up fucking at 2:30 in the morning, perhaps I wouldn’t be so tired, hmmmm?” 

Javi rolled his eyes as you poked fun at how the both of you had found yourselves last night, trying to ease Javi’s sleeplessness. While your solution had worked enough to ease him back to bed, it had now left you wide awake, wondering what had been going through Javi’s head, torturing him enough to keep him up. It had also meant that the two of you had slept in much longer than you intended, leaving later than planned for Steve and Connie’s. The two of you had quickly packed your things and hit the road, stopping to grab lunch on the way before you found yourself dead asleep next to Javi for the last hour and a half of your journey to San Antonio. With only a few minutes now left in your drive, you peered out the window, admiring the houses that lined the quiet streets of the Murphy’s neighborhood. 

“This is a cute subdivision.” You smiled over at Javi, admiring the houses, charming and inviting as they were freshly decorated from Halloween. 

“Yeah, it is pretty nice.” He grinned back, wrapping his palm around your thigh, giving your leg a little squeeze. He took a deep breath, his voice now shifting in tone, becoming more shaky and nervous. “Would you uh- would you, um, wanna live in a neighborhood like this?” 

“Maybe. I don’t know, the houses are all really close together. I spent so much of my life in the city, and even at my house growing up, everything always felt so cramped. After coming here, especially after seeing your ranch, I don’t know, I would love to be somewhere with more space. But that’s a big ask, so, maybe one day if it works out, I guess.” You reached over, rubbing your hand along Javi’s arm, your soft smile meeting his tender gaze as he smirked, nodding to himself. 

“Yeah, one day.” 

Taking a last turn down one of the neighborhood streets, the two of you pulled up to the quaint two story home belonging to the Murphy’s. Turning off the ignition, Javi paused for a moment, grinning to himself as he ran the hand resting on your leg up to your face, cupping your check as his eyes roamed the length of your body, taking every inch of you in as his sweet brown eyes consumed you. “I love you, Osita.”  

“I love you too, Jav.” Both of your heads tilted, your lips gently pressing against one anothers as you traced your hand through Javi’s dark curls, pulling him closer into you. You could feel his smile against your mouth as his tongue barely swiped against your bottom lip, the two of you so lost in the moment, you hadn’t even seen Steve make his way out of the house to greet you, let alone the fact that he was now standing at the driver’s side door, hands on his hips as he watched your impromptu makeout session in Javi’s truck. 

“You two lovebirds want help bringin’ your bags in, or do I need to give you a minute?” Steve chuckled to himself as you and Javi shot up, hearts racing and faces going white hearing his distinct drawl and rapid tapping at the driver’s side window. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Javi placed one more soft kiss on your forehead before promptly turning around to flip off Steve and opening the driver’s side door. “You two are worse than a pair of horny teenagers, I swear.” You could hear Steve still snickering to himself as you exited out your side of the car, making your way over to find Javi and Steve in a tight hug, lovingly patting each other on the back. 

“Fuck off, Murph.” Javi shook his head against Steve’s embrace, pulling away to grab your two bags from the backseat. 

“Listen, I’m not the one makin’ out in my driveway.” Steve shrugged as you sheepishly emerged from your side of the truck, smiling at you as grimaced at him. 

“He started it…” You glanced over at Javi, you and Steve now both giggling as he pulled you in for a hug. 

“Of course he did, wouldn’t put anything past this old bastard. How ya doin’ sweetheart? Good to see the both of you, we’re really glad you guys could make it. 

“She’s doing great after the hour and a half nap she took on the way here.” Javi interjected, slamming the truck door behind him, slinging both of your bags over his shoulder. 

“Whatever, you meanie. In my defense, I was not planning to sleep that long, and I think Halloween exhaustion got the best of me.” You shot Javi a quick wink, trying to bite down on your lip before turning back to face Steve. 

“Listen, I don’t blame ya. I’m fuckin’ exhausted after trick-or-treating with 3 kids, let alone tryin’ to keep ‘em wrangled at school all day. I love those girls, but I don’t think I could've gotten them in my parents car fast enough when they came to pick ‘em up this morning. Here, come on in, I won’t make you stand out in the driveway all day, unless you need to make out more.” 

As you stepped into the Murphy home, you were greeted by an abundance of Halloween streamers and banners hanging in the living room and up the stairwell to the second floor, along with a few Barbie dolls and accessories scattered across the entryway, nearly stepping on one as you came through the door. You could smell the sweet scent of something baking in the kitchen as Connie came rushing through the hallway, arms outstretched to greet you and Javi. “Oh it’s so good to see you two, thank you so much for coming!” Connie squeezed you and Javi in a tight hug before she backed away, kicking one of the toys on the floor across the room. “Sorry about the Barbies, I told the girls to clean up before they left for their grandparents this morning but I think all 3 of them are still running on a sugar high from last night and that obviously didn’t happen.” 

“Thank you so much for having us! Don’t worry about it at all, I totally understand! Javi was just telling me on the way over how much he was hoping the girls had Barbies he could play with anyways!” The 3 of you laughed as Javi rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as you gave him a smirk and a little nudge. 

“Fuck, I forgot how funny she was Jav.” Steve snickered to himself, picking up one of the Barbies and tossing it across the room into one of the toy baskets along the wall. “Seriously though, we are really glad you guys could make it. Your birthday party was fun as hell, old man. Glad to be close enough to actually see each other and do stuff like this again.” 

Before Javi would respond, you all jumped, startled by the sound of the kitchen timer beeping rapidly from the other room. “Oh crap, sorry, I gotta grab the cupcakes out of the oven!” Connie grimaced apologetically, making her way back to the kitchen. 

“Do you need any help?” You asked, excited to spend more time with Connie. 

“Oh my gosh actually if you could help with frosting the cupcakes that would be amazing. I made these yesterday for Olivia and Abby’s class parties, and I had no idea it was gonna take so long and was worried I wasn’t going to have enough time for all of them before the party! Thank you!” 

“Of course!” You replied, grinning at her before following her lead to the kitchen, giving a little wave as you disappeared around the hall, looking back at Steve and Javi. “Have fun, you two.” 

Steve paused for a moment until the both of you were out of sight, waiting to forcefully slap his hand against Javi’s chest, making him groan from the unexpected pain. 

“What the fuck was that for, you jackass?” Javi winced, glaring at Steve. 

“Where the fuck’s the ring, man?! Steve hissed through gritted teeth, looking back at Javi in disappointment. “I thought you were gonna fuckin’ do it after you got back from Chicago and met her family?! I thought everything was all good with- oh shit, did something happen with the ho-” 

“Shhhhhh! You fuckin’ idiot, please, talk louder, I don’t think the people at the end of the street could hear you.” Javi looked around the corner, clenching his jaw, praying that you hadn’t heard anything from the kitchen. 

“I’m not that fuckin’ loud… Shit, what the fuck happened then?” Steve grumbled, looking over at Javi with concern. 

“Can we maybe talk about proposal plans somewhere that’s not right by the woman I’m trying to propose to?” Running his thumb over his balled fists, Javi’s eyes darted back and forth, staying on the lookout for your return. 

“Fine, fine, fine. I’ll show you where the guest room is and then you can tell me.” Steve motioned up the stairs, Javi trailing behind with both your bags draped around his shoulders

“Was I really that fuckin’ loud?” 

“…Have you heard yourself talk?” 

“So how’s everything been going at work? There definitely was a full moon sometime in the past week because things were crazy at the hospital, I’m sure they had to be equally as bad at an elementary school.” You and Connie giggled as you squeezed a dollop of orange frosting onto one of the cupcakes before taking one of the little bags to pipe on eyes and a mouth to make it look like a pumpkin. 

“Oh my god, I think it must have been on Wednesday, I had a boy cut another girl’s hair with scissors and then had to call another parent because her daughter bit another kid at recess pretending to play werewolves. I felt really bad we didn’t come last night, I was exhausted after our Halloween party, I fell asleep on poor Javi at like, 8 o’clock.” 

Although you found yourself laughing with Connie again, you couldn’t help but shake the uncomfortable feeling you had in your gut as you thought about after you had woken up in the middle of the night to find Javi wide awake and distressed. You carefully set down your spatula, taking a deep breath before glancing over at Connie, still frosting next to you. “Hey, uh, Connie? Can, um- Can I ask you something?” Connie immediately sensed the shift in your tone, putting down her cupcake. 

“Of course, honey. What’s going on?” 

“Did um, did- Did Steve ever- ever talk to you? About all the stuff that happened in Colombia? I mean like, I know you were there, but I don’t know. Sorry, I don’t know what I’m trying to ask, this is probably way too personal, I-” You could feel yourself shrinking, retracting in embarrassment at your overly intrusive question, unable to finish your thought before Connie cut you off, placing her hand on your shoulder. 

“Oh, honey…” Her eyes were filled with sympathy as they looked back at yours, letting out a sigh before she responded. “Did something happen?” You began to nod your head no, even though you could feel the words yes burning in your throat. You took another shaky breath, trying to hold back the tears now welling in your eyes as you spoke. 

“No I mean- well, yeah, I guess. Last night, I woke up and Javi wasn’t in bed. He was out in the living room and I could tell that something was bothering him. I don’t know- maybe it was nothing. I just- when my brothers came back from active duty, there were a lot of things that kind of just went unspoken. I knew it was hard for them to talk about. Charlie handled it okay, but my brother Patrick never wanted to talk to anyone about what happened, and it just- I don’t know Connie, I don’t think Javi would ever do anything stupid like he did, but- fuck- it scares me sometimes. I know Javi’s done things that he’s probably not proud of, and I get it’s part of the nature of what his job was. I don’t care. I really don’t. People do shitty things when they’re put in shitty situations. But he never talks about it. Ever. Does… Does he not trust me? I care about him so much, Con. More than anything. I get so worried about him.” 

Your tears were now streaming down your cheeks, leaving your face wet as you wiped the back of your hand across your skin to try and do some form of damage control before Connie embraced you, pulling you in for a hug, tightly wrapping her arms around you. “Oh sweetheart. Of course he trusts you. When Steve came back, he was a mess. I don’t think it really all hit him until he was finally home. I guess you’re right, it was different because I was there, but even then, there were things that happened that I didn’t know about. After begging and begging him, I finally got him to go to see someone and it really helped, but even now, there’s times where it still creeps up on him. Honey, Javi loves you so much. I didn’t think I’d ever live to see the day he was in love as he is with you. If he’s anything like Steve, he just doesn't wanna hurt you.” 

You sniffled, taking a step back to wipe your nose with your sleeve, your lip trembling as you tried to keep from crying harder than you already were. “But that’s what hurts, Connie. It hurts me to think he has to keep this from me, like I’m gonna think less of him for what he’s been through.” 

“I know. Have you talked to him about it?” Connie’s voice was gentle and sweet, rubbing her hand along your arm as she listened to what you needed to get off your chest. 

“No… I guess I should have. I never wanted to pry. I know it’s hard to talk about, I just- I wanna be there for him Connie. I don’t want him to have to do it all on his own.” You shifted your gaze to the ground, guilt washing over you. After Patrick, you couldn’t live with the idea of letting Javi try to suffer through his past alone. You loved him more than anything- and even the slightest thought of going through anything similar to what had happened to Patrick again with Javi was almost paralyzing. 

“I think the best thing you can do is to go talk to him.” Looking back up, you saw Connie smiling at you, trying to convince you that everything would be okay, even if it felt like it wasn’t. “Why don’t you go find him? Party’s starting soon anyways, you can go change into your costumes and come down wherever you’re ready. I’ll be just fine with the cupcakes, tell Steve can put himself to work frosting.” The both of you grinned as you tried to wipe your tears, nodding slowly in agreement. 

“Thanks, Connie.” You whispered into her shoulder as you pulled her in for a hug before heading up the stairs to find where Javi and Steve had gone. It didn’t take you long to find the pair, hearing their voices carry through the hallway from the slightly cracked door of the guest bedroom. You were about to knock and interrupt their conversation, stopping yourself with your fist barely touching the door as you tried to make out what they were talking about. 

“The offer was in fucking cash, too. I was trying to make it easier so I could speed up the process, but it’s been taking them so goddamn long to close on everything so I can finally go sign the fucking paperwork.” 

“That fuckin’ blows, Jav. I’m sorry. It’s not like she knows any better, though. It’ll still be a huge fuckin’ surprise, I’ll tell you that much.” 

“I know. It’s been killing me to wait this long. I just want it to be perfect, Steve. She deserves everything. Honestly, I’m kinda glad it bought me some more time. I need to find a way to get her to see it before everything’s official in case she fucking hates it.” 

“Javi. She’s not gonna hate it. Fuck it, tell her Connie and I are lookin’ for somethin’ and we wanted you two to go see it for us. I don’t know, maybe that’s too obvious. Speakin’ of which, I should probably go check to see if she needs anything before this party, I’m already in the fuckin’ dog house for forgettin’ to bring the girl’s trick-or-treatin’ bags to school, I don’t need to be in trouble for anything else.” 

What the hell were they talking about? What was Javi signing? Why was it taking so long? What the hell did it have to do with you? Wait… holy fuck. No way… Was he- 

Before you could finish your thought, you suddenly realized Steve was making his way towards the door. You quickly rapped your fist against the wood, trying to play off the fact you had been eavesdropping and make it look like you had just unassumingly made your way upstairs, not overhearing the conversation the two were just having. 

Knock, knock. 

“Hey, it’s me! Uh, Steve, Con wants to know if you can help her with the cupcakes really quick.” You pushed open the door, trying your best to smile at the suspicious pair as Steve shook his head, looking back at Javi. 

“It’s always fuckin’ somethin’. I don’t even know what I did wrong this time, I swear.” Steve held up his hands defensively, sliding his way past you in the doorway before heading downstairs, leaving you standing there awkwardly, unsure how to feel after your conversation with Connie and the one you had just overheard. 

“Hey, Osita. How’s everything goin’ down there? Sorry, we were just about to come down and- Hey, baby, you okay?” Javi stood up, concern spreading across his face from the strange scrunch in your brow as you stared at the floor. 

“Ummmm…” You froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. On the one hand, your conversation with Connie had you ready to confront Javi, to finally work up the courage to ask him about the past life he had tried his best to keep from you. But as you glanced over at him, seeing his sweet brown eyes and stupidly handsome face, remembering the discussion you had just overheard through the doorway, the other hand meant you weren’t at risk of ruining your night that the two of you had been so looking forward to, and right now, the other hand was going to have to be the one you needed to play. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I just- I was gonna ask you something but forgot what I was gonna say. I’m sure I’ll remember it eventually.” You smiled at Javi, neither of you completely convinced by your response. “But um, Connie said that people are gonna start getting here soon, so we can change into our costumes if you want.” A smirk slowly stretched across your cheeks as you nodded over to the black duffle bags laying on the bed. 

Javi’s grin matched yours quickly, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer against him as you giggled. “You sure we’re not gonna be the only ones dressed up?” 

“Well considering it’s a Halloween party and I literally just talked to Connie about what she and Steve are wearing downstairs, I’m gonna give it a pretty confident yes. Worst case, it just looks like you’re wearing a white shirt and vest, Mr. Solo. You stuck up, half-witted, scruffy looking nerf herder.” You raised your eyebrows, playfully poking at his chest. Javi paused, shaking his head at your quote, firing one right back at you as he bit down on his lip. 

“You just like me because I’m a scoundrel. There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life.” 

“I happen to like nice men.” 

“I am a nice man.”  

Javi cupped your face, pulling you in for a long, heavy kiss before backing away to unpack your bags, shooting you a quick wink as you rolled your eyes. Jesus, he even found a way to make Star Wars sexy. Just when you thought you couldn’t be anymore in love, Javier Peña never failed to find a way to make you realize you’d never stop falling for him. 

After putting in what felt like the 74th bobby pin into your hair after getting the last braid wrapped over your head, you gave yourself a once over in the mirror, pleasantly surprised by how well your costume had turned out. While Javi was disappointed you were adamant you were not going as Princess Leia from Return of the Jedi and showing up in front of a group of strangers at Steve and Connie’s party in her slave costume, you and Javi both agreed that Hoth Princess Leia was definitely the next best look. Staring at you with his puppy dog eyes, Javi had been adamant about waiting with you as you finished getting ready, leaning his hip against the bathroom counter, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you finish the last of your hair and makeup. 

“Okay, I think that should stay. All those years of braiding my hair for under my hockey helmet are finally coming in handy for something.” You snickered, pushing the final clip into your hair to hold it into place, giving yourself a once over in the mirror. As you looked yourself down, Javi’s eyes wandered up and down your body just as fast, practically undressing you as fast as you had put your costume on. 

“Goddamn, Osita… Fuck, you’re so hot.” 

“Me? Jesus Christ, Javi. You put Harrison Ford to shame with how fucking good you look. I like Han Solo better with a mustache anyways.” You licked your tongue against your bottom lip, running your hands along the muscles of his arms, straining against the tight henley shirt he was wearing under his vest. You were no better than Javi, practically having to force yourself to not look in his general direction while you were getting ready to prevent yourself from pouncing on him. But given the lack of chatter downstairs, and the impressive speed at which the two of you had gotten ready, you really couldn’t help yourself. Slowly, you let your hands begin to slip down his arms and across his chest, palming at the denim of his black jeans as he let out a deep groan. 

“Hermosa…” He hissed against your neck as you grasped at the bulge now growing under his pants, your other hand now making its way down to undo his belt, the clinking of the metal drowned out by Javi’s heavy panting. You began lowering your body, sliding Javi’s pants and boxers down his thighs as his cock sprang free, his tip already red and leaking with precum. You rested on your knees, face to face with his length as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly stroking him a few times. 

“This okay, Captain Solo?” You batted your lashes at him, giving him a wink before letting your spit dribble onto his cock, taking his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. Curling your fingers around his base, you began to twist your wrist, hollowing out your cheeks as you took him deeper into your mouth. 

“Oh, fuck me. Holy shit, Osita.” He moaned, tilting his head back, letting his jaw go slack as your head bobbed back and forth. He gently rested his hand along the side of your face, helping to guide you along his length as you took him deeper and deeper down your throat. “Jesus Christ, baby. Fuck, that feels so good. You look so hot, god fuckin’ dammit.” Javi’s words were labored and shaky as you started to increase your pace, wrapping your free hand around the back of his bare thigh, digging your fingertips into his leg. Feeling the pressure beginning to build in his stomach, Javi began rocking his hips, his jaw completely slack as he looked down at the sight of how well you took him in your mouth, saliva dribbling down your chin as sucked along his cock, hard and heavy on your tongue. “Fuck, Osita. I’m not gonna last much longer. Can I cum like this, baby? Fill up that- fuck- fill up that pretty little mouth of yours?”” 

You glanced up at him, nodding, your lips still wrapped around his dick, the motions of your head and wrist now becoming faster and sloppier as you watched Javi’s brow scrunch and jaw clench, a sign you knew all too well that he was moments away from coming undone. 

“Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well. Fuck, baby- shit- se sientes tan bien, estoy tan cercaaahhhhhh-” (you feel so good, I’m so closeeeee-). The hot ropes of his spend coated the back of your throat, the salty, tangy mix filling your mouth as Javi whined, giving his hips one last push as kept your lips wrapped around him, making sure that you had milked him of every last drop before releasing. Letting your spit and his release fall from the corners of your lips, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, smirking up at Javi’s blissed out expression. “Jesus Christ, Osita. You’re too fucking good at that. Holy shit. Lemme take care of-“ 

You held up your hand to stop him as you stood up, your gesture cutting off the rest of his sentence as you helped to pull up his jeans and boxers still resting along his thighs. “I’m allowed to give my hot ass boyfriend blowjobs without anything in return. C’mon, we better get downstairs before Steve walks in on us again.” You pressed up on your tiptoes, planting a quick kiss on Javi’s lips as he reached down to buckle his belt before the two of you tried your best to fix yourself up in the mirror to avoid the inevitable shit Steve was about to give the both of you. Giving Javi a quick nod in the mirror before turning off the light and heading out the door, he gave your ass a playful smack, making you squeal in surprise, making you turn on your heels. Resting his hand on his hip, he beamed at you, biting down on his lip. 

