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bookishofalder · 1 year
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I just found Pretty Girl on AO3! AaaAaaaaAAAAaaahhhHHhHHHH!!!!!!!!
I didn't know you had an AO3 account. I am so grateful for your pretty girl story. I come back to it once every few months and it never fails to make me happy. 💙
Awww thank you so much @icarusinthesea ! Pretty Girl was the first series I wrote (and posted lol) and I’m so happy that people are still reading it and enjoying!! ❤️
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bookishofalder · 1 year
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Well this just made my day 🤍 Thank you for such a kind review, Night Changes is my biggest story and I had so much fun writing it.
I really hope to get back to writing again, just need life to stop getting in the way.
Night Changes [Epilogue]
Summary: The end.
Warnings: Language, smut, excessive fluff.
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Poe always woke to the sound of ocean waves. Many times mixed with the noises Charlie made waking up, her soft cries pulling him from his sleep, or otherwise the sound of you soothing her. He tried to wake before you so that you could sleep in—he still felt he owed you so much time and rest for having to raise her on your own for so long.
Most days, he did naturally awaken before both of his girls. He would spend a few moments admiring you in the golden light of dawn that filtered through the soft linen curtains, enjoying the feel of your body warm against his, before slowly raising to creep from the room and go to Charlie in her nursery.
Today, however, he didn’t need to leave. Charlie was currently asleep in the guest room of their bungalow, a happy home on Yavin-4 that sat right along a sleepy beach. She was spending quality time with her visiting Aunt and Uncle—Rey and Finn. They’d insisted on the sleepover, claiming they wanted practice caring for a baby for when they were ready to have their own. You had hurriedly handed Charlie over, laughing, and wished them luck.
The house had been designed long to ensure most rooms could take advantage of the view of the water; Poe and you were on the opposite side from the guest room. Far enough that they couldn’t hear any crying if Charlie was awake. But Poe trusted his hapless friends, he wasn’t worried in the slightest.
And it meant he got extra alone time with you, uninterrupted.
Settling on Yavin-4 had been a desire you and Poe shared, the decision coming quickly when he first found you on Sorgan and the discussion of next steps came up. Dad was glad to move back, though he did sell his place and had a room next to the guest room, preferring to stay close to Charlie. Combined, the money you inherited from your parents, your brother, the family house you’d sold, and Poe’s money, the Dameron family was more than comfortable to retire and live peacefully on their home planet.
Poe built you a beach house, in a quiet corner of the jungle that was close enough by speeder to a mid-sized town, with a school for Charlie and markets, shops, a cantina. Aside from the occasional distant air traffic, his home was filled only with the sounds of the ocean, the giggles of his little girl and you, his dads' booming laugh. Charlie was nearly three now, and she was the happiest kid, full of attitude and drama but somehow it was so easy to make her smile, and Poe was the best at it. She was a daddy’s girl, you had said, not realizing how much that meant to him to hear.
As he stretched, you gave a soft snore next to Poe and an idea struck him. It had been a while since he’d last eaten you out while you slept, and his cock began to harden at the thought. With careful movements, he shimmied down the bed and ducked his head under the bedsheet, moving between your legs gently. Neither of you ever wore clothing to bed, so it made it easy for Poe to begin kissing your inner thigh as his hands spread your thighs.
When he had you bared, pretty and glistening, he resisted the urge to dive in and instead very slowly began to lap at your folds. Fuck, you always tasted delicious, he really could eat you out for hours happily, drinking you down like a fine wine. He licked at you for a while, his cock pressing into the mattress, only growing harder the wetter you got for him. When he finally pressed one finger into you, he felt you stir and smiled, keeping his movements slow as he gently sucked your clit.
“Shit,” You whimpered, your hips rolling at the same time your hands ripped back the covers, revealing Poe where he lay between your thighs. He grinned up at you, pressing his face harder against your core and licking, his tongue sliding over the sensitive nub as he worked a second finger inside of you. “Poe, I’m so close...”
He growled in response to your words, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside of you that made you see stars, and he felt the wet convulsions of your orgasm hit, listened to the sounds of your moans. He kept his eyes on your face, delighting in the way your pleasure contorted your expression, your brows furrowed and your lower lip between your teeth. He worked you through the high, swallowing everything you gave him until you collapsed back into the cushions.
“Wow,” You breathed heavily, and Poe crawled up next to you on the bed with a smirk. “Haven’t had a wake-up call like that in a while. Do you think Finn and Rey would stay a few days more?”
Poe laughed, “Actually, I do. They’re obsessed with Bug,” He leaned down and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “Now, sweet girl, you think you can take my cock, now that I’ve warmed you up?” He whispered low in your ear, and you moaned in response.
Poe rolled you on top of him, then pushed himself up the bed so that he was sitting against the headboard and you were straddling his lap. Your hands automatically traced along the muscles of his chest, tickling slightly when you lowered them to his abs. Once he was settled, you reached down further and took hold of him, grinning when he groaned aloud at the feel of you squeeze his cock, then raised your hips, beginning to sink yourself onto him.
“Fuck, Poe,” Your head lolled back as you worked to take him, while Poe watched you, his hands now gripping your hips. He dropped his gaze to your soft stomach, his mind suddenly moving toward a thought he’d been holding back from you, not sure if it was the right time to bring it up. Things were so perfect, now, that he didn’t want to upset the balance.
But if Poe was being honest, he had been imagining Charlie having a sibling. The idea of making another baby with you, seeing you swell and getting to be there for the entire pregnancy, the birth, had been on his mind a lot lately. Now, as you sat in his lap, his cock fully splitting you, the thought of getting you pregnant made him pulse with desire. He leaned forward and took your nipple into his mouth, groaning as you began to roll your hips.
“Sweet girl,” He sighed, kissing a trail up your chest and neck, “So perfect, always so perfect for me.” He raised one hand to your head, pushing into your hair and gripping you, angling your head to capture your lips against his as he snapped his hips up to meet you.
You whimpered with each thrust, the sounds swallowed by Poe as he kissed you hard, trying to hold back his thoughts, distracting himself. He should have known it would never work on you—you could read him like a book.
“P-Poe, baby,” You pulled back a little, hips slowing, “What’s going on? You’re far away.” Your pupils were blown wide, skin flushed deliciously.
“It’s nothing,” He felt you drop your weight, settling into his lap but stilling your movements entirely. Your hands reached up from his chest to cup his cheeks, and you frowned at him. “Honestly, sweetheart.”
“It’s not like you to lie to me, Poe Dameron,” Your eyes searched his for a moment, then your frown brightened and you gave him a soft smile. “Would you just say it, flyboy?”
He stared at you, “Say...say what?”
You giggled, both of you gasping slightly at the way your cunt squeezed him in response. “I’ve caught you staring at me, a few times recently. Noticed that you get lost in thought, but then just smile and hide it away. I’m your wife,” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “You can say anything to me.”
Poe nodded, dropping his hands to your waist, “I know, it’s just, things are so fucking perfect,” He replied, his eyes locked on yours, “I don’t want to say something that makes you feel like I don’t think it is.”
“You won’t, I promise.”
He bit his lip, gazing at you in all of your beautiful glory; the sun streaming through the open window bathed you in the golden morning light, your eyes bright and every stunning curve bared to him. Why the two of you always found yourselves having serious discussions amid sex, he’d never understood.
“I want another baby—I’ve been thinking it for a while, but I just haven’t been sure how to mention it.” He broke off, glancing away from you to look out at the ocean, the waves fairly calm this morning. You leaned your head down, catching his eyes again, and smiled widely at Poe. His heart stuttered nervously in his chest.
“Oh, my love,” You cooed, brushing one hand through his hair, “Even when we don't realize it, we’re always on the same page. I’d love to have another baby.”
Poe let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, “Are-are you sure, sweet girl?”
Your smile never faltered, the warmth in your eyes so intense he swore he could feel the heat of it—of you. “I’ll go this week to see the Healers, have them remove my implant.” And before he could reply, your lips were on his and you started to roll your hips, clenching tight around him perfectly, deliciously.
Your movements were filled with intent, sending Poe the message that you were serious, that you felt the same. His heart swelled, the happiness flowing through him almost overwhelming—how had he gotten so lucky, with you? He didn’t understand, still to this day, how he deserved you. And yet every day you continued to show him how strong your love was, right down to understanding his thoughts before he did.
“Fuck,” He hissed against you, pressing his forehead into yours as you rode him, “Going to keep you full of my cum, sweet girl, fuck you every chance we get.”
Your whimper was enough to drag Poe towards the edge, that feeling of falling upward in your arms so close he had to quickly lower one hand to rub circles over your clit—he never left you wanting. He punched his hips up, groaning, picturing how you’d look carrying another baby, remembering how horny you had been when you were pregnant with Charlie—
“Poe, I’m cumming—oh,” your legs gave out as you came, the rush of wetness spilling over his lap and Poe came hard, grunting before he slammed your hips down and held you still. You had fallen against Poe, your head in the crook of his neck as you convulsed around him and he filled you deeply, pulsing in your tight heat. His body melted into yours and for just one moment it was like you and he were one, every breath of air from his lungs going into yours until he collapsed back against the headboard.
You stayed curled into his chest, gasping for air. Poe held you, even as he began to soften within, and stroked your hair gently. The breeze off the ocean cooled your sweat-coated skin, but since Charlie was with Rey and Finn, he figured he could coax you into the large ensuite bath for a long, relaxing shower.
“I love you, Poe,” You whispered, your head turning slightly so that you were looking up at him, your head still resting against his shoulder. “I didn’t know life could be like this.”
Poe met your gaze and smiled softly at you, brushing his hand across your face, “Sweet girl, I’m going to grow old with you.” He murmured, pulling you in for another kiss, languid and slow before he would start another day in paradise with his little family.
When life had finally settled on Yavin-4 for you and Poe—the house finished, Kes all moved in and Charlie adjusted to the new planet, your husband began to have nightmares.
At first, he never said anything to you about them. He acted as if they didn’t happen, but you were a light sleeper because of Charlie, so you always woke up. He didn’t speak, but he would toss around, whimper, his eyes moving rapidly beneath the lids. You knew he saw Temmin die, other friends too—and Leia, she hadn’t made it either. So many had been lost, and he told you how close it had been, how he almost hadn’t made it himself. He’d been through so much after you had gone to Sorgan, you weren’t surprised he had trouble easing into a life where the biggest decisions were about dinner or who was going to get up in the middle of the night to soothe the baby.
You let it happen for a week, hoping that once he settled in more and realized this was life now, they would fade. But you think his pretending they didn’t exist only made it worse, so eventually, you brought it up—and he’d been upset that he had been keeping you up at night. The war was won; but it didn’t take away any of the pain of losses suffered, the hardships he’d had to endure, and yet he’d offered to sleep in the guest room for a while, so you could get some sleep.
You had dismissed that idea immediately and told Poe that if he couldn’t get a good night’s rest then you didn’t need to either. And that was how it ended up that most nights, he’d wake up in a cold sweat and you would roll over and pull him in your arms and he would talk to you.
Poe would tell you everything that happened.
As the nights wore on, the stories became shorter, funnier, some just small memories from passing moments. But the nightmares became less intense, and within three months, they had stopped altogether. And you knew the details of every single moment of his life while you had been on Sorgan, every fight and sacrifice and close call. His mistakes, his triumphs, his fear—and the love he felt for Finn and Rey, for their friendship and loyalty.
It only managed to bring you closer to Poe, who by day showed only a happy, brave face for Charlie, becoming vulnerable in the dark of night, bare in your arms, whispering his story. The thing was, the amount of honesty meant that it was tough to keep things from one another—you could always read each other; now you could have silent conversations from across a room.
You loved how well you and Poe understood each other, but it was really damn inconvenient right now.
It had been a few months since Poe had told you he wanted another baby. It hadn’t come as a shock to you; you’d been thinking the same, wondering when it would feel like the right time, and then he had started acting strange and you managed to get him to confess, suspecting he was picturing another baby in the mix. Poe was true to his promise of having you all the time—every spare moment he could get, he was on you.
Charlie had been a beautiful surprise. This time, you could have fun with the process, which ended up including some fun dates. He’d fucked you behind the cantina in town during a rare night out for drinks. He brought you on beach picnics and you’d ride him on the sandy shore. You’d excuse yourself to go to the fresher and he’d appear out of nowhere and bend you over the counter, fuck you deep and quick before filling you, smacking your ass before he’d slip back out of the room with his cocky smirk.
It was very sexy. You kept letting it happen even though for a while now it wasn’t exactly necessary. You were twelve weeks along, and so far you’d managed to keep it a secret from Poe. You wanted to surprise him, trusting your curves to hide any physical evidence of the pregnancy. Because he was such a good dad, you were able to sneak away when he was preoccupied with Charlie to hurl or splash cool water on your face to quell a hot flash. You were lucky not to suffer too much from morning sickness, though you know you’d pay for that in the final trimester—when you were pregnant with Charlie, you felt like an oversized womp rat for weeks, barely able to stand, wobbling around, sweating constantly.
Today was special and so you’d saved the news to share. It was Poe’s birthday, something he wasn’t ever big on celebrating making it the perfect occasion to share the surprise. You were sat at the large outdoor table with Poe, Kes and Charlie, feet bare on the warm sand, the sky slowly turning indigo as the sun set below the horizon. Dinner was finished, and Charlie was starting to get sleepy, though she was in the toddler stage where fighting off sleep like it was a wild loth cat was the only way to survive.
“Well, sweetheart, thank you for a perfect birthday dinner,” Poe reached his hand across the table to take yours, squeezing slightly as he gazed at you and Charlie, who was in your lap playing with your hair. “Low key, no presents, just good food and family.”
Kes nodded next to his son, clapping Poe on the back, “Good food and family is what life is all about, that was what your mother believed.”
When Poe turned to his dad to reply, you glanced down at Charlie and grinned, lowering your voice, “Bug, can you do something for mummy please?”
Your clever girl smiled, her eyes lighting up immediately at the idea of helping her mother—she was a sweet kid, “Yep yep yep!” She chirped, her little fists coming up to clap against either side of your face gently.
You leaned your head next to hers and pitched your voice to a whisper, giving her the simple instructions. You repeated yourself to make sure she understood and watched as she began to nod aggressively, her brows pinching together in serious focus. You’re not sure she fully grasped what she was saying, which made it funnier when she climbed off your lap and ambled around the table to tug on Poe’s arm.
Poe glanced around at her, his smile breaking wide, “Hi bug, want some cuddle time with daddy?” He picked her up and settled her on his lap as you watched, trying to hold back your smirk. Kes was watching with a faraway, content expression—you think he had an idea of what was coming.
“No daddy,” Charlie replied, her face still scrunched up and serious, “You listen! Listen.” She repeated, dragging the word out as she glared up at Poe, who chuckled, his eyes seeking yours.
He gave you a questioning look and you shrugged innocently. Charlie reached for Poe’s face, patting his jaw so that he would focus on her, “Okay, Bug, what is it?”
“I am a big sitter.”
Poe arched a brow down at her while you clapped a hand over your mouth to hide your giggle, “A big sitter, Bug?”
Charlie bounced up and down excitedly, “Daddy, big sitter—I’mma big sitter!”
Still frowning, Poe glanced up at you again, this time his expression entirely mystified, “Do you understand her?” His voice was slightly strained with the effort of holding back a laugh at her silliness.
You nodded, grinning broadly across at him before looking at Charlie, “Bug, remember how mummy said the word? Sister—“
Charlie’s eyes widened in understanding, “Sister! Daddy, I’m a big SISTER!” She yelled the last word in triumph, her lips forming the word as Poe brushed some of her hair back from her face fondly. You watched as he froze, his mouth opening in surprise, and then slowly looked back at you.
You gave yourself away because a few tears had slipped out watching the exchange, so when Poe’s eyes met yours understanding flashed across his expression. Kes was the first to speak, his hands clapping together in glee, “That’s wonderful news, Bug! A big sister? Wow!” He swooped out of his seat, plucking Charlie from Poe’s arms, “I think you are nearly ready for bed, and mummy and daddy need some grown-up time—say goodnight!”
“NIGHT!” Charlie yelled, waving frantically while grinning up at Kes. He winked at you before turning to make his way up the beach and into the house, leaving you alone with your stunned husband, who was sitting perfectly still.
“You still with me, flyboy?” You took a sip of water, watching as he stood up from the table, a hand swiping through his curls. He was by your side in a flash, dropping to his knees next to your seat and turning you to face him.
“Sweetheart,” He breathed, his eyes shining with tears, “Are you—really, you’re pregnant?”
You cupped Poe’s face, his stubble tickling your hands, “Happy birthday, Poe. I know you said no gifts—“
Poe cut you off, raising slightly on his hunches to press his lips to yours. When he pulled back, his cheeks were wet, “How far along?” His eyes fell down your body, gazing questioningly, lovingly, at your stomach.
“Twelve weeks.”
“Wow,” He murmured, dropping his hands to run over the curves of your torso, “Sweet girl, this is the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten.” His eyes were soft, the honey of them still visible in the light from the candles on your dinner table.
You tilted your head, “Even better than the year Charlie snuck you that vat of Corellian wine?”
Poe barked out a laugh at the memory, “Shit, he and I were drunk for a week straight,” He leaned into you, kissing gently along your jaw as you giggled, “That comes in a close second to this, I think.”
Still laughing, you wrapped your arms fully around Poe and kissed him again. He tugged you off your chair and into his lap, sitting back onto the sand as the inky blue sky shined above with stars and the ocean played its soft melody.
“I love you, Poe.” You whispered, sighing in blissful content.
He held you in his arms and kissed you like it was the first time again, full of passion and emotion. You rolled your hips to indicate you were happy to stay out on the beach for a little while, a soft moan on your lips.
Poe chuckled warm and low, his hands falling to the waist of his pants. “Oh, sweet girl, I love you too.”
A/N: *Sobbing* Thank you so much for reading this series, I hope you loved reading it as much as I loved writing it. Thank you for the reblogs and kind comments, you guys are the best!
Taglist
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bookishofalder · 1 year
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I’ve just found this series and LOVE it so far! I binged so now I’m sitting here like 😩. Slow burn with awesome character building, I’m looking forward to see where the author takes the story. ❤️
gust & flame - masterlist
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Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.
--- takes place after the events in A Court of Silver Flames
🍁 Eris Vanserra x Reader
Chapter I || Chapter II || Chapter III || Chapter IV || Chapter V || Chapter VI ||
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bookishofalder · 1 year
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Thank you kindly for the mention @enchanted butterflies ❤️
okayyyyyyy, and here we go again. my third oscar isaac themed fanfic rec list. i cannot get enough of this man for the love of god. these are my fav fics for duke leto, nathan, and santi 🫶🏻 you guys are so fucking talented that i’ve had to make so many master lists recommending my favorite fics. i’m sorry i’m annoying and i keep tagging y’all. i just love love love fanfiction and you guys truly have written some of the best work i’ve read. IM STILL WORKING ON THIS LIST BTW
Duke Leto Atreides
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Conflicted Future by @supernovafeather
Late Nights by @mattmurdocksscars
NSFW Alphabet by @oscarsbabe
The Winds of Caladan by @sansaorgana
Nathan Bateman
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Admit It by @budcooper
Aphrodisiac by @youvebeenlivingfictional
Baby Names by @spider-starry
Doppelgänger by @brandyllyn this was quite the experience reading this. you’ll never find something filthier than this. i’m obsessed. cheers.
Magnetic by @youvebeenlivingfictional OMGGGGG I FUCKING LOVED THIS
Rubber Ducky, You’re the One by @youvebeenlivingfictional
Santiago Garcia
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Bunny Girl by @laters-gators
Don’t You Dare by @foxilayde
Half of You by @foxilayde this shit is sooooooo and i mean SO good. please don’t abandon this
Hold My Hand (fml i can’t find it now. pls help)
Interdickt by @laters-gators
Liquid Courage by @thot-of-khonshu
Little by @bookishofalder
Married Life AO3 by waatermelonsugaar
The Lion (and The Lamb) by @spacecowboyhotch
Shut Up and Kiss Me by @the-little-ewok
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bookishofalder · 2 years
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Protective
Summary: Hotch jumps in front of a bullet for you. The pieces fall together.
Warnings: Mild violence, language, Spencer Reid being sweet, smut—fingering, PiV, praise kink, daddy kink (pretty mild). WC—+8.3k
A/N: And here we have it, another oneshot that reveals my desire for men twice my age. Sigh.
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You told yourself it was a quirk—like Reid with his obsession with Dr. Who or Penelope with her love of steamy romance novels. You just loved a good high-stakes raid; sure, if it could be avoided you weren’t bothered, but if it was necessary—well, the rush of adrenaline during the preparation, the intense focus that settled over you when you climbed out of the SUV, you were a sucker for it all.
When you first joined the BAU it was the quickest way for you to prove yourself to your new teammates, impressing even Derek Morgan when you wrangled a man twice your size to the ground and had him in cuffs before your colleagues could assist. Once you had established trust with the team, you were able to fill your role more effectively as the expert on tracking and capturing suspects. Drawing up unique plans for each case once the person was identified and then working with your boss, Aaron Hotchner, to ensure they were organized and followed.
You had been in this role for just over two years now and the BAU was basically your family; Spencer was your best friend—you spent most of your social time outside of work with him, usually at his place or the bookstore nearby. You did girls’ nights with JJ, Emily and Penelope, some of which got so wonderfully out of hand that Spencer would pick you up, then tease you endlessly for the next few days as you suffered through a hangover. You liked training with Derek because he pushed you, made sure you worked your ass off whether it was for recertification or just a workout, and he had a calm way of talking about life, often giving you wise advice like whether you should invest in a condo as a rental unit (you did and it worked out amazingly), or if you should give in to JJ’s desire to set you up with a cop friend of Will’s.
That advice you...had not taken. He told you to go for it, that saying yes to a date one time didn’t mean you were obligated to do more than that even if the date went well. The problem was—and you’d never admit this to Derek—that you were already sort of head over heels for someone. The idea of going on a date when you just knew you’d be spending the entire time imagining, wishing it were, a different person across the table from you just didn’t feel right or fair.
So you’d told JJ no thank you. That had been over a year ago and you were in no different of a place in your life, still pining for a man you couldn’t have and whining about it over Ben and Jerry’s during movie nights at Spencer’s, the only person who knew your secret. He was such a good friend that he never stopped you from the inevitable venting that happened every month, usually after a case that had you working closely with the man in question for a few days too long. After being holed up together in a conference room planning and theorizing and then always, always pairing together in the field. You made it up to Spencer by making sure he was never interrupted while in the middle of a ramble unless he got too far off-topic.
