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javierpena-inatacvest · 2 months

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Chapter 20 pt. 1- I Do

Summary: It's finally here, the day you've been waiting for since the day Javi came into your life and changed it for the better- It's your wedding day, and things couldn't be more perfect. Except for the fact that you and Javi can barley contain your excitement as you wait to see each other.

Word Count: 11.4K (If this wasn't 2 parts, this would be 30k long and wouldn't be finished until May)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, praise kink, marriage kink (?), kind of semi-public sex (they're gettin' busy in the bathroom), Kind of getting caught (Steve needs to mind his own business), wedding things!!, family dynamics, mentions of death/grief, lots of emotions, Javi being an anxious, blubbering, hot mess, Javi being so in love and is so excited to spend the rest of his life with you that it physically hurts me (this chapter is lots of fluff and feelings and not as much smut, sorry!! Don't worry, there's PLENTY more to come next chapter 🤪)

A/N: Hi friends!!! Well, she's finally here, the moment we've all been waiting for- our two favorite idiots are finally getting married 😭💕 While I would have loved to make this one chapter, it literally would have been SO long, and Lord knows when I actually would have finished with it. So this chapter is the morning leading up to the ceremony, and part 2 will be the ceremony and reception!! I'm not even gonna lie, I bawled several times writing this chapter. These two mean so much to me, and I'm so honored that you care enough about them to be invested in my silly little story, too 🥺 HAPPY WEDDING DAY!!!

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For the better part of his life, Javier Peña was convinced there was nothing more soul-crushingly painful and miserable than a wedding. On a day that was supposed to be filled with happiness and joy, Javi had spent more years than he’d like to admit doing anything to avoid the occasion all together. Because for him, weddings had meant none of those things. Weddings had only served as yet another reminder of the failure he had chalked himself up to be.

Leaving Lorraine at the altar and running away to Colombia.

Watching the successes of everyone else’s blissful domestic lives play out in front of him, while he’d never felt so alone.

Convincing himself that he would never be worthy of love because of the terrible person that he’d become.

Weddings had been something that Javier Peña hated more than most things in life.

But that was until he met you.

Because today, on the morning of his own wedding, Javi was quite literally bursting at the seams with excitement, goofy grin stretched from ear to ear knowing that in a few short hours, he got to marry the most amazing, beautiful, perfect woman he had ever met. And even though the reality had set in that today was finally the day the two of you started your forever together, he was positive that he’d never get over the reality that you would always be his.

As he pulled his truck up the driveway to your new home where he should have been sleeping for the better half of last night, there was a part of him that couldn’t have been more thankful he had been able to sneak in just a few more hours with you before sunrise, knowing the anxious anticipation of waiting to see you all day, let alone see you in your wedding dress at the other end of the aisle, was enough to already have his heart beating a million miles a minute at the ripe hours of the morning.

While he should have known better his Dad would already be well awake by the time he snuck back home, Chucho’s welcoming grin from the front porch was already laced with enough forgiveness for Javi to hope he’d be spared at least some shit from his father.

“”Morning, mijo.” Chucho chuckled, watching Javi’s sheepish stride up the driveway towards the house, slowly sipping on his cup of coffee with a boyish grin on his face, knowing damn well where his son had been without having to say a word.

“I already know what you’re gonna say, Pops.” Javi sighed, shaking his head in embarrassment as he approached his dad, letting out a soft grunt as he took a seat next to his father on the top step of the front porch.

“I haven’t said anything, Javier. Do you have something you want to say?” Chucho couldn’t help but snicker, raising his eyebrows at his son, as he watched his cheeks turn a petrified pink.

“Nope, I am- oh, fuck me- nope I am, uh, all good.” Javi stammered, burying his hands in his face before running them through the sleepy curls of his hair and over the nape of his neck, his eyes still peeled to the ground, avoiding Chucho’s smug grin.

“Then all I have to say is,” Cucho paused, taking another swig of coffee, “I hope you never stop loving her the way that you do now.” Javi looked up at his dad in confusion, wondering how his sneaking out wasn’t shaping up to be some sort of teenage scolding from his father. “I already know that you know you are a very, very lucky man Javier, but I also hope that you know you are going to make a wonderful husband. Eres un buen hombre. Estoy muy feliz por ti, mijo. Tu madre también lo estaría. Muy feliz.” (You are a good man. I am so happy for you, son. Your mom would be, too. So happy.)