“Fuck, I love you.” 

“I know.” 

The Murphy’s living room had begun to pool with guests as you made your way down the stairs, looking for Steve and Connie amongst the crowd. You and Javi both grabbed a beer from the cooler at the bottom of the stairwell, quickly turning around as you heard Steve’s familiar twang approaching behind you. 

“Well I’ll be damned. You got this motherfucker in a costume? He must really love you.” Steve chuckled, shaking Javi by the shoulders. “And Star Wars too?! You asshole, how many times did I try to tell you they were good fuckin’ movies?! You shoulda dressed him up like Jabba the Hut.” You and Steve cackled as Javi rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and what the fuck are you supposed to be? A sad pirate?” Javi jabbed, poking fun at Steve’s poorly put together costume. 

“Listen, Olivia and Abby both wanted to be the Little Mermaid, so we had two Ariel’s, Con was Ursula, Madison was the yellow fish and I didn’t wanna be that annoying ass crab, so pirate it was, asshole.” Steve retorted, punching at Javi’s arm, the two of them laughing at each other like little boys. “Alright, go enjoy yourselves lovebirds, I’ll see ya in a little bit. And Javi?”

“Yeah Murph?” 

“You really gotta start checkin’ your pants, buddy.” 

Javi’s cheeks turned red, his eyes darting down to his zipper, still all the way undone from your activities upstairs, the both of you grimacing at each other, sheepishly avoiding eye contact with Steve as he disappeared into the crowd. 

It really wasn’t a surprise to Javi how many friends the Murphy’s had already managed to make in their time since moving to San Antonio. Their house was quickly crowded with all sorts of people- Steve and Connie’s co-workers, neighbors, parents of friends Olivia and Abby had made at school, regardless of where the party goers were from, everyone had collectively agreed to make adult Halloween just as fun as any kids. You and Javi were having a great time catching up with Steve and Connie, as well as meeting some of their other close friends, one of Connie’s neighbors being an elementary school teacher, giving you two plenty to commiserate about from the hellish week it had been. It didn’t take long for the party to move outside, Steve drunkenly deciding that he needed to make a bonfire, despite adamant argument that with the amount of alcohol Steve had in his system, he was going to spontaneously combust if he got close enough to a flame. Javi, sober enough to still help his friend make rational decisions, was glad that Steve was happy to let him build the bonfire. 

“The force is strong with you, Han Solo.” You giggled, Javi wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead as the two of you stared into the flickering orange glow of the fire pit. 

“Not strong enough to extinguish Steve if he got close enough to it. Hey, I got shit all over my hands, I’m gonna go to the bathroom and wash ‘em off. You need anything while I’m inside, Princess?” You smiled as you nudged Javi at the nickname he had been adamant about using since you had put on your costume. 

“I’m good, thank you. I’m gonna go wait over on the swingset so I don’t completely reek of bonfire later.” Javi nodded as he slid his hand down your back, giving your ass a quick squeeze before making his way through the crowd, heading towards the house. Surprised no one else had capitalized on the chance to sit down, you wandered over to the wooden playset at the corner of the Murphy’s backyard, taking a seat on one of the plastic swings, kicking your feet against the grass below. 

“Hey, there she is! How goes it, Leia?” Taking a few long strides through the yard, Steve was now quickly making his way over to you, stumbling over his own feet as he somehow managed to sit himself down on the swing next to you. You tried your best not to laugh at Steve’s drunken state, but his current antics weren’t making it very easy on you. 

“I could ask the same to you. You doin’ okay there, pirate?” 

“Fuck sweetheart, I’m doin’ fuckin’ great. Where’s the asshole?” 

“Inside, I’m sure he’ll be back out soon.” You snickered at Steve watching the beer dribble down his chin from the overly confident swig he had taken. 

“Good, I don’t need ‘em right now. You were the one I was lookin’ for.” Steve pointed in your general direction, but clearly wasn’t aware enough to hit his target head on. 

“Me?” You laughed, pointing back to yourself. 

“Yes, you. You talk to him yet?”

“About?” You paused, wondering if Steve had any inkling of the conversation you were planning to have earlier, or if he was drunkenly deciding you and Javi needed to discuss something else. 

“You know about what. I talked to Connie earlier. I figured I owed it to you to come talk to you about it, too.” 

Your heart began to race, that uncomfortable feeling once again beginning to churn in your stomach as you thought about the things you and Connie had discussed earlier. “Steve, you don’t owe me anything, I-” 

“No, I do. Hold on a second.” Steve turned away, letting out a hearty burp, pouding on his chest before facing back towards you. “Sorry, I’ve been holdin’ that in for like 10 minutes, I needed to let it out. Anyways… What was I sayin’? Oh shit, yeah, the grumpy bastard. Listen, sweetheart. I know it’s gonna fuckin’ suck,  but you gotta be the one to bring it up and talk to him about it. If I know anything about that motherfucker, it’s that he will bottle things up for way too fuckin’ long until someone gets it out of him. He’s a good guy. He says he’s not, but he is. Saved my ass more times than I can count. That job made us do some fucked up shit neither of us are fuckin’ proud of. But that doesn’t mean he gets to keep it from you. I swear to God, that asshole is so fuckin’ in love with you, it makes me sick. You make him so happy. He just doesn’t wanna fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to him.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but in that moment, all you could manage was to reach over to the swing next to you, pulling Steve in for a hug as you tried to keep your tears from staining his shirt. “Thanks, Steve.” You whispered, leaning back into your seat, using your sleeve to wipe the wetness from your cheeks. 

“I know you love him too. You deserve to know. Don’t let him be a stubborn jackass to you, okay? I’m bein’ serious. I should be the one thankin’ you though, honey. In all the years I’ve known him, I never thought I’d see ‘em this happy. I promise I won’t get this drunk at your wedding.” Steve winked, straining to push himself up out of the swing, somehow managing to catch his balance as he stumbled into the grass. 

“You do make a very inspirational drunk, Steve.” You laughed to yourself, looking up at him with a genuine smile. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. Alright, enough sap, I’m gonna go get another fuckin’ beer, I’ll see ya around okay?” 

“Okay, maybe a water would be good for you, too.” 

“Water’s for pussies.” 

“Water’s good for people who don’t want raging hangovers tomorrow.” 

“Pirates are always drunk, so I’ll be fuckin’ fine.” 

“Whatever you say, Steve.” 

It didn’t take long for Javi to return, easily spotting his tall, broad body making his way through the crowd, beaming at you as he walked over to the swings. You tried your best to smile back at him with the uneasy pounding in your chest quickly building, feeling your heartbeat in your throat. “Hey, Hermosa. Sorry it took so long, I ended up stopping to get another drink on the-“ 

“Do- Javi, do you trust me?” 

Your words were quiet and blunt as they rolled off your tongue, your eyes peeled on your feet kicking through the grass beneath you. 

Javi’s brow immediately scrunched in confusion, completely off put by your question and demeanor. “Do I- Baby, what are you talking about? Of course I trust you? What’s going on?” Setting down his drink, he began making his way next to you in frantic, worried strides. 

“Then why won’t you talk to me about it?” Your eyes darted from the ground up to his, his sweet brown eyes swirling with confusion at the firm tone of your voice and desperation growing across your face. 

“Talk to you about what? Hermosa, what’s going on? Is everything ok-” 

“Why won’t you talk to me about Colombia?” 

 Javi took a step back. He wasn’t sure if it was out of defense, or absolute shock from the words that had just fallen out of your mouth. He stared at you for a moment, his jaw locking as you could see how hard he swallowed, trying to bide his time as he calculated his response. 

“Osita… It’s not that simple.” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

“I don’t understand why we’re talking about this. Baby, if this is because of last night, you don’t need to worry about me, can we please just drop it?” The two of you faced each other in an unspoken standoff, Javi’s hands now resting on his hips as you crossed your arms over your chest. You had tried so hard to be patient, but in the moment, it was like all of your frustration was beginning to boil over. 

“That’s exactly why we’re talking about this, Javi. Because I fucking worry about you. All the time. I’ve tried so hard to be patient. I’ve never, ever tried to get you to talk about it because I know it’s fucking hard. But last night, you’re up at 2 A.M, wandering around the apartment, and I’m begging you to tell me what’s wrong and you won’t fucking do it. I’m not an idiot, Javi. I can’t live in this weird in between space in your life where you pretend your past doesn’t exist when I know it still fucking haunts you. Why won’t you just talk to me about it?” 

Javi could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his palms sweating as they clenched in tight fists at his sides. He tried so desperately to find an answer, something, anything he could tell you to try and justify his choices. The choices he had kept from you. The choices he couldn’t forgive himself for. “Because, I- fuck- because, goddamnit, I just- I was a terrible fucking person, okay? The things I did, they were-” 

“What? Fucked up? Painful? Shitty? Of course they fucking were, Javi. You were literally in Colombia chasing down Pablo Fucking Escobar. What did you think I thought you were doing down there? Filing away paperwork? You don’t think I know that you did things you regret? That you’ve hurt people? Made choices that hurt innocent people who didn’t deserve it? I know Javi, I fucking know. I watched my brothers come back from the same goddamn thing. I tried so hard to give them space, to let them come to terms with the fucked up things they did on their own, and you know what fucking happened? One of them’s fucking dead because of it. I can’t let it happen again. I don’t care about what you did. It doesn’t make you a bad person. But you can’t try and hide it from me and pretend like it doesn’t exist. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. But I can’t if you don’t trust me. Please trust me. Please. I love you so much, Javi. I can’t lose you.” 

Javi stood in silence, as the both of you fought the tears streaming down your cheeks. He wasn’t sure if he had just been hit in the gut with a giant sucker punch, or if the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. He truly didn’t know how to feel. He wasn’t even sure if he had heard you correctly. Did you really just tell him that you knew about the fucked up, terrible things he had done and that you didn’t care? That you still fucking loved him? All you wanted was for him to trust that you wanted to be there for him? He could feel his hands trembling and lip quivering as he tried to find the words to speak.

 “Osita… I- fuck, baby. Osita, I’m so sorry. I trust you with my fucking life. You- You don’t deserve to have to deal with with all the fucked up things I’ve done. I don’t wanna scare you away, baby. You’re the best thing that’s ever fucking happened to me and I was so terrified if you found out about the terrible person I used to be, you’d leave. It’s not fair to you, I can’t expect you to carry the weight of all the fucking things I’ve done, too. I’m so sorry.” Quietly, Javi sat down next to you on the empty swing, burying his hands in his face. Gently, you reached over, pulling his hands away, forcing him to look at you. 

“Whatever you tell me isn’t gonna scare me away. I promise. The only thing that’s gonna scare me is when you try to pretend you’re okay when you’re not. Javi… Javi, I just- I just wanna be there for you. I don’t want you to have to do it alone. I’d do anything for you. I trust you more than anyone. You’re my best friend. I just- fuck- I just want you to trust that I’ll always be there for you to. I promise.” 

And just like that, the last brick holding up the wall between you and Javier Peña collapsed. There was nothing left to run from. Nothing left to hide. After he returned home, he was a changed man. He had hated the person he had become. Maybe there was a part of him that didn’t want to be loved, because he didn’t believe that he deserved to be. But then, there was you. 

You. 

You had taken everything he had known and changed his life for the better. You had become his better half, the person he loved more than anyone in the world. You had proved he was worthy of more than just existing- you had proved to Javi that he was worth the love and happiness you had promised him from the moment you had come into his life and made it worth living for. 

“You promise?” 

“I promise. Always.” 

The way Javi grabbed you and wrapped you in his arms, grasping at the back of your shirt as he pulled you in tighter, feeling the hot breath of his silent sobs against your shoulder told you everything you needed to know. You didn’t know much, but if there was one thing you did know, it was that you loved Javier Peña more than life itself. As quickly as it had felt like your life had fallen apart, he had come into it and picked up the broken pieces to put it back together. And on an October night in San Antonio, sitting on an old wooden swing set in the Murphy’s backyard, you hoped that Javi knew that you would always be there to pick up the shattered parts of his past, too. 

You weren’t sure how many hours had passed as you sat hand in hand in the swings with Javi as you listened to anything and everything he had to say. Long after the backyard was empty, and the bonfire had faded to embers and ashes, and the only one left awake besides the two of you was Connie, trying to drag Steve back inside from the plastic lawn chair he had passed out on, you finally made your way up to bed for the best sleep the two of you had in a very, very long time. Your goodbyes to the Murphy’s had been short and sweet- Connie exhausted from the late night, and Steve barley coherent from how hungover he was, you were still both so thankful the two of you had made the journey out to see them, and the both of you, just as grateful for the sweet and supportive life long friends you knew the Murphy’s would become. Most of your drive back to Laredo was spent in a comfortable silence, the golden sunrise spilling through the windows of Javi’s truck as you cruised down the highway, Javi’s hand never leaving yours, your fingers intertwined together as his thumb gently rubbed against your soft skin and your head rested against his broad shoulder. 

“How are you feeling about seeing your mom today?” You asked, lightly squeezing his arm as you smiled up at him, now exiting off the freeway quickly approaching the cemetery where you planned to meet Chucho to celebrate Día De Los Muertos, trying your best to comfort Javi as he prepared to see his mom’s gravesite for the first time since her funeral almost a decade ago. Javi let out a quiet sigh, his grip tightening just a little tighter around your hand as he looked over at you, a surprisingly calm look flooding his face. 

“I’m actually doing okay. Better than I would have thought. I think I was always so worried that she wouldn’t be proud of me and the man I’d become after she was gone. I um- I finally think that she’d be proud of me now.” He glanced over at you, his smile soft and tender as he soaked in the reason for his pride sitting right beside him. 

You noticed Chucho’s truck as you pulled up to park along the edge of the small cemetery, Chucho excitedly waving you down as you both hopped out of the car. Walking around to Javi, you were quick to grab his hand, giving him a reassuring grip as the two of you made your way through the gravestones along the thin cobblestone path towards Chucho, already arranging the items he had collected for Lucia’s ofrenda. 

“Hola, niños.” Chucho grinned, wrapping his arms around the both of you. “I’m so glad you’re here.” 

“Thanks for letting me be a part of today, Chucho. I know… Well, I just- I’m really honored to- just, thank you.” Chucho wasted no time pulling you into your own hug, his rough and worn hands holding you by the shoulders as he looked at you with misty eyes. 

“Mija, I should be thanking you. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know if we would all be here today. Lucia’s last wish to me was that I would promise to make sure Javier was happy. Now hija, I think my sweet Lucia can rest a little easier knowing someone else has already fulfilled my promise for me.” As the two of you spoke, you hadn’t noticed as Javi had quietly stepped over to his mother’s gravestone, crouching next to it, his fingers delicately tracing along the engraved letters of her name, his other hand holding one of the marigold flowers Chucho had brought with him. The two of you watched quietly as Javi sat next to his mom, gently placing the flower on the shiny stone as he spoke. 

“Hola, mamá. Te extrañé. Siento haber tarado tanto.” (Hi mom. I missed you. I’m sorry I took so long). Javi’s voice trembled as he took a deep breath in, slowly exhaling as his hand rested on the stone, warm from the sun, shining brightly in the blue November sky. “Que estaba asustada de de verte porque estaba orgullosala de la persona en la que me había convertido. Que no quería decepcionarte. Tenía miedo mucho, mamá. Me sentí como si todo se derrumbase. solo quería olvidar. Pero entonces…” (I was scared to see you because I wasn’t proud of the person I’d become. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I was so scared, mom. I felt like I let everyone down. I just wanted to forget. But then…).  Javi turned his head, seeing you and Chucho, arm in arm, a smile growing across his face as looked back at the two people in life he loved the most. He took an extra moment to stare at you and the soft grin spread between your cheeks, basking in the comfort and warmth of the woman who had forever changed his life for the better. “Pero entonces, mamá, La conocí. Que es perfecta. Nunca supe que podías amar tanto a alguien. Ella es lo mejor que me ha pasado. La habrías amado.ella es una maestra, tambien.  A veces me pregunto qué ve en mí. No sé qué hice para merecerse. voy a pedirle que se case conmigo.Cuidaré bien de ella. Ella se merece todo lo que le pueda dar y más. Espero que estés orgulloso de mí, mamá. te echo mucho, Pero le juro a usted, al fin soy feliz. Te amo, mamá.”  (But then, mom, I met her. She is perfect. I never knew you could love someone so much. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You would have loved her. She’s a teacher too. Sometimes, I wonder what she sees in me. I don’t know what I did to deserve her. I’m gonna ask her to marry me. I’m gonna take such good care of her. She deserves everything I can give her and more. I hope you’re proud of me, mamá. I miss you so much, but I promise you, I’m finally happy. I love you, mom.) 

With a gentle nudge from Chucho, you softly stepped behind Javi, gently placing your hands on his shoulders before he rose up and you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest as he wiped away the tears welling behind his eyes. Staring down at Lucia’s gravestone, Javi ran his hand through your hair, carefully planting a kiss against your head and burying his nose in the soft waves of your hair. 

“I wish I would have had the chance to have met you, Mrs. Peña. I would have had someone else to commensurate with over all of the crazy teaching stories I’m sure the both of us have. Maria, Estelle and Linda all miss you a lot too, but I’m sure they haven’t changed a bit. Thanks for raising such a good son. I don’t know what I would do without him. I know he says that he doesn’t know what he did to deserve me, but I really think it should be the other way around. I promise I’ll look out for him.” You tried your best to smile through your soft sobs, looking up at Javi, tears streaming down his wet cheeks. It wasn’t long before Chucho had snuck up behind you, patting each of you on the back before smiling down at Lucia, too. 

“Estos dos están tan enamorados, Lucia. Tal vez más que tú y yo. Ella es una buena chica. Estoy muy contenta de que ella sea parte de nuestra familia. Finalmente tendremos a nuestros nietos, también.”  (These two are so in love, Lucia. Maybe even more than you and I. She is a great girl. I am so happy she is a part of our family. We are finally going to get our grandchildren, too). Chucho winked, nudging Javi in the side, forcing him to laugh through his tears, shaking his head at his dad’s comment. “Now, no more tears, you two. This is a happy day. Your mamá is smiling down on you, and I can almost hear here scolding me to keep you from crying anymore. C’mon, let’s decorate and eat, I even brought pozole.” 

The three of you spent the next hour decorating Lucia’s grave with bright orange and gold cempazuchitl (marigold flowers) and little Calaveras (sugar skulls) painted in bold colors and refined details, sharing and laughing about Javi’s favorite memories of his mother while snacking on the Pozole Chucho had brought to share. For the first time in a long time, Javi no longer felt guilt and grief when he thought about his mom- her memory filled him with love and joy. He wasn’t the same bitter, broken man he was when he had said his final goodbyes to his mother all those years ago. While he wished he could change the past, the reality of the present, and his future finally brought him peace, knowing he could be proud of the man he had become, thanks to you. 

As Javi helped Chucho to clean up the extra flowers and decorations he had brought, you couldn’t help yourself from reaching at the wrinkled photo you had shoved in your pocket as you had packed up to leave from the Murphy’s this morning. You carefully took it out, holding it gently in your hands as you tried to uncrinkle the edges. “You ready, Hermosa?” Javi called out, now a few steps ahead of you, making his way back towards the truck. “Hermosa?” He asked again, thinking perhaps you hadn’t heard him the first time. When he was greeted by silence again, he looked back to see you staring at the crumpled photo in your hands. 

“I um- I know that he isn’t buried here, and uh, if you don’t want me to, it’s okay- but um- is it, is it alright if I leave a couple flowers for Patrick?” You sniffed, a tear dropping down on the photo of the two of you, Patrick holding you in a headlock as you laughed with a wide, toothy grin, drowning in one of his old Blackhawks jerseys that you were so excited to wear because it belonged to him. 

“Of course, Osita. Of course it is.” Javi smiled at you softly, turning back around with the tub of leftover decorations, making his way towards you. Quietly, you walked back over to Lucia’s gravestone, carefully setting down the picture of you and Patrick next to it, putting a few marigolds over top of it so it stayed pinned in place from the warm breeze. 