Being in love with Aaron Hotchner was no way to live, yet you simply couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t care about the age gap, nor did you mind that he had a child; you adored Jack. But you knew that those would be barriers for Hotch, and you’d seen the last two women he’d dated. They were nearer to his age, soft and sweet and nothing like you at all. It didn’t matter that his relationships didn’t last long, you still gleaned enough information from their brief existence to understand that he wasn’t looking to date another agent, let alone his own, younger, subordinate.
When you had first started with the team, you had wondered if Hotch disliked you. You often found yourself going to Rossi; the warm veteran Profiler always had his door open for you and made sure your onboarding and first few months with the team were smooth and comfortable. It wasn’t that Hotch was rude or cold, it was more like he was wary of you—he would only make brief eye contact, take measured steps away if you happened to be standing near him, and a few times he’d seen the empty seat next to you on the jet and ended up spinning on the spot to take the lone seat at the rear of the cabin, then stand awkwardly if he needed to address the team at any point during the flight.
You tried not to read into it too much but made the mistake of mentioning it to Spencer one movie night. He’d nodded vigorously as you’d spoken and then agreed, saying he’d noticed the odd behaviour as well.
Things were like that until a case in Texas where you saved Hotch’s life.
You remembered that in the moment what you were doing didn’t feel very heroic or grand. It felt terrifying; you had breached a small cabin together on the back of a property where the rest of the team was turning over the main house after having arrested the main suspect. Hotch had gone in ahead of you, standard formation, and at first, it seemed routine and easy.
It was the ease that made the hairs on the back of your neck raise as a chill ran down your spine.
You credited spending so much time with Derek the weeks before learning about his expertise in explosives for how you were able to recognize something was off. You had halted in your tracks and told Hotch to stop and he’d glanced at you uncertainly, stilling nonetheless, and watched you as you stared around the sparse, open room. The spike in adrenaline running through you tipped you over the edge, engaged your fight or flight instincts. You think the only reason Hotch didn’t move or speak was due to the expression on your face, that he realized you were sensing something he wasn’t, and you were grateful for just how good of a profiler, a boss, that he was.
It had clicked as you heard the slow squeak of the cabin’s rickety door falling closed behind you—it had been easy to open, the hinges oiled, so why was it closing slowly and making noise? It was then that you had jumped backward, stopping the door and at the same time you had gripped the back of Hotch’s vest and tugged hard, screaming for him to retreat and he had listened, hurrying to follow you. He’d watched as you grabbed a log off the stack of firewood set just outside the cabin door, taking care to leave it propped opened and unmoving.
You had called for Morgan through the comms while rushing away from the cabin with Hotch. He was regarding you with an expression you never did understand. It was thanks to your quick thinking that you and Hotch weren’t blown to bits. The Bomb Squad had verified the door had been rigged to set off an explosion once it closed behind you.
After that day, that case, Hotch treated you differently. He was warmer, seemed to be more comfortable sitting nearer to you and holding conversations that went beyond the workplace. And in the field, you knew you’d earned his trust and he was arguably the most difficult person to win over; for good reason as he was the Unit Chief.
That trust in you had grown over these past two years working together. It had lead to a friendly relationship that went beyond the workplace, which did nothing to help with your feelings. It was usually a group setting; a party at Rossi’s or a birthday celebration at a nice restaurant. But Hotch would still spend a lot of time talking with you, always made a point of wishing you goodnight warmly when he inevitably ended up leaving first to get home to Jack. Sometimes you swore there was something else he wanted to say to you in those brief moments when he would give you a light hug, but he never did. You convinced yourself it was just your imagination.
And speaking of his son, you had met Jack more than a few times—in fact, Jack often texted you when he had a homework question that he knew his dad would pull his hair out trying to assist with (seriously, Hotch was no good with English or drama, it made you laugh), or once even to tell you he’d been broken up with (that had been a fun one to read to Hotch, who’d expressed that a fifth grader shouldn’t even have a girlfriend and you’d had to break to Hotch that kids grew up too fast for their own good). You were also the third emergency contact for Jack at his school and with any camps or sports he played, but that was because you had the lightest schedule of everyone else on the BAU team, being a homebody. That was all.
Hotch trusted you, with his life, with his sons' life—which was why you were so confused at this very moment.
The world was sideways because he had tackled you.
The unsub you had both been chasing had sprung out from behind a dumpster with a firearm neither of you was aware he’d carried pointed directly at your chest, screaming for you to halt. You were one of the quickest shots on the team, though, and considering his aim was right at your bullet-proof vest, you didn’t even flinch when you’d aimed and pulled the trigger.
Only, Hotch had jumped in front of you at the last possible moment. For one horrifying second, you thought you might shoot him but just managed to jerk the gun higher, the shot going over his outstretched arm; instead of blasting into the suspect's arm as you had intended, it pierced through his skull.
He hit the ground before you did.
Though you weren’t far behind, and fuck you were confused. One moment things were going what you would label ‘standard’ for this type of run or die suspect. Hotch had stopped next to you, joining you in telling the man to lower his weapon-and then all of the sudden he was grabbing you, twisting his body in front of yours. It was the impact to his vest that made you realize the suspect had gotten off a shot as well.
You slammed to the ground with Hotch’s full weight over you, heard him grunt in pain when your head cracked off the concrete because his hand was wrapped protectively around your head—the cracking sound was his hand, rather than your skull. Before you could do more than gasp in surprise, his weight sagged onto you and all the air left your lungs as Hotch crushed you unexpectedly.
You looked down in panic to see Hotch slumped, limp against you, his head on the front of your vest and eyes closed, the pain from the impact of the bullet on his vest having knocked him out cold. You whimpered as you struggled fruitlessly to move him, your mind reeling over what had just happened.
Hotch was a field pro, always calm and calculated and precise. He never fumbled, and yet here he had just taken a very big risk to block a shot aimed at you. You didn’t have the strength to lift him and one of your arms was trapped between your bodies, so you pulled in as much air as you could and reached for his face with your free hand, dropping your gun next to you.
“HOTCH! Jesus—fucking, Hotch wake up!” You screamed, patting his cheek desperately, relief beginning to build as you saw his eyes moving under the lids before they snapped open and you moaned aloud, “Oh god, Hotch are you okay?”
He groaned in pain before lifting his head and meeting your worried gaze with wide eyes, “S-shit, Happy, are you alright?” He gasped, surprising you further by using the nickname you’d been dubbed with by the team because you were always smiling, always quick to laugh. He never called you that in the field. The hand he had under your head curled into your hair as he gazed at you in panic mirroring your own.
You gawked up at him, his face just inches from your own, “Hotch, what the fuck—I’m fine, you just, just,” There was a hysterical note in your voice, “You jumped in front of me! What the hell were you thinking?”
You saw it in his eyes at that moment, his body tensing at your exclamation but his face revealing the surprise, the shock at his actions. Like he hadn’t been thinking at all, but rather reacting. A mixture of emotions crossed his face before he schooled his features to neutral, but you were too worked up to understand any of them. You saw enough, you read what he wasn’t saying out loud—that he’d reacted on instinct, without thought.
He grunted as he adjusted his body and you hoped he hadn’t broken a rib, before he lifted his weight off of you carefully so that he was on all fours above you, the hand cradling your head pulling gently to help you sit up. You were sucking big breaths into your now weightless lungs and came to rest on your elbows, glaring up at him. Hotch barked into his radio to call for the team, his eyes on you with a burning intensity that made your stomach turn over.
Once Morgan confirmed they were coming to your location, Hotch released his hold on your head and surveyed you as if seeking out injuries. “He—I thought he had aimed higher,” He supplied rather lamely, not meeting your eyes. You narrowed yours at him, your adrenaline still pumping, and out of nowhere, it hit you that he had been protecting you, that he was currently acting completely out of character because he was afraid.
Afraid you were going to put it all together.
It was all casual touches, mild flirtatious banter-coffees on your desk in the mornings working at Quantico or passed from his warm hand to yours in the mornings in the hotel lobby’s when on a case. And then every moment together over the last year began to replay in your mind in quick succession. Something about your expression must have given away how you were connecting the dots because he was watching you now like he was witnessing a car accident.
Just last month, you recalled, he had lost his temper on a bartender that had, not knowing you were FBI agents undercover, tried to cop a feel as you passed him in a hallway that led to the main dance floor of the club. Hotch had thrown him into the wall and growled at him not to touch you, before turning to you as the bartender scrambled away and gently touching your arm, his eyes softening as he asked if you were alright.
And back during early spring last year, when you were walking with a search party together on a missing woman case in Denver and tripped over a root in the dense brush. You had gasped and Hotch had caught you so quickly you remembered thinking he must have already been watching you, his hand grasping the back of your jacket and hauling you back up before you could hit the ground. He had brushed some locks of hair that had fallen forward over your shoulder before looking away quickly and setting off to continue searching.
And the most recent memory, just last month at Rossi’s annual Christmas party. You had been sitting with Spencer at the kitchen island, listening to your genius best friend as he rambled off facts about why Christmas trees became a thing when you saw from over his shoulder as Hotch slipped quietly out the doors to the patio area, alone. Something inside you had driven you to excuse yourself, jerking your head toward the windows you could see Hotch through, and Spencer had smirked knowingly before you walked away.
You slipped outside into the cool night and Hotch hadn’t seemed to even notice, his arms resting on the balcony railing as he gazed out into the dark, deep in thought. When you leaned your back against the railing to stand next to him, he’d started slightly before shooting you a little smirk you’d grown to adore. It was something he did only with you and every time it sent butterflies through your stomach.
“Hi, Happy,” He had looked away as he’d spoken, back out at the night sky.
You had smiled up at him, “You may need to dip into more of Garcia’s very alcoholic egg nog if you’re feeling short of Christmas spirit,” He had chuckled at that, a sound that shot heat through you and ensured you didn’t feel the chill in the air, “I only had one glass and I feel it.”
You’d been kidding, though it had been pretty strong. But the way Hotch had glanced back down at you, that brief flash of concern as he searched your face, it had surprised you. “Are you feeling alright?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you, actually.”
Hotch blinked a few times, then sighed, “I am,” His eyes were so warm, you remember thinking. “I just have trouble turning off my brain sometimes.” He’d admitted a little shyly, looking away again.
You’d reacted on instinct, your hand sliding across the railing to lay over his own comfortingly. You looked towards the windows, seeing your friends inside all laughing and cheerful, and ignored how Hotch had stiffened in surprise next to you—he could pull his hand away if he wanted to.
“You want me to help sneak you out?”
His hand turned over beneath yours, twisting to capture it in a soft hold, and you had tilted your head to peer up at him, those warm eyes gazing at you with a sudden intensity you couldn’t understand. “No, I don’t want to leave yet.”
Struggling to quell the sudden nerves within, you’d looked away before replying, “I can’t always quiet mine down either. And I have considerably less trauma in my life compared to you,” You tacked on the joke, relieved when he’d laughed fully, his deep baritone cutting through the air in a rush of joy that made your heart thud hard against your rib cage.
“You have, uh,” He broke off, still laughing, and his hand squeezed yours again, “A real way with words, honey.”
Honey. You had liked that.
At what point in the last year had you fully convinced yourself he could never feel anything toward you like you did for him? Because as you laid there on the concrete it seemed almost glaringly obvious how wrong you were. You had thought all of those moments, most little and some a bit more were just signs of a close friendship, respect for one another as both Agents and individuals. It made you work better together, you’d thought, until right now.
Before you could say anything or even think of what the hell to say to him, voices and heavy footfalls filled the alley. Hotch was looking to your team and had lifted himself completely away from you.
Spencer was the first to grab you and pull you to your feet, his features twisted in concern.
“You okay, Happy?” He asked, smoothing back your hair as his eyes roved over your body to assess the damage-or, lack thereof.
You nodded, giving him a tight smile, “I’m fine Spence. Had to take him out though, he had a gun.” You jerked your chin in the direction of the dead suspect—Emily and Derek were already standing over the man, while Rossi was helping Aaron to his feet, leading him toward the street to the paramedics for assessment.
Spencer hugged you, a rare thing for him to do, “We heard the shots, thought you—I’m so relieved you’re alright,” You smiled up at him reassuringly when he pulled back, “Let’s go see the medics.”
“Oh, no need,” You grumbled, giving him a look the silenced any argument he might have otherwise made. With a careful shrug, Spencer led you from the alley with a hand at your back. He made you sit on a nearby bench within the blocked-off area for the investigation.
“So,” Spencer began, taking a seat next to you and fixing those kind eyes on you, “What happened? You’re angry.”
He knew you too well, you thought, shrugging and glancing away so that he couldn’t read you. Your eyes landed on the ambulance; Hotch was being given a once over and you found him glaring hard at the ground as he sat silently for the paramedic. Rossi was sitting next to him with a knowing expression on his face.
The anger and confusion you were feeling intensified as you replayed everything that had just occurred. Your boss had just broken basic protocol to jump in front of a fucking bullet for you, shoved you hard to ensure he caught the hit and then went so far as to protect your head when you hit the ground.
You could have shot the suspect in the shoulder, but Hotch prioritized you the moment he saw the man's gun.
You’d always had such high regard for Aaron Hotchner, even before you developed feelings for the older man. He was a storm, a man who could as easily and swiftly shift from calm and cool to harsh and powerful depending on what the situation warranted in the field and it had always impressed you. Today, he had quite literally taken your breath away but at the cost of his safety and the suspect's capture.
You were stunned.
Spencer was silent next to you, no doubt understanding from where you were looking that you weren’t going to elaborate. He knew you preferred to speak about personal matters outside of work, and being the amazing friend that he was he didn’t pressure you. A comforting arm did land around your shoulders, which you leaned into gratefully.
You weren’t sure how long you were glaring over at Hotch, but eventually, the paramedic moved away and he glanced up, his eyes finding yours. For a brief moment, he merely stared at you, though his gaze tightened after a beat as if he were annoyed.
That did it.
Without a word to Spence, you abruptly shot off the bench and stormed across the sidewalk and onto the partially cordoned-off road. A flash of understanding crossed his face and he glanced over to Rossi, speaking something quietly to him. Rossi nodded before stepping away, leaving you alone with Hotch by the time you were standing right in front of him where he sat at the back of the ambulance.
He was so much taller than you that standing before him you were only given a slight advantage now, but you allowed the fact that you were looking down your nose at him to encourage you. “Seriously, what the hell were you thinking, Hotch?” You hissed, crossing your arms.
His expression still dark, Hotch met your gaze without faltering, “I reacted out of instinct, Agent—something that we’ve all done before. I prioritized your safety over that of the suspects.”
“You mean over your own safety, Hotch!” You stepped closer, your arms squeezing your torso so that you didn’t reach out and shake him, “We both know his shot wasn’t high. It would have hit my vest. It’s happened before, I can handle it.”
Hotch sighed, running a hand through his hair in a rare display of agitation, though his stern voice didn’t waver as he replied. “I know that you can handle it, Agent. Nonetheless, what’s done is done and I won’t apologize for—”
He broke off when you leaned down so that your face was directly in front of his, your voice coming out choked as your fury reached its peak. “Don’t call me agent, Aaron, not when we both know you aren’t being honest about what that was about.” You didn’t even care that he was your boss at that moment, just like he hadn’t been thinking of you just as one of his agents back in the alley.
You spun away then, your eyes pricking with tears you desperately blinked back. When you looked around, you saw Spencer standing by one of the SUV’s and you made your way over to him. When he saw you coming, his expression fell at the pinched look on your face and he surprised you by pulling you in for another hug when you reached him.
If you had looked back at Hotch, you would have seen the pained expression flicker across his face as he watched you go to Spencer for the comfort he wished so badly he could have given you. You would have seen the way his hands clenched, his jaw ticking as he held himself back from following you, a mixed look of longing and jealousy burning in his dark eyes.
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It was a late departure from the airport that night, the team arriving at the jet well past midnight with heavy eyes, all unusually quiet. The fact that it was also a long flight made you want to cry—you could never sleep on the jet. You weren’t sure why exactly, it was as though you were cursed, you were incapable of falling asleep when on any kind of airplane. And you weren’t afraid to fly, quite the contrary you enjoyed it, even found the cabin of the BAU jet to be one of your favourite places. Regardless, as everyone else settled in with headphones or earplugs, reclining their seats, or in Spencer’s case stretching out on the couch to fall asleep, you sat alone at the back of the plane with your legs curled up on the seat, gazing out the window.
You had your headphones on, though they weren’t connected to your phone. You had gone through the motions when you first sat down, but then gazed at the Spotify app on your phone and went blank, unable to decide if you wanted to listen to music or a podcast, your brain too tired and distracted. You pocketed your phone without selecting anything, then rested your head on your hand against the wall and stared out the window.
You hadn’t even looked at Hotch since walking away from him earlier, though you think you felt his gaze on you at times as you’d wrapped up on the scene and later when you’d climbed out of the SUV to clear the security at the airport. You had determinedly avoided him as best you could, fearing what you’d see on his face if you did look. Anger, disappointment, or worse—nothing at all.
It was maybe an hour later, the cabin dark and silent, that you shifted in your seat and realized you needed to pee. You stood slowly, pulling off your headphones and dropping them onto the seat, and then slipped through to the bathroom. When you were standing at the sink washing your hands, you felt a fresh wave of exhaustion roll through you and closed your eyes, resting them as you dried your hands. You kept them closed as you took a moment to breathe and then opened the door.
When you stepped out into the small galley area that was the rear of the plane, divided by only a curtain from the cabin area, you walked directly into something solid and your eyes flew open in surprise. Hotch’s large hands grabbed your arms to steady you when you bounced off of his chest, releasing you just as quickly once he’d ensured you weren’t going to fall.
“Wha—” Your mouth snapped shut at the expression on his face; it was torn, as though he weren’t certain he should be standing so close to you, yet unable to move away. Your eyes flicked down, noting how dishevelled he looked at that moment—his tie gone, shirt partially unbuttoned, hair messy enough that you knew he was running his hands through it.
For a long minute, he didn’t speak, he just stared at you, yet the air around you felt suddenly thick with tension you couldn’t help but shift nervously, your lower lip drawing between your teeth.
Hotch’s eyes were on your lips before he glanced away from you entirely, his eyes closing as if he were attempting to draw strength or patience. Words failed you because you had no idea what he wanted, what he was doing back here. You thought he had been asleep like the others in the seat across from Rossi, that he had been happy to let you ignore him.
He took a deep breath, “We should talk.” He murmured, eyes on you again and you nodded, nervous under his intense gaze. “I need to apologize to you. What I did today...I realized in after that it was the first time in a while where we’ve been in such a close call like that, where one well-placed shot would—well,” He paused, his pinched brow and dark eyes saying what he couldn’t so much in words, “It’s not an excuse, for my behaviour. But I—I feel, protective, of you. It’s not professional, or fair, or a reflection of any distrust in your capabilities.”
Stunned as you were at his honesty, at how much he was sharing, you couldn’t help but frown, “Hotch, you scared the hell out of me,” You whispered, needing him to understand how worried you had been, “Do you think you’re the only one who doesn’t want to see someone they care about get hurt? Not to mention if there had been any witnesses, then you’d be getting in a lot of trouble for breaking protocol like that!” Unable to raise your voice, you punctuated your words by prodding his shoulder and shooting him your best glare.
He looked away, his eyes landing somewhere over your head as he seemed to consider your words. When he started to nod, his eyes fell back to meet yours and you finally saw a glimpse past that stern exterior, a brief window to his vulnerability and fear and...there was something there you didn’t understand, but it made your legs a little weaker.
“I shouldn’t—fuck,” Hotch crowded you then, quietly pushing you back into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him as he stood against you in the small, dimly lit space. Your breath caught in surprise when his hands suddenly came up to cup your cheeks gingerly, and you could see the colour rise from his neck as he struggled with himself, “I thought I could get past this. I—It’s inappropriate. It’s unfair to you, but I can’t seem to fight it anymore. Fight how I feel about—”
You felt all the air in your lungs evaporate as you realized what he was saying. With a burst of confidence you reached your hands up to take hold of Hotch by the front of his suit jacket, your voice a steady whisper as you breathed out, “I don’t want you to fight it anymore, Aaron,” He stiffened, pulling in a sharp breath as you sighed softly, “Please don’t fight it.”
And then you tilted your head, pushed up to your tiptoes, and captured his soft lips against yours in a passionate kiss.
You kept it light and brief, pulling back only slightly to meet his gaze after a minute. At first, he merely stood frozen before you, processing what had just happened. You were both keenly aware of the lines you’d both just crossed, at what was at stake, and you didn’t mind waiting for him. His eyebrows had risen high on his forehead as he gazed at you in wonder, and you had to resist the urge as you looked into his warm ochre eyes to tell him that he was beautiful.
When Hotch finally spoke, his voice shook more than you’d ever heard before, “Please know—you don’t have to pretend, I...this is so inappropriate of me and I promise you don’t have to even say—”
“Hotch,” You interjected, tugging him a little closer, “I feel the same, I really do.”
You turned your head to try and kiss along his jaw, only one of Hotch’s hands shot up and stopped you, gripping your chin, then pushing into your hair. You watched him take a steadying breath, your heart threatening to burst from your chest, and then he was everywhere—his lips on yours, his broad, muscular body pressing you into the sink counter, his other hand now trailing softly up your neck. It was almost frantic, and you matched his energy swiftly, each of you putting what you couldn’t say in words right now into the kiss.
Reaching up between your bodies, you slid your hands over his wide shoulders before pushing them into his short hair and pressing him harder against you, your tongues now dancing together as you each deepened the kiss. You were desperate for more, the heat in your belly settling low and you felt wetness pool between your thighs as Aaron Hotchner kissed the living hell out of you in the bathroom of the BAU jet.
You each pulled back at the same time, your bodies still tightly wound together, and gazed into each other’s eyes as you panted. You broke the silence first, giving a little laugh, “We sure picked the worst possible location to do this.”
Hotch chuckled, the smile that spread over his face so beautiful you felt your heart stutter in your chest. He brought the thumb of the hand on your chin to brush over your lips, “I’ve been wanting to do that for quite some time, honey,” His voice was low, the timbre of it sending heat through your veins, “I’m sorry I didn’t do it in a better location, though.” He added, laughing again.
“Don’t apologize, Hotch,” You murmured, smiling up at him, “This was perfect, I just...wish we could talk more somewhere comfortable.”
He nodded in understanding, then pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, “We should go and get some sleep, and when we land I’ll take you for coffee anywhere you want to go and we can figure this out.”
You leaned back and gave him a sheepish smile, “Hotch I...I’ve never been able to sleep on airplanes. I might be dead on my feet by the time we land,” You admitted somewhat regretfully, “And if I’m honest, I’m a little too worked up right now to even try.” Hotch’s grip on you tightened slightly at your words, his eyes now searching your face with a mixture of curiosity and desire; the latter of which you were sure he recognized in your expression.
You saw him drink in the way you were now biting your lip, the not-so-subtle clenching of your thighs and the heat flaming your cheeks. “Hey now,” He murmured, his voice so husky you nearly whimpered, “Oh, I know just what you need, sweet little thing.”