“I miss you, asshole. You deserved so much better. I hope you don’t still think that I hate you. I mean, I do, but you know what I mean. Honestly, you were lucky you didn’t have to live through the Blackhawks losing in the playoffs this year, that fucking sucked. Mom and Dad and Charlie and David all miss you too. I finally went back home to see them. It still wasn’t the same without you there, but I know you don’t hurt anymore. I hope that you don’t hurt anymore. I love you, Patrick. Crack open a cold one up there for me, okay?” Trying your best to not to uncontrollably sob, you sniffled, wiping the tears running down your face as you leaned your head against Javi’s chest. He ran his hand along your back as he held you tighter, letting you take a moment to get everything out before you took a deep breath, nodding your head as if to signify to Javi and yourself that you were okay. 

“You okay, Osita? We can take all the time you need, baby.” Javi whispered, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder. 

“No, I’m okay. I just- I wanted to do something for him, too. Thanks, Javi. I love you.” 

“I know.” 

After several more long hugs goodbye with Chucho, you and Javi began your journey back home, marveling at the beautiful sunset, painting the sky with bright pinks and oranges and the warmth and comfort of Lucia and Patrick’s presence. You were so lost in thought staring out at the fading sky, you hadn’t even noticed that Javi had detoured from your usual route home until he had said something to you. “You okay if we make a quick pit stop on the way home, Osita?” You nodded, smiling at the golden glow covering his face. It wasn’t long until you were veering off the main road, Javi turning to make his way down a tree lined gravel pathway with a “For Sale” sign posted in front of it. 

“For sale?” You questioned, looking over at Javi before peering out your window to watch the trees lining the path pass by you as the gravel crunched under the truck’s tires.

“Yeah, uh- I was talking with Steve at the party yesterday and he- uh, one of his buddies said he was looking to get out of the city- wanted a plot of land to build on. Said he had heard good things about Laredo but didn’t have time to go check things out for himself, so I told him I would go take a look around and let Steve know what I thought.” Javi replied, trying his best to sound nonchalant as you shrugged before looking back out the window. As you reached the end of the path, the trees opened to reveal a beautiful, lush green field, the sun setting perfectly along the rolling hills of the horizon in front of you. Turning off the ignition, Javi gestured for the both of you to get out of the truck so you could go take a look around. 

“Jav… This is beautiful.” You marveld, grinning as you took in the beauty of the open space drenched in golden sunset. 

“You like it?” Javi grinned, laughing as you spun around, the gentle breeze blowing your hair in and out of your face. 

“Oh my God, yeah. Tell Steve’s friend to get on this place ASAP before I scrounge up every penny I have and sell one of my kidneys on the black market to buy it from him. There doesn’t even need to be a house, I’ll just lay in the empty field, perfectly content.” You giggled, letting out a happy sigh as you grabbed Javi’s hand, leaning your head against his arm as you admired the sun slipping away below the horizon. 

“I’ll take that as a yes then. He said he’s wanting to build a house here, do you think- do you think that he would think it’s got enough space? It’s not too far from everything? I know it’s a little farther from downtown and a longer drive to work- if uh, if he works by where we do, you don’t think that’d be a problem? For him?” Javi squeezed back, trying his best not to stumble over his words. 

“Are you kidding me? It’s literally perfect out here, Javi. Could you imagine getting to see this every night? He better put some big windows on this house so he can get all of the sunlight, oh my god, it would be so pretty. It’s not even that far from everything, and the view makes the extra drive time worth every minute. I know it’s probably a far way off, and we haven’t really talked about it, but I would love to live at a place like this someday.” 

Javi smiled to himself, looking down at you as you rested against him, soaking in every ounce of you as he shifted his arm to wrap around your waist, gently rubbing his thumb along the soft hem of your shirt before letting out a content sigh. 

“Yeah. Me too.”

Taglist: @cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @blackfemalenerd

[billthedrake]

This is a collaboration that @josmith1718 and I have been working on together for a while. It's a hypnosis themed story, so be forewarned if that's not your thing.

THE PROTOCOL

By JoSmith and Bill Drake

CHAPTER ONE

I came home from work and was ready to unwind when I realized that dad was not there yet. I found it weird because he was usually back before me. Nevertheless, I went inside and began to change out of my suit and put on some shorts before warming up some food. While I was in the kitchen, dad came in and sighed as he usually did. I felt for him, single dad, divorced with a 27-year-old son living at home couldn’t have been easy on him. I did my part to lighten his stress by providing outlets for him to let loose and not be the hardass foreman he was at work at home.

"Welcome home, Dad. How was your day?" I asked as I took out a plate and served him some of the leftover lasagna I warmed up for myself.

"It was horrible, buddy. I need to relax before I start going bald." He came towards me and hugged me. I hugged him back, feeling his hard body gained from years working construction. When we separated, I smiled at him, and he leaned down and gave me a kiss. We made out a bit before he and I separated, and he went to get a beer from the fridge.

"At least you’re home, right?"

"Yeah, with my favorite guy." He replied. He was hot, literally and, well... literally. We had been going through a heatwave and he had to be on site most of the day. I was indoors but even the short distance I had to walk to my car was unbearable with the full suit and tie getup I had to wear for work. I could only imagine him sweating through his plaid shirt, dripping as the sweat traveled down his meaty pecs, down his hairy body….

I’d loved this man ever since I graduated from undergrad. When he divorced the second time, I asked him to move in with me. Sure, the apartment I had at the time was not a mansion, but we made it work. After some years and promotions, we were able to upgrade to a nice home in the suburbs. Dad continued as a foreman, and I stayed in the corporate world until they brought up the opportunity to get my MBA in a top-shelf B-school that my company partnered with.

"How was your day, buddy?" He asked as he was taking a sip from his beer. I shook my head and smiled, "Good, I got an exam tomorrow, but it's nice to have a night off." I was doing grad school part time. It was a great deal: my company was footing the bill and there was an implicit promise of a promotion after. But the evening classes and the weekends devoted to homework were kicking my butt. Thankfully, I had a great support system in my father.

After warming up the food, I brought it to the table, and he and I ate in silence. Dad was always tired, always stressed, and it was hard for me to look at him like that. He'd always warned me not to go into a manual labor profession, and I'd taken every bit of his dreams for my own future and tried to live up to them, and more. When I graduated the first time, I said that this was our degree, not just mine. This new MBA would be just as much as his as it was mine.

When dinner was over, I got the dishes and Dad began to undress, "I’m taking a shower son. I don’t want to keep the scent of the site on me any longer."

"I don’t mind it, dad..." I smirked at him.

He shook his head and came towards me, "You like your old man smelly?" He whispered in a hushed raspy tone.

"You smell like a man, dad." I responded with confidence as I finished unbuttoning his plaid shirt.

"How did I get so lucky with you, bud?" He replied before we began to make out again. My fingers felt his hard rounded muscle, dusted with his fur. Dad was big all over, beefy and strong, but his chest was the centerpiece of it all - big and round pecs that felt like stone beneath my fingers.

We stopped making out and he got on his knees, "My shower can wait but I think my corporate son needs to relax with a nice blowjob from his old man," Dad was rubbing his hand over my bulge before looking up at me again, "let me service this cock, son."

"Aren’t you tired too?" I asked, but selfishly, yeah, I wanted this as well.

"This helps me relax," he smiled and then fished out the cock from shorts and started to blow me. He was skilled, after several years of blowing me, he had learned what I liked. I never got tired of my construction worker father - my tan, muscled, hairy, beefy, sexy construction worker dad, who was more than willing to get on his knees and suck my cock whenever I needed “relaxing.” In my mind, he justified the blowjobs he expertly gave as doing it for “my son’s pleasure, not mine.” That was a facade, since every time he shot his own load, his mouth was connected to my cock. The old man loved sucking my cock just as much as I liked getting blown.

"Dad, I’m getting close, Dad, fuck, I’m getting—"

I shot and my dad greedily sucked and sucked until every drop was in his mouth and down his throat.

"Good load, buddy,” he grinned as he leaned back, a proud smile on his gruffly handsome mug. “Now, time to take my shower." He kissed my cock and got up to head to the master bathroom.

The sex was great, incredible as always, but I still kept thinking about how stressed Dad had become. That evening, I talked to him about letting me have more of the responsibility of the house and its finances. I told him that I could pitch in more, and I'd tried to get him to talk about finances. Maybe it was putting the cart before the horse, but in my head, I'd be earning a lot more by 30 and ready to ensure dad and I were financially stable enough for him to look for something more relaxed or retire outright.

I was ready to make sure dad was not so stressed all the time.

"Buddy, it’s fine how things are. I’m fine." He said, but then I continued.

"Dad, you’re stressed, and I don’t blame you at all. I have enough money to make sure that we can live comfortably. Especially after this promotion, you could potentially retire."

"I don’t..." he started to object. Then he sat back up and took off the reading glasses he had on to read his iPad, "Son, I’m happy. Being with you, making sure you’re happy, I’m fine. No need to worry about me. I’m your dad, that’s my job."

"And my job as your son is to make sure you are happy too. I’m not happy to see you so stressed." I got closer to him and began to fondle his pecs and nipples, "This, us, I’m happy... but seeing you stress over bills, that does not make me happy."

He took in what I was saying but was stubborn ol’ Dad. "In some ways, I’m old school. I am the father so that means I oversee the finances and everything that has to do with the household. I can’t just let it go…"

"You are in charge of people at work all the time. You have a lot of responsibility; I can take some for you dad. I want to do that for you. Think about it, yeah?"

"You’re so good to me, son." He kissed me before he traveled down my body, ready to give me another blowjob, "You gonna give me something to help me have a good night sleep?" He winked at me. Then I felt my dad's wet lips and soft tongue start working my hardon again. As he slowly sucked and bobbed and then went further down on me, I tried to rack my brain to remember the last day the man hadn't gotten me off at least twice.

I couldn't remember.

I was damn lucky.

***

We didn’t talk about finances anymore and went back to the same routine. Dad was great and loving, but he was also a stubborn man. Maybe I'd inherited his stubborn streak, too.

In the spring I graduated and got my promotion at work officially. I was to get a raise and a new office. It was something I was excited for. I was already doing some of the work of the new position to get used to the new processes, but as soon as my contract was renewed and everything was official, I invited dad to see my new office. He came wearing a plaid shirt and dark jeans.

"Wow, my son, the executive." He was impressed.

"Junior executive," I corrected him. Mind you, my company handed out VP titles like candy, but I was proud and prouder that Dad was proud. I closed the door and lowered the blinds. It was late afternoon, and most people were leaving, but I wanted to show Dad that everything he and I worked for was beginning to pay off.

He turned around and damned if he didn’t tackle me to the wall. He was kissing me, groping me and pawing at my body.

"You look so fucking handsome in your suit and tie, buddy." He whispered as he felt the silk tie he had given me for one of my birthdays.

I bit my lip, "Dad..." My heart was beating fast and the anticipation of what was going to happen was beginning to make me get a hardon in my dress slacks.

"Let me show you how proud I am of you buddy." He whispered and then undid his shirt, button by button, he slowly began to reveal that beautiful hairy body and got on his knees. He undid the zipper of my slacks and fished out my cock, "Executive cock… fucking A, son... you’re making one of my fantasies come true."

Up until now, I thought his career dreams for me were about my financial success in life, but I was starting to get the feeling my father was into professional dudes. The fact I was his flesh and blood made his turn-on that much deeper.

The big man took his time, it was a slow session, edging me as I stayed pressed against the wall. I took off my tie and put it around his neck. We had never done something like this and since it was a first, I gave it a shot. We were pretty vanilla, more so because I could tell dad had hang ups. My old man was momentarily surprised but growled as I slipped the silk tighter around his neck. I tightened the tie and pulled him towards my cock. He got into it, doubling his efforts as I messed up his hair, "Come on, dad, suck your boy’s cock."

He nodded.

"You like that?" I growled. "Your son, the executive, is making you into his personal fleshlight."

That got a deep, heavy moan from the guy. I got rock fucking hard. In all our time together, I never got verbal like this. I never imagined my buddy-buddy blue-collar dad would be remotely into it. This was new territory for both of us. His reaction, the intensity of his blowjob, I couldn’t handle it and blew in his mouth. It felt like an eternity, but he continued to suck until every drop was taken in. When he took my cock from his mouth, some spit got on his chest. I got on my knees and rubbed the saliva all over his hairy pecs and munched on his nipples.

"Buddy..." He cradled my head, applying slight pressure to get me to bite his nipple more.

I bit and pulled; dad groaned but he never told me to stop. He pulled me up and kissed me deeply. I took off my suit jacket and rolled on the floor with him, making out, celebrating this new phase in our life.

We stopped when we heard a knock on the door telling me goodnight. I said good night, my voice hoarse but as soon as I cleared my throat, I said goodnight again and saw dad catching his breath against the wall.

I crawled and stayed next to him until I spoke, "So this was a fantasy of yours?" I asked. My white shirt was wrinkled, my suit jacket discarded on the floor, my pants dirty from the fibers of the carpet. My face flushed from a good rutting. Dad looked at me and responded with a "Yeah," with an uncharacteristic blush.

"What else do you fantasize about, dad?" I asked as he rubbed his palm. He stayed quiet but I began to get an idea when I saw the red tie near him.

"I don't know, Kyle" he began, "You gonna think less of me, son?"

"Course not," I replied. We’d been carrying on our crazy father-son affair for years, and it blew my mind that there was more to discover.

He nodded and ran his fingers along my dress shirt. "When you took control... that was very hot."

I grabbed his hand, caressing it with my fingers as he felt me up. I wasn't going soft and worried I wouldn't soon. "That turned me on, too, Dad. Maybe a little too much."

He gave me a concerned look. "We don't gotta, Kyle."

I patted his hand. "Believe me, Dad. I wanna. Just don't want you to feel less than… y’know," I laughed.

He laughed along. "Well, let's talk about more at home, OK, buddy?"

I straightened up as best as I could. I was still quite disheveled, and dad was too, but we made do with what we had and left the office smelling of sex. I left the door ajar hoping to air out some of the scent. Hopefully the cleaning people would not suspect anything. Office sex may have been risky, but I knew I'd be wanting to do that again. And from the glint in Dad's eye, I suspected he was thinking the same thing.

We picked up some takeout and a six pack on the way home. I always shuddered when we pulled up into our suburban driveway, looking like a normal son who's a temporary roommate with his father to save some money, or biding my time till I met the right girl. On the other hand, we did move to a suburb where no one knew us and could only assume who we were. No one ever asked us, and we never clarified. There was a mystery surrounding us and that made it hotter for me. Inside this home, we were father and son but so much more. Maybe even husbands someday…

After dinner, I brought up finances again. We were doing good month-by-month, but I knew we could refinance the mortgage, invest our spare cash more wisely, and start stocking away extra for our future. Dad still bristled at my bossy tendencies when it came to money. He had the experience of raising a family and being man of the house when I was growing up, but I knew more about personal finance. I just wanted him to not need to burden so much by himself.

Still, he was more open to it this time. Not saying no outright. Asking me questions. Not giving up control, but not being the normal Brian Peterson.

But even as we talked about the dullest, most boring stuff possible, his eyes shifting, looking at me with… lust. In the mood for round two or maybe he was just responding to my own lust for him. Having Dad around, living with him, supercharged my sex drive.

He finished off his beer and shot me a smirk. "Feel like hitting the bed a little earlier tonight, buddy?" he asked.

I think the office sex had amped up his libido. Me, I was just horny. "Yah," I said.

We both got up from the table and it was unmistakable, both Peterson men were horned up. My cock strained my shorts and dad had opted to go pantless, only wearing boxer briefs and an old college t-shirt of mine. Every time this man wore my clothes, it made me feel closer to him.

Something was different that night. As we headed to our room, not saying anything, there was a feeling that something had shifted. The atmosphere was supercharged, I felt warm and giddy. Dad kept looking at me and smirking that goddamn sexy smirk. Once in the room, we planted ourselves to opposite sides of the bed and did a slow strip tease for one another.

Dad had refused to go into detail about his and Mom's relationship ("too close to home, buddy"), but I gathered his second wife didn't like how much of a sex drive Dad had. She was fucking crazy, I thought, as I watched him peel off my shirt that was snug on his frame and slowly lower his underwear.

"Fuck, you have a beautiful cock, son," he hissed as I finally slipped out of my briefs. I had inherited dad's length, but had some extra girth. A lot of extra girth, to be truthful. I'm not sure where it came from, but my father seemed to enjoy it.

He kicked off his underwear and joined me naked on the bed a few seconds after I'd climbed onto the mattress. Our bodies connected and we kissed, making our way to a fully reclined position to make out. It was electric. There was never a moment in all this time we were together where the kiss lacked chemistry or passion. This man had the most talented mouth on a construction worker. His kisses were everything you read about in the hottest erotica or saw in movies.

In the midst of the make out session, I ended on top of him. My body on his, his hands on my back pulling me closer to him. His groans of pleasure as I placed my weight on him. I don't know if I took the initiative to roll on top of him, or Dad pulled me into that position. Nevertheless, my mind wandered to what he was thinking. I thought maybe he'd ask me to fuck his face. I had to go easy with that but occasionally he was in the mood for that. That was as far as ‘kinky’ our sex would get.

"You wanna fuck me, Kyle?" Dad asked. Paternal, friendly, and vulnerable all at once. I looked at him and if he wanted to know, my twitching cock on his was answer enough.

We'd tried that a couple of times. Dad at first swore that wasn't for him. Neither of my attempts was successful, it just hurt too much attempting to breach the tightness of his cherry. I didn't harp on it, or press it, but Dad knew the idea turned me on. "Yeah?" I asked, surprised.

"Go slow, OK?" He urged.

"God, yeah," I grunted. I kissed him deeply then started kissing along his neck and upper body, gradually working my way down.

Dad realized I was going to try to rim him. His hand reached out to stop me. "Don't think I'm up for that buddy. Sorry," he said.

I looked into his eyes. Those loving fatherly eyes. The man treated me right every night, and I wanted to make sure he was into every bit of this. "Sure thing, Dad," I replied. I reached for the lube I used on the rare occasions I had to stroke off on my own. Like I say, it had been a while.

I guess the stuff doesn't go bad, I thought, as I undid the cap and squirted some on my fingers. Then more.

My fingering was slow, real slow. Dad hissed some but seemed OK with it. I even got two fingers in and out easy as anything and had my father's hole stretched around a third. It was time.

I lubed up and scooted in place. Dad complied by pulling his legs back and wide, showing off his mature, furry hole that was like a hit of poppers to me. Or coke. Or heroin, or something. I just knew my dick was rock hard seeing that unviolated dad pucker and my thick dick lining up for it.

I went as gently as I could, nudging, teasing that ring before applying some real pressure.

"Oh fuck, slow!" Dad gasped. His hand reached out to touch my chest, stopping me, and his eyes looked up in a plea. I bit my lip and took a deep breath and backed off a bit.

I nodded and realized I'd have to take it slower. I leaned in and made out with him, trying to get his mind off the pain. That seemed to relax the big guy. His beefy body relaxed on the bed beneath me. I tried not to break the kiss as I tried again. Even slower.

Fuck, it didn't work. Dad let out a yelp like I'd stabbed him. "God, that fucking hurts," he cried as he broke our kiss. No more pleading in his eyes, just a lot of pain and frustration.

I rolled off him. My hardon was gone, replaced by my concern for him.

"Sorry, Kyle," he said, softly, contritely. "I know you wanted it, bad."

I sighed. "Come on, Dad. You gotta want it, too. If I wanted to fuck something not invested in it, I’d buy a blow up doll."

He turned and faced me, a hangdog look on his gruff face. "That's the thing, son. I do want it. I want to make you happy, give you that pleasure. It's just... my body doesn't seem to cooperate." He looked down at my softened dick. "I guess I kind of killed the mood, huh?"

"You didn't kill anything, Dad," I said, pulling him into a soft kiss. It was a romantic, reassuring kiss, but pretty soon we got each other worked up again. Before I knew it, I was rock hard. And Dad's fist circling around it felt amazing with the lube job I'd given myself.