You have to admit, you almost crumbled right on the spot at his words, the heat of them shooting straight to your throbbing core and you blinked up at him in surprise. Before you could say anything, Hotch pressed his lips to yours again, his tongue sliding over them hungrily. You immediately opened your mouth, allowing him to lick into you and moaning quietly at the sudden storm of intensity that was Hotch.
His hands dropped and gripped at your waist, thumbs sliding along the band of the leggings that you had changed into back at the station. You shuddered at the slight skin-to-skin and unconsciously rolled your hips. “Shit—Hotch!” You couldn’t help but mutter, the reality of Hotch touching you so much more arousing than you could have ever imagined.
He pulled back from you by only a whisper, “Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” His warm eyes searched your face for any signs of discomfort.
“God, no!” You whimpered, and Hotch smirked at you in a way that made your insides turn to jelly before he was sliding his dominant hand below the waist of your leggings and seeking out where you needed him most.
He ghosted his fingers over the front of your panties, and you trembled in anticipation. His eyes were on your face, and you couldn’t look away from him even as he dipped below the cotton fabric and found the dripping mess that you were, though your face flushed in embarrassment.
Hotch grunted, “Is that all for me, pretty girl? Fuck,” He’d been teasing along your folds but now pressed up and expertly found your clit with his thumb at the same moment he sunk one finger inside of you. The low, desperate moan that ripped from your chest made him growl and he brought his free hand up to grip your jaw and kiss you firmly before pulling back to give you a mock-stern look, “Quiet. Stay nice and quiet for me and I’ll give you what you need, okay?”
You nodded eagerly, biting your lip, and his expression smoothed out before he started moving his fingers again. His thumb worked little circles over your clit, but it was his thick fingers that were making it hard to keep quiet. He pushed a second inside of you now, pumping them in and out and curling them in just the right way, so expertly that you were seeing spots in your vision before long.
“Oh, oh god, Hotch,” You whispered, slamming your hands against his chest and gripping at the fabric of his suit jacket, “S-so fucking good...”
“I know, pretty girl, you just need someone to take care of you,” He was still watching your face as he fucked you with his perfect fingers. You’d never been so turned on in your life, both never wanting him to stop and wishing you were somewhere more private. His voice wavered slightly when he spoke next, “I can’t believe this is happening, I never thought—”
“What?” You interjected softly, beaming at Hotch, “Was I really that good at hiding how I felt?”
His fingers were moving slowly now, dragging you along the edge as he surveyed you with surprise, “I thought...yes, you were very good.” He didn’t elaborate, and though you think he meant to say something more, you were too distracted by his touch to clarify his meaning. You would ask him about it during that coffee. You trembled and his eyes refocused, the pupils blowing back out, “Does this feel nice, pretty girl? You like being a good girl for me?”
Shit, he was fucking hot. His words were erotic and perfect and you had no idea you had such a praise kink but here you were, getting even wetter for him every time he spoke. You nodded, sucking in a sharp breath when he suddenly picked up the pace, thrusting his fingers in and curling them exquisitely. “Fuck, I’m so close already—”
Hotch pressed his body closer to yours, making a sound in his throat of approval, but when his hips had ground against you involuntarily, you felt the hard length of him at your waist and that was what did it for you. Knowing he was enjoying this as much as you were, that he was so turned on by you coming apart at his fingers, it sent you over the edge. You felt yourself clamp down around his fingers, your hands pushing at his chest as your eyes fluttered closed and you had to bite your lip hard to prevent yourself from crying out.
He didn’t make it easy for you, though; Hotch grunted when he realized you were coming, his voice in your ear low and wrecked, “That’s it, such a good girl for m-me. So fucking sexy,” His movements slowed but didn’t stop completely, drawing out your bliss unexpectedly and making you whine quietly. “Fuck—feel how hard I am for you. Do you feel what you do to me?”
His commanding voice was almost enough to shoot you right over the edge again. You barely managed to access enough of your brainpower to drop one hand to his pants, palming over his thick erection before gasping at not only how hard he was, but how long—Hotch was packing. Holy shit.
You leaned forward desperately, wrapping your hand behind his neck and drawing him down to kiss you again. It was messy and delicious; he tasted masculine, warm, like a fucking summer evening, and you could have stayed wrapped around him forever.
When he finally pulled back, you were both flushed and panting, the pink on Hotch’s cheeks beautiful enough to make you stare. He smiled nervously and relaxed his posture before slowly sliding his hand from within you. You watched as he raised his fingers, soaked in your essence, and gazed at them for a moment before looking you straight in the eye as he brought them to his mouth.
Your jaw dropped as he smirked at you like he just knew you’d never had a lover or partner do something so bold. You couldn’t tear your eyes away as he sucked his fingers clean, closing his eyes as if appreciating the taste. Your taste.
“Holy shit, Hotch,” You murmured when he lowered his hand. He chuckled, reaching behind you for a paper towel and wiping his hands dry before cupping your face gently.
“Do you feel okay? Was that alright?”
There was that concern again; it was never gone for long, and you were starting to feel like an idiot for not realizing how often, just how much Aaron Hotchner cared for you. You felt your pussy throb again from the expression on his face and you knew you couldn’t stand another minute without him inside of you. “More,” You reached forward, grabbing at his belt, “I need you, Aaron. I need you inside me, please.”
You started to unbuckle him, only his hands pushed yours away. You looked up, afraid you’d gone too far, only to find Hotch wide-eyed and...and feral. He looked fucking wrecked, like what you had just said was the single hottest thing he’d ever heard, and his hands only expertly worked at undoing his belt and working his fly down.
“Are-are you sure?” He gasped out, pausing as he moved to push his pants down. You answered him by shoving your leggings and panties down, kicking them away from your feet and nodding eagerly as you looked up at him.
You’d never been in such a passionate situation, where every touch and movement felt meaningful and right, and you had to work hard to keep yourself quiet. When Hotch pushed his pants down and stood up straight, his hard cock sprung up and you slapped your hand over your mouth to hold in your gasp. Fuck, was he even going to fit? You could feel the slick running down your thighs now, grateful he’d already made you cum once—nonetheless, it would be no easy feat to take all of that.
Hotch reached up over your head, grabbing a towel from the shelf and throwing it on the counter behind you before he stooped and lifted you gently, settling you on the edge. He stepped right up to you, your bodies pressed together, his thick, long erection hot on your thigh. He then looked at you closely, “This is about more than sex for me. I have feelings for you, pretty girl, this isn’t a one-time thing.”
You think he needed you to understand this as much as he needed to be sure you felt the same. “I’m yours, Aaron,” You whispered back, gazing at him softly even as your body raged with a fire he had lit, “All yours, forever.”
His eyes softened, and he kissed you again before pulling back and gripping your hips with his strong hands. You reached one hand down to grasp his length, leaning back into the mirror, and put your other hand over your mouth again. You gave him two pumps, and Hotch hissed, his eyes on your bodies below as he let you line him up and then he was slowly thrusting forward.
The stretch was immediate, you had certainly never been with someone bigger, your eyes wide as you looked down at him splitting you open. He took his time, easing back every time he sunk another inch in to ensure you experienced no pain, the expression on his face focused. It took a few minutes before he was fully inside of you, and he just let you clench around him at first, his eyes falling shut in pleasure.
The full, stretched feeling was everything, your eyes rolled in your head as you bite back your moans.
“Fuck, pretty girl, you are so tight,” He whispered, adjusting his grip on you so that one hand splayed across your lower back, pressing your body into his. “Going to make this quick, okay? So we don’t get caught.”
The way he said it suggested he intended to take his time with you again soon, the implication driving you to clamp down on him in excitement, and Hotch groaned low. He hugged you close, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, and started to fuck you, hard. He set a pace that instantly had you biting into your own hand to ensure you didn’t scream, his cock hitting you in all the right places. You felt a rumbling in your neck and realized he was using you to muffle his sounds, unable to keep himself fully quiet.
“F-fuck,” You whimpered as you pulled your hand away to grab at his hips, the feel of his muscles flexing as he pounded into you turning you on even more. You pressed your face into his shoulder as you began to see bright lights behind your eyelids. “Going t-to cum again, oh shit—”
He turned his face slightly and breathed into your ear, hot and sinful, “Cum for me, little girl, cum for daddy.”
Oh.
Oh god, you’d never hurled so fucking fast over the edge in your life. Your orgasm swept over you like the wave of a tsunami; Hotch must have realized what his words had done because he frantically slammed one hand over your mouth as you arched away from him and came. Your head tilted back and mouth opened against the skin of his palm in a cry you tried to contain, the only sounds escaping pathetic little mewl’s. Hotch was panting, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his peak, “Shit, I’m g-going to cum!”
You felt him begin to pull out, and even in the haze of your orgasm managed to wrap your legs around him and pull him so that he was deep inside of you. “IUD,” You murmured, desperately trying to open your eyes and watch his face. “Cum inside me, daddy, please.”
Hotch gave one last, strong thrust, his eyes wild as he started to cum, filling you deeply, “Fuck!” He hissed your name, biting his lip and then dropping both hands to your hips to pull you even closer against him, his eyes on where he was pumping you full of cum, yours watching his face.
The sight of Aaron coming undone for you so completely was captivating. You’d never known something could be so perfect and you soaked up every expression that crossed his handsome face like it was oxygen you needed to live by. When he stilled, the only sound was that of each of your heavy breathing. You relaxed your legs and slumped into the counter, exhausted, and he leaned over you to capture your mouth against his.
This kiss was slower, dizzying, delicious—you were blissed-out and nearly ready to pass out from it all, the intense emotions and explosive second orgasm exhausting everything you had left. “Aaron, Jesus Christ,” You giggled lightly, running your fingers over his cheeks as he smiled down at you. You could feel him beginning to soften within you, but he didn’t pull out right away and you found you liked the sensation, enjoyed keeping him warm within you as you each caught your breath in the cramped space of the bathroom.
Hotch pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his eyes gazing at you so lovingly you could have cried, and then brushed a hand across your face, pushing back some hair, “How are you? Was that too much?”
Your heart constricted again as he concerned over you, “That was amazing, Aaron. Might need you to help me down in a minute, though,” You admitted, giving him a sleepy smile, “Are you always going to worry over me so much?” You added, and he gave you a rueful smile.
“Yes pretty girl, I probably will.”
“Hmm, I think I could get used to you being so protective,” You replied, grinning and stroking your thumb over his cheek, “Just no more jumping in front of bullets, maybe?”
Hotch laughed warmly, slowly pulling away from your body and reaching for paper towels to help clean you up. “I’m making no promises there,” He paused, looking you in the eye and you stilled at the intensity there, “I love you too much.”
His confession brought tears of happiness to your tired eyes, and you let a few slip out as you sat up carefully, “I love you too, Aaron.”
You realized then that nothing in life had ever felt so thrilling and right as admitting you loved Aaron Hotchner.
You smiled warmly as he pulled you against him in a strong embrace, then let him take care of you before leading you to the seat next to him in the main cabin. Tucked into Hotch's side with your head on his chest, you slept for the first time in your life on an airplane. Surrounded by all the people you loved most while being held by the man of your dreams.
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bookishofalder · 2 years
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I’m so happy you loved it! Night Changes is definitely one of my better works and I’m thrilled to see others still enjoying it! ❤️
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Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader
Status: Complete
Sneak Peek Two Three Four Five
Moodboard, One, Two, Three*, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight
Bonus Scene // Bonus Blurb // Bonus Scene II
Prologue -Mon. March 1st
1. Reunited - Mon. March 8th
2. Indifferent - Mon. March 15th
3. Mission - Tues. March 23rd
4. Desire - Sun. March 28th
5. Repair - Wed. April 7th
6. Mixed - Wed. April 14th
7. Injured - Thurs. April 22nd
8. Foundations - Tues. May 4th
9. Remember - Sun. May 23rd
10. Epilogue - Sun. June 6th
Synopsis:
Keep reading
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bookishofalder · 2 years
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*18+ only please! Review warnings within each work. Current WIPs here!
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Night Changes | Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader (Complete)
Pretty Girl | Flip Zimmerman x Fem!Reader (Complete)
Saviour’s Coffee House | Negan x Fem!Reader (WIP)
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Between the Sun & Moon | StevexBuckyxReader (WIP)
Catfish & Sunshine | Frankie Morales x Reader(WIP)
Little | Santiago Garcia x Curvy!Reader (Complete)
STARFISH | Frankie Morales x Anxious!Reader (Complete)
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Oneshots
Requests Here Status: Closed
Criminal Minds Universe
ADCU (Adam Driver)
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bookishofalder · 2 years
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Just wanted to tell you that I absolutely love your Poe Dameron story Night Changes. I find myself going back and re-reading it over and over because it is the kind of story that sits with you and you cannot enjoy just once. So thank you
Oh this is such a lovely message to receive💙 I adored writing Night Changes so much and I’m thrilled that it left an impression for you! Thank you for taking the time to send this, it’s made my day, truly! 💙
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bookishofalder · 2 years
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Between the Sun & Moon | Moonrise
Summary: It feels selfish, to love so immensely
Warnings: 18+, language, mentions of violence/war (brief), smut, threesome, mention of pain kink (brief).
A/N: Welcome to the complicated world I created just for us. 💙💙
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The first time Bucky had seen you had been the same as today; you walking away, unaware of his gaze. This time however it wasn’t in the streets of Bucharest, rather the heart of New York City. This time, you weren’t walking away to be unsuspicious, to remain another face in the crowd while secretly determining how to help Steve convince him that Captain America wanted to help Bucky. No, now you were walking alone, leaves crunching underfoot as you hurried away from the Tower with fresh tears staining your cheeks.
The biggest difference, however, was that Bucky knew you now. He wasn’t trying to hide from anyone when he hurried out of the Tower after you. He followed, unsure of what exactly was going on but knowing enough to keep a polite distance. He had been showering when you were in the kitchen with Steve, having a conversation, and had been dressing when the sound of the front door slamming met his ears, followed by Steve cursing aloud.
As much as he wanted to comfort him, Bucky knew that you needed him more, and so he followed.
He’d been mesmerized by you the moment he saw you that first time. You were with Steve, hunting him—the Winter Soldier—trying to find Bucky before SHIELD or anyone else could. He remembers being torn between looking at Steve, taking in how his best friend had changed over all the years that had passed while he was the Winter Soldier, and gazing at you. Your face was almost like an open book; he could read every expression upon it even with such limited knowledge of who you even were.
The first time he saw Steve touch you in an affectionate way that signalled the romance between you, Bucky had felt a ripping tear in his heart. He had always loved Steve. He would, he knew, until the day he died. But it wasn’t quite jealousy that he felt as he surreptitiously surveyed the two of you from the containment pod he’d been placed in after you had all been arrested. It was a new feeling, a mixture of deep longing and sorrow, intense attraction, a need to feel wanted.
To love and be loved endlessly.
And then they were all on the run, and Bucky found himself readjusting to his mind and body, while simultaneously falling for you and harder for Steve. It was a confusing, difficult time—he had always been unsure and afraid of how he felt for Steve Rogers. For so much time to have passed, to feel those things for his best friend again, it was overwhelming. Add to that the way he reverently admired you, and he wasn’t functioning at his best. It was months of the best kind of agony before he snuck away with Steve to Wakanda.
Now though, as you walked quickly up ahead, it wasn’t about Steve, or Bucky even. It was about you, and the ways you had suffered since Bucky came into your life. You were like a bright star in everyone’s life, a constant, strong and beautiful and so full of life—but your gasping cries that you were attempting to suppress, which his enhanced hearing caught with ease, told him you were breaking.
Breaking because you were in an impossible situation, between Steve and him. If you were a star-Steve was the sun, and that meant that he, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, was the moon. And you were stuck between them. Between the sun and the moon.
“Peach,” He finally called to you when you crossed a busy street with barely a glance and a taxi screeched to a stop, laying on his horn. You ignored the taxi and Bucky, continuing your path to the East River and he quickened his steps until he was level with you, resisting the urge to pull you into his side protectively.
For a few minutes, he walked in tandem with you, his eyes darting around instinctively, though it was a beautiful fall day and most people were trying to spend the time in parks or buildings with good views of Central Park, not aggressively marching toward the river. When it was within sight, you broke the silence, your voice low, “He told you?”
Bucky knew that this would happen, which was why he’d told Steve to rethink how he spoke to you—but stubborn as ever, Steve Rogers had trouble taking that sort of advice. “Last night, Peach. He knew I saw it coming, wanted me to be prepared for when you were told.”
“I just,” You stop abruptly, spinning to look up at Bucky and he instantly tugs you closer, his metal arm securing around your waist. “I don’t get why he’s acting like…all secretive with me. Does he not think I’d understand or support him?” You brush furiously at a few tears that leak out of your eyes and Bucky glances around, spotting a vacant storefront vestibule to stand in, out of the way of the sidewalk traffic.
He leads you there gently, mulling over his response. “I think he worries the most about the differences between us and you. He—and I—we’re in our late thirties, but really we’re over a hundred, Peach,” Bucky smooths his flesh thumb across your cheek, “After everything that happened, and losing Tony, rebuilding…it took its toll on all of us but you keep going. You are so strong and ready to do what you can every single day, and I’m sure he’s afraid what you’ll think of his decision.”
“He’s retiring from being Captain America, Bucky. He’s not going to stop being Steve Rogers. He’s not going to stop being one of the loves of my life. Steve knows that I—that we both—would support him no matter what.”
Bucky sighed, nodding in agreement and preparing to tell you a truth he’d hoped to avoid. He gave himself away, his jaw tensing, and you narrowed your eyes slightly, waiting. “I’m going to tell you something, and I want—need—you to think about it before you react, alright?” You gave a stiff nod, shoulders tense, and he could hear the rate of your heartbeat increase slightly. “First, he didn’t tell me this. He doesn’t know that I know. I overheard him talking to Bruce before he did the time jump to return the stones.”
Both of you remembered that day clearly, it had been a beautiful, sunny morning and yet there was so much grief and exhaustion left from the recent defeat of Thanos. It didn’t feel like a victory, in many ways. “What did you hear, Bucky?”
“They were sitting together, finalizing the plans and Steve said he wondered if he shouldn’t come back. If he should stay in the past and start fresh, and let us move on together,” Bucky saw the hurt and surprise in your eyes as you stared up at him, and wished he didn’t have to tell you this. He always hated saying anything that didn’t make you happy. “He thinks we love each other enough to be able to live without him. But he said he couldn’t bring himself to do it, because he selfishly loves us both too much. And he feels horrible for choosing his own happiness, at that moment. Bruce disagreed, but you know how Steve can get.”
“Bucky,” You pressed closer to him, wide eyes are drawn with hurt, “He was going to just…stay? Never see us again and not even tell us?” Though it had been several months since that revelation that Bucky wasn’t even supposed to have heard, it felt fresh again as he saw the same heartache cut at you that he had experienced. But the tears surprised him; your face crumples as he nods to your words and then you’re crying and he can’t figure out why, when you were always the one to grow angry, to rage until Bucky could calm you, or Steve could distract you.
He gathers you closer, a noise of protest rumbling in his chest at your tears, and he smooths his hands down your hair and leans closer, “Peach, talk to me. What’s going on—why did you run out like that?” Usually, when one or both of them upset you or frustrated you—a rare occasion—you would go on a walk to cool your head. Bucky had anticipated that you would do the same today, after speaking with Steve. But he’d been surprised at the way you slammed out of the penthouse.
It just wasn’t like you; when you were angry enough you stuck around and raged. Inevitably calming enough to allow them to care for you—Steve was the passionate one, Bucky was the protective one, and you were the calm between them that made the dynamic work so well. Your every action today was unlike you, and it concerned him.
You sniffled a few times before drawing your head from his chest and glancing around, “It’s just, he said that he wants to travel, and find a home that’s out of the city—all things we’ve all spoken about before. Only he said ‘Doll, you and Bucky are my life, but you don’t have to change your whole life because of me.’ He said I’d already sacrificed too much, Bucky,” Your eyes find him again, and you bring your hands to clutch at his jacket. “What if he’s regretting not staying back? What if he wanted to find that woman—Peggy?—and just start over? And now he’s trying to get rid of me, knowing you’ll follow, so he can-”
“No,” Bucky growled, cutting you off and capturing your face gently in his hands, “No Peach, that’s not it. I promise you he doesn’t want to leave us, not for anything or anyone,” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, “Now, let me take you home. Steve went out, he knew you’d need space. He’s visiting Rhodey, so we have the place to ourselves.”
You searched Bucky’s face and found no reason to disbelieve him because he never could lie to you. He could omit or avoid like a pro, but straight-out lies weren’t something he could do to you. That was another difference between Bucky and Steve, that he could never lie and yet Steve would want to protect you from more truths, it’s why the relationship worked so well. They balanced one another, and you grounded them.
The walk home was silent, but you held his hand tight in yours and didn’t object when he tucked you into his side when the Tower came into view. It was much busier here, with the Tower being next to Grand Central Station, and he liked to avoid crowds, leading you along carefully. He could tell that there was a reason behind your evident fear today, yet he couldn’t get a read on it. Nothing over the last few days had seemed amiss, other than Steve’s eyes clouding over as he considered how to speak to you about his retirement.
He broke while in the elevator, unable to stand another moment so unsure of your thoughts. After asking FRIDAY to bring you both to the main residence, he blurted out, “what’s going on, really?”
You shift uncomfortably, your eyes flickering away from his and landing somewhere on the marble flooring of the elevator. When it dings the arrival and the doors open to the quiet penthouse, you rush out and he has to follow you—this is the sort of behaviour that would make Steve throw you over his shoulder. Bucky, however, was the talker.
“Peach, goddamn it, where are you going?”
He can see exactly where you were heading but hoped to get you speaking. You just continued toward the bedroom—the large primary suite that you shared with Bucky and Steve. When you entered, you went straight into the ensuite and Bucky heard your stomach make an alarming noise at the same moment you dropped to your knees and emptied its contents into the toilet.
Bucky shot forward, panicked, one hand snatching carefully at your hair and holding it back for you while he felt your forehead with the other. It was instinct to check your temperature, but the thing was, it did no good. You never got sick. You wretched again, this time only throwing up bile, and Bucky grunted in frustration—you did not get sick. He’d never even seen you even so much as cough.
“I’m okay,” You’re panting, though you seem to be done and he flushes the toilet before lifting and carrying you to sit on a lounger near the large soaker tub. He then gets you a glass of cold water and watches as you greedily drink it down. “Thank you—Bucky, stop glowering, I’m alright.”
You reach out for him and he drops to sit in front of you, frowning. “You don’t get sick. You’ve never been sick a day in your life, and you’re this calm after-after that? What the hell?” He grabs your hands in his own and gives you a desperate look as he pushes his enhanced senses to their limit. He can hear the steady beat of your heart, the air moving through your lungs. You smell like peaches, though there’s a mix of vomit polluting that and he thinks there might be something else there, but before he can lean in to start sniffing you, you hiccup. “Damn it, what is going on?”
It was a universally known truth that you could not be harmed, get ill, or die. Your powers, since birth, healed you too quickly. Even small bodily reactions that a normal person might have—a cough, sneeze, hiccup—didn’t affect you. Your powers healed even those irritants so quickly that you weren’t affected. He’d seen you take serious, life-ending hits at the battle in Wakanda against Thanos’s army, and you simply shook them off. Fear and panic were now at the forefront of his mind, forcing him to imagine your abilities fading, injuries and illness overwhelming you and your body shutting down, decaying…
“Hey, stay here with me, Bucky,” You coo, your soft voice pulling him from the swirling mix of emotions, “It’s not what you’re thinking. I just, I don’t know how…I thought Steve…”
You trail off and he gazes at you in bewilderment, “Peach, give me something here or I'm calling Dr. Banner.” His voice is determinedly steady, despite his confusion and frustration.
“He already knows about this,” You reply, you’re expression full of emotion. “We—the three of us—we haven’t talked about this yet. I don’t know what either of you…Christ. Bucky, I’m pregnant.”
Immediately his concern that you were on death’s door evaporates and instead is replaced with a dawning sort of emotion, a flurry where he can’t quite feel any specific one. “You—oh my god, Peach!” He reaches for you and plants you on his lap. After a pause, he pulls back and hits the brakes before showing too much excitement, “Wait—I know we haven’t talked about this, and I don’t know what you’re feeling about it but I want you to know I support you no matter what, alright? Are you—did you want…?”
A smile flickers across your face, “I’m happy I’m having a baby. It’s everything else. We were still figuring this—us—out. And Steve wants to retire and this is just another big life event and it’s—“
You break off, giving Bucky an uncertain look, your lower lip drawing between your teeth. He tucks some hair behind your ear, “Tell me. No holding back on this, we’re going to figure it all out, so spill.”
“But that’s just it, Bucky. We needed to talk about this before I got pregnant, and I wasn’t expecting to—well, before the blip I was on birth control.”
You’re looking at Bucky but the words don’t seem to sink in the way you expected, and he frowns when you run a hand over your face. “Okay…”
“I was on birth control, and Steve and I hadn’t had sex in a few weeks before we came back to you in Wakanda.”
Bucky blinks, twice, slowly. He stares at you, “I—but I was the only one who—”
“Right, and Bruce puts the baby at just over twelves weeks. I got pregnant that day, we blipped, and when we came back it…continued. The baby, it’s yours Bucky, and I don’t even know how to tell Steve because—“
Bucky’s head jerks to the door before you finish speaking, his hearing catching the breath that his tall, lifetime friend and lover draws in upon hearing your words. You follow Bucky’s gaze in confusion, and he watches as you meet Steve’s eyes.
“Doll, did you just say you’re pregnant?”
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Three Months Before
When Bucky wakes from cryo, the first thing he does is ask after Steve and you. Ayo is kind and updates him, assures him that you’re both fine, if still on the run. He hates himself for leaving, even though he knows it was the right decision. He was too much of a liability, being on the run with you and Steve and Sam. He thinks back to the night, a few weeks into running, that you had asked him not to leave because you sensed his turmoil and guilt.
And there had been no point in lying, even if he could lie to you, he knew that your powers extended past healing—they included an extra sense for emotions that hurt the brain. Sadness was natural; he could feel it and you wouldn’t know. But the guilt he put on his shoulders? That you seemed to sense, and you tried convincing Bucky he didn’t need to feel guilty for the things he had done, for what HYDRA had done to him.
He let you think that was the only reason he went into cryo.
Ayo spends the weeks following his awakening working hard to rid Bucky of the conditioning that the HYDRA scientists had etched into his brain. It’s painful, physically and emotionally, but every time he loses hope and grows tired he thinks of Steve and you, that cabin in the middle of nowhere. The way you smelled like peaches, and what it felt like to watch Steve press gentle kisses to your forehead, that surge of affection and longing.
He weeps when the work is done--after Ayo has tested him to prove that the words no longer have any effect on him—that he will never be under the control of anyone ever again is so freeing that he cries as though being reborn, and he doesn’t know how to thank her, or the other Wakandan’s who aided in the research to help him. He spends the next several months helping in any way he can, anywhere in Wakanda. The nub where his left arm used to be healed from the metal arm being torn off, his hair grew, and the time in the sun gave his skin a glow.
At night, he falls asleep dreaming of you and Steve before the nightmares twist in, overtaking the warm thoughts and splaying the Winter Soldier’s memories out for him to rewatch. There isn’t a full night’s sleep, and he never climbs into his bed. It helps that the floor of his room within the Wakandan palace is laid with fine and cool marble, the hard surface a distraction, the super-soldier serum ensuring he doesn’t feel pain from tossing and turning night after night on the floor.
Now, he wonders if it’s the sun-kissed skin or longer hair or frown lines that make you freeze when you step off the ship, paces behind Steve, who goes straight for the King, T’Challa, in a warm greeting. Bucky had only found out you were coming that very morning when the King approached him with a final gift—a vibranium arm, black laced with gold—and told him that a fight was on its way. Ayo was the one to explain to him in greater detail what was happening; who the enemy was, and who was coming to help protect Wakanda.
The way your eyes widen tells him you weren’t expecting to see him—you must have thought he’d still be frozen, or that he had left Wakanda. Likewise, Bucky gazes at you, seeing you for what feels nearly like the first time, so different as he was now. Your hair is much longer as well, braided back off your face, and you wear a tactical suit that looks expensive and sturdy. You look beautiful, though the sight of you in battle gear makes his heart sting, and the moment the feeling moves through him, he sees you flinch.
Before he can move, King T’Challa steps into his view, blocking you, and is ushering Steve in his direction. His best friend looks different too—his eyes are tired, though they’re bright when they meet his own, and his hair is longer than Bucky had ever seen it, a beard to match that stirs something inside of him. Bucky hears himself say something witty, but he’s focused on the way Steve’s expression changes before they embrace.
His breath is cool on Bucky’s ear, “Missed you, Buck. Both of us.”
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It’s been several hours and you haven’t come near him. Bucky watches you, longs to go to you and beg for forgiveness, but battle plans are being made and there’s so much activity that it’s not possible to storm across the room. So he watches you, studies the tension in your shoulders, and he sees you flinch, even let out small gasps that you hide behind false coughs, and he realizes that the room is swirling with too many negative emotions and you’re overwhelmed.
When you finally meet his gaze from across the room, Bucky holds it and lets himself feel the desperation for you. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Steve glance between you both, then returns his attention to the conversation around him. You must get a read on something from Steve because you reach a handout and press it to his wrist and he visibly relaxes. His gaze falls to you and there’s a brief, silent exchange there that Bucky can’t understand, and then you’re walking across the room to Ayo.
She smiles at you politely. When you speak to her, your voice is too low even for Bucky to hear because of all the voices in the room, but he watches intently as Ayo grows confused, then understanding clears her expression and she smirks at you knowingly. With a nod to another Wakandan, who she says something to briefly, you’re sweeping out of the room, following them hastily.
Bucky doesn’t hesitate to move around the room and Ayo’s eyes follow him the entire time, lit with amusement. “Where did she go?” He demands, his voice low with respect but edged.
Ayo only smiles wider, “You might want to make a visit to your room, White Wolf.”
He gives her a curt nod before hurrying away, his mind running hundreds of scenarios, most of them involving you slapping him for leaving the way he did. He wouldn’t blame you for that sort of reaction; he spent months building a friendship with you while on the run, promising he wouldn’t disappear, and then pulled Steve into his plan to escape to Wakanda for the proffered cryo containment.
When he gets to his room, footsteps heavy, the door is ajar and he steps inside quietly, pushing it shut behind him. You’re standing at his bedside table, a hand tracing over the book he was reading—The Hobbit, an old favourite.
“You don’t need to feel so guilty, Bucky. I knew you were going to leave.”
He stills, surveying you slowly and lifting his brows as he considers the implication behind your words. “You can sense…me, that well?”
You shrug, turning to face him and crossing your arms, “If I really focus, I can pick up on a lot of emotions. But certain people give off more, or I’m tuned into them better, I guess.”
“And I’m one of the ones you can tune into…?”
“One of the only ones I can to that degree, actually.”
Your gaze falls away and you bite your lip, as if aware that you’ve revealed more than you’d wanted to. Bucky frowns, “Who else can you—?”
“My parents. Steve. You,” A thrill runs down his spine at the admission, and hope flares within. You must feel it because you smile. “Come on, Bucky Barnes. You must have realized how I felt. Feel.”
He ignores that comment for a moment. “I thought you could only feel the negative emotions?”
“Apparently that limitation doesn’t apply to you, Steve or my parents.” You reply curtly, eyeing Bucky now and he knows you want him to address what you said.
“I…don’t think I deserve to be grouped with them,” He admits, and you tilt your head, frowning. “Peach, Steve is my best friend. And I care about you too Goddamn much to even entertain—”
When you let out a soft chuckle, he breaks off and stares at you in surprise. “Entertain? Bucky, I think we can all agree that whatever this is between us, it’s out of our control. And I thought Steve was dense when it came to emotions,” You take a few steps closer, tilting your head to gaze up at him. “I know you love him. And that he loves you. The feelings between you both—Christ, they’re intense. You both sucked me right into them without realizing it. The desire and guilt and fucking turmoil.”
Bucky shifts, running a hand through his hair. “Peach, he and I have always—but we never, and would never, not now.” He can’t say it, can’t admit to himself or out loud what he means, even if you understand him.
“I hope you’re not letting yourself be old school, Bucky. Because Steve certainly doesn’t.”
He frowns, confused, “What does that even mean?”
You meet his eyes and there’s an emotion there that doesn’t make sense to Bucky. “He thinks of you—and thought of you well before we knew you were alive. What you two had, back then it was more emotional than anything, and I get that. But it’s always been meant to be so much more. And I don’t know how I fit into that, all I know is that when I’m riding Steve and I mention you, it never fails to send him straight over the edge.”
“Jesus, Peach, what are you doing?” He interjects, heat blooming across his cheeks. His heartbeat triples, the memories of those long nights spring forth, the nights where the most they allowed physically was brushing their hands together. It had felt like almost enough, but as he pictures Steve with you, the feeling in his chest liquifies, molten pooling in his stomach.
“I’m saying what you’re too afraid to. You love Steve, and he’s always loved you Bucky,” You close the gap now, and it’s when your chest brushes against his shirt that he realizes he’s nearly panting. “And I—I love you both, and I know Steve feels the same way. So really, it all comes down to you.”
“I—what are you even saying? I don’t understand this, Peach.” He’s desperate for you to turn the conversation onto a clearer path, because where he thinks this is going sounds both too good to be true, and terrifying. You smile softly, eyes heavy now with desire and he wants to groan.
“I love it when you call me Peach,” You say, voice sugar sweet and dangerous, “This is a lot, I know. But in case we die today, I wanted you to know, and I wanted to do this.”
Bucky instinctively catches you when you raise to your tip-toes and throw your arms around his neck. He gasps the moment your lips meet his, capturing them in a searing kiss he doesn’t even try to resist. It’s too late now; he can hear your heart, smell the tang of your arousal, taste the goddamn peach flavour on your tongue. You pull back as though to end the kiss, as if he would want you to, and make a noise that shoots straight to his hardening cock when he gently grips your face with one hand and pulls you back to his lips.
He uses the way your mouth opens to moan to slide his tongue in again and you press your body harder against his own. It’s only a few minutes, but the message behind your words sinks in—they could all die today.
And he doesn’t want to die not knowing what it’s like to be with you.
When you bite at his lip teasingly moments later and your hands slide to unbutton his pants, everything becomes a flurry of motion and clothing being tugged off until you stare at one another in nothing but your underwear.
Bucky surveys you and he sees the definition of beauty. He takes a step back and gazes at you, letting his eyes move slowly from head to toe, taking in the flush of your skin, the tightened buds barely hidden beneath the soft fabric of your bra. He appreciates that you have a body unique and all your own, yet reminiscent of his time, of Steve’s time. Curvy, full-figured, utter perfection. When he meets your eyes, a strong surge of possessiveness courses through him and your eyes flutter in response, your powers capturing the emotion.
“Bucky please, touch me.”
He drops to his knees and shuffles towards you, pressing his face to your stomach, and trailing kisses along the soft skin. His hand—the real one—caresses your leg and cups your behind, resulting in a soft sigh from you, and he smiles before hooking his fingers around your panties and ripping them off. He half expects you to object, instead, you giggle. He made you giggle.
“Something funny, Peach,” He murmurs, tracing gently over the neatly trimmed curls before him, then along the seam of your sex. You whimper, trembling, and he pauses to glance up at you, waiting for a reply.
“I—it’s just, Steve does that too.”
There’s something about the way you say it and the image that Bucky’s mind conjures, it sends a roll of desire down his body and he’s standing in a flash, lifting you before dropping you gently onto his bed and climbing over your body. He cages you in and licks and nips at your skin, marking you, and you give soft moans of delight, writhing around eagerly. He’s surprised at the speed at which things intensify, but then, he’s always known how imminent battle brings things to the surface.
Bucky has to press his hips down to help still you, and then he slips his right hand down to your core, fingers skimming along as he watches your eyes, pupils blown out in desire. “So wet for me, Peach.” He dips two fingers into the wet heat of you, and your eyes roll in response. He can’t help but let out a grunt as he realizes how tight you are, “Fuck, how are you this tight?”
It was a rhetorical question that you answer regardless, “Healing powers, Bucky,” There’s a pause as the words register in his brain, and he must be showing his confusion because you laugh and elaborate, “Cell regeneration, Sergeant. You can do whatever you want to me and it all goes right back to this. Steve’s tested the theory more than enough times.”
“Fuck,” He hisses, pulling his hand from you and licking his fingers clean. Salt and peach, just the perfect balance; he groans, “What does Steve do to you, Sweet Peach?” He whispers, and you whimper for him, your hips fighting unsuccessfully against the weight of him, desperate to seek more friction.
When he doesn’t relent, you get feistier, “You want to hear all about how Stevie fucks me, Bucky? Want me to tell you how good he is, holds me down and just doesn’t stop, how if it’s too much all I have to do is mention you and he’ll come in seconds for me?”
Bucky growls again, dipping his head and sinking his teeth into your neck. He doesn’t go too hard, but you whimper so happily he half wonders if he should. The very small (at the moment) active part of his brain thinks that you might have a bit of a pain kink. But the rest of him is hyper-focused on you and the dirty admissions you’re making, and he grounds his hips down after pushing your legs apart. The cloth of his boxers is the only thing separating your heat from his steel erection and you both make noises of desire at the feeling.
“So—uh, so that’s what really gets you going, Bucky? Because it’s the same for Steve, he loves when I talk about you,” You’re practically purring now, and Bucky still presses kisses along your body, overwhelmed yet more turned on than he’s ever been. “I can talk about him, for you, or…fuck, or I—”
You break off abruptly and Bucky looks up from where he’d been paying your breasts attention. “Peach?”
You struggle to sit up on your elbows, your eyes focused on him intensely, “I can show you.”
Bucky becomes aware of the breathing behind him about one second after you speak, and then your eyes flicker over his shoulder and instinct makes him whirl protectively, his vibranium arm covering your chest, but his eyes don’t find a threat.
No, it’s Steve, and Bucky is about to jump away from you and starting apologizing, but then he registers the look on his friend's face. Cornflower blue iris' swallowed up by desire-blown pupils, his breathing heavy and ragged, lower lip drawing between his teeth. One hand is still on the lock to Bucky’s room, twisted in place. When he speaks, his voice is so low Bucky wonders if you can even hear it. “We’ve got some time.”
He’s across the room in two steps, pausing at the edge of the bed and slowly, carefully, pushing one hand up Bucky’s neck and into his hair. He’s still got his arm over your chest and glances your way, unsure of what to do. But you’re laying there with a pleased and excited expression, watching them, and when you meet Bucky’s eyes you smile encouragingly.
Taking that as permission, he looks back up at his best friend and lets his lips part, and Steve moves instantly. It’s not like it was kissing you, a different version of perfection; this kiss is hard and almost furious, pent-up feelings coming to the surface and demanding attention. Steve’s grip turns rough and then he lets out a frustrated, longing sound that tears right through Bucky’s heart.
You feel it all, the turmoil, the grief and longing, evident when you whimper as though in pain and they break apart to look at you, each panting for air. Steve’s hard gaze softens, “Darling, we’re okay. Come here.”
You reach out and Bucky almost wants to move back and out of the way, but when Steve shifts he lets his hand fall to Bucky’s shoulder and encourages him to stay still. Climbing behind you, Steve pushes the cushions off the bed, and settles down, his legs on either side of your curvy frame, and then tugs at Bucky. You put a hand on Steve’s leg, then one on Bucky’s real arm, and instantly he feels soothed, the cool wash of your powers helping him to focus.
You’re leaning back against Steve’s chest as he tugs Bucky closer, his body hovering over yours as his lips are captured again by the blonde. He groans, falling into the kiss without hesitation, and thanks to you he doesn’t feel as conflicted. Your powers don’t manipulate feelings, they just soothe the ones that grow too intense and help to refocus thoughts. And now all of his thoughts are split to you and Steve; the taste of his friend's mouth. The heat of their tongues dancing. The feel of you trembling between them.
He kisses Steve like he’d wanted to for decades, nothing holding him back now. After a few moments, he shifts slightly so that he can run his metal arm over you, and he isn’t sure if you’ll like that, but when he pinches a nipple between the cool fingertips, you let out a sound that shoots straight to his already rock hard cock and he swears he feels himself spurt pre-cum.
Steve breaks the kiss, gazing at Bucky with such adoration that he thinks he may have fallen into a dream. “Gotta take care of our girl, Buck.” Steve slides a hand across your stomach and dips between your legs and you jerk in response, mouth falling open deliciously, but he can’t move yet, pausing to look between Steve and you.
“Our girl?”
Steve grabs Bucky’s free hand with his own, squeezing, “Ours. We’re…all each others, and we can figure that out after we save the world, okay?”
Bucky seeks your eyes out, and you smile, “Bucky, please, I need you.” You almost whine and it makes his lips twist into a smirk. Steve smiles wider, and Bucky is mesmerized by the dynamic between you both, watching as he leans his head to your ear.
“You ready for Bucky, darling? He’s much sweeter than me, but he’s also a lot thicker…” Steve’s honey-coated words make you grow wet enough that they both groan at the scent, and Bucky hastily pushes his boxers off. Steve grunts at the sight of him, thick and red with desire, and his hands move to push your legs apart, baring you wide. “Look at this pretty little pussy, Buck. Just waiting for you.”
He runs himself through your soaked folds and the heat and wetness make him groan harshly, “Peach, you sure about this?” He seeks consent one last time, needing to hear you tell him this is what you want because he’s still unsure if this is real. It could all be a dream, and he wouldn’t ever want to wake up.
“I want you, Bucky, I promise.”
You wriggle your hips slightly, and Steve presses soft kisses to your temple, eyes on Bucky as he reaches down and pulls your hips right off of the bed, lining you up between himself and Steve so that you no longer touch the bed. He slides forward slowly, savouring the feel of your tight cunt, his breath punching out ragged.
“Damn it,” He growls, sinking deeper and deeper and your eyes squeeze shut from the bliss of the stretch and he finds himself looking into Steve’s eyes as he bottoms out. You whimper, sweet little noises he has to speak over as he holds his best friend's gaze. “So fucking tight. Our girl, she’s perfect Steve.” He moans out, and Steve responds with a noise low in his chest.
“She’ll take whatever you want to give, Bucky. Greedy little thing,” He then dips his head to the juncture of your neck and shoulder and sinks his teeth into the soft skin, nearly hard enough to draw blood. You cry out and your cunt clenches him, confirming his theory of your enjoyment of pain. It must be a reaction to your powers, which work fast enough to prevent you from feeling any real pain for long enough to have an effect. You enjoy the brief sting that a super soldier can bring out.
Even still, with that knowledge, that protective feeling surges to an almost animalistic level within him and he growls low, glaring at Steve, who grins as he licks the already soothed skin. “See what I mean, Peach? He’s the softer one, he’ll do anything to keep you safe.”
You moan in response and Bucky starts to rut in and out of you, his eyes moving between your face and Steve’s. Your tits bounce with every thrust and you whimper softly, “Bucky—please.” Your hands are gripping his forearms, legs tightly would around his hips as he fucks into you hard.
His voice is tight when he speaks, “She’s mine too, now.”
Steve’s eyes instantly flash with mischief, and he responds to Bucky’s words by leaning down to bite you again. Only, this time, Bucky moves quickly; he grabs Steve by the hair and draws him closer, capturing his lips against his own. Steve nips and he can feel him smiling, then tugs you so that you’re partly folded between them, your back flush against his chest. Shuffling forward, Bucky starts to hit a spot within you that has you crying out in pleasure.
It’s easily the hottest experience of his long life, kissing Steve while fucking you, feeling the way that you both react to him. “Stevie, it’s so good, I can’t, I can’t—” You plead, and he interrupts you before Bucky can grow concerned and cease his relentless pounding.
“Darling, you know you can,” Steve replies, not unkind, “Show Bucky how good you are for us.”
Bucky glares at him, then focuses his attention on you as Steve chuckles warmly, “What do you need, Peach?”
“I don’t…I’m not sure, it’s just so good—Bucky, you’re so perfect,” You’re babbling and he realizes that you’re cock-drunk, which is why Steve is so amused.
He smiles at you and presses his lips to yours, then leans back and starts to hammer himself in and out of you, watching your face closely for any sign of discomfort. Instead, you squeal and your whole body seems to seize and you cum hard, screaming his name. Bucky pants out your name, and he wants to cum too but he holds back, not wanting this to end just yet—he watches you cum and then looks to Steve, who seems to be thinking along the same lines. They wait for you to recover, each pressing kisses to your face and body, and eventually, Bucky lowers you down and carefully pulls out of you.
He watches himself slide free, mesmerized by the way you stretched for him. After a few moments of panting, you recover enough and Steve starts to turn you over. Bucky helps, waiting to see what exactly Steve wanted to do. “Buck,” He practically growls now, and when he has you flipped over, your head moves enough to the side that he can see the erection Steve needs to release. You instantly work to unzip his suit as they stare at one another over your shoulder. “This is her favourite position.”
Steve glances down at you and smiles, his gaze soft with adoration. It doesn’t sting or pull at Bucky anymore; now he feels just as a part of that look and the feeling behind it as you, and his own lips quirk. “Is that true Peach?” He teases, and you throw him a smirk over your shoulder before wiggling your ass for him. He groans and grabs your hips, pulling your body to his and sliding into you, moving slowly to watch the stretch again.