"Damn," I hissed, pulling back and looking down to where Dad was giving me a hand job. We'd never done this and while it would probably never be my preferred sex act, it felt amazing just then.

"You like that buddy?" Dad growled playfully, his breath on my ear, his tongue flicking at the earlobe as his fist continued working my tool. "Fuck... I love taking care of my boy." He admitted aloud.

I turned to look at him and he held his gaze on me. I loved this man and even more because he wanted to give me his all. "You’ll take care of me, right dad?" I asked, gulping at my question. Involuntarily I thrust some into his greased fist.

"Let your old man take care of you son. That’s my job, to make sure you’re satisfied." Dad pumped me some more, looking down at my meat before looking back up at me. "Earlier, bud... when you were on top of me.... I was so fucking proud of my hot executive son.... ready to take charge."

"Oh shit," I gulped. I didn't feel like I was taking charge then. Dad was playing me like a fiddle, just like he was playing with my cock.

His lips formed a sexy leer. "You like that, huh, son? Being in charge?"

"Hell yes," I replied, gaining my voice and admitting the fantasy that had been latent. Dad was tapping into it big time that day. "I don't mean any disrespect to you, sir," I said. I hadn't called him Sir since I was like 16. But the emotions were pouring out. "But that idea.... of being man of the house... oh fuck!"

My cum was shooting. I knew I was on the edge but that orgasm hit hard and fast, by surprise.

"Shoot it, buddy!" Dad encouraged, milking me harder. "My hot fucking stud."

I felt like I had left my body how hard this orgasm had been, feeling a sudden lassitude hit me with the post-coital endorphins. My body jerked as I felt Dad kiss my belly and lick up my jets of semen. Then I felt his mouth encircle my prick, unconcerned about the lube there. Sucking me all the way down. I had a reflexive reaction to the overstimulation and almost pushed Dad off.

But the second I touched his shoulder; I had second thoughts. I knew the sensitivity would go away and that I'd enjoy another BJ. I circled my dad's delt muscle and held him to work him up and down my bone.

***

It was the weekend before Dad brought up the idea.

"Kyle... you got a minute?" he asked as I came in from mowing the lawn. We split the household duties, but given that dad worked hard in the hot sun day in and day out, I tried to tackle the major yard work.

"Yeah, Dad... what's up?"

He got me a cold soda from the fridge and pulled up a chair to our kitchen island where we had a lot of our meals. Dad had a barely concealed look of excitement on his face as he started in.

"So I've been thinking... I guess I have a lot of hang ups when it comes to sex...."

I laughed. "Dad, you're the last guy I'd say has any hang ups." I mean, the guy had blown me in the shower that morning. And then asked if I wanted seconds. "Seriously, you're incredible."

He grinned, pleased at the compliment. But he continued. "I do though. The other night, I really wanted to bottom for you. But I just have a hard time giving up control."

I grimaced. "Dad we don't gotta. If it's not fun for both of us, I don't wanna do it."

Dad was anticipating that answer. "Tell me the truth, Kyle. Would you enjoy fucking me, right?"

I didn't have to ponder the answer. "I would," I admitted. "That doesn't mean..." I started.

Dad interrupted. "Buddy, of course we don't gotta.. But I think I found a solution." He picked up his iPad and clicked on the screen then pushed it my way.

There was a webpage with big bold lettering. "HYPNOTHERAPY..., a way to take back control of your life by using our services. You too can overcome challenges and learned behaviors stopping you from being the best you."

Dad watched excitedly as I read it. "I found them through an online forum…" I raised my eyebrow and he blushed, "I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, buddy… I want to be able to give you my all and found a forum with guys with similar issues as mine, unable to bottom for their partner and well… A lot of services don't let you use it for sex therapy, but several guys had good experience with this company. Said it was worth every penny."

"You want me to undergo hypnosis?" I asked slowly. I loved my dad but sometimes he could have wacky ideas.

He chuckled and shook his head, "No buddy, I want you to hypnotize me. You know, kind of get me past my mental roadblocks."

God, he was serious. I felt a flush of heat. There was something powerfully hot about the idea, but it also felt wrong. "Dad, I don’t know that it works like that."

"Won't you even fucking give it a try?" I'd never seen Dad upset at me like this, at least not in a while. "Listen... I called them and they assured me that they could do virtual training if need be." He was giving me that hangdog look of his that was hard to say no to. "It'd be an hour consultation with me and then a three-hour mini course for you. I figure after all those econ classes you'd be a quick study," he smirked.

"I'll think about it," I said.

That seemed to cheer him up and he stood up and came over and patted my shoulder. "Love ya so much, buddy," he said. "I just want to find a way to make you happy."

"You do, Dad," I replied then felt his strong muscle get closer behind me and his hand travel down my sweaty T-shirt, feeling up my chest muscle. I thought Dad had drained me pretty good earlier but I was boning up, fast. "Dad... when was the last time you edged me?"

I heard his soft chuckle. "Beats me, buddy... beach vacation last year?" He patted my pec muscle and gave my head a soft kiss. "Why don't you go shower up? I'll put on a Sox game and we'll see if I can get you to hold off blasting till the eighth inning, OK?"

I laughed and turned around to meet his kiss.

***

The next day Dad went into my home office, shut the door and did his one-on-one consultation. I spent the afternoon online with a mild-mannered guy. Handsome dude in his early 30s, he had that tech-bro attire on, but he had a way of making me feel at ease with him. He asked me about myself and my goals in life. We hadn't told the company we were father and son of course, but I talked in general terms about my relationship with Dad.

"Would you say he was a father figure for you? In your relationship..." His tone wasn't judgmental.

"Definitely," I said, and he nodded, writing some stuff down.

Then it was twenty questions about our sex life. I hesitated at first but decided to be honest and do this, for Dad.

That was the first hour. The next hour was the man describing the process - the Protocol as he called it. Dad would be asked to listen regularly to a recording, a mix of repeated words and white noise. I was given the trigger words and told how and when to use them. Beyond that there was a general script, but Tech Bro told me I’d have to use and adapt it, almost improvise. It was a method more than anything.

“It’s easier than it sounds, Kyle,” he explained. “You’re in finance right? Think of it as a flow chart or business strategy plan. You respond to Brian’s psyche.”

The man warned me about what not to do, but also allayed my concerns. "Kyle, Brian is doing this because he wants to. You can't make him do what he doesn't want to, deep down. Just remember that."

"Yeah," I said, trying to convince myself. Part of me was convinced this was all a sham and it wouldn't work. And part of me was afraid it would work all too well.

"I believe you're going to enjoy this, too," he finally said. I kind of zoned out a little, because the next thing I remember was the Tech Bro's voice. "You feeling relaxed?"

"Yeah, I am," I replied.

"Good," he said. I've sent you the link to a recorded video that will walk you through the hypnosis you're going to perform on Brian. Watch a few times before you actually do it."

With that, he signed off.

***

I gave it a week. Each night, Dad would come home, tired from work. We'd have dinner, he'd blow me and the hour before bed, he'd listen to the recording, headphones on as he lay on the couch, eyes closed. I took the time to review the instructional video.

On Friday, I got an email from the company. "Watch this and you'll be ready."

I found myself surprisingly thrilled to click the link. It was a video conference recording, only with my dad in center frame. The familiar bookshelves and posters from my home office were in the background, and I realized it was from Dad's initial consultation. Only the video started halfway in, after the preliminaries.

The man's voice was a different man’s, deeper and more seductive and monotone. "That's it, Brian... let those eyelids get heavier and heavier.... don't need to fight it. Just let it feel good."

Dad nodded and as the voice droned on in its hypnosis chant, I saw him finally relax. At first nothing seemed to be happening but then I saw dad's shoulders lean in and then his head slumped forward.

The voice became more assertive, "Good, Brian. How do you feel?"

"Relaxed..." Dad said in a monotone voice.

"That’s good to hear. Every time you hear the phrase ‘power down’ you will revert to this state, is that clear?"

"Yes..."

I was so fucking hard watching his. Particularly because I realized Dad had given up control for my sake.

"Now, let’s begin…"

I listened to how the man guided dad and how he brought him back. I was jotting down notes. When dad came back to, it was as though he was waking up from a deep sleep.

"How do you feel?"

"Relaxed, as though I just went on vacation. Thank you." Normal Dad voice, groggy from having ‘woken up.’ It was wild seeing that happen. I don’t think my father was just playing along. We were paying good money for this and if it was not working, Dad would say so.

Then the video stopped.

I was horny all afternoon. Dad sensed something was off when I got home. Friday is normally our unofficial dad-son date night. And when Dad came into the living room, he saw I was sitting nervously.

"Something wrong, Kyle?" he asked, unbuttoning his plaid work shirt. It was unusual for Dad to call me by my name unless he was mad, worried or we were at a work event, though those were rare before my promotion.

"Just a tough day at work," I lied. I forced a smile. "Why don't you get dressed and we'll go out and grab a bite."

That seemed to relax Dad as he smiled before turning to go to the room and get ready. He was looking great when he walked back to the living room wearing a clean polo shirt that hugged his beefy body and some jeans.

"Ready son? I'm starving."

I perked up over dinner but when we got home, I patted Dad's meaty shoulder once we walked into the living room. "Power down," I said, my body shaking with the nerves of what I was doing.

I honestly didn't expect this to work as easily as it did, but at hearing his trigger, Dad’s face went slack, his hands dropped to his sides and his eyes became glazed. I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"How do you feel?" I asked. Dad acknowledged the question but did not look at me nor register who I was.

Instead, he answered while concentrating at a point in the distance. "Relaxed and calm..."

I tried to remember the protocol. I was glad I'd watched the instructions multiple times since the words came to me readily; "Good... you know that every time you are in this state, you feel relaxed and calm, correct?"

"Yes... relaxed and calm." God, his voice was so sexy, deep and soft like this.

"Kyle put you in this place because he loves you very much. Repeat after me, ‘Kyle loves me.’"

"Kyle loves me."

"Again."

"Kyle loves me."

"Good. Kyle knows you have a hard time showing him you love him." I had to give the company credit; they'd come up with a hypnosis protocol specifically tailored to our needs.

"I do," Dad's reply came. "I love my boy so much."

My heart pounded. Dad was looking in my direction but not focusing on me as he spoke. He was open to everything I would be saying to him while in this state and he would answer my questions truthfully and with no hesitations.

"How do you want to show him your love, Brian?" It gave me a thrill to call my old man by his first name.

"I want Kyle to fuck me," Dad said simply, "I know that would make him happy."

Pretty much, things had gone to script so far, but the protocol was more about a set of prompts and ways to deal with the truth of the response.

"Will you do that for him?" I asked, a horny knot in my throat. "Will you make your son happy?"

Dad nodded. "I want to, but I couldn't… I can’t."

"Why is that Brian, why can’t you give your son this one thing?"

"Because I'm a man. Men don't get fucked."

Jesus. The man had some issues I wasn't prepared for. But it made sense my butch, blue-collar dad would have some issues about bottoming. I stepped up and touched his face. He didn't flinch and didn't lean into the caress, but he smiled dreamily.

"Kyle is a man, right?" I asked. I was ad adlibbing some, but this was basically following the protocol. Leaning into the resistance.

Dad nodded, "He is. My son is the sexiest man I know."

I was getting rock hard now. I walked backwards as I began to take off my clothes. I rubbed my cock to feed the pleasure and continued.

"You think your son is a sexy man and you love your boy very much… Do you think Kyle should be the one getting fucked instead?" I asked. This wasn't scripted but was part of the jiu jitsu move of taking the man's hangups and using them against him.

Dad's brow creased for a second then the calm returned. "No. Kyle does the fucking."

I was dripping now. I let go of my prick and stepped a little closer. I could smell the Irish Spring or whatever fucking soap he uses at the end of a hard day. "I want you to remember that, Brian," I said. "I want you to remember that Kyle does the fucking."

A part of me felt low for trying to get Dad to put out for me like this. But I remembered what the Tech Bro had said about Dad only doing what he'd want to do deep down.

My father's tranced response was automatic. "Kyle does the fucking."

I nodded. "I want you to think about that. A few times a day at least. Think about your sexy stud of a son. The executive, fucking you, seeing the love you have for him. Show your boy that you love him by giving him what he wants. And when you do, it will give you a sense of happiness and pleasure."

"Happiness and pleasure," he repeated.

"And when you feel him on top of you, his weight on top of you, you will feel safe and content."

"Safe and content."

I wasn't 100 perfectly sure if I was doing this right. Dad was zone out to be sure, but I worried he was just repeating whatever the fuck I said. So, I asked, "Why is that?"

Dad's answer had surprising clarity, as it was his normal voice speaking to me. "Because my son is a man. And men fuck, men don't get fucked."

Maybe it would take me a while to deprogram that nonsense from him, but a shallow side of me was getting turned on by the way Dad talked in such primitive, black-and-white terms about fucking.

"Good," I instructed. "Now..." It was time to return to the Protocol. "I want you to envision an empty room. An empty white room. Totally white. Blindingly white..."

"Yes..."

I moved back away from him, a few paces away.

"Good. I want you to concentrate on my voice. As I begin to count to five, you will be walking towards a door. Kyle will be there, walking with you, making sure you are taken care of."

Dad took a breath and nodded, his big chest rising and falling.

"You do not need to do this alone," I continued. "Kyle will be with you every step of the way. I’m going to count to five and once I get there, I want you see the door. When we get to the door, I’ll tell you what will happen next." Dad didn’t respond but nodded as he began to concentrate on what I was saying.

"One... you are walking forward..." Dad began to walk towards me, "two... you are reaching out to hold Kyle’s hands, he alone brings you comfort and relaxation..." Dad reached towards me and soon as my hands touched his, he held on to them with a firm grip... "three, we are walking to the door I mentioned. It’s getting closer... four, we are almost to the door... Five, we are here..."

"I can see it," Dad said softly. It's bright but I can see it." His voice was deep but excited.

"Open the door. What do you see?" I asked. The Protocol was about the implantation of a suggestion and the reinforcement of that before the session was over.

"Our bedroom," Dad replied. Again, his voice had a strange clarity. "I'm on it, on my back... and Kyle is fucking me."

I almost came then, but luckily my hand was nowhere near my cock.

"How does that make you feel, getting fucked by your sexy son?" I asked.

"I am relaxed and content… And happy. Kyle is making me happy."

"The same way you feel when you are sucking your son’s cock, worshiping it, making it shoot for you… that’s how it’ll feel when you let yourself get fucked by him… you’ll feel pleasure beyond what you could imagine."

"When he fucks me..." his voice was getting that soft drone like quality again.

One big no they told me was not to have Dad under hypnosis for too long. Especially for the first sessions. It was time to bring him back.

"Good, Brian. Close the door." I saw Dad do the motion of closing the imaginary door hesitantly, he wanted what he saw but until now, that was more of a dream than a reality.

"Think of that moment, Brian. Think how happy you were, how happy you made your son. All that matters now is that you show your love for your son. He deserves it as much as you do, to feel the pleasure only you two can give each other. Understood?"

Dad nodded. I wanted to kiss him, hug him, but I needed to bring him out, "Now, at the count of three, you will follow all my suggestions while you were under. Deep in your mind, you know that Kyle does the fucking and that to show him you love him, you have to let go and give him what he wants… what does he want?"

"To fuck me… fuck his dad…" Dad responded, biting his lip and his cock beginning to get hard.

"Yes, fucking you will give him happiness and bring you pleasure. That’s all you want, as a dad right? Bring happiness to your son?"

"Yes, I want my son to be happy…"

"And your boy wants to give you pleasure."

"Give me pleasure… my boy…"

"Yes. I’m going to count to three and you’ll wake up, not realizing you were under but following all instructions. You will not question why your son is naked and you’re not. Okay, let’s start… One.... you can feel your toes... Two.... your muscles can flex again.... Your breath getting back to normal... Three."

Dad's eyes flicked open with a suddenness that startled me.

"Fuck!" I gasped.

Dad shook out his muscles a little as he refocused on me. I saw him break into a huge smile. "Damn, buddy... looks like you couldn't wait to get me to bed, huh?" He stepped up to me and latched on to my naked muscle as he claimed a quick kiss then crouched down in front of me. Oblivious to the hypnosis he'd just undergone.

I was so primed and hard I had to pull Dad off my prick a couple of times when I was in danger of blowing too soon. And when I finally came, Dad coughed on the load, it was so heavy.

After he swallowed my load, we showered and he kept touchy feely with me, rubbing my shoulders, slapping my ass, and when we went to the living room to watch T.V., he grabbed my feet and rubbed them as he watched the highlights.

Once we went to the room, he asked if he could play with my cock again. I told him I didn’t think I had anything in me, "Come on buddy, one more go before I hit the hay."

I nodded and like a little boy on Christmas morning, he licked his lips and went down to play with his favorite toy. He sucked for almost an hour with breaks in between and when I finally shot, it was not much, but Dad happily drank it down, nevertheless.

[sanyu-thewitch05]

I got this Yandere imagine that's based on The Heathers from the Heathers musical:

Honestly never told anyone about this before but this fandom does need more appreciation

So we got Darling who's meek and shy,but she's smart and overall a good student, though she can't say she hates the jocks,she would rather not associate with them. Until the main Jocks trio in the school took notice of her,specifically their leader,Hunter

Let's say Hunter is a dominant man,he just suddenly show up more in front of her after she helped him with a school project

Sure he thinks nerds are boring but Darling is an exception,like she's a introverted,unsociable girl but she takes no shit from others

Hunter thinks Darling is very cute and she needed a makeover~

After the makeover, Darling did like her new look,it got some guys to catcall her which is annoying but it wasn't that bad. She still didn't like the jocks much,she only hanged out with Hunter afterwards bcuz of the favour

However,Hunter started to get more touchy, putting his arm on her shoulder or her waist,she even heard the rumors of her being his girlfriend. She decided to avoid Hunter so as not to take it any further

Hunter didn't like it at all, why is she walking to another guy and talk to him when she should've gotten to him like the good girl she is?!!! She shouldn't talk to some stupid unimportant guys!!!

Hunter is rich and famous,his family owns a big company and he's the future CEO. As his future wife,she should get close to him instead of other guys

He couldn't bare the obvious intentional ignorance towards him so one day he just dragged her into a classroom and snapped at her

He said how she belongs to him and she shouldn't even think of leaving him,she won't escape even when they graduate and go to college, because he will attend as the same college as hers. Things got sexually heated there, I'll leave that part to you

Let's just say afterwards,Darling has to be the obedient girlfriend to Hunter. He even force her to sit on his laps right in the school cafeteria to show up his good little honey and no guys should lay hands on her cuz she's his

Sorry, this took so long to answer. I’m out of school for Labor Day weekend.

All characters in my works are 18+

TW: Noncon, stalking, dubcon, catcalling, sexual harassment

Oh God, not again. Here they come.

It was only the third month of school, and everything was going great so far. You were getting A's and even joined the local majorette team. That's when everything went downhill. For some reason, Heath and Henry were at the town's Halloween festival. The best friends of Hunter McClaire. The best football player in school. They were also the best quarterbacks in school. You were on the angel side of the team, and your white uniform glittered in the moonlight. Not only that, but the white boots helped add to your dance routine. You were squatting down, preparing to do a death drop, and then you saw Heath and Henry. Their smiles made you sick. You continued the routine as usual and quickly walked away once finished. You tried to avoid them, but they stopped you as you walked home.

"Hey, Angel! Where are you going?" Heath catcalled, following close behind you.

"Home," You hissed, walking faster.

"Oh, don't be like that. We enjoyed the performance. I wish you showed more of that ass around the school. I honestly didn't think you had any good qualities besides your brain," Henry commented, making you growl.

"Listen, jackass! Leave me alone before I rip your nutsacks out!" You yelled, finally facing them.

"Ok! Ok! Ok! We'll leave you, nerd girl," Heath says, stopping at the sidewalk to watch you walk away.

They focused on your butt and smirked.

"God, I wish I could tap that ass," Henry murmured, hiding his boner. 

It only got worse when you went to school after that. Hunter was there asking for your help on a history project. 