You whimper, “Oh, Bucky, fuck,” And your head drops so that you’re face is on the mattress between Steve’s legs.
The Captain grins wickedly at Bucky, then runs his hands over your hair and, gently, lifts you. It’s then that Bucky realizes you managed to pull Steve’s long cock free and his mouth waters at the sight—instantly, he’s wondering how deep he must be able to fuck you.
“Alright, darling, here’s how this is going to work. Bucky can fuck you as hard as he wants, but you don’t get to cum again until I do,” He lets one hand drop to grip your chin, and Bucky glares, leaning over your body, ready to pull you free. He thinks that Steve is turned on by the way Bucky is ready to protect you, and something about that makes this all feel…balanced.
“Okay Stevie,” You moan and lower your head, your mouth opening to take Steve in as deep as you can. Bucky starts to thrust, slow and steady, keeping his legs pressed to the backs of yours and rotating his hips slightly as he moves. Steve instantly gathers your hair to one side, holding it with one, your head turned just a little so Bucky can see you expertly work your boyfriend’s cock.
“She’s a perfect little cocksucker, Buck. Fuck, you two look good together, did you know that?”
Steve meets Bucky’s eyes and he sees the sincerity there, the affection laced in with the arousal. He watches with heavy-lidded eyes as you’re fucked from behind, and it doesn’t take long for his breathing to become ragged. “Peach, he wasn’t kidding—you’re doing so well, taking my cock and Steve’s.”
You make a noise that gets garbled around the dick stuffed down your throat and both super soldiers groan. He picks up his pace instinctively, murmuring curses under his breath, and feels your walls start to tighten around him. A defiant feeling then raises within Bucky, and he suddenly wants to test Steve by forcing you to cum, but as though reading his mind you begin to work your mouth even harder, small noises and humming bringing Steve closer to the edge.
Bucky becomes hyper-focused on Steve, watching his best friend begin to crumble before his eyes in the best kind of way. His head falls back, but he keeps his eyes moving between Bucky and you, his legs splaying and hips jerking up to meet your mouth. “You’re going to make our Steve cum, Peach. Swallow everything he gives you when he does, okay?” He knows that’s what Steve wants by the way his lower lip draws between his teeth, his free hand fisting the sheets next to him. “He’s almost there, Peach. Do you think he wants to watch me fill you up with my cum as much as I want to watch you swallow his?”
That does it. With a roar, Steve cums, hard, his hips rising off the bed and Bucky sees that practiced way you swallow around him, but at the same time his instincts toward your safety battle to the front—he resists, watching closely and slowing his own movements. Steve’s grip on your hair is too strong, but you only whimper lightly and he manages to hold himself back until Steve’s hips hit the bed again, then Bucky leans down and lifts you, his arms circling your body. He secures his metal arm around your waist and the other across your chest; your body is pressed against his and he has to spread his legs slightly to get a better balance.
“Are you okay, sweet Peach?”
You make a small, choked noise and he leans around you, capturing your eyes. You survey his face and your brows draw up, as though surprised to see just how serious Bucky is. “I’m perfect, Bucky. I can take it, take both of you. I want more, please, I need you to fuck me. Need you to fill me up.”
Steve is grinning as he gazes up at you both, then sits up and shuffles closer, his softening cock still tantalizing and Bucky knows he needs to taste him before long. Next time, if there was one, he would make sure to do so. Steve leans forward and presses a kiss to Bucky’s lips, then to yours. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark “Fuck her, Buck—let me see how hard you can go. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to see—how I imagined you.”
Bucky pulses inside of you and before you can do more than moan at the sensation, he’s moving, thrusting hard and quick against you, his arms locked carefully so that you can breathe, but can’t move. He sees your hands shoot out for Steve, gripping his shoulders as you begin an endless moan. Your head presses back into Bucky’s neck. “Oh my god—oh god, Bucky, oh, oh!”
Steve stares at Bucky and you with a burning intensity that radiates love and desire, one hand smoothing over yours, the other resting at Bucky’s hip, where he feels the muscle tense and release as he pounds you. His pace increases and a skin against skin slapping noise fills the room as your moans turn into something wild, animalistic. It’s hot as sin; Steve growls in approval and Bucky drops his mouth to press a kiss into your neck, “Cum for me, Peach. Cum with me, god I want to pump you full—”
You clamp down on Bucky, your spine arching and your heart stuttering in your chest before you let out a scream and cum with your whole body, and Bucky can’t hold back a second longer; his hips punch forward once more, and then he’s cumming deep, moaning your name. His eyes are half-open and Steve’s are comically moving between your face and Bucky’s; soaking in the details with a reverence.
It feels like the longest orgasm of his life, and he drops his head to your shoulder as he groans with the final wave of his peak. He doesn’t pull out when he’s finished, wanting to stay locked within the moment for as long as possible. You sink forward then, your limbs giving out, and Steve catches you, pulls you half onto his body and watches as Bucky follows, moving carefully to remain deep within you as he lays down.
The following minutes are quiet as they lay with you pressed between them, the only sounds that of your heavy breathing; the super-soldiers run their hands over your body and take turns pressing kisses to your lips, Steve turning your head from him to Bucky. He looks at his friend now in a new light and reaches to run his hand through Steve’s hair.
“I’ve always loved you, you know,” He admits, and there’s something about being buried deep within you as he does that makes the moment feel utterly perfect. Steve’s blue eyes meet Bucky’s, “Before everything, when we were just two idiots running around Brooklyn.”
You twist slightly and Bucky’s softening cock slips from you. You sit up between them, staring with hunger in your eyes, “Kiss again.” There’s no doubt it’s a command, though they comply immediately, and he can feel you watching them rapturously as they press their lips together.
When you eventually lean down and join them, each of you taking turns to kiss, it’s more of comfort and love than sexual. They work together to clean up and redress, and then there’s final moments of intimacy, low spoken words of promise to figure it all out as soon as they could before they leave Bucky’s room and make their way outside to join the battle line and wait for the army to arrive.
When the memories of the fight come back to Bucky, he always grows tense with emotion. It’s nearly impossible to think of how hard they all fought, how you ran about healing everyone that you could reach and shooting enemies while Bucky covered you and tried to keep the creatures away from Steve. When Thanos snaps his fingers, he recalls with vivid detail that you’re standing next to him and that he tugs you close, calling out for Steve.
And then he feels odd, almost like he’s floating and glances down to see himself disappearing, and you fading as well, and the last thing he remembers is you both looking up with wide eyes towards Steve—and the horrified expression on his face before there was just…
Nothing.
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Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed this first part! 💚🥺
Taglist: @spookyparadisesheep @mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711 @ladydmalfoy @wildmoonflower @criticaltrinket @blacksstarrynight @nyx2021 @kitkit-world
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bookishofalder · 2 years
Text
@my-fo-rabbit-hole thank you so much for this lovely review! I promise I still have more planned for this story coming soon! I’m just back from a hiatus and can’t wait to update this one! 😍💕💕💕
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Saviours Coffee House Series Masterlist
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Negan x Fem!Reader Series (WIP)
Series Moodboard
[Prologue]
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Synopsis: Negan x Reader Negan Dean owns the most popular spot in town; an edgy, eclectic coffee shop called Saviours Coffee House. Serving up the best lattes, Saviours ‘customer for a day’ policy means that anyone who buys a drink can linger from dawn til dusk, so long as they keep their feet off the fucking tables. A former prison guard, Negan not only partners with local businesses to create the best atmosphere, he also recruits part of his staff from a reintegration program for former inmates.
When a friend of a friend recommends you for the open manager position, Negan can’t hire you fast enough in the interview, especially since he can tell you can handle yourself around the likes of gruff Dwight. As he gets to know you, however, he begins to suspect all is not so rosy with your son of a politician boyfriend Spencer. While Negan struggles to understand why you remain with a man who makes you unhappy, and sort through his own feelings for you, he realizes just exactly who you are related to and why you seem to feel safest at Saviours.
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bookishofalder · 2 years
Text
… “You know the operator here, so certainly it isn’t assistance in finding a better ship then the hunk of junk you just landed in our city.”
Din grunts, unamused at her teasing but far from offended. It was just the way she was, he knew from their short alliance not too long ago. “I killed Letos’ Grack.”
Her eyes widen in surprise, her usually cool mask slipping at his revelation. “This just got a lot more interesting…”
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Sanctuary mini-series masterlist
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Din Djarin x Reader // 18+ // Coming Soon
Preview
Episode One
Episode Two
Episode Three
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Summary
Din Djarin has lost everything. Grogu is gone, his ship was destroyed, and he’s alone again. Unsure of what lies next for him, and questioning his Creed deeply after revealing his face to Grogu during their emotional goodbye, Din heads back to Nevarro to see his friends, Greef and Cara.
When he arrives, he finds Letos’ Grack, a merciless bounty hunter he’d crossed paths with in the past, trying to hand off his latest capture—you. Well aware of how cruel Letos’ could be and having heard his declaration of executing you if he does not receive the reward for your capture, Din kills him.
After setting you free, you make it clear you have no where to go and Greef offers both you and Din a safe place to stay. Although grateful, you refuse to reveal anything about yourself to Din or the others, including who had the bounty out on you. And as he gets to know you, his feelings evolve into something he doesn’t understand, until Din begins to reassess his options and lay everything on the line.
Based post season 2 of the Mandolorian, slightly off cannon because I’ve kept out the bit where he gets the Dark Saber and is ruler of Mandalore.
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bookishofalder · 2 years
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Hi bestie! Would you mind tagging me in all Frankie fics?
Hi my friend, absolutely! Sorry for the long delay in replying. I just posted part two of STARFISH here, and I'll be sure to tag you in Frankie content in the future 💗
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bookishofalder · 2 years
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Thank you so much, I’m glad to be back! I hope to update more regularly and appreciate the lovely feedback. ❤️
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STARFISH | Part Two 🐠
Summary: Star may be feeling embarrassed by her fall, but everyone else is impressed with her heroics. Frankie can't deny how he feels now, and a few tense moments bring them together.
Warnings: Mentions of wound/cleaning/bandaging. Animal rescue mentioned. Language. Fluff. SMUT. 18+ only.
A/N: Oh hi! Sorry about my very long and unexpected hiatus. Please forgive me, and here is what you've been waiting for. I hope you enjoy!
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When your door opens after only being alone for about twenty minutes from fleeing the beach, you don’t bother to look up, knowing it’s Little. She’s the only person you knew who never bothered to knock on a door–a habit she’d had since your days in school together. The familiarity of it made you smile internally, but outwardly you gave a low groan and brought the pillow you were clutching to your chest to rest over your face.
“Oh, Star, it’s not that bad,” Little says steadily, and the bed shifts as she climbs on next to you and rips the pillow away. Her face is inches away, that dazzling smile far to shit-eating to be comforting. “Seriously, you looked badass–it was like a movie!”
“Little, I will punch you,” You deadpan, shooting her a glare, “And not the fake movie kind of punch.”
She merely snorts, rolling her eyes before propping a hand against her cheek, “So you don’t want to hear about how Frankie just spent the last twenty minutes singing your praises and debating whether he should come up here?” She gestures towards the door with her free hand and you jolt up slightly in a panic.
“He’s not coming up, is he?”
“No, I said I would because I knew you’d be in here having a crisis.” She replies easily, and you take a breath before lowering yourself back down into the comfortable duvet. Little watches you for a moment before adding; “You know, I was looking at him when everything happened. I wanted to make sure he caught Rosie, but the look on his face when he saw you fall–I couldn’t look away until I heard the way you hit that rock.”
“He was just concerned, Little. He probably realised it could have been Rosie that got hurt.” You try to keep your tone light, despite wanting to throttle her for reminding you of the expressions of panic and concern that had flashed over his features when he had pulled you from the water. “He just got full custody of her, he’s going to be extra hard on himself for a while.”
“That’s probably true,” Little agrees, having been the one who told you the details of how Elena had sent him those papers releasing her from all parental rights, just weeks before the wedding. “But, Rosie was fine and you weren’t. He lost his shit, and don’t pretend you didn’t hear him saying ‘mi amor’ after insisting he be the one to bandage you up.”
You give another long sigh, staring up at the ceiling with unfocused eyes, thinking back to the look he’d given you on the beach. The way it made your heart feel as though it would beat right out of your chest. Maybe he did care more about you than you were admitting, but that didn’t mean it was anything more than a platonic love. You’d grown close over the course of helping Little and Santi plan their wedding, it was understandable that he was upset you had been hurt. Everyone else had been, though seeing as it was his daughter you had literally thrown yourself into harm's way to save, it made perfect sense that he felt responsible for you.
“Let’s drop it Little, you need to get back to your husband and enjoy your honeymoon, and I need to wallow for a bit before eating my feelings at dinner.”
When Little gives a frustrated groan, you look back over at her in surprise to find her glancing at the closed door before her low voice says, “Santi will kill me for this, but…okay you know that he came by the night he got those papers from Elena?” You nod, your brows furrowing in curiosity, and wait for her to continue. “Well, I was in the shower when he first got there, so they were alone in the kitchen talking when I…uh, quietly walked down the hall to join them.”
You arch a brow at your best friend, “You eavesdropped?”
Little purses her lips, but gives a conceding jerk of her head, “Eavesdropping. Overheard. Whatever, Santi was the one who said Frankie was finally free to focus on himself. And I quote, ‘Ask out Star, I know she’s interested,’ and Frankie replied ‘Let me figure that out in my own time, man. No need to rush things with her.” She breaks off as you bolt upright, giving her a wide-eyed look.
“Shut up!”
“I’m serious! So take your time too, if you need it. But stop denying something is there.”
You drop your head into your hands, “Oh god, Little, making a move on vacation after your best friends get married isn’t the right time,” You shake your head, pressing your thumbs into the corners of your eyes, “There is a reality we live in, one where it makes zero sense to be together because we are so different and he has much more important things to worry about.”
This time, Little sits up and faces you, her expression serious, “He is not going to care at all about the–”
“He will. Even if he’s lovely and sweet about it because he’s Frankie, he has a child and a past with drugs, me coming in with my unofficial criminal activity is not–”
“Oh my god, Star, you weren’t even charged. The detective gave you a slap on the wrist by way of a stern talking to and then thanked you for saving those dogs when no one else would!” You open your mouth to respond, then pause as voices sound from the hall.
You both listen as footsteps near and then hear Frankie’s soft voice speaking to Rosie. He’s assuring her they can go back outside and play once she’s had a quick bath, and his voice fades when they disappear into his room, the sound of the door clicking shut the last thing you hear. Little gives you a look, not unloving but certainly frustrated, before giving you a quick hug and leaving the room.
You lay alone in your room for a long time thinking, until eventually the cool room and white noise of the fan whirring away above you lull you into a fitful nap. Your last thoughts–or perhaps, the beginning of your dreams–are of Frankie Morales pulling you from the water and promising to take care of you.
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You stay in your room for the remainder of the evening, going so far as to order dinner up and letting the staff member pass along your goodnight to everyone on your behalf after she rolled the food cart in. You gave yourself a break, and thankfully no one begrudged it of you. It was relaxing enough, though you did have to distract yourself with a few movies to give your mind a break; overanalysing your feelings and intentions for Frankie wasn’t going to do either of you any good.
You had promised yourself to not hide anymore, however, and so the next morning you rose early enough to slip downstairs and join the few early risers for coffee. When you arrive in the kitchen, you almost turn back upon seeing only Frankie sitting at the table, coffee in one hand and a book in the other.
Maybe he was trying to distract himself as well.
You clear your throat before you take the coward's way out, and he looks up with a mild interest that morphs into a full and stunning grin the moment he sees it’s you. You return an awkward smile, “Good morning.”
Frankie sets both his book and mug down, turning in his seat, “How are you feeling, querida?” His voice is deep from disuse so early, and you swallow nervously as you side step toward the coffee pot and help yourself.
“I’m really good, thank you,” You say, though when you do come around the counter to join him, his eyes fall to your bandage, peeking from the short hem of your romper. “Honestly, I changed the dressing first thing and it’s not too bad.” You try to shrug, but when you meet his gaze again his lips are pressed together in a thin line.
You sit down next to him at the table and offer a wider smile, grateful the concealer on your cheek hid the bruising around the slight cut there. “How are you?” You say, taking a sip of coffee and doing your best to appear relaxed despite the proximity.
He doesn’t press you, instead he seems to give a half shake of his head before replying. “I’m alright. I was worried…” He trails off, eyes dropping to his coffee and one of his large hands coming to rub the back of his neck. He needed a trim, his bed head more noticeable since he wasn’t yet wearing his signature cap. The desire to run your fingers through the mess of curls almost made you moan aloud. “I can’t thank you enough, you know. Rosie is completely fine because of you, and I’m really sorry you were hurt because I messed up.”
You look at Frankie in surprise, the self-loathing in his voice slipping through the steady tone he was trying to hide behind. Resisting reaching out for him, you instead opted to point at him and ensure he met your eyes before you said, “You did not mess up, Frankie. Kids run, they get wild and carried away and that’s why it sometimes takes a village when it comes to raising them,” He’s smiling a little, so you continue, “Anyone of us would have done the same, I just happened to be right there. But she’s going to scrape her knee one day and it won’t be your fault, okay?”
“I–you’re right. It’s a lot, having a kid. I love every minute of it, and I’m grateful for all the support, from my mother, from Little and all of you,” He sighs, pausing to take a sip of his coffee, “It’s just, at the end of the day I’m her dad. I’m supposed to be the one person who never lets her down or fucks up. She doesn’t have a mother anymore, I have to fill that role too now.”
You reach for him without thought as the words, that heartbreaking confession, come out. Taking his hand, you squeeze slightly and rub your thumb in soothing circles. For a moment, it’s silent, and you’re afraid to look up so you stare at your hands as you speak. “Any kid with a parent who loves as much as you do, Frankie, is lucky. Elena is the one who is missing out on both an amazing kid and a remarkable man. It’s her loss.”
You glance up when Frankie moves and only have a moment to see that blazing expression on his handsome face before a voice cuts in, startling you both.
“Here here!”
It’s Benny, bounding into the room cluelessly, his eyes on the morning fruits and breads set out along the counter. You pull your hand from Frankie’s and cover your blush by taking a large swig of coffee. He clears his throat and does the same, then greets Benny with a small edge to his voice.
“Hey Superhero!” Benny looks at you with a huge grin, slapping Frankie on the back in way of a greeting, and you can’t help but smile up at the blonde. He was just too nice, too oblivious to know he’d walked in on…well, you don’t know what that was.
“Benny, it’s too early to be so chipper.” You joke, grabbing one of the strawberries off of his plate as he sits down across from you. You spend the next half hour chatting with the two men, that tension between you and Frankie going unnoticed by the middle Miller, and then take advantage of Little, Santi and a few others all appearing to slip out of the room with your beach bag, eager to get some quiet time in by the water.
You can’t help but glance back as you close the patio door behind you, a pleasant heat coursing through you when you find Frankie’s eyes following you.
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At lunchtime, you decide to pop upstairs to check your leg again before eating, knowing that once you have you’ll want to relax and procrastinate on the task. You haven’t stopped thinking about Frankie all day, but he’s been busy with Rosie and his mother, which has both kept him at a distance and stopped any further conversation from occurring between the two of you. You aren’t sure exactly what you would say, even if given a moment alone.
With a sigh, you convince yourself it’s for the best. There was a moment, yes. But this was a vacation–people tended to get caught up in the excitement. Your own mother was one to fall fully in love with pretty much any place your family traveled. But getting yourself too involved with the idea of Frankie and you was only going to lead to heartbreak for you, and potentially damage a friendship with him that meant a great deal.
Once you’ve finished, you open the door to your room and pause, glancing back towards the bed and finding your sunglasses laying on the duvet where you had tossed them as you came in earlier. It’s when you are padding back out the door moments later that you hear a soft little cry, which pulls you from your thoughts. You peer at the neighbouring door to yours, finding it slightly ajar, and listen. A few beats later another cry sounds, and you don’t hear Frankie or Imelda so you approach slowly and give a light knock.
“Imelda?”
You step into the room, eyes casting around only to find the bed empty–though clearly having been slept in. Rosie is tousle-haired in her crib, a frown on her little face that makes you soften instantly. Her grandmother must have woken already and left her to nap in peace, and you give the toddler a knowing smile.
“I think someone woke a little early,” You say, and her lower lip pouts out as tears begin to well and you scoop her up instantly, snuggling her close and peppering her with a few kisses. “Don’t worry sweet girl, I’ll cover for you.” Rosie gives a little giggle as she settles against you, finding a comfortable way to lay her head, and you begin to slowly pace the room, lightly swinging her in your arms, one hand rubbing soothing circles over her back.
As you comfort her, sadness washes over you. The idea that her mother could abandon her as if she were one of the unwanted dogs you worked with everyday made your heartbreak–and you were also a little angry for her and Frankie. You could understand not being ready to settle and have a family, but to put so little effort in over the first months of Rosie’s life, leaving for weeks at a time to party and always sending Frankie the bad news via text messages, you couldn't wrap your head around it.
You had guessed that Elena was the one to bring Frankie close to drugs, before she was pregnant. That they had been spiralling together-her happy to be on the arm of a handsome veteran, him believing she wanted more than simply a little status and a constant partner to berate and abuse. You don’t know the details of what happened, or how he found out about Rosie, but you knew she was gone from their lives now and hoped that meant he could finally heal. You don’t realise you’ve begun to speak softly in Spanish, just calming words to help lull her back to sleep, until Rosie gives a happy snore.
You’ve been pacing by the window, and decide to move toward the chair in the corner, thinking you’ll just take a seat with her until Frankie or Imelda come up to check on her. You begin to turn when you hear a floorboard groan and pause in alarm to find Frankie there, just inside the doorway watching you in surprise. The expression on his face is odd, but you can’t get a read on it even as he continues to stare.
He just keeps looking at you, and you can’t stop looking back.
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Frankie knew he should look away– he was staring. Aggressively. But he couldn’t tear his eyes from the image before him, the wonder barely concealed by his surprise. You, holding his baby. Saying words of comfort to her in Spanish as she clutches herself close and snores happily. He had wanted to come and wake her up from her nap, see if she wanted to play some games or build sandcastles, give his mother a few hours on her own. The last thing he expected when he walked into the room was to find you there.
He didn’t miss it either, that moment his foot made contact with the squeaky floorboard and your expression flashed with a protective concern, arms tightening slightly around his baby. He can hear his blood roaring in his ears and staring is the only thing he can do for several minutes. You become unsure as the silence stretches on, eyes assessing him in confusion before you move towards him.
“I’m sorry, Frankie. I heard her crying and thought I’d look in–”
Frankie shakes his head and smiles, “No, don’t apologise. I just,” He looks down at Rosie, still sound asleep, before meeting your gaze again and stepping closer. “I’ve never seen her relax like that for anyone else. She really likes you.”
He wants to say he does too. After that moment at breakfast, he’d found it hard to think of anything else and wanted to try and capture you alone, to explain why he had given you such an intense look when you’d comforted him. He wasn’t exactly sure how he would say it–certainly not, ‘I realised that moment I wanted you more than anything and I was going to ask if I could kiss you before that asshole Benny came in’. But something similar. Lighter.
You smile at his words, looking away from him to his little girl, “Oh, she’s a sweetie.”
He reaches out and rubs a hand along her back, careful to avoid touching yours, “Nicest kid, don’t know where she gets it from.” He jokes, but you frown at him, “What?”
“You’re just so hard on yourself,” You reply, your kind eyes never looking away, “But you know you’re an amazing person.”
Unsure of how to reply, he merely nods before gesturing over his shoulder. “Want to come downstairs? We were thinking of putting on a movie for her later, but she’s a bit tired today so it might be better to do it now.”
You brighten immediately, that beautiful smile tugging at your lips instantly and making his stomach do somersaults. “That sounds great, lead the way!”
Rosie is content to remain in your arms for the afternoon, whining anytime someone attempts to take a turn with her and snuggling back in close. He leaves you with her for the movie, opting to sit in a large bean bag chair at the back of the room where he can relax–he’s seen Finding Nemo enough times. You sit up front with Rosie and Benny and the afternoon moves along at a steady pace, the movie more than half over before he feels another person join him on the beanbag and looks up from his half doze to find Little giving him a knowing look.
Admittedly, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you. You were facing away and hadn’t noticed him watching, but he watched every laugh, the way you held Rosie. He’d seen you with her before, but this was the first time where it wasn’t with the purpose of wedding planning and you were more relaxed, entirely focused on his little girl.
Little follows his gaze and smirks, “Hey Fish,” He shoots her a look, well aware of what she’s up to, and she only smiles broadly. “Don’t look at me like that.” Her eyes sparkle, and when he looks behind her he sees Santi a few feet away on the couch she had been sharing with him, attempting to hide his own grin behind his drink.
“Look, I can guess the general direction of your thoughts,” He replies in a low voice, though the general chatter in the room, sound from the movie and distance from where you sit up by the TV with Rosie tells him he could probably speak at a normal volume and you wouldn’t hear. “And I’m going to tell you the same thing I said to Santi–in my own time.”
Little sighs, saying nothing and he thinks she might let it go, but eventually she pats his arm and gives him a small smile. “I just wanted you to know I’m here for you. Whatever you need–it’s my honeymoon, but if you’d like a babysitter tonight, Santi and I would be happy to take RoRo and give you some…space.”
Frankie considers his best friend's offer, well aware that the evening activities planned included a beach bonfire everyone was going to dress up for. Maybe he could find a moment with you and just see what would happen. Tell you that he has feelings for you and then let you decide if another step could happen. He glances over in time to see you throw your head back in laughter at Rosie’s partial imitation of one of the characters in the movie, delight brightening your features, a happy giggle tearing out of Rosie.
He looks back over at Little, but meets Santi’s gaze as he does and pauses, remembering his friend's words from the day before–that Rosie deserved to have a dad who was happy. He puts a hand over Little’s and gives a small nod, “Just for tonight? I think–I’m going to put myself first, just this once.”
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You’re staring in the mirror, frowning at your reflection. You think your dress looks pretty–it’s casual and flowery, but there’s just so much cleavage. Little had said it was the exact right amount, and basically threatened to remove one of your fingers if you didn’t wear it to tonight’s little bonfire on the beach, but you had convinced yourself it would be breezy enough to justify a sweater over top. Instead, it was hot enough out tonight that the air conditioning was a very welcome reprieve even as the sun had started to set and you had opted to eat inside for dinner.
With no excuse, you decide to just wear the damn dress and enjoy, let yourself shut down the negative thoughts—because so far, not one person here has done a thing to make you uncomfortable or self-conscious. The only thing was, the dress had the type of tighter material that no bra could really contend with—regardless of the several options you had to go with, all were very noticeable underneath the smooth fabric, and the straps were twice the size of that of the dress. You turn this way and that as you look into the full length mirror, then let out a great sigh. You’ll go without a bra on. Plenty of people with breasts avoided bras all the time, there was no law saying that because yours were big, you had to hide them away. And aside from being much more comfortable, you know that the dress is tight fitting enough at the top to steady the ladies, so long as you don’t do any running.
Now that you’ve thought about it, you become determined and work quickly to throw the dress off, remove your bra and then redress, this time adjusting yourself carefully and then looking into the mirror with trepidation…but you look—well, amazing. Without the bulk of the bra, you fill the dress like it was literally handmade just for you, and the cleavage becomes slightly less pronounced. You love it, you love the self-confidence you feel as you gaze at yourself, and give yourself a little nod of approval before making your way down to the beach.
You had spent most of the afternoon with Rosie, only parting ways when it was her dinner time to sneak upstairs and get yourself ready for the bonfire. You’d ended up lingering in the shower, using the luxury soaps and conditioners to your heart's content. You felt pampered and knew you smelled pretty amazing, and hoped that you’d still feel this confident when you faced Frankie again.
You didn’t know what tonight would bring, but you wanted to tell him that you had feelings for him. You were going to keep it simple; admit how you felt, but tell him he owed you nothing, not even a response. You just wanted him to know, and see where it took you–because this tension filled relationship was starting to wear on you, and falling harder and harder for him only meant doing more harm to yourself the more you held it back.
“Hey, Star!”
You startle out of your thoughts, glancing up from watching your feet as you clambered through the sand, to find Benny waving from next to the bonfire. He’s grinning a little manically, and you look around to find Little sitting on a chair nearby, shaking her head at her brother. “Benny, you look like you set the fire with ill-intent, you psycho!” She jokes, and you join in the laughter with the Millers, taking the seat next to Little and thanking Benny when he hands you a drink a moment later.
“I’ve interrupted a sibling gathering, it seems.” You say, smiling at your friend and noting the many empty chairs. Benny and Will are the only others down so far, each of them working on the fire as they chat about a past fight Benny had won and whether he would face the same opponent again.
Little leans back in her seat and answers your unspoken question. “Frankie is putting Rosie to bed, and Santi was on a mission for me to find skittles,” Her head rolls towards you, eyes giving you a head to toe scan and brightening. “You wore the dress.”
“Please don’t make it a big deal. But you were right,” You admit this reluctantly, and Little has the good grace to cover her self-satisfied smile by taking a large drink. “I do like how this one fits. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to start listening to you.”
Little makes an unamused noise, “But you look amazing! Seriously, you’re-”
You cut her off, “I heard you, Little—“
Another voice interjects, this one much deeper, “You do look very beautiful, cariña,” Frankie takes the free seat next to you and gives you a soft, shy smile. You’ve spun to look at him almost comically, your mouth opening and closing as heat floods your cheeks. “That colour suits you.” He adds, but his eyes don’t drop from your face like any other man would—no, he holds your gaze, rubs his neck nervously.
You stare for a long minute, the sincerity in his voice, the way he’s dressed up in nice slacks and a starfish patterned button up shirt, that little smile he’s giving you. You blurt out your one secret in a jumble, not even pausing to take a breath.
“I’ve kidnapped abused dogs when animal control can’t intervene without evidence and given them new homes in other cities and states. The police have warned me away from it but my family is well connected so I’ve only ever gotten a slap on the wrist…they keep it quiet so even my job doesn’t know but I use it to find out about the bad owners.”
Frankie just stares back at you silently, his eyes widening a fraction, firelight dancing over his handsome features. There’s a pause, and then Little moves to stand up, capturing both Frankie and your attention as she does. “So I’m going to go make out with my husband. But don’t forget to mention my badass escape driver skills from years ago, Star. I’ve been wanting to brag about that.”
Little walks over to join Santi where he stands chatting with Benny and Will, snatching a bag of skittles happily from his hands. You look back around at Frankie nervously, relieved to see his shocked expression has been replaced by curiosity. “That’s really…I mean, what you’ve done is incredible, Star. Even if it’s vigilante level,” He smiles now, and you can’t help but feel your lips tug up in response, “And I appreciate you sharing but, well, why?”
You turn to face him more directly and bite your lip as you think of how to respond. Deciding that you might as well keep going with the over-honesty, you say, “Because I really like you, Frankie. And I know you have a lot on your plate, that Rosie is your primary concern and if we—I mean, I just don’t want to add to your stress. And I’m just Little’s friend, I know we’ve gotten close but you don’t have any like loyalty to me if I were to get in trouble again and I know you had the drug charges—“
You cut yourself off, mortified at your words, but Frankie is smiling at you, his eyes soft. At first he doesn’t say anything, his eyes merely search your face. “Let’s go for a walk.” He stands, then offers you a hand to help you up, which you take without looking away. You wish you could read his mind right now, because despite the warmth in his smile you can’t get a read on much else. Nerves bubble away in your stomach; what if he’s about to tell you nicely he just wants to be friends?
But as he starts to walk away from the bonfire, his hand doesn’t drop yours. He holds it as he leads you along the beach. He still holds it when you reach the dock and begin making your way along, the ocean waves surrounding you and silencing the chatter from the bonfire group, the darkness growing. When you’re standing at the end of the dock, he gestures for you to take a seat, and as you do he still doesn’t drop your hand.
The moon isn’t very bright tonight, its glow minimal, but it’s enough to reflect off the water and create enough light to see one another. Your stomach is doing summersaults now, and you think your hand is sweaty so you instinctively grip his a little harder to avoid any slippage that would give you away. “Relax, Cariña” He says softly, and though you offer him a smile you can’t really do much more—the moment feels too significant for relaxing. “Let me say this first—I like you too. A lot. I have for a while.”
You feel your stomach disappear, like you’re dropping over the peak of a rollercoaster. “Oh.”
Frankie chuckles warmly, then drops your hand and instead reaches up to brush some stray hairs back from your face. You have to suppress a shiver and can’t look away from the earnest expression on his handsome face.“Yes, ‘oh’. And you aren’t just Little’s friend, Star. You are a part of our family, everyone here loves you, so please don’t think you’re only here because of her,” His hand falls to take hold of one of yours, resting in your lap. “And if you know about the drug charges, then you know they were dropped and I’ve been clean for a long time. Did you really think I wouldn’t want to be with you because you’ve rescued animals in need from their abusers?”
His eyes are searching your face, narrowed slightly to combat the darkness, and you’re glad he can’t sense the way your cheeks are so flushed you could fry an egg on them. “I don’t know what I thought, really. I just…you are such an amazing man, Frankie. You’re this incredible dad, and you were in the fucking special forces, and I’m a much younger vet tech for an animal rescue. I literally bring home strays all the time, and I could never,” You pause, fishing around for the right way to say this, and Frankie simply sits there patiently, his hand still holding yours. “I could never imagine realistically how we would work. How I could fit into your life.”
When Frankie says your name, his voice is a low timbre that sends a wave of sparks up your spine. You meet his gaze as he continues, “You’re way too hard on yourself, baby,” Your brows shoot up in surprise at his recycling of what you had said to him earlier; heat coils in your stomach, “You realise I’ve been thinking the same way? Wondering how an old man with a kid could ever be what you would want, convincing myself I’m no good for you. Doing the same thing I watched Santi do for years with Little.”
His voice has taken on a new edge, a confidence there you hadn't sensed before. “I want…you to be happy. I want to be happy too, Frankie.” Is all you say, and he nods once, and then his hands are running up your neck and pushing into your hair as he dips his face close to yours, half-lidded eyes a breath away.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” You reply breathlessly, and then Frankie Morales closes that gap and those plush lips seal over yours, finally. It’s perfect and you could cry with joy. He kisses you slowly, deliberate, his hands holding your head steady. Minutes pass and you have to practically gasp for air until he slowly pulls back. You both ignore the cheering you can hear coming from the beach. “Let’s go inside for some privacy.”
He considers you, “I want that. But you need to know that I want to date you, properly, once we get home.”
You tilt your head, smiling, “Oh, I was hoping what happened in Hawaii stayed in Hawaii.” Frankie laughs, and the look of pure adoration on his face is enough to make you turn to jelly. “I want that too, Frankie. I want to do this right.”
You smile at each other like lovesick kids, and then Frankie is helping you to your feet, an arm landing around your shoulders and you begin the walk back. It seems like the longest distance, now that you know you’re going inside to be alone with Frankie, and you know he feels the same–it’s almost a struggle to keep up with his fast pace on your much shorter legs. You’re grateful that everyone is either at the bonfire or relaxing in their own rooms, meeting no one as you slip upstairs together and into the quiet comfort of your room. Frankie locks the door behind you and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as you both ready yourselves for this next part.
“Frankie I–” You pull back slightly, trembling with nerves that you see reflected in his own expression. He gives you a reassuring smile, one large hand swiping your hair back over your shoulder. “I have birth control, and I’m clean. I actually haven’t been with anyone else in a while. Just, well I’ve been so busy and there’s no time for dating and then I met you and–”
Frankie swoops forward and captures your lips against his, stopping you mid-blubber and effectively wiping your mind free of all thoughts. He kissed with a purpose, like a dance that his entire body had to move with; you weren't just entwining your tongues, no his body was pressing to yours, a hand cupping your face and the other steadying you, pressed to your lower back. When your arms settled around his shoulders, you couldn’t resist sinking your fingers into his curls, a low groan of approval your indication that he wanted you to touch him too. It went on like this for ages, still at the door despite the entire room being available to you.
You enjoyed the conflict in the actions; frantic kissing, but no rushing towards the next part. Frankie was taking his time, and you relished in it, happy to spend the rest of the vacation in this very spot, like he was breathing oxygen into your greedy lungs just when you needed it the most. The hand on your back splays somewhat, moving up to better hold you and you can’t help the little whimper you breathe, because he’s so much bigger than you and you feel small and safe, but also incredibly turned on. It’s this that nudges him forward, only one step. He presses you harder against him and grounds his hips slightly.
You feel the hardness of him against your stomach, and your thighs clench wickedly in response. Entirely without thought, you begin to unbutton his shirt, making quick work and then lightly trailing your fingers down, stopping short at his stomach. Not by choice, but because the second you got that low, Frankie let out a snarl against your lips before his hands moved suddenly to grip the flesh of your ass. “You are so goddamn sexy, mi amor,” He sighs, his forehead pressed to yours, and you smile at him–you’re surprised he went for your ass, his hands still massaging over the fabric of your dress, a hunger glinting in his eyes.
You thought he’d go straight for your chest and forget the rest of you. You worried that even though you wanted his attention, for him to take you in every way, that he could end up like the rest and focus on your largest insecurity. Instead, he’s looking at you like you alone hung the moon, and that he’s the lucky one getting to touch you. “Frankie, please.” It’s a whispered plea that seems to awaken something in the man before you.
His entire body reacts, and you can only gasp when the world suddenly spins because he’s lifted you–tossing you gently onto the bed.
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Frankie couldn’t stand it, how perfect you were yet how insecure. The fear that was etched in lines along your otherwise youthful complexion. He knew you, understood what you thought he would do, and he was determined to show you how a man could worship every inch of you properly. “Yes, baby, what do you need?” His voice is low, dripping with honey as he runs his hands up the backs of your thighs, pushing your dress up as he does. You respond with a little mewl that makes his rock hard cock twitch, and he has to unzip his pants to give himself some reprieve from the pressure. “I’ll do anything you want–walking around with this perfect body, you think I haven’t wanted to taste every inch?”
You moan aloud now, head turning to peer at him over your shoulder. Your eyes are wide, pupils blown with desire, and he can’t help but growl at the sight of you on your stomach, legs splayed and trembling for him. “Anything. Please, do anything…” You gasp, and he gives you a wicked smile before running his fingers over your panties, using one hand to tug them aside, and then he dives forward and licks you where you need him most.
The sound that escapes you is half-tortured, half-hysterical. He doesn’t relent, feasting on you like a last meal, his fingers gently prodding and pressing to ready you for his cock. He can tell you’re tight, and he doesn’t want to cause you even a moment of discomfort. Though you continue to make noise for him, it takes him a few minutes to get everything right, maximising your pleasure as he learns what you like. He can feel your legs are tense, and lifts his head slightly to peer over the curve of your ass. You have your head to the side, pressed into the mattress with your eyes tightly shut.
Frankie grunts in dismay, “No baby, you have to relax for me, that’s it, I’m not going to stop. You need to cum, alright?” He waits for you to nod and for your body to loosen, and he gives a cheek a reassuring squeeze. “Good girl.”
He feels you tighten around his fingers at the praise and makes a mental note before surging back in, licking and tasting your cunt until you’re quivering on the edge. When he senses you there, he nudges his nose through your folds and sucks at your clit, from there it’s only a second before you jerk with your orgasm. “Ohohoh!” You sigh, hands fisting the sheets, ass rocking as you pull the most pleasure from him. Frankie helps you over the edge and then eases you back down, gently kissing your inner thighs.
“So good, baby,” He murmurs, moving to his hands and knees and pressing kisses up your back, dragging your dress the rest of the way. You help him, limbs slightly shaky, and toss the dress over the side of the bed, where he also throws your underwear and his own remaining clothing. “You doing alright, mi amor?” Frankie reaches up and turns you on your back, his eyes searching your face for any sign of wanting to stop.
You lock gazes with him for a long moment and an emotion flashes over your expression, halting him. “You can look…you can touch me, Frankie. I want you to.” You say, half gesturing at your chest. And he looks now, at those perfect tits you hide behind cardigans and too-big sweaters, knowing full well that men have mistreated you in the past because of them, not meeting your eyes when you wanted them to. He scoots forward, surprisingly at ease with your eyes drifting over his naked form, the hard length of him standing proud, scars long healed from his days in combat now available for you to drink in.
“I want you to know that these are perfect,” He replies, hands trailing over your nipples, “Everything about you is. Eres tan encantadora…” He lowers his head and licks over one, then moves to the other, his eyes on your face. “I am going to fuck you all night.” He adds, and you swallow thickly, mouth slightly open as you watch him press his lips between your tits, then trail his tongue up, stopping at the column of your neck.
He positions his body over yours, careful that his cock rests near enough to your core to tease you, and you open your legs wider, inviting him as close as possible. “My body has always been mine,” Your voice is soft, the tone openly vulnerable, “It always will be, I’ve learned that. But I want you to take me, Frankie, make me yours too. I trust you.”
His heart almost stops in his chest, and he adjusts his position so that he can trace one hand over your cheek, “Mi amor, I belong to you, it’s you who takes me.” He doesn’t look away, simply adjusts himself with his free hand and slides himself through your soaked folds, then grips your hip as he sheaths himself fully inside of you. “Oh fuck.” He grunts, his head dropping now to the crook of your neck as the velvet warmth of you overwhelms him.
“Frankie, fuck,” Eyes closed, you arch for him, legs circling his waist to pull him deeper. “So big, ah!”
“That’s it baby, take what you need,” He groans in your ear, thrusting slowly as you get used to his size. When you drag his face to your, hands gripping his hair almost roughly, and kiss him again, he could drown in the feeling. It’s more erotic than earlier, the kisses now nearly aggressive with need, each of you pulling for dominance in a lust-filled game. It’s a short while later that your hips begin to move to meet his slow thrusts, a sign that you want more.
Frankie has always been good at sex–hot nights in the middle of the jungle lead to quick, passion-filled encounters once back in town with women he didn’t even know the name of. He never paid for sex, it was always consensual, women picked up at bars, and then with Elena it was always fast. She liked to take what she needed, then finish him off and leave the cuddling for the actors in movies.
But tonight he was truly making love for the first time in his life. His body felt connected to yours, like you were echoing one another's pleasure, wanting the most for the other person. He wants you in every way and finds himself so entirely involved–like he can hear every thought in your head, guess your every need. When you let out a small whine, he can’t help but laugh against your lips, and then he’s moving and pulling you with him, delighting in the sound you make when he’s got you seated on his cock, his back against the headboard.
“That’s…wow, you’re deep Frankie,” You can barely speak, and he’s so fully entwined with you now that he can’t do more than groan in pleasure and help you begin to move on his cock, the wet sounds of your bodies no match for the noises you can pull from each other.
The world melts away in that room, hours passing as you passionately fuck, and he holds himself back from cumming, loving the way you try to do the same and fail several times. You cum like you have a secret, and he is more than happy to make it happen again and again. He puts his hands everywhere but your injury, careful to avoid the bandage, and makes notes of the places that make your eyes roll. And as time goes on, you begin to become cock-drunk, slowly revealing a more demanding part of yourself–first, you start by telling him to go harder or faster, then the dirty talk begins, and now he’s sure you aren’t going to let him bring you over the edge again alone.
There’s a note of desperation in your voice, paired perfectly with the whimpers as he fucks you from behind, one hand on your hip and the other wrapped in your hair. “Where do you want to cum, Frankie? Inside me? All over my ass?” You toss him a look over your shoulder, nearly feral and the desire to slam deep and cum inside of you is there, but he holds back. “No no, I want to taste you. Let me get down on my knees for you.”
Frankie almost cums, he really does. It’s close, and he has to rip himself back and grip the base of his cock hard–all the while you turn on the bed and grin at him in victory. “Fuck baby, you almost made me cum,” He groans, then watches in complete shock as you climb off the bed and get down on your knees next to it. You part your legs slightly, one hand dipping down to rub your clit, the other pushing your hair behind your shoulders.
“Come here, Frankie,” The most delicious demand he'd ever heard. He’s a little shaky as he gets off the bed and moves to stand tall over you. He still grips himself, wondering if he can get away with lifting you back on the bed–but you sense his plan and tilt your head back, “Please, I need your cum–”
Frankie grunts, one hand shooting out to grip your hair–he’s gentle, but you only grin wider and open your mouth. “You little–oh fuck–” He can’t stop himself, because you tremble and he sees that you begin to cum on your fingers, feels how his hand is half the reason you’re still sitting upright. He cuts off in a guttural moan and fists his hand over his cock, and then he’s giving you exactly what you wanted.
You make happy noises as he comes across your lips, then again down your chin and over those perky tits. He hears himself moaning, but he loses the rest as he watches you lick your lips, then surge forward and take the tip of him into your eager little mouth. He didn’t think he had anymore left in him, but he’s shooting down your throat now and it’s all he can do to keep standing. He finally pulls you back, spent, and almost starts cumming again at the sight of you covered in his cum, breathless from swallowing around his cock.
“Mi amor,” He growls, recovering enough to bend down and pick you up, placing you back onto the bed and then falling to lay next to you. It takes several moments to catch your breaths. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?” He asks you eventually, rolling onto his side to survey you with concern.
You give a little laugh, “Am I okay? No, I’ll never be okay again after that, Frankie Morales. That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” You say, and he blushes at the compliment, a surge of pride making the slight pain in his back dull. “How was that for you?”