"Look, if this is something Heath and Henry told you, please don't tell anyone. I just want to stay out of the spotlight and graduate," You said, trying to walk away from Hunter.

"Uh, they haven't told me anything like that. Anyway, I came to ask for help on my 20th-century history project. I got assigned the topic of fashion, and Henry and Heath said you might be able to help," Hunter said, sitting next to you.

"Fine, I'll help you," You begrudgingly agreed, tying your hair up.

For two nights, the two of you worked on Hunter's project. When he turned it in, he got an A+ and even brought his grade in history class a couple of points. As a thank you, Hunter gave you a makeover. You thought you looked fine, but you'll accept the spa treatment and new clothes any day. Wearing the jeans that hugged your ass and the lace corset top to school earned you unwanted remarks from other students. But it wasn't that bad. 

You went about your school day and made friends with Hunter. Surprisingly, Hunter and you got along pretty well. You didn't like Hunter's friends. But you didn't hate them either. After a week, Hunter started to get more touchy. His hands roamed your back, his arm always around your shoulder. It even got to the point where rumors were swirling around that you were dating. You couldn't deal with it anymore, so you decided to avoid Hunter for a while, which is how you got into this current predicament.

"Hey," Hunter greets, sitting next to you at lunch. 

You ignore him and continue eating your food. 

"Why are you ignoring me? What did I do?" Hunter says, his arm around your waist. "Is it because you didn't like the panties I set you? They seemed like your style."

You didn't say anything, but Henry puts a hand on your thigh to make you pay attention to Hunter. His thigh moves towards your crotch, and you pack up your stuff. You get up, throw your tray away, and leave for your next class. You did the same routine of avoiding Hunter and his friends for the next two weeks. 

"Charles, are you ready for the next book club?" You ask your tall, freckle-faced, white, black-haired friend. 

"You bet! I'm so glad you joined! Are you sure you can handle it while being on the majorette team?" Charles asks, closing his locker. 

"I'll be fine. Besides, my practice starts at 6 pm. Book club should be over by then," You respond, smiling at Charles.

"Cool! I'll see you later!" Charles exclaims, hugging you.

You reciprocate the hug and wave goodbye to Charles. Unbeknownst to you, a furious Hunter is watching you.

"Damn, dude! You're practically breaking the wall," Henry laughs, looking at his friend.

"Why is she even talking to him?! Sure, she's a nerd, but she's not fucking boring like the rest of them! Not only that, but it's Charles! The dude who can't even throw a dodgeball straight! Why talk to him of all people!" Hunter rants, punching the wall and glaring at you.

"You need to do something, Hunter. Soon enough, she'll be spending all her time with him and none with you," Heath comments, looking at your smile.

"You're right. I'll show her I'm the right choice. She'll have no choice but to see it," Hunter replies, secretly following after you.

You walk by an empty classroom and get pushed inside. You fall to the floor and hear the door lock.

"Don't even try to scream for help. Heath and Henry gave me the keys and are currently erasing the security footage," Hunter says, twirling the keys around his index fingers.

"Hunter, what the hell?" You yell, rubbing your butt and standing up.

Hunter picks you up and places you on top of a desk. He strokes your cheek and puts a strand of hair behind your ear. Hunter suddenly roughly kisses you and holds your body still. You try to get away, but Hunter is too strong. He grabs your hair and forces you to bend over onto the desk.

"Hunter, what are you doing?" You scream, squirming in his hold.

"You need to understand. You're mine!" Hunter growls, fiercely spanking your ass. "Always mine! You! Belong! To! Me"

"Oh! Ouch! Aw!" You groan between each spanking. 

Hunter suddenly flips you over and lets go of your hair. 

"Strip. Now," Hunter commands, pulling out his dick.

"I-"

"NOW!"

You whimper and slowly strip your clothes. 

"Now then, you'll strip a piece of clothing for every sentence I say. You're lucky I'm taking it easy on you and speaking slowly. Got that?"

You nod your head, but this only irritates Hunter more.

"I need verbal confirmation," Hunter barks, grabbing a ruler and slamming it on the teacher's desk.

"Yes, Hunter!" You squeal, trying not to collapse to the floor.

"Good."

Hunter pulls up a chair and sits in while stroking his cock.

"Now, let's begin. You are my girlfriend, and you belong to me.”

You take off your shirt.

"Don't even think of leaving me because we'll always be together! Even during college when we go to the best Ivy League school! And don't even try to apply to some small liberal arts school because we both know we can do better!"

You quickly take off your bra and shorts.

"I'm rich. I'll inherit my father's company and become CEO. I'll take care of you as my future wife," Hunter finishes, watching you strip your panties, socks, and shoes. "Come closer. I need to teach you how to serve me."

You walk to him, and he pushes you down to his crotch.

"You know what to do," Hunter says, rubbing your head softly.

You put his cock into your mouth, intimately licking the body part. Hunter shivers, and soon, you're both high on pleasure. 

"Oh, yes~ Suck it more! Earn hubby's cum!" Hunter moans, pushing your head up and down on his dick.

You kiss the base of his cock, and he spills his seed all over you. Some of it ends up on your face, and most of it ends up in your mouth. You stand up and try to leave, but Hunter grabs your hand.

"I thought you only wanted me to suck you off?" You question forcibly straddling Hunter.

"If I only wanted a blow job, I would only want your shirt off. I want more," Hunter says, pulling his pants down. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

Hunter kisses your cheek and puts a condom on. You hold onto him for support. He sticks his dick into you and moans, throwing his head back.

"Oh, baby!" Hunter moans, making a slow but steady thrust pattern.

Your breath hitches as pleasure flows through your body. Hunter kisses your lips, and you start to melt into each other.

"Faster!" You moan, barely holding onto Hunter.

Hunter immediately follows your plea and starts thrusting faster. You both moan like crazy and eventually, you yell that your climax is coming.

"I'm cumming too!" Hunter yells, rapidly thrusting into you a couple more times. "Hah!"

Hunter cums into you, and you shiver. You relax onto Hunter's chest and let him rub your back.

"So, can I still go to book club?" You ask, looking into Hunter's green eyes.

"Nope. You're staying with me for a while," Hunter replies, smacking your ass in response to your question.

~~~~~~~~

"Yo! Dude, how's the relationship with your darling?" Henry asks, high-fiving Hunter as he sits next to him during lunch. 

"Pretty good. I taught her a lesson, and now we're the perfect couple," Hunter replies, sitting you on his lap. "Charles won't even go near her."

"Hunter, please," You say, feeling his boner.

"Oh, sorry, darling. You're going have to deal with this dick for a long time," Hunter replies, kissing your cheeks. "Keep complaining, and I'll have to make sure you'll know to appreciate it."

You are stuck with him. Forever, and ever, until the day you die.  

[thephooka]

Happy Webcomic Day! My webcomic White Noise is a labor of love--according to Procreate, this page took me 15.5 hours to complete.* Here's a look into that process!

Some other notes:

The thumbnails are done on graph paper and I script while I do them--there is no separate written script for White Noise. I usually spent a couple hours on weekends as needed thumbnailing, sometimes at a coffee shop or at home listening to records.

I then set up the file in Photoshop, so I can lay in the text and use the template I have with bleeds already set up. The text is rasterized and I shuttle the file over to my iPad via Airdrop.

The bulk of the actual work is done in Procreate, which records timelapses that I sometimes share to my Patreon. I usually spend a couple hours most nights after my day job or on the bus commuting doing this.

Once everything art-wise is done, I shuttle the file back over to my desktop to re-set in the text, add a stroke around the speech bubbles (Procreate doesn't have that took fsr) and do the resizing/exporting for web.

On Sunday mornings I get up, queue the page and write the page descriptions. I don't spend any time on the page descriptions outside of that.

Also, this process goes for the whole first arc of White Noise. I'm done with that arc (which means you can binge the whole thing I'm js!!) and am experimenting with some different methods these days, but my workflow is still generally the same.

*Some more talk about the labor (and burnout) involved below the cut:

This particular page (and most of the pages I did in 2023) took a lot longer than normal because I was heading into a burnout period that I'm still lowkey in/recovering from. It's obvious to me now in retrospect watching the timelapse here and seeing how much noodling I'm doing and how much I'm struggling with the process, but at the time I was just very frustrated generally. When I'm not burned tf out pages take maybe 10 hours max.

2023 was a pretty stressful year--lots of big life changes, uncertainty, pet death, health issues--so it's no wonder it propelled me into burnout, but it just goes to show that even the slowest and steadiest pace is not sustainable forever. I've been doing one page a week following this general process for over a decade! And I stuck to that pace because I knew it was one I could maintain. But even so, by the end of this arc I found myself working more and more slowly, not really looking forward to the work, feeling anxious about being behind, unhappy with the finished work, and extremely annoyed with myself for not being able to give it my all right there at the finish line.

I did stop for a while after the epilogue and took a more or less complete break from drawing for about a month--the longest I have EVER gone without drawing, much less working on White Noise--which did help, but these days my ability to work is...inconsistent. I should probably take another total break, but I'm reluctant. What if my passion never comes back? What if people forget about WN? It's already pretty obscure, and with the general social media collapse, it's harder than ever to get people to read my work. Now that I've left Hiveworks, WN doesn't even get the benefit of being linked to other comics (although objectively very, very few readers actually got referred to my comic that way.) And frankly, I'm also just too proud to go too long without comic updates. I've always told myself, I might not be the best artist or the fastest worker or make a popular comic, but I'm consistent. Difficult to let that go.

This is all to say that webcomics are hard. We do them because we love them, we have stories to tell, we are seized with the human compulsion to create. We spend hours of our time, almost always on top of the paying work that allows us to eat, to make something that we then give away for free. It has consequences on us that the reader doesn't often see, no matter how careful we are about it. If you ask me, webcomics deserve to be valued more.

Happy Webcomic Day! Read webcomics!

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 15A: Dreams

Wilmington, North Carolina

Labor Day Weekend, 1988

I'm hung up on dreams I'll never see Help me baby, or this will surely be the end of me…

 - Dreams, The Allman Brothers Band (1969) [click here to listen]

“I’ll be upstairs in just a few minutes. Did you finish your reading?”

Ten-year-old William MacKenzie shook his head. “I was going to, but that’s when Daddy arrived with Jamie and Claire – I mean, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser. And then it was time for dinner, and then - ”

Gillian Duncan MacKenzie bent to kiss her son’s forehead. “All right then. Why don’t you get yourself all caught up?”

William’s eyes darted over to Claire, seated across from his mother at the kitchen table, sipping sweet tea.

“Jamie and I will be here all weekend,” she smiled. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk with him about music tomorrow.”

His face brightened. “OK! See you in the morning!”

Claire couldn’t help but smile as William darted out of the room, footsteps quickly thudding on the stairs.

Gillian turned to face her guest. “He’s so excited. It’s not every day that a bona fide rock star is here in sleepy Wilmington.”

“Thank you for asking him to not tell his friends at school. I’m used to the attention now – ”

Gillian raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Are you?”

Claire shrugged. “Well – no. I don’t know if I ever will be. But one thing that won’t change is how much we value our privacy. So – thank you.”

“Of course, Claire. Privacy and discretion are what I do professionally – how could I not extend the same courtesy to you, when you’re a guest in my home?”

“Still. Thank you.”

A beat. Claire sipped the sweet tea Gillian had made – the same recipe she’d grown to love, those months at The Ridge. Gillian gently pulled Claire’s left hand across the table, studying her rings.

“You said this was his grandmother’s engagement ring?”

Claire nodded. “He inherited it when she died. His sister Jenny kept it for him, until he asked her for it. Called her the day he got home from The Ridge, and went to see her the next day. He gave it to me a few weeks later.”

“A man who knows what he wants.”

Claire smiled. “And I’m a woman who knows what she wants.”

Gillian returned the smile, then focused on the wide band next to the engagement ring.

“I love how solid and simple your ring is. Silver?”

“Platinum. His is the same. Wide enough for an inscription on the inside.”

“I do,” she had whispered. Smiling through the tears. Thinking he looked just a bit ridiculous in his suit. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Love” across his knuckle.

“I do,” he had whispered. Eyes burning, full of awe. Agape at the simple gray dress she had chosen, his mother’s pearls around her throat. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Heart” onto her finger.

“I am so pleased to…” Professor Quentin Lambert Beauchamp loudly blew his nose into a polka-dotted handkerchief. “Excuse me. I am so pleased to pronounce you husband and wife. Jamie, you may kiss your bride.”

He did. To the applause of the ten dear friends gathered in Joe and Gail Abernathy’s Boston backyard.

“That’s beautiful.” Gillian lay her own left hand on the table, adorned only by a thin gold ring. “Dougal never gave me an engagement ring, and he insisted I have the gold band for our marriage. His is silver. He had just sunk all of his money into building The Ridge, and we couldn’t even afford flowers at the reception.”

“That’s beautiful, too, Gillian. And I understand why you wouldn’t want to upgrade. Because what you have now, is that much more meaningful.”

“I was sitting here, when Joe and Gail staged the intervention.” Jamie looked over at his wife – his wife!! – gazing up into the arbor behind the house. “The vines were heavy with grapes. I remember thinking, how appropriate that I’m looking at what could be wine.”

He pulled her closer against his side, and kissed the top of her head. Careful of the tortoiseshell combs that Jenny had so lovingly placed in Claire’s hair as she got ready this afternoon.

“Ian confronted me in a hotel room in…Sacramento, I think. I had been so wasted on stage the night before, slurring through half the songs. Jenny had come to see Ian, and she was so scared for me. She had already done the research, made a few phone calls. I puked the whole flight across country to North Carolina.”

“It’s always the ones we love who we hurt the most,” she murmured.

“I’m never going to hurt you, Claire. You know that, right?”

She turned to face her husband – her husband!! – and smiled. Reassuring.

“I do. And you know I’m never going to hurt you, Jamie. Right?”

He nodded. Couldn’t help but kiss her.

“Ah!”

Dougal MacKenzie and Alec MacMahon turned the corner, and cheered. “Here you are! Come on – don’t let us have all the fun without you. Can’t miss your own wedding reception!”

Gillian nodded. “I don’t need it. I have the life we’ve built together, and our son, and a man who somehow thinks the sun rises and sets with me. I’ll never understand it.”

Claire swallowed.

Of course Gillian noticed.

“Don’t ever doubt how much he loves you, Claire. I’ve seen you two together – you’re so natural with each other. That’s never going to change.”

She clenched her hand into a fist. Centering herself.

“It’s…it’s just so…intense, with him,” she whispered.

“We don’t have to tonight, Jamie. We have forever, now.”

His hands shook as his thumb softly, softly traced down her neck, across the pearls, and settled into the cleft between her breasts.

“I want to, Claire. I want you so much I can scarcely breathe. I just…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gillian asked gently. “I can be your therapist, or I can be your friend. But I will listen.”

Claire took a deep, calming breath. “Being on tour – I see now how he developed the addictions. Every aspect of it is so stressful. He feels so much pressure to lead his band, to write music, to live up to the fans’ expectations. And he has to deal with the label and the tour manager and the production guys, and do media, and somehow find time to eat and shower and sleep on top of all of that.” Her thumb twisted her wedding ring. “He’d use the drugs to come up, and the alcohol to come down. And the women to just forget about everything for a while.”

“Are those groupies?”

Colum had organized a small gathering for the band and crew to celebrate the first show of the acoustic tour. No alcohol or drugs in the room – though Claire quickly learned that the rules by no means extended to hallways and bathrooms and storage rooms at the venue.

Jamie squeezed her hand, standing side by side in the corner, both of them holding a can of Tab.

“Yeah. I can ask them to leave, if you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

“No need.” She dropped his hand and quietly approached the four women giggling on the other side of the room.

“Ladies. I’m Claire Beauchamp. I’m with him.”

She turned slightly, looked at Jamie over her shoulder, and then turned back to her audience.

“So?” A girl wearing a strategically ripped Def Leppard t-shirt popped her gum. “That’s not what I heard about the last time he was here.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “That was then. This is now. I will say this only one time. If you even think about flashing a boob, or smiling at him, or trying to get him alone? I will end you.”

The girls gaped.

“Tell all your friends here in Albuquerque, please. Are we clear?”

“And now, that you’re there with him?”

Claire smiled. “He’s eating and sleeping a lot better. Has a lot more energy. He so desperately wants to do everything right. And I’m not going to lie, Gillian – seeing him perform the songs he wrote for me at The Ridge, and then being there when he comes off stage, all keyed up from singing and playing the guitar…”

“It sounds like in many respects he’s replaced his additions with you.”

Claire looked up, meeting Gillian’ gaze. “Of course he has. The album and lead single will be called She’s My Addiction. Doesn’t get any more obvious than that.”

“And how do you feel about that, Claire?”

She lay her hands flat on the table. “I’ve never felt more…loved, and cherished, than when I’m with Jamie.”

She frowned and opened her eyes when he stopped brushing her hair, one morning in Minneapolis.

“What – ”

The pads of his fingers swept the left side of her neck, still a bit tender from his kisses after last night’s show. “I bruised you. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm. I’m not.”

She swallowed. “But it’s so, so hard sometimes. He loves me for who I am, but I don’t want to do anything to fuck it up. And he stresses over so much that he doesn’t have to. Gillian, he’s been having panic attacks all tour.”

“My God. Is he seeing anyone to help with that?”

Claire sighed. “You’re looking at her. Thank God I did that psych rotation when I was in med school. I’ve helped him recognize the signs, and he knows enough to tell me when it’s happening so that we can get away and I can help him through it. But I’m not a psychiatrist. I can’t be everything he needs. He has to do a lot of work to explore what’s triggering him, so that he can manage that. Because after we take the break at the end of the year, we’ll be on the road for most of ’89. The label has booked more than a hundred shows.”

“And you’ll be with him?”

“Of course. He’s the air I breathe. I know this sounds insane, but we want to try for a baby next year. That way he can be off the road, off touring, to be with me if the timing lines up.” She sighed. “So I’ve talked to him about bringing a therapist with us on tour. He needs to have that kind of support from someone other than me. Especially when we’re in Europe and he’s playing soccer stadiums and dealing with a next level of bullshit.”

“Do you want some recommendations? Between Dougal and I, we can definitely help you find someone.”

Claire smiled thinly. “That would be wonderful. It has to be someone we both trust. Who can deal with all the craziness.”

Gillian nodded. “Consider it our wedding gift to you. I – we – really want to help you. You know this, Claire – getting sober is hard, but staying sober is so, so much harder. It does and doesn’t get easier with time. Dougal would say the same thing.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

She settled her chin into his shoulder, nestled securely in his lap. Together they watched the cornfields of Iowa glide by, thousands of feet below.

“No. Not really. The pills helped me deaden the pain. And my life doesn’t have that kind of pain at all, now.”

The private plane had four clusters of four seats, two seats on each side facing each other with a table in between. Jamie and Claire always had a cluster to themselves. Ian, his bass tech, Jamie’s guitar tech Arch, and Angus’ drum tech always sat together. Colum kept to himself. Leaving Angus in the final cluster – which he shared with the two groupies he’d been surprisingly faithful to since Albuquerque. He hated flying, but the girls certainly made it easier for him – plying him with snacks, rubbing his back, squeezing him between them in the big seat.

Claire turned slightly, and inhaled at his temple. Kissed his earlobe as he shivered. “I know you miss it, Jamie. And it’s OK.”

His grip tightened on her hip. “You taste so much better,” he whispered. Eyes far away.

Claire wiped the corners of her eyes. “I just love him, Gillian. So fucking much.” She took a deep breath. “I’m so proud of him, for everything he’s done, and for the man he’s worked so hard to become. I’m not going to lie – sometimes it’s so damn hard to deal with everything. With all of his past shit, and how he still lets it mess with his head. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told him that none of it bothers me. Not the drugs, or the alcohol, or the destroyed hotel rooms, or what is probably hundreds of women. I can’t let any of that bother me, because that’s not the Jamie I know. But Gillian…”

Gillian reached across the table and took Claire’s hand.

“He makes everything so fucking hard sometimes. He starts to spiral, and he worries that I’ll have had enough and walk away. But then we just take a deep breath, and we look at each other, and all the bullshit is gone, and it’s just so easy again.”

“You need a day off!”

Jamie rubbed his hands over his face, exasperated. “I do have a day off tomorrow, Claire. You know as well as I do that there isn’t a show.”

She huffed, hands on her hips. “Not the point, Jamie. I saw the call sheet for tomorrow. You’re meeting with the label, and then with Colum to talk to the merch guy, and then the lighting team, and then you’re doing some local radio spots. That’s NOT a day off!”

He shrugged. “At least we can get dinner together and it won’t be shitty venue food.”

She pursed her lips, trying so hard not to scream. “Do you not remember the panic attack last night? You were sobbing in my arms, Jamie. It was really, really bad. And then you were so exhausted, but you wanted to be a hero and do the show anyway, and then you tripped over your fucking amp when you went on stage and could have broken your arm. Where would that leave us, hmm?”

He reached out to her – and she stepped back.

Not done with him yet. 

“You need rest, Jamie. Your body is going to shut down. And that won’t be good for anybody.”

“Is that your medical opinion, Dr. Beauchamp?”

A hint of a smile. Good.

“Yes. I’m your personal physician. I’m prescribing a day in bed, sleeping.”

He smirked. “OK. But only if you’re in it, too.”

She shrugged. “I’m not making any sense.”

“Yes you are,” Gillian smiled. “You said it’s intense between you – there’s no way it couldn’t be. Set aside his being a musician, and being in just about the biggest band in the world right now. Think about how and when you met. What had happened to both of you beforehand. All the changes you’ve made in both of your lives, in a relatively short timeframe. It’s overwhelming. And being on the road with him this summer had to have just upped that intensity.”

“We’re together non-stop. Which has been great, because we have so much time. We have what nobody else has, and I treasure that, I really do. But it’s also exhausting sometimes.” Claire paused, considering. “Nobody else knows what I’m about to tell you, but it’s another factor. We…we didn’t…” She closed her eyes. “We waited until our wedding night.”

Gillian’s silence was a gift.

“We were both so scared. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I think we were worried that…that it wouldn’t be good, for some reason. And it was good, Gillian. So fucking good. We both cried.”

“You’re everything.” He kissed her nose and cheeks and forehead and mouth over and over and over again, his tears mixing with hers. “My heart is going to burst.”

She hugged him tighter, nails digging into the flames tattooed on his shoulders. “Love you,” she whispered, breathless. “Love you love you love you love you…”

“I don’t need to tell you this, Claire, but I will anyway. It’s been a really good decision to spend so much time together, to really get to know each other, before you were married. Both of you deliberately wanted your relationship to be different from anything you’d known or done before. And now that last barrier is gone between you. So everything has changed, am I right?”

Indianapolis. Married one week. He couldn’t stop smiling at her, standing side stage during the show. She couldn’t stop giggling when he found her after the encore, threw her over his shoulder, and ran to his dressing room. His breath hot against her lips, breathlessly pleading for her to stay quiet, as they loved each other on the sofa and the techs and roadies and catering people and production staff bustled by the locked door.

“It has, Gillian. But in many ways it hasn’t. It feels like yesterday, and it feels like forever.”

New Haven. Married two weeks. The morning after a powerhouse show at the Coliseum. A penthouse suite overlooking the water. She had slipped out of bed in the dark, opened the curtains wide. Watched him watch her as she returned to bed. Held his gaze as they loved each other, dawn breaking over their faces.

“I get that. You’ve introduced another layer to your relationship. Probably the most complex layer that there is.”

Providence. Married two weeks and two days. Holding each other in a bath, Jamie’s hand splayed across her belly, Claire’s nose buried in the curtain of his hair.

“So, be patient with yourself, Claire. Cut yourself a break.” Gillian reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “And just enjoy yourself! My God – what an incredible life you have.”

Claire’s smile was the widest Gillian had ever seen.

“Holy shit. I married a rock star.”

“I heard that!”

And then Jamie was there, smiling, and kissing Claire’s smile.

Dougal hung back in the doorway. Exchanging smiles with his own wife.

“Come on, rock star. You said you’d help me hook up the new CD player.”

Jamie pulled back. Rubbed his nose against Claire’s.

“Hey, Dougal?”

Dougal crossed his arms. “What?”

Jamie stood. Squeezed Claire’s hands. Kissed her wedding ring.

“Love is a much better high than any drug.”

Dougal rolled his eyes. “I’ll put that on the new pamphlets we’re printing up for The Ridge. But the stereo won’t install itself. Help out, and I’ll even let you play that new stuff you brought.”

[hockeyshmockey]

Jack Hughes Imagine

summary: a day on the lake with the hughes'. Jack hughes x fem!oc

warnings: fluff.... overwhelming fluff

"Baby wake up," Jack whispered in her ear as the morning light came in through the open blinds in their room. Lexi and Jack had flown in for one last summer lake day after spending Jack's off season in Toronto for training. The couple had arrived just in time for dinner the night before, catching up with Jim, Ellen, Quinn and Luke.

The first day of the long labor day weekend was today, and all the Hughes' friends had arrived first thing in the morning. The boys had decided to take the boat out as soon as the group was gathered to kick off the weekend.

"Jack it's still dark out," Lexi whined as she buried her head in her pillow. Jack straddled her back with a smile, letting his fingers caress her ribs and dig in to tickle her. The red head immediately tried bucking her boyfriend off with no luck. After getting a laugh in, Jack climbed off of her as Lexi finally sat up in bed.

"C'mon, get ready," he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "We want to get out on the water."

Lexi groaned but got out of bed, heading in to the bathroom to get ready. She threw on a bikini and some sun screen before grabbing one of Jack's shirts as a cover up and heading downstairs. Ellen was in the kitchen making snacks and lunch, while the boys were getting the boats ready and packing coolers.

"Good morning sweetie," Ellen beamed at the red head as she came into the kitchen, offering the blonde a hug from behind.

"Morning mama Hughes," Lexi smiled. "What can I help with?" The two women were quickly able to finish up their lunches and snacks by the time the boys came in telling them everything was ready.

The boys grabbed the remaining cooler bags, while Ellen and Lexi grabbed the bags with towels and sunscreen before heading out back. Lexi immediately hopped in the boat with Quinn and Jack, the three joined by Ellen and Jim. Luke and his buddies were on the second boat the family kept at the house, and Lexi felt glad she missed that call as the boys began blaring music and starting to shot gun beers.

"Oh to be young again," Jim said with a laugh as Quinn rolled his eyes and got the boat into gear, heading out onto the lake. With it being labor day, there were plenty of neighbors on the water. The group all waved as they passed other boaters, before stopping at an anchor spot they had found at the beginning of the summer.

Quinn held the boat steady as Luke and the boys began to get ready to wake board. Lexi went to grab her float out of the storage chest under one of the seats, handing it off to Quinn to inflate as she grabbed Ellen's as well.

This was Lexi's heaven, the girl thought as she weaved her hand through the water. Her and Ellen were sat in little floats attached to the boat, drinks in hand as the boys wake boarded a 100 yards away. Jim and Quinn were chilling with them, listening to music as they watched Luke whip the boys around the Lake.

Jack was up, and Lexi cheered dutifully as the boy shot gunned a beer while skiing, before being flung off by a cackling Luke. The middle Hughes brother waved Luke off as he went to turn the boat around, swimming over to where his mom and Lexi were likely gossiping.

"How are my girls?" Jack called out as he paddled towards the women, ending up leaning his head on Lexi's float as the two of them smiled at the boy.

"Living the life babe," Lexi ran her fingers through his hair with a smile. "Just telling your mom to go ahead and let us know her plans to come out to games this season."

"You know you're welcome to them all mom," Jack and Lexi nodded. "And now that we're in a new apartment, you can have your own space in Luke's apartment or ours."

"You guys are so sweet," Ellen stared at the couple with a soft smile. She never could have imagined two years ago that her wild middle boy would be this settled down, but Lexi had been so good for him. And knowing the words her son had spoken to her on the deck the night before, she knew he planned to keep her around forever.

"We love having you in town," Lexi said with a grin. "It's helpful to have another set of hands keeping two of the three Hughes boys out of trouble."

"You're stuck with that job forever baby," Jack laughed. "With your luck, we'll have all boys and you'll be just like mom."

"That would be terrifying," Lexi exaggerated a shiver, sharing a laugh with Ellen. "Not a bad way to be though, look how you guys turned out."

"Sap," Jack murmured as he leaned in to kiss her leg, before pushing off and paddling back to the boat. The group spent another two hours on the water before heading back to the house as the water started going down.

Lexi offered to shower first and then start dinner, Jack joining her in the prep duty. As the others all got cleaned up, the couple began to prep meat and vegetables for the grill. Lexi had turned on some music, swaying her body back and forth as Taylor Swift came over the speakers.

"C'mere," Jack grabbed her hand as Enchanted began to play, wrapping the girl in his arms and beginning to sway her back and forth. Lexi smiled softly, resting her forehead on his neck as Jack softly sang the chorus to her.

Neither noticed when Jim and Ellen came to the kitchen door, Ellen stopping her husband with a smile as she saw the two slow dancing. "She's going to be our daughter one day huh?" Jim asked with a little smile as he put his arm around Ellen's shoulder.

"She already is," Ellen beamed as she pushed Jim back towards the deck door, deciding to let the couple have a few more minutes.

summer 2024

liked by njdevils, nhlwags and 928,349 others

lexibowen with jack hughes

my favorite person asking me to spend forever with him in our favorite place of course with our favorite people

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elblue06 we love you both so much!

user im crying

lhughes love you sis

quinnhughes ill just say this- good luck!

liked by tzegras, lexibowen and 3,120 others

elblue06 I knew Lexi was special, and it didn't take long for us to realize she was Jack's perfect match. I took this photo last summer, here at the lake, and Jim and I both knew Lexi would be our daughter one day. We're so excited for this new chapter, and can't wait to have another Hughes soon!

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lexibowen Ellen, I'm crying! Thank you for being so welcoming to me every day. You are already my family, and I can't wait to make it official and get to take on the ruckus with one of the strongest women I've ever met

[dakotalun]

The Cabin | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: The older kids decide to take the weekend off and head down to Steve's parent's cabin.

warnings: none for this chapter, just some mutual pining

word count: 2k

a/n: Been thinking of this idea for years now and finally decided to put it down on paper, or screen ig.

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Eddie’s POV

Steve has been planning this trip for weeks. I mean, I like the guy and all but he can go a little overboard with things. He has been trying to get us all to come down to his family’s lake house for what feels like forever. Just the older kids, Steve, Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, Y/N and I. He says it’ll be a weekend of games, drinking and fun. Which translated to normal language means, raiding his parents liquor cabinet, smoking some blunts and playing kiddie games like truth or dare, and never have I ever. Not that I mind, I’m just happy to be invited, even if I do have to do a shit ton of manual labor beforehand.

“Come on Eddie, it’s only gonna take a few hours,” Steve pleads with me over the phone.