There’s an edge of uncertainty he immediately works to dispel, first kissing you gently before pulling back with a warm smile. “I will remember this night for the rest of my life. You are amazing,” He takes one of your hands in his, “The best night of my life was the night Rosie was born. Nothing has ever come close, and I thought that was it for me–my happiness is Rosie, and that alone was more than I deserved. She is more than I deserve,” Frankie speaks slowly, ensuring that you hear every word, “I never thought that–even if I did admit how I feel about you, Star–that you would feel the same. You are the best person I have ever been lucky enough to know, and this night was…it’s the only one that has ever brought me as much happiness as that night Ro was born. I don’t know if I even deserve this, but I want a million more nights with you, mi amor.”
He then drops his gaze to rake slowly down every curve of your body, placing his fingers where he came on your chest as he tries to convey how he feels for you. When you shiver, he knows he’s on the mark, and he smiles at you for a long time when he looks back into your eyes.
“I think I just fell in love with you, Frankie Morales.” His heart swells with emotion and you shift closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
“Welcome to my world,” He replies, your name intimate on his tongue. “Now let me take care of cleaning you up, I’m sure I can get you to cum a few more times…”
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Frankie woke with a start, his head jerking up from the pillow as he clocked the sound of Rosie’s early morning whimpers. He’s confused at first, because she had stayed with Little and Santi the evening before, but when he finds where the noise is coming from, he is swept by that feeling he kept experiencing the night before.
You stand a few feet from the door, having just returned to the room with Rosie, wrapped in one of the provided robes. You have her head tucked under your chin and you're speaking softly, soothing words with no real meaning to keep her calm. The golden sun streams through the shutters that were never fully closed the night before, and though he aches all over from making love to you for hours, he really never has been happier in his life.
The woman he loves, holding his child, comforting her without hesitation. You must have woken before him and realised that Rosie hadn’t seen him since the night before, gone to find her while he continued to snooze. He watches you quietly, drinking in the way you run your fingers through her hair, press soft kisses to the crown, and appear entirely at ease. It isn’t until you begin to climb back into bed that you finally look at Frankie, and you pause in surprise when you see him awake.
“Oh no, I woke you, sorry Frankie,” You say quietly, but all he does is shake his head and reach toward you. You make to pass Rosie to him, but he shakes his head abruptly and you slide closer, a small smile appearing now, and snuggle as close as possible with the sleeping toddler between you. When you’ve settled comfortably, Rosie content in the middle, you lay your head on his pillow and sigh happily.
Frankie settles one hand over Rosie where it joins yours, and runs the other across your cheek, “I could get used to this, mi amor,” He admits, and you nod in agreement, eyes twinkling with happiness he feels as well, right to his core. “Thank you.”
You frown slightly, “For what?”
“For loving me, I suppose.”
The frown softens, kind eyes filled with emotion as you reach for him, pressing a soft kiss to his nose, “Frankie, you are so easy to love.”
And even after so many years feeling the opposite, of doubting himself because of who he is and what he’s done, Frankie believes you. He believes that you love him, that’s it’s easy for you because you were always meant to be his. And truly, Frankie knows he has always belonged to you.
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bookishofalder · 2 years
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STARFISH | Part Two 🐠
Summary: Star may be feeling embarrassed by her fall, but everyone else is impressed with her heroics. Frankie can't deny how he feels now, and a few tense moments bring them together.
Warnings: Mentions of wound/cleaning/bandaging. Animal rescue mentioned. Language. Fluff. SMUT. 18+ only.
A/N: Oh hi! Sorry about my very long and unexpected hiatus. Please forgive me, and here is what you've been waiting for. I hope you enjoy!
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When your door opens after only being alone for about twenty minutes from fleeing the beach, you don’t bother to look up, knowing it’s Little. She’s the only person you knew who never bothered to knock on a door–a habit she’d had since your days in school together. The familiarity of it made you smile internally, but outwardly you gave a low groan and brought the pillow you were clutching to your chest to rest over your face.
“Oh, Star, it’s not that bad,” Little says steadily, and the bed shifts as she climbs on next to you and rips the pillow away. Her face is inches away, that dazzling smile far to shit-eating to be comforting. “Seriously, you looked badass–it was like a movie!”
“Little, I will punch you,” You deadpan, shooting her a glare, “And not the fake movie kind of punch.”
She merely snorts, rolling her eyes before propping a hand against her cheek, “So you don’t want to hear about how Frankie just spent the last twenty minutes singing your praises and debating whether he should come up here?” She gestures towards the door with her free hand and you jolt up slightly in a panic.
“He’s not coming up, is he?”
“No, I said I would because I knew you’d be in here having a crisis.” She replies easily, and you take a breath before lowering yourself back down into the comfortable duvet. Little watches you for a moment before adding; “You know, I was looking at him when everything happened. I wanted to make sure he caught Rosie, but the look on his face when he saw you fall–I couldn’t look away until I heard the way you hit that rock.”
“He was just concerned, Little. He probably realised it could have been Rosie that got hurt.” You try to keep your tone light, despite wanting to throttle her for reminding you of the expressions of panic and concern that had flashed over his features when he had pulled you from the water. “He just got full custody of her, he’s going to be extra hard on himself for a while.”
“That’s probably true,” Little agrees, having been the one who told you the details of how Elena had sent him those papers releasing her from all parental rights, just weeks before the wedding. “But, Rosie was fine and you weren’t. He lost his shit, and don’t pretend you didn’t hear him saying ‘mi amor’ after insisting he be the one to bandage you up.”
You give another long sigh, staring up at the ceiling with unfocused eyes, thinking back to the look he’d given you on the beach. The way it made your heart feel as though it would beat right out of your chest. Maybe he did care more about you than you were admitting, but that didn’t mean it was anything more than a platonic love. You’d grown close over the course of helping Little and Santi plan their wedding, it was understandable that he was upset you had been hurt. Everyone else had been, though seeing as it was his daughter you had literally thrown yourself into harm's way to save, it made perfect sense that he felt responsible for you.
“Let’s drop it Little, you need to get back to your husband and enjoy your honeymoon, and I need to wallow for a bit before eating my feelings at dinner.”
When Little gives a frustrated groan, you look back over at her in surprise to find her glancing at the closed door before her low voice says, “Santi will kill me for this, but…okay you know that he came by the night he got those papers from Elena?” You nod, your brows furrowing in curiosity, and wait for her to continue. “Well, I was in the shower when he first got there, so they were alone in the kitchen talking when I…uh, quietly walked down the hall to join them.”
You arch a brow at your best friend, “You eavesdropped?”
Little purses her lips, but gives a conceding jerk of her head, “Eavesdropping. Overheard. Whatever, Santi was the one who said Frankie was finally free to focus on himself. And I quote, ‘Ask out Star, I know she’s interested,’ and Frankie replied ‘Let me figure that out in my own time, man. No need to rush things with her.” She breaks off as you bolt upright, giving her a wide-eyed look.
“Shut up!”
“I’m serious! So take your time too, if you need it. But stop denying something is there.”
You drop your head into your hands, “Oh god, Little, making a move on vacation after your best friends get married isn’t the right time,” You shake your head, pressing your thumbs into the corners of your eyes, “There is a reality we live in, one where it makes zero sense to be together because we are so different and he has much more important things to worry about.”
This time, Little sits up and faces you, her expression serious, “He is not going to care at all about the–”
“He will. Even if he’s lovely and sweet about it because he’s Frankie, he has a child and a past with drugs, me coming in with my unofficial criminal activity is not–”
“Oh my god, Star, you weren’t even charged. The detective gave you a slap on the wrist by way of a stern talking to and then thanked you for saving those dogs when no one else would!” You open your mouth to respond, then pause as voices sound from the hall.
You both listen as footsteps near and then hear Frankie’s soft voice speaking to Rosie. He’s assuring her they can go back outside and play once she’s had a quick bath, and his voice fades when they disappear into his room, the sound of the door clicking shut the last thing you hear. Little gives you a look, not unloving but certainly frustrated, before giving you a quick hug and leaving the room.
You lay alone in your room for a long time thinking, until eventually the cool room and white noise of the fan whirring away above you lull you into a fitful nap. Your last thoughts–or perhaps, the beginning of your dreams–are of Frankie Morales pulling you from the water and promising to take care of you.
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You stay in your room for the remainder of the evening, going so far as to order dinner up and letting the staff member pass along your goodnight to everyone on your behalf after she rolled the food cart in. You gave yourself a break, and thankfully no one begrudged it of you. It was relaxing enough, though you did have to distract yourself with a few movies to give your mind a break; overanalysing your feelings and intentions for Frankie wasn’t going to do either of you any good.
You had promised yourself to not hide anymore, however, and so the next morning you rose early enough to slip downstairs and join the few early risers for coffee. When you arrive in the kitchen, you almost turn back upon seeing only Frankie sitting at the table, coffee in one hand and a book in the other.
Maybe he was trying to distract himself as well.
You clear your throat before you take the coward's way out, and he looks up with a mild interest that morphs into a full and stunning grin the moment he sees it’s you. You return an awkward smile, “Good morning.”
Frankie sets both his book and mug down, turning in his seat, “How are you feeling, querida?” His voice is deep from disuse so early, and you swallow nervously as you side step toward the coffee pot and help yourself.
“I’m really good, thank you,” You say, though when you do come around the counter to join him, his eyes fall to your bandage, peeking from the short hem of your romper. “Honestly, I changed the dressing first thing and it’s not too bad.” You try to shrug, but when you meet his gaze again his lips are pressed together in a thin line.
You sit down next to him at the table and offer a wider smile, grateful the concealer on your cheek hid the bruising around the slight cut there. “How are you?” You say, taking a sip of coffee and doing your best to appear relaxed despite the proximity.
He doesn’t press you, instead he seems to give a half shake of his head before replying. “I’m alright. I was worried…” He trails off, eyes dropping to his coffee and one of his large hands coming to rub the back of his neck. He needed a trim, his bed head more noticeable since he wasn’t yet wearing his signature cap. The desire to run your fingers through the mess of curls almost made you moan aloud. “I can’t thank you enough, you know. Rosie is completely fine because of you, and I’m really sorry you were hurt because I messed up.”
You look at Frankie in surprise, the self-loathing in his voice slipping through the steady tone he was trying to hide behind. Resisting reaching out for him, you instead opted to point at him and ensure he met your eyes before you said, “You did not mess up, Frankie. Kids run, they get wild and carried away and that’s why it sometimes takes a village when it comes to raising them,” He’s smiling a little, so you continue, “Anyone of us would have done the same, I just happened to be right there. But she’s going to scrape her knee one day and it won’t be your fault, okay?”
“I–you’re right. It’s a lot, having a kid. I love every minute of it, and I’m grateful for all the support, from my mother, from Little and all of you,” He sighs, pausing to take a sip of his coffee, “It’s just, at the end of the day I’m her dad. I’m supposed to be the one person who never lets her down or fucks up. She doesn’t have a mother anymore, I have to fill that role too now.”
You reach for him without thought as the words, that heartbreaking confession, come out. Taking his hand, you squeeze slightly and rub your thumb in soothing circles. For a moment, it’s silent, and you’re afraid to look up so you stare at your hands as you speak. “Any kid with a parent who loves as much as you do, Frankie, is lucky. Elena is the one who is missing out on both an amazing kid and a remarkable man. It’s her loss.”
You glance up when Frankie moves and only have a moment to see that blazing expression on his handsome face before a voice cuts in, startling you both.
“Here here!”
It’s Benny, bounding into the room cluelessly, his eyes on the morning fruits and breads set out along the counter. You pull your hand from Frankie’s and cover your blush by taking a large swig of coffee. He clears his throat and does the same, then greets Benny with a small edge to his voice.
“Hey Superhero!” Benny looks at you with a huge grin, slapping Frankie on the back in way of a greeting, and you can’t help but smile up at the blonde. He was just too nice, too oblivious to know he’d walked in on…well, you don’t know what that was.
“Benny, it’s too early to be so chipper.” You joke, grabbing one of the strawberries off of his plate as he sits down across from you. You spend the next half hour chatting with the two men, that tension between you and Frankie going unnoticed by the middle Miller, and then take advantage of Little, Santi and a few others all appearing to slip out of the room with your beach bag, eager to get some quiet time in by the water.
You can’t help but glance back as you close the patio door behind you, a pleasant heat coursing through you when you find Frankie’s eyes following you.
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At lunchtime, you decide to pop upstairs to check your leg again before eating, knowing that once you have you’ll want to relax and procrastinate on the task. You haven’t stopped thinking about Frankie all day, but he’s been busy with Rosie and his mother, which has both kept him at a distance and stopped any further conversation from occurring between the two of you. You aren’t sure exactly what you would say, even if given a moment alone.
With a sigh, you convince yourself it’s for the best. There was a moment, yes. But this was a vacation–people tended to get caught up in the excitement. Your own mother was one to fall fully in love with pretty much any place your family traveled. But getting yourself too involved with the idea of Frankie and you was only going to lead to heartbreak for you, and potentially damage a friendship with him that meant a great deal.
Once you’ve finished, you open the door to your room and pause, glancing back towards the bed and finding your sunglasses laying on the duvet where you had tossed them as you came in earlier. It’s when you are padding back out the door moments later that you hear a soft little cry, which pulls you from your thoughts. You peer at the neighbouring door to yours, finding it slightly ajar, and listen. A few beats later another cry sounds, and you don’t hear Frankie or Imelda so you approach slowly and give a light knock.
“Imelda?”
You step into the room, eyes casting around only to find the bed empty–though clearly having been slept in. Rosie is tousle-haired in her crib, a frown on her little face that makes you soften instantly. Her grandmother must have woken already and left her to nap in peace, and you give the toddler a knowing smile.
“I think someone woke a little early,” You say, and her lower lip pouts out as tears begin to well and you scoop her up instantly, snuggling her close and peppering her with a few kisses. “Don’t worry sweet girl, I’ll cover for you.” Rosie gives a little giggle as she settles against you, finding a comfortable way to lay her head, and you begin to slowly pace the room, lightly swinging her in your arms, one hand rubbing soothing circles over her back.
As you comfort her, sadness washes over you. The idea that her mother could abandon her as if she were one of the unwanted dogs you worked with everyday made your heartbreak–and you were also a little angry for her and Frankie. You could understand not being ready to settle and have a family, but to put so little effort in over the first months of Rosie’s life, leaving for weeks at a time to party and always sending Frankie the bad news via text messages, you couldn't wrap your head around it.
You had guessed that Elena was the one to bring Frankie close to drugs, before she was pregnant. That they had been spiralling together-her happy to be on the arm of a handsome veteran, him believing she wanted more than simply a little status and a constant partner to berate and abuse. You don’t know the details of what happened, or how he found out about Rosie, but you knew she was gone from their lives now and hoped that meant he could finally heal. You don’t realise you’ve begun to speak softly in Spanish, just calming words to help lull her back to sleep, until Rosie gives a happy snore.
You’ve been pacing by the window, and decide to move toward the chair in the corner, thinking you’ll just take a seat with her until Frankie or Imelda come up to check on her. You begin to turn when you hear a floorboard groan and pause in alarm to find Frankie there, just inside the doorway watching you in surprise. The expression on his face is odd, but you can’t get a read on it even as he continues to stare.
He just keeps looking at you, and you can’t stop looking back.
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Frankie knew he should look away– he was staring. Aggressively. But he couldn’t tear his eyes from the image before him, the wonder barely concealed by his surprise. You, holding his baby. Saying words of comfort to her in Spanish as she clutches herself close and snores happily. He had wanted to come and wake her up from her nap, see if she wanted to play some games or build sandcastles, give his mother a few hours on her own. The last thing he expected when he walked into the room was to find you there.
He didn’t miss it either, that moment his foot made contact with the squeaky floorboard and your expression flashed with a protective concern, arms tightening slightly around his baby. He can hear his blood roaring in his ears and staring is the only thing he can do for several minutes. You become unsure as the silence stretches on, eyes assessing him in confusion before you move towards him.
“I’m sorry, Frankie. I heard her crying and thought I’d look in–”
Frankie shakes his head and smiles, “No, don’t apologise. I just,” He looks down at Rosie, still sound asleep, before meeting your gaze again and stepping closer. “I’ve never seen her relax like that for anyone else. She really likes you.”
He wants to say he does too. After that moment at breakfast, he’d found it hard to think of anything else and wanted to try and capture you alone, to explain why he had given you such an intense look when you’d comforted him. He wasn’t exactly sure how he would say it–certainly not, ‘I realised that moment I wanted you more than anything and I was going to ask if I could kiss you before that asshole Benny came in’. But something similar. Lighter.
You smile at his words, looking away from him to his little girl, “Oh, she’s a sweetie.”
He reaches out and rubs a hand along her back, careful to avoid touching yours, “Nicest kid, don’t know where she gets it from.” He jokes, but you frown at him, “What?”
“You’re just so hard on yourself,” You reply, your kind eyes never looking away, “But you know you’re an amazing person.”
Unsure of how to reply, he merely nods before gesturing over his shoulder. “Want to come downstairs? We were thinking of putting on a movie for her later, but she’s a bit tired today so it might be better to do it now.”
You brighten immediately, that beautiful smile tugging at your lips instantly and making his stomach do somersaults. “That sounds great, lead the way!”
Rosie is content to remain in your arms for the afternoon, whining anytime someone attempts to take a turn with her and snuggling back in close. He leaves you with her for the movie, opting to sit in a large bean bag chair at the back of the room where he can relax–he’s seen Finding Nemo enough times. You sit up front with Rosie and Benny and the afternoon moves along at a steady pace, the movie more than half over before he feels another person join him on the beanbag and looks up from his half doze to find Little giving him a knowing look.
Admittedly, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you. You were facing away and hadn’t noticed him watching, but he watched every laugh, the way you held Rosie. He’d seen you with her before, but this was the first time where it wasn’t with the purpose of wedding planning and you were more relaxed, entirely focused on his little girl.
Little follows his gaze and smirks, “Hey Fish,” He shoots her a look, well aware of what she’s up to, and she only smiles broadly. “Don’t look at me like that.” Her eyes sparkle, and when he looks behind her he sees Santi a few feet away on the couch she had been sharing with him, attempting to hide his own grin behind his drink.
“Look, I can guess the general direction of your thoughts,” He replies in a low voice, though the general chatter in the room, sound from the movie and distance from where you sit up by the TV with Rosie tells him he could probably speak at a normal volume and you wouldn’t hear. “And I’m going to tell you the same thing I said to Santi–in my own time.”
Little sighs, saying nothing and he thinks she might let it go, but eventually she pats his arm and gives him a small smile. “I just wanted you to know I’m here for you. Whatever you need–it’s my honeymoon, but if you’d like a babysitter tonight, Santi and I would be happy to take RoRo and give you some…space.”
Frankie considers his best friend's offer, well aware that the evening activities planned included a beach bonfire everyone was going to dress up for. Maybe he could find a moment with you and just see what would happen. Tell you that he has feelings for you and then let you decide if another step could happen. He glances over in time to see you throw your head back in laughter at Rosie’s partial imitation of one of the characters in the movie, delight brightening your features, a happy giggle tearing out of Rosie.
He looks back over at Little, but meets Santi’s gaze as he does and pauses, remembering his friend's words from the day before–that Rosie deserved to have a dad who was happy. He puts a hand over Little’s and gives a small nod, “Just for tonight? I think–I’m going to put myself first, just this once.”
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You’re staring in the mirror, frowning at your reflection. You think your dress looks pretty–it’s casual and flowery, but there’s just so much cleavage. Little had said it was the exact right amount, and basically threatened to remove one of your fingers if you didn’t wear it to tonight’s little bonfire on the beach, but you had convinced yourself it would be breezy enough to justify a sweater over top. Instead, it was hot enough out tonight that the air conditioning was a very welcome reprieve even as the sun had started to set and you had opted to eat inside for dinner.
With no excuse, you decide to just wear the damn dress and enjoy, let yourself shut down the negative thoughts—because so far, not one person here has done a thing to make you uncomfortable or self-conscious. The only thing was, the dress had the type of tighter material that no bra could really contend with—regardless of the several options you had to go with, all were very noticeable underneath the smooth fabric, and the straps were twice the size of that of the dress. You turn this way and that as you look into the full length mirror, then let out a great sigh. You’ll go without a bra on. Plenty of people with breasts avoided bras all the time, there was no law saying that because yours were big, you had to hide them away. And aside from being much more comfortable, you know that the dress is tight fitting enough at the top to steady the ladies, so long as you don’t do any running.
Now that you’ve thought about it, you become determined and work quickly to throw the dress off, remove your bra and then redress, this time adjusting yourself carefully and then looking into the mirror with trepidation…but you look—well, amazing. Without the bulk of the bra, you fill the dress like it was literally handmade just for you, and the cleavage becomes slightly less pronounced. You love it, you love the self-confidence you feel as you gaze at yourself, and give yourself a little nod of approval before making your way down to the beach.
You had spent most of the afternoon with Rosie, only parting ways when it was her dinner time to sneak upstairs and get yourself ready for the bonfire. You’d ended up lingering in the shower, using the luxury soaps and conditioners to your heart's content. You felt pampered and knew you smelled pretty amazing, and hoped that you’d still feel this confident when you faced Frankie again.
You didn’t know what tonight would bring, but you wanted to tell him that you had feelings for him. You were going to keep it simple; admit how you felt, but tell him he owed you nothing, not even a response. You just wanted him to know, and see where it took you–because this tension filled relationship was starting to wear on you, and falling harder and harder for him only meant doing more harm to yourself the more you held it back.
“Hey, Star!”
You startle out of your thoughts, glancing up from watching your feet as you clambered through the sand, to find Benny waving from next to the bonfire. He’s grinning a little manically, and you look around to find Little sitting on a chair nearby, shaking her head at her brother. “Benny, you look like you set the fire with ill-intent, you psycho!” She jokes, and you join in the laughter with the Millers, taking the seat next to Little and thanking Benny when he hands you a drink a moment later.
“I’ve interrupted a sibling gathering, it seems.” You say, smiling at your friend and noting the many empty chairs. Benny and Will are the only others down so far, each of them working on the fire as they chat about a past fight Benny had won and whether he would face the same opponent again.
Little leans back in her seat and answers your unspoken question. “Frankie is putting Rosie to bed, and Santi was on a mission for me to find skittles,” Her head rolls towards you, eyes giving you a head to toe scan and brightening. “You wore the dress.”
“Please don’t make it a big deal. But you were right,” You admit this reluctantly, and Little has the good grace to cover her self-satisfied smile by taking a large drink. “I do like how this one fits. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to start listening to you.”