“Dude exactly, a few hours. Do you know what I could be doing in those ‘few hours’?” I’m walking around the trailer trying to not explode my head off as Steve whines at me. 

“I don’t know, you’d probably get high and sleep, or some shit. Just come on! I really need your van.”

“Nope, not happening,” I plop down on the couch and open my tin lunchobox, ready to roll a joint, “I mean why do you need my van anyways, isn’t your car fine?”

Steve sighs over the phone, “Yes but it’s too small. I need help moving some stuff from my family’s storage locker to the lake house. You know that place you’ll be staying in for the next week!”

I finally get done rolling my joint and scour my tin for a lighter, if I’m gonna help Harrington with this I’ll be needing it, “Ugh fine, just let me get some shit first. I’ll be at yours in 20.”

“Fucking- thank you!” Before I can even say a snarky remark he hangs up.

I groan and throw my head back. I am so gonna regret this later.

---

A few days later I’m with Steve at his house, getting the stuff for the trip finalized. We planned that since my van is bigger than Steve’s tiny ass BMW, I’d be taking all the bags and shit with one passenger and he’d take the other 3 and all the food.

“So I’ll take Nancy, Robin and Y/n. You take Jonathan,” Steve says throwing a bag of chips into a bag.

“Oh hell no. Why do you get all the girls?” “Um maybe because then they’d have to deal with you for 2 hours,” I pick up a pack of marshmallows and throw them at him, “Hey! Fine, take Y/n I don’t care just stop throwing my shit.”

“Thank you,” I walk over to him and sling an arm over his shoulder, “That wasn’t so hard was it big boy?” He pushes me off and I stumble back as the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it, you finish packing the food.” I straighten my back and put my hand to my forehead like a soldier, “Aye aye Captain!” and solute him as he leaves the kitchen.

I hear him open the front door and the voices of Nancy and Robin. The three of them come back into the kitchen laughing at something Robin had said.

“Sup ladies.”

“Hey Eddie,” They say in unison before turning their attention back to Steve. Before I met them I would’ve thought that they didn’t like me or that they only pretended to be my friend out of pity, now that I know  them, I know that that’s not the case, they simply wanted to finish their conversation with Steve first.

“Hey hey!” The loud bang of the front door wakes me out of my daydream as Jonathan waltz’s into the room. Nancy gives him a quick kiss while he wraps his hand around her waist. 

“So we all reday to go? I can’t wait to go skinny dipping,” He gives Nancy a smirk and wink before he bursts out loud at his own stupidity.

“Yeah pretty much. I just gotta get y’all’s shit into my van and pick Y/n up and we’ll be good.”

“Great. I’ll help load the rest of the stuff into the cars,” Steve heads out of the house with Robin and Nancy’s bags, “Hey Nance and Rob could you put those last few food bags in my trunk please?” Steve yells halfway out of the door.

They both agree in unison before grabbing the bags and heading outside. I sit there for a minute just thinking about what this weekend might intell, firstly I have to spend 4 hours in my van with the girl I have a crush on and secondly, I have a whole week of being with her, and my other friends but this is the longest we’ve hangout together and it’s not like I can just hop in my van and drive away when I do something stupid. I shake my head and join my friends outside, shutting the front door on my way out.

---

I pull up to Y/n’s house not even 5 minutes after calling her that I’m on the way. I see her parent’s cars in the driveway and pull up behind them. I jump out my van and rush to her door, maybe a little too eager to see her. I knock 3 times before the door is swinging open and I’m greeted with the big, bright smile that I like so much.

“Hey Eds! You got here quick, let me just grab my bags real quick, stay there,” She turns and her scent wafts in my face a little, she smells like vanilla and flowers. I wonder what she uses, vanilla shampoo and floral perfume? Maybe it’s in both, vanilla and flowers in body wash, shampoo, and perfume?! God what I would give to find out.

***

Y/N’s POV

I leave the door open as I run into the living room to grab my bags. I try my best to conceal the blush rushing to my cheeks upon seeing Eddie. I've never seen him in a muscle tee before, and if I’m being honest he looks hot as hell.

I quickly say goodbye to my parents and head back to the foyer, I don’t wanna waste another second here. I close the front door behind me and I feel a hand on my duffel bag as I turn back towards Eddie.

“I’m just gonna put these with the others in the back, go ahead and get comfy in the car,” He walks off towards the van, unlocking the doors for me to hop in.

“Actually,” I grab my small backpack from him, “I’m gonna keep this one with me.”

“Alright,” He walks off towards the back of his van.

Once I get in the car I set my bag down at my feet, opening it to get out my blanket and book. Eddie rounds the corner of the car and hops in along side me, buckling his seatbelt before starting the engine.

“Did you really bring a blanket?” He give you a small smile at the thought that I’d be prepared with a blanket for this ride.

“Yes I did. It was my grandpa’s so I bring it with me on trips. Don’t judge me.” I scowl at him but then flash him a little smile back.

Eddie’s heart warms at the thought of me being so close to my grandparents that I keep their things even after they are gone, “Hey no judgement here,” He holds his hands up in mock surrender, “if I had stuff from my grandparents I’m sure I’d keep it too.”

I laugh a little and Eddie pulls out of my driveway beginning the long journey to Steve’s lake house.

---

Roughly half an hour into the drive I start to get a little bored and hungry so I riffle around in my bag to find the cheez-its and book I packed. Upon finding them you pull your feet up on the chair and begin reading and eating your snacks. 

You’ve always loved road trips, especially in the summer, the way you can just let the windows down the warm air blowing in your hair cooling you down while also keeping you at a nice temperature. This was no different, other than it was with Eddie, not your parents. It felt good to be with Eddie listening to his music as it plays over the speakers and hearing his rings knock against the steering wheel as he taps along to the beat of the song.

You feel relaxed, and happy. A feeling you haven’t really felt much recently. School had become really stressful with all the college applications and decisions to be made. And then getting ready for all the AP exams you’d be taking in late April, then the actual finals for your classes, it was all just so stressful. So when Steve and Robin approached you about spending spring break away from the gloomy town of Hawkins, who were you to deny them.

You’re reading your book and can’t focus well because you feel eyes on you. You look up from your book and over at Eddie, who is just glancing back from the road to you with a questioning look on his face.

“What?” You ask turning your body towards him a little.

“Nothing,” He looks away, focusing solely on the road again.

“You wouldn’t be staring if it was nothing. So what is it?”

“I just dont get how you can read in a moving car? Like doesn’t it make you nauseous?”

“Uh no I guess not. I didn’t realize that this was a weird thing to do? Can you not read in a car?” You’re genuinely asking, wondering if you’re weird or not for being able to do this.

“Hell no, I get sick just being in the passengers seat,” He laughs a little at the weird way his body works, “I don’t know I guess it something about focusing on the road helps calm me,” He looks over at you for a second, taking in your position. Feet tucked under you, blanket thrown over your legs hanging low, book resting face down on your knee and cheez-its between your arm and the door. He has to admit you look cute like this, “I’ve just never met anyone who can read in a car. It’s pretty cool.”

“Thanks, I guess.” You smile at each other before Eddie resumes his focus on the road and you on your book.

Before you know it you’re passed out in the seat while your book dangles off the endle of the seat. Eddie notices that he needs more gas so as soon as he can he gets off the highway and heads to a station to fill up. While getting gas he notices how peaceful you look sleeping in his van, sure you may be laying a weird position but you look calm. Eddie gets back in the van but before pulling out of the gas station he takes your book, places in your bookmark and sets in down near your bag. He knows how much you’d hate if anything happened to it while you slept.

3 and a half long hours later you guys finally make it to the lake house, but you can’t see Steve’s car there. Eddie hops out of the van to give him a call quickly.

“Hey,” Eddie says through the speaker.

“Hey- No we are not stopping again! Get it together we aren’t that fucking far! Hey dude sorry I know we’re late but someone keeps insisting on us stopping for bathroom and snack breaks,” Eddie can hear the disdain in his buddy’s voice knowing exactly who the someone is.

“It’s no problem dude, just remind me what the code to get in is again, we can start getting everything set up while you get here.”

“Thanks dude. The code is 3957, just make sure to turn on the water and power too.”

“Sure thing, see you soon.”

“Bye- Rob I told yo-” And then the line goes dead. Eddie laughs a little to himself before putting his phone back in his pocket and heading to your side of the car.

[thewidowsghost]

The Heart of the Matter (Daisy Johnson x Female!Reader)

Main Masterlist

Daisy Johnson Masterlist

Anonymous asked: Heyo, May I please request Daisy X reader. Daisy and reader being involved in a massive accident and Daisy needing a heart transplant, reader is basically near dead and demands the doctors to give Daisy her heart. (meaning reader dies, Daisy goes on to live and asks for reader after she's woken up after surgery. Doctor's tell her that she is gone but she'll always have a piece of her with daisy.)

The city skyline blurs past the window as Daisy Johnson and (Y/n) make their way through downtown. They’ve just finished a long day at work, and the streets are bustling with the usual evening activity. Daisy, ever the optimist, is chatting animatedly about her plans for the weekend, her excitement palpable. (Y/n) listens with a smile, her gaze fixed on Daisy as if she’s the only person in the world who matters.

The traffic light turns red, and Daisy slows the car to a stop. The evening sky is painted in hues of orange and pink, the sun dipping below the horizon. For a moment, everything feels perfect, a rare calm in their often tumultuous lives.

But that tranquility is shattered in an instant. The screech of tires and the blare of a horn pierce the air. Daisy’s head snaps around just in time to see a truck barreling toward them, its driver seemingly oblivious to the red light. There’s no time to react.

The collision is deafening. Metal twists and buckles, glass shatters, and Daisy and (Y/n) are violently thrown against their seatbelts. The world spins in a haze of pain and confusion. The impact throws Daisy forward, and she struggles to regain her bearings as her vision blurs. The car’s airbags deploy, but they do little to cushion the force of the crash.

In the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Daisy and (Y/n) had been working together on a high-stakes mission. Their chemistry is undeniable, no doubt because they were dating, in the field. Daisy’s enthusiasm and (Y/n)’s calm demeanor make them an effective team. They’d just returned from a briefing, and the day’s work was winding down.

As they gather their things, Daisy grabs (Y/n) by the arm, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, let’s grab dinner after this. I know this amazing little place downtown.”

(Y/n) smiles, shaking her head. “You and your food recommendations. But sure, I could use a break.”

They share a laugh, their camaraderie evident. Little do they know that this seemingly ordinary evening will turn into a nightmare.

The aftermath of the crash is chaotic. Emergency services arrive quickly, their flashing lights casting an eerie glow on the scene. Firefighters and paramedics work frantically to extract Daisy and (Y/n) from the mangled wreckage. (Y/n) is unconscious, her body slumped against the crushed interior of the car, while Daisy struggles to stay awake, her breaths shallow and labored.

In the ambulance, Daisy’s mind is foggy. She’s vaguely aware of the paramedics’ voices and the pain coursing through her body. She reaches out for (Y/n), but her vision is blurred, and her attempts to speak are met with silence.

“Hold on, Daisy,” one of the paramedics says, their voice steady and reassuring. “We’re getting you to the hospital.”

The ride to the hospital is a blur for Daisy. She can feel the pain, but it’s distant, almost like a bad dream. Her thoughts are scattered, focusing on (Y/n) and the fear that she might lose her.

. . . 

In the emergency room, chaos reigns. Doctors and nurses work with precision and urgency, their movements a well-rehearsed dance of life-saving procedures. Daisy is rushed into surgery, her condition critical. (Y/n) is taken to another room, her injuries severe but not immediately life-threatening.

As the hours pass, Daisy’s condition becomes increasingly dire. Her heart is failing, and the only option is a transplant. The medical team is faced with a grim decision: find a suitable donor quickly or risk losing her.

In the operating room, Daisy’s situation becomes even more desperate. Her heart is weakening, and the doctors know they need to act fast. The lead surgeon makes the call to start looking for potential donors.

“Promise me you’ll try the dessert,” Daisy teases, nudging (Y/n). “It’s supposed to be the best in town.”

“Only if you promise not to steal half of it,” (Y/n) retorts, a playful smile on her lips.

They’re caught up in their conversation when the truck appears out of nowhere. Daisy’s smile fades as the realization of the impending crash hits. She reaches for (Y/n), but it’s too late. The world around them erupts into chaos.

Hours pass in the operating room as the medical team works tirelessly to stabilize Daisy. (Y/n) is still in a separate room, her condition deteriorating. The doctors are faced with a heartbreaking decision: whether to use (Y/n)’s heart for Daisy.

. . .

In the waiting room, (Y/n)’s family and friends gather, their faces etched with worry and fear. The news of the accident has spread quickly, and everyone is desperate for information.

A nurse approaches them, her expression somber. “I’m sorry, but we need to discuss a difficult decision. (Y/n)’s injuries are severe, and we’re considering using her heart to save Daisy.”

The room falls silent. (Y/n)’s family is stunned, their hearts breaking at the thought of losing her. They look at each other, grappling with the reality of the situation.

. . .

In the operating room, the decision is made. (Y/n)’s heart is carefully removed and prepared for transplantation. The process is delicate, a testament to the surgeons’ skill and precision. Daisy’s condition continues to worsen, but the arrival of the new heart gives her a chance at survival.

Daisy’s consciousness wavers in and out. She’s aware of the paramedics working on her, their voices distant and muffled. Her thoughts drift to (Y/n), and she struggles to stay awake, reaching out for her.

“Please, let her be okay,” Daisy whispers, her voice barely audible.

Daisy wakes up in a hospital room, her body heavy and weak. Her vision is blurred, but she can make out the figures of doctors and nurses around her. As her senses return, she begins to understand the gravity of her situation.

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Daisy asks, her voice trembling with fear. “Where is she?”

The doctors exchange glances, their faces filled with sadness. “I’m sorry, Daisy,” one of them says gently. “(Y/n) didn’t make it. Her heart was used to save you.”

Daisy’s world crumbles. She struggles to comprehend the enormity of the loss. “No, no, it can’t be,” she whispers, tears streaming down her face. “She can’t be gone.”

The doctor places a comforting hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry for your loss. (Y/n) gave you the gift of life, and she’ll always be a part of you.”

. . .

The days that follow are a blur of grief and adjustment for Daisy. She’s alive, but the cost has been unimaginable. She finds herself in a hospital room filled with flowers and get-well cards, but her heart is heavy with the weight of (Y/n)’s absence.

Daisy spends hours by the window, gazing out at the world she’s been given another chance to live in. The sun shines brightly, a stark contrast to the darkness she feels inside.

She’s visited by (Y/n)’s family, who offer their condolences and support. They share stories of (Y/n), their voices tinged with sadness but also pride. Daisy listens, her gifted heart aching with each word.

. . .

Daisy eventually returns home, the weight of her loss a constant presence. She keeps a small locket with (Y/n)’s photo close to her heart, a tangible reminder of the love and sacrifice that saved her life.

One evening, she sits by the window, the city lights twinkling in the distance. She opens the locket, staring at (Y/n)’s smiling face. Tears fall as she whispers, “I’ll never forget you, (Y/n). You’re a part of me now, and you always will be.”

In her heart, Daisy knows that (Y/n)’s sacrifice was an act of profound love. It’s a bittersweet comfort, knowing that she carries a piece of (Y/n) with her every day. As she moves forward, she holds onto the memory of (Y/n), letting it guide her through the darkness and into the light.

Word Count: 1347 words

[buckets-and-trees]

Deliciously Debauched Labor Day Weekend

Between some free time, some inspo finally kicking in, trying to finish things for Hot Bucky Summer, and wanting to wrap up some WIPs I've had kicking around, this weekend has already been pretty fruitful, but there's even more I want to work on, so... to keep track of what I'm dropping, I thought I'd just make a thing of it all!

thursday

↠ Put Me Back On My Shelf [750] soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader | fluff with a hint of dark, Exiled Nomad Series

↠ Now That I Saw You [4k] lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant reader, sequel to What You Want

friday

↠ Bird on a Wire [4.3k] mean Mafia!Bucky x Female!Reader x mean Mafia!Steve | dub-con, explicit smut, sequel to Little Lark

2200 follower milestone celebration poll

saturday

↠ Parking Lot Chem [6.7k] raunchy!Bucky x curvy!female!reader | explicit smut, hook up culture

sunday

↠ Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays [3.6k] Bucky x curvy!female reader | smut, modern AU

↠ Feel [2.3k] Pleasure Dom!Bucky x curvy!female reader | smut, BDSM au, bondage, sequel to Talk

monday

↠ Bird Home In The Darkness [2.7k] mean Mafia!Bucky x curvy!Millennial female!Reader x mean Mafia!Steve | dub-con, explicit smut, sequel to Bird on a Wire

↠ Poison Blood from the Wound of the Pricked Hand [3k] Post TFATWS!Bucky x curvy!Millennial Female!Reader | sultry but not smutty, MCU canon compliant

Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of a labor day long weekend

11pm, sunday, september 1, 2024

couldn't remember if i've done 'in lieu of a long weekend' before, so i specified. raise your hand if you're spending the day off doing more work than ever, because you're a grad student and/or poor planner!

reading

francis spufford's cahokia jazz (2024) absolutely entranced me this week. i couldn't put it down, stayed up all night (literally) to get through the big confrontation and then stayed up to make sure i knew how things shook out afterwards. i have found two book reviews which seem to agree that there's a lot to 'work through' here, pull-quote below, but this was not my experience-- i was thoroughly hooked by the (to me) subtle and eloquent clues about how this timeline was different from our own, and fascinated by the city politics, religion, infrastructure-- if anything, the focus on public transit struck me more than the exposition! shoutout to the streetcars!--but most importantly, maybe, spufford knew how to write his protagonist's relationship to music, and incorporate joe's jazz into his pov in a beautiful way, a real way. i'm fucking mourning the what-could-have-been of cahokia, of indigenous america, of. god. that vision of a different form of modernity-- not less complicated, not less industrialized, with all its own moral ambiguities and darkness...but nevertheless a living society.

from the new york times' review, ivy pochoda:

Reader, let me ask you a question. How much work are you willing to do to dive into a new novel? Do you want to step into a speculative world frustratingly close to our own? Do you want to spend time in an imaginary city constructed with the world-building minutiae of a high fantasy novel? Do you want to engage with new forms of government and religious sects? Are you cool if there’s foreign language peppered throughout? How about the Klan? A Red scare? A nascent F.B.I.? A love story? Do you also want jazz? And do you want all of this to be part of a detective novel?

fucking of course YES I DO.

also finished just today, the personal librarian (2021) by Marie Benedict, Victoria Christopher Murray, narrated by Robin Miles. i had known there was a belle da costa greene award offered by the maa for medievalists of color, but it took me until reading this novel to actually learn anything about belle herself, and i am thrilled it exists. i'm so, so glad she existed. figuring out how to work her into my medieval book syllabus as we speak. a very different book than the one above, though they both must have taken a huge amount of research and informed imagination and inference-- belle destroyed her correspondence, apart from her business letters apparently-- but the academic in me was hoping there would be. two or three more skosh more precision and detail in the discussion of manuscript / incunabula research. there was a lot of 'the beauty of art' and 'the value of the written word' but it felt a little cursory. still, i know i'm an outlier. the discussions of her relationships to her parents, her identity, her passing, were all executed with so much care.

watching

the build up of intensity / count-down to the opening of the restaurant in the bear s2 was getting to me in the count down to the new semester, so i turned to something a little different. what if this is the year i actually get into psych. so far, signs point to this being a good decision. just finished the spelling bee episode (s1e02 i think? i didn't realize that the pilot was two parts, i thought those were two separate eps but whatever) and it was absurd, but. i'm just so glad to be watching tv made in an era where...you have to watch the screen to get everything that's happening! and there are contrived/ridiculous premises in the same episode as some layers are built up in the main characters' relationships and actual, like, continuity! it's a serial detective show that is at bottom incredibly silly but i'm here to over think and get invested in it. love to see dulé hill in a lead role. what the hell was i doing in 2006, when not watching this.

listening

i'm exploring a bit lately, new music, new (to me) artists-- I think i'm enjoying pop girlies at the moment, song of the summer etc., and charlie xcx's brat and caroline polachek have both been on my repeat list, but i don't have a ton to report yet. honestly this week it's been a lot of listening to the podcast a more civilized age: a star wars podcast (thanks @knifepadme for the rec!!) break down over andor. it is so incredibly cute to hear how excited they get over the first three episodes, and continue to get over the whole first arc. TELEVISION! it makes me feel like i'm rewatching the show with friends, their insights and the parallels and interpretations they keep pulling out are enriching it a lot, but also their star wars nerdery is picking up on things i wouldn't have thought to get excited about, and predictions that never occurred to me, and it's. delightful.

playing

finished chants of sennaar! total play time was about 20 hours, and that's with getting all the glyphs and all but two of the accomplishments (a little sore about that since I'm pretty sure i was in proximity for at least one of them that ended up not counting, but, whatever). i did consult a guide for the final series of puzzles, not the last language but the stuff that came after, i guess because i wanted to be completionist about it--but there were also some obstacles that weren't logic or anything, but more about learning the game's patterns (the first thing i looked up was staring right in front of me, i just wasn't paying attention to the right shit). there was a moment when the genre of the game shifted, i think i've mentioned before maybe, and it happens again towards the end-- but this time it didn't hit in quite the same way? perhaps because it wasn't as big a shock. more of a 'oh well, i guess this might as well be happening' reaction. i'd done a few of the puzzles out of order, i think, earlier than they'd anticipated / as i was progressing up the tower rather than all at the end, except for one at the very bottom that i had to go back and find (thank you to the people online who write guides and do playthroughs).

i really loved the visuals and design of this game-- the colors, the angles, the wild perspectives in some of the scenes. i liked that, once i'd gotten the hang of something, i could typically repeat that manner of thinking and succeed the next time as well-- a game about learning. learning to learn!

making

sewed part of one of the new patches onto the jacket. just barely worked out a stitch i could handle, only to have my housemate lend me a little rubber finger...thingy, and make everything so much easier. why did i decide to sew through denim and multiple layers of stitching? because i don't trust the iron-able backing, and also love to make life harder for myself i guess.

working on

it's been syllabus lockdown hours over here, and considering that the first class is thursday, it will continue to be until the absolute last fucking minute. i want too much and also shy away from making literally any decision. you'd think that this level of avoidance might make it easier to productively procrastinate by working on other things, but that's a funny joke.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Hypnotized by the Boss

Aaron hated his job. Every morning, he suited up and clocked in, one day after another. Entering data into spreadsheets each week was more than monotonous, but he continued staring into his monitor and getting the work done.

He had nothing to show for all the hours he put in. Aaron honestly had no idea why he continued to work in this boring office. This place has made him miserable for years.

Like always, he sat at his desk, crunching numbers until 5:00 rolled around. Noticing the time, his coworkers began quietly rising to file out for the weekend.

Aaron stayed put. Earlier in the day, his boss had asked him to work late.

He hated when his employer did this. Once or twice a week, the boss would keep him in the office for no reason at all. He couldn't remember if these late nights were ever productive.

He couldn't remember much at all about these nights.

Still he sat at his desk waiting for his boss while impatiently checking the time. Aaron wanted to finish up and leave so he could hit the bar.

"How's my favorite employee?" his employer cackled, approaching his desk.

Aaron didn't bother responding. He was fed up, and hated the idea of spending another minute in the office.

"Look, I doubt there's anything I can get done tonight," Aaron sighed.

"Of course there's plenty to do!" the portly man cried back, "I figured you'd love the extra time."

"It's Friday. I just want to duck out," Aaron groaned tersely, collecting his briefcase and standing to leave.

"Oh come on," his boss grinned, "I know how you like to keep...busy."

That word made Aaron's eyes slightly glaze over. He placed his things back down.

"I have a lot of work I need you to get done tonight," his boss went on, "You do like to keep busy, right?"

Aaron's head emptied a bit more, "I do like to keep busy."

"So you'd love the opportunity to stay busy working tonight, then?"

"Yes," Aaron didn't hesitate to reply, already forgetting about his buddies at the bar. The only thought in his head was a subconscious need to get back to work.

"Perfect, Carlos has been slacking off, and we're a bit behind on his work," his boss explained.

"Carlos? The janitor?"

Aaron's employer had already thrown a fat arm over his shoulder, jerkily guiding him down the hall and stopping in front of the maintenance closet.

"Yup, he always cleaned the place on Friday. You don't mind filling in do you?"

"No," Aaron instantly answered, and he realized it was true. He was happy to pick up the slack for Carlos.

"Well, go ahead and get the stuff on. You've got to look the part if you're going to keep busy all night."

Aaron opened the closet and found Carlos' work clothes amid the cleaning the supplies. He didn't hesitate to pull off his own tie and slacks.

The employee's only thought was of staying busy at work. He didn't mind how menial the labor was. He didn't even mind that the janitor's work clothes smelled of body odor.

After slipping the unwashed coveralls on, Aaron turned back to his boss as the man listed off all the tasks he would keep busy with tonight.

"...empty everyone's trash, clean out the kitchen, mop the hallways of course, and definitely clean the restrooms. There's definitely several clogged toilets that will keep you busy..."