Little makes an unamused noise, “But you look amazing! Seriously, you’re-”
You cut her off, “I heard you, Little—“
Another voice interjects, this one much deeper, “You do look very beautiful, cariña,” Frankie takes the free seat next to you and gives you a soft, shy smile. You’ve spun to look at him almost comically, your mouth opening and closing as heat floods your cheeks. “That colour suits you.” He adds, but his eyes don’t drop from your face like any other man would—no, he holds your gaze, rubs his neck nervously.
You stare for a long minute, the sincerity in his voice, the way he’s dressed up in nice slacks and a starfish patterned button up shirt, that little smile he’s giving you. You blurt out your one secret in a jumble, not even pausing to take a breath.
“I’ve kidnapped abused dogs when animal control can’t intervene without evidence and given them new homes in other cities and states. The police have warned me away from it but my family is well connected so I’ve only ever gotten a slap on the wrist…they keep it quiet so even my job doesn’t know but I use it to find out about the bad owners.”
Frankie just stares back at you silently, his eyes widening a fraction, firelight dancing over his handsome features. There’s a pause, and then Little moves to stand up, capturing both Frankie and your attention as she does. “So I’m going to go make out with my husband. But don’t forget to mention my badass escape driver skills from years ago, Star. I’ve been wanting to brag about that.”
Little walks over to join Santi where he stands chatting with Benny and Will, snatching a bag of skittles happily from his hands. You look back around at Frankie nervously, relieved to see his shocked expression has been replaced by curiosity. “That’s really…I mean, what you’ve done is incredible, Star. Even if it’s vigilante level,” He smiles now, and you can’t help but feel your lips tug up in response, “And I appreciate you sharing but, well, why?”
You turn to face him more directly and bite your lip as you think of how to respond. Deciding that you might as well keep going with the over-honesty, you say, “Because I really like you, Frankie. And I know you have a lot on your plate, that Rosie is your primary concern and if we—I mean, I just don’t want to add to your stress. And I’m just Little’s friend, I know we’ve gotten close but you don’t have any like loyalty to me if I were to get in trouble again and I know you had the drug charges—“
You cut yourself off, mortified at your words, but Frankie is smiling at you, his eyes soft. At first he doesn’t say anything, his eyes merely search your face. “Let’s go for a walk.” He stands, then offers you a hand to help you up, which you take without looking away. You wish you could read his mind right now, because despite the warmth in his smile you can’t get a read on much else. Nerves bubble away in your stomach; what if he’s about to tell you nicely he just wants to be friends?
But as he starts to walk away from the bonfire, his hand doesn’t drop yours. He holds it as he leads you along the beach. He still holds it when you reach the dock and begin making your way along, the ocean waves surrounding you and silencing the chatter from the bonfire group, the darkness growing. When you’re standing at the end of the dock, he gestures for you to take a seat, and as you do he still doesn’t drop your hand.
The moon isn’t very bright tonight, its glow minimal, but it’s enough to reflect off the water and create enough light to see one another. Your stomach is doing summersaults now, and you think your hand is sweaty so you instinctively grip his a little harder to avoid any slippage that would give you away. “Relax, Cariña” He says softly, and though you offer him a smile you can’t really do much more—the moment feels too significant for relaxing. “Let me say this first—I like you too. A lot. I have for a while.”
You feel your stomach disappear, like you’re dropping over the peak of a rollercoaster. “Oh.”
Frankie chuckles warmly, then drops your hand and instead reaches up to brush some stray hairs back from your face. You have to suppress a shiver and can’t look away from the earnest expression on his handsome face.“Yes, ‘oh’. And you aren’t just Little’s friend, Star. You are a part of our family, everyone here loves you, so please don’t think you’re only here because of her,” His hand falls to take hold of one of yours, resting in your lap. “And if you know about the drug charges, then you know they were dropped and I’ve been clean for a long time. Did you really think I wouldn’t want to be with you because you’ve rescued animals in need from their abusers?”
His eyes are searching your face, narrowed slightly to combat the darkness, and you’re glad he can’t sense the way your cheeks are so flushed you could fry an egg on them. “I don’t know what I thought, really. I just…you are such an amazing man, Frankie. You’re this incredible dad, and you were in the fucking special forces, and I’m a much younger vet tech for an animal rescue. I literally bring home strays all the time, and I could never,” You pause, fishing around for the right way to say this, and Frankie simply sits there patiently, his hand still holding yours. “I could never imagine realistically how we would work. How I could fit into your life.”
When Frankie says your name, his voice is a low timbre that sends a wave of sparks up your spine. You meet his gaze as he continues, “You’re way too hard on yourself, baby,” Your brows shoot up in surprise at his recycling of what you had said to him earlier; heat coils in your stomach, “You realise I’ve been thinking the same way? Wondering how an old man with a kid could ever be what you would want, convincing myself I’m no good for you. Doing the same thing I watched Santi do for years with Little.”
His voice has taken on a new edge, a confidence there you hadn't sensed before. “I want…you to be happy. I want to be happy too, Frankie.” Is all you say, and he nods once, and then his hands are running up your neck and pushing into your hair as he dips his face close to yours, half-lidded eyes a breath away.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” You reply breathlessly, and then Frankie Morales closes that gap and those plush lips seal over yours, finally. It’s perfect and you could cry with joy. He kisses you slowly, deliberate, his hands holding your head steady. Minutes pass and you have to practically gasp for air until he slowly pulls back. You both ignore the cheering you can hear coming from the beach. “Let’s go inside for some privacy.”
He considers you, “I want that. But you need to know that I want to date you, properly, once we get home.”
You tilt your head, smiling, “Oh, I was hoping what happened in Hawaii stayed in Hawaii.” Frankie laughs, and the look of pure adoration on his face is enough to make you turn to jelly. “I want that too, Frankie. I want to do this right.”
You smile at each other like lovesick kids, and then Frankie is helping you to your feet, an arm landing around your shoulders and you begin the walk back. It seems like the longest distance, now that you know you’re going inside to be alone with Frankie, and you know he feels the same–it’s almost a struggle to keep up with his fast pace on your much shorter legs. You’re grateful that everyone is either at the bonfire or relaxing in their own rooms, meeting no one as you slip upstairs together and into the quiet comfort of your room. Frankie locks the door behind you and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as you both ready yourselves for this next part.
“Frankie I–” You pull back slightly, trembling with nerves that you see reflected in his own expression. He gives you a reassuring smile, one large hand swiping your hair back over your shoulder. “I have birth control, and I’m clean. I actually haven’t been with anyone else in a while. Just, well I’ve been so busy and there’s no time for dating and then I met you and–”
Frankie swoops forward and captures your lips against his, stopping you mid-blubber and effectively wiping your mind free of all thoughts. He kissed with a purpose, like a dance that his entire body had to move with; you weren't just entwining your tongues, no his body was pressing to yours, a hand cupping your face and the other steadying you, pressed to your lower back. When your arms settled around his shoulders, you couldn’t resist sinking your fingers into his curls, a low groan of approval your indication that he wanted you to touch him too. It went on like this for ages, still at the door despite the entire room being available to you.
You enjoyed the conflict in the actions; frantic kissing, but no rushing towards the next part. Frankie was taking his time, and you relished in it, happy to spend the rest of the vacation in this very spot, like he was breathing oxygen into your greedy lungs just when you needed it the most. The hand on your back splays somewhat, moving up to better hold you and you can’t help the little whimper you breathe, because he’s so much bigger than you and you feel small and safe, but also incredibly turned on. It’s this that nudges him forward, only one step. He presses you harder against him and grounds his hips slightly.
You feel the hardness of him against your stomach, and your thighs clench wickedly in response. Entirely without thought, you begin to unbutton his shirt, making quick work and then lightly trailing your fingers down, stopping short at his stomach. Not by choice, but because the second you got that low, Frankie let out a snarl against your lips before his hands moved suddenly to grip the flesh of your ass. “You are so goddamn sexy, mi amor,” He sighs, his forehead pressed to yours, and you smile at him–you’re surprised he went for your ass, his hands still massaging over the fabric of your dress, a hunger glinting in his eyes.
You thought he’d go straight for your chest and forget the rest of you. You worried that even though you wanted his attention, for him to take you in every way, that he could end up like the rest and focus on your largest insecurity. Instead, he’s looking at you like you alone hung the moon, and that he’s the lucky one getting to touch you. “Frankie, please.” It’s a whispered plea that seems to awaken something in the man before you.
His entire body reacts, and you can only gasp when the world suddenly spins because he’s lifted you–tossing you gently onto the bed.
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Frankie couldn’t stand it, how perfect you were yet how insecure. The fear that was etched in lines along your otherwise youthful complexion. He knew you, understood what you thought he would do, and he was determined to show you how a man could worship every inch of you properly. “Yes, baby, what do you need?” His voice is low, dripping with honey as he runs his hands up the backs of your thighs, pushing your dress up as he does. You respond with a little mewl that makes his rock hard cock twitch, and he has to unzip his pants to give himself some reprieve from the pressure. “I’ll do anything you want–walking around with this perfect body, you think I haven’t wanted to taste every inch?”
You moan aloud now, head turning to peer at him over your shoulder. Your eyes are wide, pupils blown with desire, and he can’t help but growl at the sight of you on your stomach, legs splayed and trembling for him. “Anything. Please, do anything…” You gasp, and he gives you a wicked smile before running his fingers over your panties, using one hand to tug them aside, and then he dives forward and licks you where you need him most.
The sound that escapes you is half-tortured, half-hysterical. He doesn’t relent, feasting on you like a last meal, his fingers gently prodding and pressing to ready you for his cock. He can tell you’re tight, and he doesn’t want to cause you even a moment of discomfort. Though you continue to make noise for him, it takes him a few minutes to get everything right, maximising your pleasure as he learns what you like. He can feel your legs are tense, and lifts his head slightly to peer over the curve of your ass. You have your head to the side, pressed into the mattress with your eyes tightly shut.
Frankie grunts in dismay, “No baby, you have to relax for me, that’s it, I’m not going to stop. You need to cum, alright?” He waits for you to nod and for your body to loosen, and he gives a cheek a reassuring squeeze. “Good girl.”
He feels you tighten around his fingers at the praise and makes a mental note before surging back in, licking and tasting your cunt until you’re quivering on the edge. When he senses you there, he nudges his nose through your folds and sucks at your clit, from there it’s only a second before you jerk with your orgasm. “Ohohoh!” You sigh, hands fisting the sheets, ass rocking as you pull the most pleasure from him. Frankie helps you over the edge and then eases you back down, gently kissing your inner thighs.
“So good, baby,” He murmurs, moving to his hands and knees and pressing kisses up your back, dragging your dress the rest of the way. You help him, limbs slightly shaky, and toss the dress over the side of the bed, where he also throws your underwear and his own remaining clothing. “You doing alright, mi amor?” Frankie reaches up and turns you on your back, his eyes searching your face for any sign of wanting to stop.
You lock gazes with him for a long moment and an emotion flashes over your expression, halting him. “You can look…you can touch me, Frankie. I want you to.” You say, half gesturing at your chest. And he looks now, at those perfect tits you hide behind cardigans and too-big sweaters, knowing full well that men have mistreated you in the past because of them, not meeting your eyes when you wanted them to. He scoots forward, surprisingly at ease with your eyes drifting over his naked form, the hard length of him standing proud, scars long healed from his days in combat now available for you to drink in.
“I want you to know that these are perfect,” He replies, hands trailing over your nipples, “Everything about you is. Eres tan encantadora…” He lowers his head and licks over one, then moves to the other, his eyes on your face. “I am going to fuck you all night.” He adds, and you swallow thickly, mouth slightly open as you watch him press his lips between your tits, then trail his tongue up, stopping at the column of your neck.
He positions his body over yours, careful that his cock rests near enough to your core to tease you, and you open your legs wider, inviting him as close as possible. “My body has always been mine,” Your voice is soft, the tone openly vulnerable, “It always will be, I’ve learned that. But I want you to take me, Frankie, make me yours too. I trust you.”
His heart almost stops in his chest, and he adjusts his position so that he can trace one hand over your cheek, “Mi amor, I belong to you, it’s you who takes me.” He doesn’t look away, simply adjusts himself with his free hand and slides himself through your soaked folds, then grips your hip as he sheaths himself fully inside of you. “Oh fuck.” He grunts, his head dropping now to the crook of your neck as the velvet warmth of you overwhelms him.
“Frankie, fuck,” Eyes closed, you arch for him, legs circling his waist to pull him deeper. “So big, ah!”
“That’s it baby, take what you need,” He groans in your ear, thrusting slowly as you get used to his size. When you drag his face to your, hands gripping his hair almost roughly, and kiss him again, he could drown in the feeling. It’s more erotic than earlier, the kisses now nearly aggressive with need, each of you pulling for dominance in a lust-filled game. It’s a short while later that your hips begin to move to meet his slow thrusts, a sign that you want more.
Frankie has always been good at sex–hot nights in the middle of the jungle lead to quick, passion-filled encounters once back in town with women he didn’t even know the name of. He never paid for sex, it was always consensual, women picked up at bars, and then with Elena it was always fast. She liked to take what she needed, then finish him off and leave the cuddling for the actors in movies.
But tonight he was truly making love for the first time in his life. His body felt connected to yours, like you were echoing one another's pleasure, wanting the most for the other person. He wants you in every way and finds himself so entirely involved–like he can hear every thought in your head, guess your every need. When you let out a small whine, he can’t help but laugh against your lips, and then he’s moving and pulling you with him, delighting in the sound you make when he’s got you seated on his cock, his back against the headboard.
“That’s…wow, you’re deep Frankie,” You can barely speak, and he’s so fully entwined with you now that he can’t do more than groan in pleasure and help you begin to move on his cock, the wet sounds of your bodies no match for the noises you can pull from each other.
The world melts away in that room, hours passing as you passionately fuck, and he holds himself back from cumming, loving the way you try to do the same and fail several times. You cum like you have a secret, and he is more than happy to make it happen again and again. He puts his hands everywhere but your injury, careful to avoid the bandage, and makes notes of the places that make your eyes roll. And as time goes on, you begin to become cock-drunk, slowly revealing a more demanding part of yourself–first, you start by telling him to go harder or faster, then the dirty talk begins, and now he’s sure you aren’t going to let him bring you over the edge again alone.
There’s a note of desperation in your voice, paired perfectly with the whimpers as he fucks you from behind, one hand on your hip and the other wrapped in your hair. “Where do you want to cum, Frankie? Inside me? All over my ass?” You toss him a look over your shoulder, nearly feral and the desire to slam deep and cum inside of you is there, but he holds back. “No no, I want to taste you. Let me get down on my knees for you.”
Frankie almost cums, he really does. It’s close, and he has to rip himself back and grip the base of his cock hard–all the while you turn on the bed and grin at him in victory. “Fuck baby, you almost made me cum,” He groans, then watches in complete shock as you climb off the bed and get down on your knees next to it. You part your legs slightly, one hand dipping down to rub your clit, the other pushing your hair behind your shoulders.
“Come here, Frankie,” The most delicious demand he'd ever heard. He’s a little shaky as he gets off the bed and moves to stand tall over you. He still grips himself, wondering if he can get away with lifting you back on the bed–but you sense his plan and tilt your head back, “Please, I need your cum–”
Frankie grunts, one hand shooting out to grip your hair–he’s gentle, but you only grin wider and open your mouth. “You little–oh fuck–” He can’t stop himself, because you tremble and he sees that you begin to cum on your fingers, feels how his hand is half the reason you’re still sitting upright. He cuts off in a guttural moan and fists his hand over his cock, and then he’s giving you exactly what you wanted.
You make happy noises as he comes across your lips, then again down your chin and over those perky tits. He hears himself moaning, but he loses the rest as he watches you lick your lips, then surge forward and take the tip of him into your eager little mouth. He didn’t think he had anymore left in him, but he’s shooting down your throat now and it’s all he can do to keep standing. He finally pulls you back, spent, and almost starts cumming again at the sight of you covered in his cum, breathless from swallowing around his cock.
“Mi amor,” He growls, recovering enough to bend down and pick you up, placing you back onto the bed and then falling to lay next to you. It takes several moments to catch your breaths. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?” He asks you eventually, rolling onto his side to survey you with concern.
You give a little laugh, “Am I okay? No, I’ll never be okay again after that, Frankie Morales. That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” You say, and he blushes at the compliment, a surge of pride making the slight pain in his back dull. “How was that for you?”
There’s an edge of uncertainty he immediately works to dispel, first kissing you gently before pulling back with a warm smile. “I will remember this night for the rest of my life. You are amazing,” He takes one of your hands in his, “The best night of my life was the night Rosie was born. Nothing has ever come close, and I thought that was it for me–my happiness is Rosie, and that alone was more than I deserved. She is more than I deserve,” Frankie speaks slowly, ensuring that you hear every word, “I never thought that–even if I did admit how I feel about you, Star–that you would feel the same. You are the best person I have ever been lucky enough to know, and this night was…it’s the only one that has ever brought me as much happiness as that night Ro was born. I don’t know if I even deserve this, but I want a million more nights with you, mi amor.”
He then drops his gaze to rake slowly down every curve of your body, placing his fingers where he came on your chest as he tries to convey how he feels for you. When you shiver, he knows he’s on the mark, and he smiles at you for a long time when he looks back into your eyes.
“I think I just fell in love with you, Frankie Morales.” His heart swells with emotion and you shift closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
“Welcome to my world,” He replies, your name intimate on his tongue. “Now let me take care of cleaning you up, I’m sure I can get you to cum a few more times…”
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Frankie woke with a start, his head jerking up from the pillow as he clocked the sound of Rosie’s early morning whimpers. He’s confused at first, because she had stayed with Little and Santi the evening before, but when he finds where the noise is coming from, he is swept by that feeling he kept experiencing the night before.
You stand a few feet from the door, having just returned to the room with Rosie, wrapped in one of the provided robes. You have her head tucked under your chin and you're speaking softly, soothing words with no real meaning to keep her calm. The golden sun streams through the shutters that were never fully closed the night before, and though he aches all over from making love to you for hours, he really never has been happier in his life.
The woman he loves, holding his child, comforting her without hesitation. You must have woken before him and realised that Rosie hadn’t seen him since the night before, gone to find her while he continued to snooze. He watches you quietly, drinking in the way you run your fingers through her hair, press soft kisses to the crown, and appear entirely at ease. It isn’t until you begin to climb back into bed that you finally look at Frankie, and you pause in surprise when you see him awake.
“Oh no, I woke you, sorry Frankie,” You say quietly, but all he does is shake his head and reach toward you. You make to pass Rosie to him, but he shakes his head abruptly and you slide closer, a small smile appearing now, and snuggle as close as possible with the sleeping toddler between you. When you’ve settled comfortably, Rosie content in the middle, you lay your head on his pillow and sigh happily.
Frankie settles one hand over Rosie where it joins yours, and runs the other across your cheek, “I could get used to this, mi amor,” He admits, and you nod in agreement, eyes twinkling with happiness he feels as well, right to his core. “Thank you.”
You frown slightly, “For what?”
“For loving me, I suppose.”
The frown softens, kind eyes filled with emotion as you reach for him, pressing a soft kiss to his nose, “Frankie, you are so easy to love.”
And even after so many years feeling the opposite, of doubting himself because of who he is and what he’s done, Frankie believes you. He believes that you love him, that’s it’s easy for you because you were always meant to be his. And truly, Frankie knows he has always belonged to you.
Please consider commenting and reblogging if you enjoyed this story 💙 YOUR FEEDBACK IS GOLDEN!!!
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bookishofalder · 2 years
Text
Posting part two THIS WEEKEND 💕😍
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STARFISH Masterlist
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Frankie Morales x Anxious!Fem!Reader (WIP)
Part One ⭐️ [Sept. 19]
Part Two 🐠
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Drabble— One, Two, Three
Follow up Series to Little. — Frankie Morales had gone through a lot in the last few years. First, he gets his ex pregnant around the same time he dabbles in cocaine, unable to deal with the PTSD he suffered from since retiring from the Special Forces. He gets clean, only to find that Elena doesn’t want anything to do with him—or the beautiful baby girl she brings into the world.
Now a single father, Frankie leans heavily on his best friends and mother for support raising Rosie, the light of his life. And then Little introduces him to you, and he’s smitten at the first bashful bat of your eyelashes. When Santi and Little get engaged, Frankie is asked to be the best man, a duty which requires him to plan and work closely with the maid of honour—you. Nicknamed Star for your talented singing voice, you’re one of the most incredible women he’s ever gotten to know.
Too bad both Frankie and Star are too shy to confront their feelings. But they do say, weddings are the most romantic occasions…
139 notes · View notes
bookishofalder · 2 years
Text
Author Vent
I’ve been struggling with writing. It’s been going on for a while, as you know if you follow me still and are waiting for updates to my works. I’m still trying, and have every intention of continuing to write and complete each piece and bring new stories.
To try and boost myself a little, I decided to post my completed series, Night Changes, onto WattPad. If you’ve done this, you know how tedious it can be. It’s one thing when you go one part at a time, but I was uploading the entire series. I had to ensure each chapter copied, add a cover and chapter covers, I rewrote the summary. I spent several hours doing this and when I finished publishing each part, saw the confirmations as I did, I felt so damn good.
But then I went to look at my page and see how the cover looked, and it wasn’t there. No story. Refresh, nothing. Close and reopen, nothing. Log out and back in, nothing. Delete app, reinstall, log in, nothing. It literally vanished into nothing and this is the only place that will understand just how upsetting this is. I worked hard to get my work up on a supposedly amazing app and all my time and effort is gone, and more importantly that feeling I was chasing is long gone. I just wanted to publish my work, feel that pride, and continue writing new stuff.
Anyway, I’m still here. I’m trying really hard to write and post, but real life has been shitty and the best I can do is tell you I won’t let you down.
Thanks for all the support.
—Bookish of Alder
13 notes · View notes
bookishofalder · 2 years
Text
Part Two coming soon😎—make sure to read the drabbles before it does! 💙
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STARFISH Masterlist
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Frankie Morales x Anxious!Fem!Reader (WIP)
Part One ⭐️ [Sept. 19]
Part Two 🐠
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Drabble— One, Two, Three
Follow up Series to Little. — Frankie Morales had gone through a lot in the last few years. First, he gets his ex pregnant around the same time he dabbles in cocaine, unable to deal with the PTSD he suffered from since retiring from the Special Forces. He gets clean, only to find that Elena doesn’t want anything to do with him—or the beautiful baby girl she brings into the world.
Now a single father, Frankie leans heavily on his best friends and mother for support raising Rosie, the light of his life. And then Little introduces him to you, and he’s smitten at the first bashful bat of your eyelashes. When Santi and Little get engaged, Frankie is asked to be the best man, a duty which requires him to plan and work closely with the maid of honour—you. Nicknamed Star for your talented singing voice, you’re one of the most incredible women he’s ever gotten to know.
Too bad both Frankie and Star are too shy to confront their feelings. But they do say, weddings are the most romantic occasions…
139 notes · View notes