With each new task added, Aaron's smile broadened as he thought of how much work he had in front of him; how busy his night was becoming. It was the only thing he could think about.

Aaron's boss discovered long ago that his laziest employee was extremely susceptible to hypnotic suggestion. After just a few trances, Aaron had been implanted with a newfound drive to keep busy at work for his boss.

Knowing his entranced employee would toil the rest of the night away, Aaron's employer strode out of the office and left him there to lock the place up when he was done.

Excited and absolutely clueless to his manipulation, Aaron collected all the cleaning supplies he could carry and brought it out into the silent office floor. Aaron surveyed the work in front of him.

He would definitely be staying up late this Friday night.

A dumb smile crept on his face. He couldn't help but feel grateful for all the work his boss had given him. That mindless grin remained as he got to work, handling the supplies and chemicals with ease. It was like he had done it hundreds of times before.

Little did he know that Carlos had quit many years ago. The boss had been using Aaron as the weekly night janitor ever since.

[headingalaxys-spicy]

"Become my Doll" Yandere! England X Reader Oneshot drabble.

Not incredibly explicit. But mentions alcohol and kidnapping so like not for all readers.

Synopsis: Drunk in a bar, lost in a haze, vulnerable to manipulation of the magic British man. He’s had a long-standing obsession with you, and now he’s going to capture you. 

Yet another lonely night where you had no desire to go home. You wanted to do nothing but forget your difficult day: rude people, too many food orders at once, and a plethora of stupid comments and questions that came your way. 

You wanted to scream, you wanted to yell, you wanted to wring someone out for lacking empathy for you as you struggled throughout your day. Being in the serving industry was a pain. 

All you had was your papers, pens, & penicillin drink that was halfway finished due to the alcohol sweetly numbing your nerves. You could forget about the troubles plaguing your life. You were blissfully unaware of the emerald eyes that had attached themselves to you. They surveyed your every labored move that was coated with sadness. Every minute that passed by as you were mindlessly scrolling your social media or looking through the 30K+ photos saved to your phone that you could use for your next art piece. You’d get sucked in by one of the colorful pictures of your past, wondering how you’d gotten from there to here. 

The rabbit hole you’d fallen into had just begun. One of your favorite songs started to play before the chaos of the world pervaded your life in every way. 

As you decided to dive into your interests when you were younger and happier. Old cartoons were the first thing that appeared in your mind's eye. All the early morning weekend days that held all the nostalgic imported works mainly from Japan, maybe one or two from Italy and France. The bright colors that had attached themselves to each outfit. Your mind wandered off to episodes that you liked the most. You picked up your pencil & pulled your your reference board on Pinterest. You got to work. Music from the show of the past filled your ears for the majority of the night. 

Blissfully unaware of the danger you were in. You were in treacherous waters. The alcohol in your system only made you more susceptible to the risks on the horizon. 

Eyes that were only a few tables off. 

Said eyes that were attached had summoned a cute magical being. Its mint wings fluttered and flicked. The tail and fuzzy ears perked up to meet his master's command. He snapped his fingers. The flying bunny immediately knew it was time to carry out his task. The creature perched himself on your shoulder. Of course, you were oblivious to the magical being since you lacked the gift to see it at all. 

The British Gentleman in his pressed black suit had the clear advantage. Arthur enjoyed taking in your beautiful face, just like the gin that was intoxicating him. 

He let his eyes wander back to the ancient spell, which he reread a few more times. He even used his pointer finger to underline the words. Arthur wanted to perform this spell with precision and perfection. He silently whispered the words. 

The papers below his finger began to glow faintly. The crimson light brimmed over with how intense his emotions were for you. However, he had to continue to keep it under wraps, or he risked botching the spell. 

You’d just completed your sketch & you were ready to set down your pen lines. You had noticed that your left shoulder felt somewhat heavy. It was time to get up and refresh your body as you downed the rest of your cocktail in two gulps. Your eyes wandered around the bar, and you stretched your stiff limbs out. When they landed on a figure of a British man that you were sure you’d seen before. 

However, your memories of meeting him before were covered in a thick brain fog. You didn’t flinch like you would have before. You were at most only 1% sure you’d met him before. Even still, your heart still trembled a bit. 

‘No, no I’ve had a couple of drinks….I’m overthinking it.’ You reassure yourself. You catch the bartender's attention to get a glass of sparkling water. You wandered over to the large open windows that let in the late evening air. You allowed the crisp night air to fill your lungs. The atmosphere began to feel a little suffocating. Black spots occasionally dotted your vision. You swore you’d felt an invisible hand playfully draw a line down your back. 

When you whipped your head around to see how that happened, there was no patron nearby. 

Your left shoulder felt like it had a heavy weight on it. The eyes that were on you felt as though they were devouring the sight of you greedily. You dared not to turn your head back to look at the British Man who continued to read silently. Even though his back was to you, it felt like he had eyes in the back of his head. 

‘It’s okay Y/N. Breathe. Breathe.’ You reassure yourself. You slow down your breathing by taking in deep five-second inhales & five-second exhales. Booze, cologne & the smell of aged oakwood filled your nostrils. All these scents combined were familiar and comforting. 

Your senses were put into a higher state of alertness when a waft of ‘Penhaligon’s The Tragedy of Lord George.’ Plugged your nose. You recognized this aroma. It made the hairs on your neck stand on high. Your nervous system was set on red alert. 

“AY YO! Y/N ! Y/N! WE’RE TAKING A SHOT!” Your bartender friend snapped you out of your traverse to the subconscious truth that you were having a difficult time gaining access to. It just quite couldn’t break through the surface as you walk back to your seat at the edge of the bar. You noticed that the British man had now occupied the seat that was right next to yours. He was admiring your sketch work. 

“What’s the occasion?” You ask curiously. “I got you a shot, love. Cheers to you & your talents.” He had a smooth, buttery British accent that transformed people into steamy vapors. It disarmed your nervous system to a degree, but not entirely. You were still on alert. 

Your face became thoroughly flushed at the sweet compliment & gesture. Your bartender friend slid you (insert favorite spirit here). The bartender, along with the handsome British man, raised their shot glasses & you followed suit. 

“Cheers!” The glasses clink together & you toss it back in one swift gulp. You could have sworn there was an obscure and peculiar aftertaste in your drink. But you’d ignored it for now. Maybe it was due to the last drink you had. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, love. My name is Arthur, and as I came to order my next cocktail, I couldn’t help but notice your lovely sketches.” You couldn’t quite place why it felt as though you were a moth being drawn to a flame, but you sat down next to Arthur anyway. 

“Thanks, I’m self-taught. I enjoy drawing when I’m stressed out or need an escape.” He chuckles and gives you a sly smile. You could have sworn you’d seen a mischievous glint within the pool of his verdant eyes. You know you’ve seen that before, haven’t you? Your mind was still clogged with a thick foggy smoke. Unable to remember why you were uncomfortable…..no somewhat terrified to be near the man sitting right next to you. 

Yet the energy in the air & the alcohol in your system numbs your mind. You were at ease amid the brewing storm. The stiffness you began to feel was back, but it was starting to affect your feet and shins first. The memories that sought to keep you safe couldn’t be assessed due to his flying furry friend keeping your mind in a thick haze, and he began to devour them. 

“You must have been working on it for a long time for it to look this good. Quite exquisite.” As you’d come to sit down, he’d somehow captured your right hand and bestowed a kiss on it. 

Shockwaves of bright electricity swept through you, followed by an instant stiffness that began to take it over. 

‘What’s this feeling that's beginning to take me over?’ It was rather exciting to have the attention of the man with stunning, magical green glowing eyes. Was that hunger you saw within the depths of his orbs? 

“Thank you. Hahaha, it’s not much, but it’s honest work.” You say sheepishly with an attempt at faking confidence with a comedic punch. You noticed a swampy, thick tenseness creeping into the air. You couldn’t help but wonder if you drank over your limit somehow. It felt as though you were now unable to move your shins and feet, and that feeling was beginning to spread more. But since you were relatively inebriated and enjoying your high, you didn’t want to consider it too much. You were out of your depth, and the incoming storm began devouring you like a hungry beast. 

All your mind could really think about was that you still had to line your sketch, think about possible color palettes….. And why did he seem so familiar? Why couldn’t you place your finger on it? 

As the night dragged on, you passively entertained the strangely familiar British man as he droned on about whatever it was. Your body continued to get stiffer progressively. It’s a if you were turning into a doll. You were unable to move your legs at this point and you failed to the glow that was emanating from his book and how it seemed to grow more powerful thought the night. 

Or was that just the alcohol in your system talking?

The familiar calming lull and dizziness of the booze that had engulfed your system. It wasn’t just that it was the powerful magic that was also taking you over. 

It had been a while since you’d spoken to the curious British man….but why had the motion of your Micron stopped moving? You try to move it again, but it’s as if your bones were made of plastic, wood, or stone….. Regardless of how hard you tried, you were unable to move any of your muscles anymore. It was like being in sleep paralysis but much worse. 

“Arthur.” Now that the name has some time to sink in, some of the smog in your brain has been swept away. Important fragments of memories shot up to your consciousness. That was until the mint rabbit grabbed and devoured them. 

It didn’t matter much anyway; much of your mind couldn’t comprehend. 

Your body had been turned into stone. It could only move at the command of the psycho British man. Who now had complete control. 

You’d been turned into a doll against your will now; you could be molded into anything he pleased. 

At the night's end, all your stuff had been abandoned in your favorite bar. You’d been taken deep into the abyss of the night. No one would be able to find you. Not at all. 

You’d been turned into England’s doll that would obey his every whim. Long gone where the days of freedom. You were meant to serve him.

[dulcewrites]

New Traditions

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x afab!reader

Summary: As the first holiday season in your new home approaches, Rhett and you start new traditions and make promises (wc: 3k)

Warnings/Fic notes: mentions of unhappy childhoods (reader and Rhett probably needed more hugs as kids). Allusions to a rich!reader. Me using decorating as smokescreen for a character study lol. Daddy issues galore. The Christmas music is very self indulgent on my part too. Allusions/mentions to 18+ content

A/N: *Mariah Carey whistle note* ITS TIMEEEEEE. Lmao hiii, I hope you all are doing well. It has been a minute since I have written for a fandom outside of hotd so please bear with me on that front. I eventually want to take request soon (for Rhett, some tgm characters, and Calvin Evans) so my inbox is always open if y’all are interested - just shoot me something. If you read anything you like please reblog, like, and or comment. Also let me know when y’all put your decorations up (if you celebrate anything). I’m a staunch first weekend of December girlie myself ❤️

Masterlist

As pathetic as it sounds out loud, Rhett had grown accustomed to having the rug pulled out from under him. He had a looming and painful history with differentiating the cards life dealt him and what he deserves; over time, they began to blur together. At a certain point, he just resigned himself to life just being sort of... eh. Reminding himself that though things could be better, they could also be much, much worse.

It would all combinate in this hazy, syrupy snapshot of moments that ran together. At least, that is what he thought till he met you.

He thinks you would not understand it if he told you - that you are one of those people that is easy to love, while people like him took work to want. Hard work. Something that would be likened to the type of manual labor a Wyoming, farm grown boy like him is used to doing day in and day out. If he dared to express it, you would give him a good-natured laugh and shake your head like you always did when he said something self-deprecating.

"What kind of women do you take me for, Abbott," followed by a playful eye roll. "The type that settles?"

Rhett supposes that was the conundrum with you. Because the statement is not wrong; nothing about you gave off the impression you would settle for anything. That could come from a life of having almost everything at your fingertips. But the questions still tickle his tongue and doubts still makes his brain hazy.

It has only compounded since the two of you moved in together.

It was you who posed the suggestion, a shy smile on your lips. Despite the skepticism and disappointment from your parents, it did not feel right for you to sell your grandmother's ranch, the one your father grew up on, after she passed. You insisted on keeping it yourself, clearly having a soft spot for the house you would visit whenever you had the chance to.

Our home, you called it.

Your baking kits in the kitchen, his horses in the stable, and various clothes in the closets. He should feel reassured by this all… and yet… he waits for the other shoe to drop. For the rug to once again be pulled out from under him. Everything is so warm and new, and he worries about the day it slips through his fingers like sand.

Words in general, and expressing this specifically, does not come easy for him. Though loving you comes as easy as breathing for him. Rhett puts all that stuffing emotions and feelings away to good use as he tries to focus on the present. The only thing that manages to keep his mind clear is keeping his hands busy. So, he tries to make up for it in any way he can. The pale wall color your grandma insisted on keeping but reminded you of a sterile hospital? Painted to something more vibrant. The light fixtures in the kitchen that you said were ‘far too phallic to enjoy a meal under’? Well, those new ones are the best money could buy.

He just finished the building that rocking chair you got for the porch when you stick your head out of the house to call him in for dinner, eyes alight with something he could not put his finger on.

Dinner was silent, too silent for you, who always could spark up a conversation with anyone. A tiny sense of dread sets in, and he can’t help but think it maybe something he did… or did not do.

“The chicken is good,” he tries to start any kind of conversation or joy behind the eyes, but all he gets is an empty smile.

The unnerving quietness carries on for a few of minutes, but you suddenly drop your fork on the plate with a clank.

“Did y'all go all out for Christmas?”

Along with the noise the fork made, the question startled Rhett. He blinks blankly utterly confused by how it went from silence to that.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry,” your lips downturn into an embarrassed frown. “I should not have assumed y’all even celebrate it. I guess I just assumed with your mom and all.”

“No, we do celebrate,” he shakes head.

“So, did you go all out? When did you guys put the decorations out?”

Rhett shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Much like everything else that comes to his family, it is never linear or easy. He doesn’t know how to explain how one year they just stopped decorating; gifts and midnight mass were seen as hassles not the usual. Everything that the holidays stood for: family, love, gratefulness, togetherness was the antithesis of them. The joy and warmth of the holidays was sucked from the house and never came back till Amy was old enough to know what Christmas was - till Rebecca and his ma teamed up one day to make a fuss about the house being cold and sterile. What they meant is that Royal was cold… and sterile.

Rhett can still remember the look of disbelief in Rebecca’s eyes when Perry didn’t back her up on the matter. It was a look Rhett had seen from when he was a teen till the last day, he saw Becca. He still gets a rotten taste in his mouth thinking about he never got to tell her how much she meant to him. But that would also mean admitting that often his biggest advocate was a woman basically forced into the family versus the people he shared actual blood with.

Slight embarrassment burns his mouth like a hot iron down his thoat.

With a tight throat, Rhett shrugs. “It changed every year,” he lies. Then shakes his head. “It wasn’t a big deal really.”

Almost as abruptly as you stopped eating, you get up from the kitchen table. He just about calls out to see if you are ok, but you come back in the dining area carrying a picture.

“When I was cleaning out the garage, I found this.”

Rhett leans over, and he can’t help the slow grin that settles on his face. At first, he didn’t recognize the faces in the picture but then he saw a familiar crooked, mischievous smile, but this time on a younger girl. A little you. Decked out in a red, poofy dress and tiny white fur shawl. Shiny black saddle shoes that gleam even in the old photo.

“My baby as a baby,” he whispers.

Rhett continues to scan the photo. Behind you was two older people, and he can only assume they are your parents. They are exactly how he thought they would be and nothing like he thought at the same time. Your mom casually glamourous in green, your dad in a suit far too done up just for family dinner with a heavy hand on your shoulder. You wear her eyes but his nose. Right behind the three of you, a heavily decorated banister and in the foreground a Christmas tree so large that Rhett thinks it has to be a safety hazard.

You do not seem as happy or in awe of the relic as him, in fact you look sick at the sight.

“That was taken before they sat me down to tell me they were getting a divorce.”

Rhett’s heart sinks a little at the as the way your mouth juts out in bitterness.

“Looking back on it, I should have known. Dad was never home, mom was detached, probably depressed. Ya know, I remember them specifically saying that nothing would change, and naive little me not only believe that but wanted it. Not realizing something was just… off. But I guess most nine-year-old’s can’t tell the difference.”

He supposed it was easier for him to paint a rosier picture of your parents, for his sake and yours. Maybe winters in Texas were better than ones he experienced, maybe life was better. He has seen pictures of house, the compound, you grew up on. But now hearing what you are saying made pity take over the normal envy.

Rhett reaches out to grab your hand, and squeezes. “M’ sorry.”

You wave your free hand nonchalantly thought the casualness does not meet your eyes fully.

“No use crying over spilt milk,” you sigh. “I just saw the picture and tried to rack my brain for the last time we were all together for the holidays. After that one, it was one year with mama, the next with dad. And I don't think we ever decorated the house together. That was my caregiver, Jodie's job. Made me curious other people’s traditions I guess."

Rhett fiddles with the rings on your fingers while chewing on the fleshy part on the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe we can make our own,” he mutters softly. “Startin’ this year.”

You look up through your lashes, eyes fluttering away from the picture that sat on the table.

“Really?”

He nods. If that is what you want, he’d do it for you. Like he would do anything for you. Your gaze goes out the window across from the table. The leaves on the trees already began to change and fall to the ground. Going from green to various shades of red, purple, and brown. The season already has changed; heat melting away as the temperature dropped and cool breeze set in.

Your spirit noticeably lightens. “Do you think we can get a real tree? Mamma always said it was too much of hassle to get a real one.”

Rhett holds up his hand and extends his pinky. “As long as there is mistletoe in the house.”

Under new light fixtures, and with the sun grazing the ground as it sets, the two of you made your first promise.

Investments are important.

Your father told you so all your life. To the giant painting he bought for the Tennessee house (the one you later realized was a Degas), the stocks he bought for you for your fifteenth birthday, or his insistence you go to his alma mater. All investments that he expected payoff for. Your father will always be the smartest businessman you know, and he still managed to be so clueless with everything else.

People are not investments. Not really, at least. Not in the way your father looked at it. You can put money and effort into something, but it is never a guarantee it will work out that way. And you can’t just leave when things do not go your way. Your poor father never seemed to understand that, and you think it broke your grandma’s heart in the process.

And maybe you are no better than him. As a child, you admittedly reaped the benefits your parents offered you, almost to a fault. They would often laugh at your ability to move on to the next thing without so much as a blink of an eye. Onto the next toy, the next piece of clothing, the next makeup item. How can you criticize behavior you gave into yourself?

“You’re a reformed brat,” Jennie, your old debutant buddy turned psychologist said over the phone. “Give yourself some grace. At least you want better yourself now.”

So, you gave yourself just that. You didn’t sell your grandma’s place for the equity or whatever bullshit your dad mentioned. You didn’t Amelia County leave though your mom offered to set you up with her in New York. And God… you’re letting your fall - fall so deeply in love with Rhett, despite the voice in your head that tells you not to.

You replay your, in your opinion, embarrassing meeting. Bursting into tears in the middle of a grocery store was not the romantic story you want to tell others. But he came up to you to say that though he only spoke to her a handful of times when she would stay in her vacation home in Wabang, he knew your grandmother was a good woman and would be missed.

A blubbery mess of grief right next to the meat aisle spiraled into decorating your grandmother's house together - your house.

With Frank Sinatra’s version of ‘Let it Snow’ playing in the background, a rush of giddiness takes over. Jodie always said you had an eye for pretty things.

"A little excited, no," Rhett eyes copious amounts of bags you brought into the house. “It’s not even December yet.”

You survey the bags and boxes laid out. So, you went slightly overboard. Like driving out of town to the nearest big city to do some more shopping. Some habits die hard.

"This is just the starter stuff," you pull reams of garland out of the bag. “Just wait till they start selling the trees. Oh! And I got ingredients to teach you how to make sugar cookies from scratch.”

Rhett is silent for a moment, and you wonder if it is too much too fast. Your mother always said that enthusiasm, especially around men, should be tempered and demure. No one likes a girl that acts like a dog with a bone, sweetheart.

“Do.. do you think we can invite Amy over for the cookies thing,” his cobalt eyes soften at the mention of his niece. “I think she would like that.”

“Of course.”

You knew how important it was to Rhett for things to stay good with Amy. Her reception of the move was the only one he seemed to care about. You could not help but think the rest of Rhett’s family was skeptical about his decision. Cecilia was always kind towards you, and she was mostly receptive to the idea, but you assume it must hurt to see her baby venture out. Something about her reminded you of your own mother. Two women clearly used to the short end of the stick, and had to find ways to deal with it. While your mother found salvation in travel and extravagant parties, Cecilia found hers in faith.

Perry was well… Perry, about the whole thing. Just based on how he handled the news, and small tidbits you picked up from Rhett, it seemed like Perry was upset about Rhett making a choice just for himself. A luxury that the eldest son had a premium on for some time.

But you think it was the patriarch of the family who took it the hardest. It may be the reality of having two less hands around 24/7 like Rhett says, but you tend to think it is something deeper with Royal. Anger, sadness, pride - all of them??? You don’t know.

But what you do know is that family tension is something both you and Rhett know far too well.

After unpacking the bags and boxes you got, the smoky coos of Frank Sinatra transition into the pop Christmas playlist you put together. You don’t remember when the bottle of red wine came out, whether it was between Britney singing about what she wants for Christmas that year or Mariah singing about a holy night. It might have been after you insisted the two of you try your hand at diy decorations. But Rhett rolled his eyes when you talked about getting glasses, taking swings straight from the bottle instead.

“I don’t know how you drink this shit,” he wrinkled his nose, but he takes another hit.

“Just like you enjoy your watery beer,” you retake the bottle from him to have some more yourself.

“Last time I checked,” he expertly ties red and green ribbon into pretty bows and knots. “You were there with me, drinkin’ said watery beer.”

You bite your lip as you watch his brows furrow, and he pokes his tongue out sweetly as he ties meticulously.

“You’re quite good at that.”

“‘M good with ropes too.”

It could be the red wine, which always made your insides warm and fuzzy. Or if could just be the Rhett of it all. Him indulging this perhaps silly childhood wound of yours in full earnest.

“Hmmm,” you shuffle closer to him. The two of you might a makeshift area on the living room floor of pillows and blankets. An almost sickly-sweet peppermint candle ablaze on the table, and the fireplace crackling nearby.

“Royal used to make me secure the lines and pull logs. Kinda got good at it.”

By this time, you’re stuck at his side, suddenly a little fixated on hair on his neck that trickles up to his jaw and cheeks. You like him like this; hair falling from behind where it is tucked behind his ears. Scruffy and soft.

“Maybe you can show me how good you are.”

Rhett’s attention still doesn’t stray from the ribbons he cuts and ties, a task he is clearly taking seriously, but he nods in agreement. You roll your eyes slightly at how oblivious he can be.

“On me, Rhett,” you spell it out for him. “You can use the ropes on me.”

He stops and turns with a look of wanton, wetting his lips for a moment.

“Yeah,” he asks, the inflection at the end of the question breathy and soft.

You nuzzle your nose into area right under his ear with a hum, kissing the skin there and taking in the smell of his cologne. A woodsy scent with sprites of magnolia and cedar. It was one that consumed the bedroom and your mind. You spent much of your formative years pretending to hate the idea of being desired or wanted - chasteness an idea drilled into your head since you were a little girl and told by the ladies of your church that the only thing worse than being ungodly is being ‘fast’. Then you spent college overcorrecting to the point of farce. Letting the guys you knew had little regard for how you felt at the end of it make decisions for you. Emotionally, mentally, and sexually.

Your first time with Rhett was a hodgepodge of giggle and sighs only to be heard by vast emptiness of the home you do sit in now. His boots and jeans askew on the floor. You eccentric grandma’s knick knacks watching you two. Most notably, the cat clock that reflected in the moonlight, the one Rhett insisted you keep when he moved in. After him eating you out until you cried, and a night that ended in you making a trip to the local pharmacy for a Plan B, you honestly expected a series of awkward moments that would single-handedly ruin the small town bliss you experienced for the first time. And yet, in the morning, his lips turned up in a shy smile and he asked if you had bacon in the fridge.

You didn’t realize how badly you were under water and needed to breathe until you came to Wabang. Your lips work their way up his jaw til you reach the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s make it another tradition.”