Letting his eyes shift off his feet where they had been stuck, Javi looked back up at his father, tears welling in his eyes at Chucho’s reassuring smile, reaching out to wrap his arm around his son, pulling him close enough to let Javi’s head fall on his shoulder, the two sitting for a quiet moment in silence.

Javi couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his heart, thinking about the fact his mom wouldn’t be with him for the biggest day of his life. His mother had left this world when Javi was at his lowest- alone and halfway across the globe, fighting for a cause he wasn’t even sure he believed in. It had always haunted him that his mom had died worried that her son had become a broken man, and would never be proud of the person he’d turned out to be. When he returned home, he felt even worse thinking that his one living parent probably felt that way, too.

But what brought him solace in a time that he needed it most, was you. You had given him a reason to make his parents proud, to make himself proud. While his mom would never be able to tell him the words he so desperately longed to hear, he knew in his heart that the life he’d built because of you was all the comfort he needed to prove to himself Lucia was smiling down on him when he needed it most. And as he looked up at the sky, the pink and orange rays of the beautiful sunrise beginning to spill over the horizon, he had never been more sure that even though his mom couldn’t physically be by his side, that Lucia Peña would still be with him every step of the way.

“Fuck, I miss her, Pops. I wish she was here.”

“She is, Javier. She always will be.”

After soaking in a few more quiet moments together staring out into the shimmering sunrise, Chucho let out a content sigh, giving Javi a gentle pat on the back and rustling the dark curls of his son’s thick hair.

“But, if there is one thing I know about your Mother, it’s that I can practically hear her screeching at us wasting our time being sad about her on the happiest day of your life. Chucho, por qué piedres el tiempo estar triste? Basta de quejarte! Nuestro hijo se está casando, pendejo!” (Why are you wasting your time being sad! Stop moping! Our son is getting married, stupid.) Chucho mocked, shaking his head at the sky at the scolding he knew he’d be getting from his wife, making him and Javi burst into laughter. “And, if there’s another thing I know about your mother,” Chucho paused again, letting out a loud grunt as he pushed himself up to stand, resting his arm on Javi’s shoulder, “it’s that her and I would both agree there better be a nieto (grandchild) in our lives 9 months from now. Dios mío (oh my God), Javier, even on the night before your wedding you two can’t keep your hands to yourselves! I am truly surprised I don’t have 14 grandchildren already.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pops….” Javi whispered to himself over his dad’s schoolgirl snickers, watching his son’s face fall flush once again, standing up to follow behind his dad back inside as Chuhco began to waddle his way across the porch.

Although Javi could have tried to plead his case to his dad to prove his innocence, truth be told, today, he really didn’t care. Today, the only thing he cared about was that in just a few short hours, he got to meet you, his wife, at the end of the aisle and spend his forever with the woman he loved more than life itself. For the first time in his life, Javier Peña couldn’t have been more excited for a wedding.

You weren’t sure how many more times you had read the scratchy print scribbled across the bright yellow post-it Javi had left behind on his pillow before he had snuck out for the morning, but you did know that your heart beat faster and faster in anxious anticipation with every glance over his words, counting down the second until you got to see him again.

You had kept yourself in your room, convinced that your excited impatience would have you awake well before everyone else still sleeping at the ranch, but as you heard clanging and bickering starting to echo from the kitchen, you should have known better that your mom and Connie would be up to something to kick start your wedding day.

With a yawn and stretch of your arms above your head, you flopped yourself out of bed, exchanging Javi’s worn t-shirt and sleep shorts for the white pajama set your mom had insisted she buy for you to get ready in as a compromise for your adamant despise at the white silky robe that had “bride” stitched across it in big pink letters that she had begged to buy you.

Shuffling down the hallway, the commotion in the kitchen only became increasingly louder, now realizing almost everyone must be awake for whatever antics were taking place for the early hours of the morning. As you turned the corner, you were greeted by an adorable “Happy Wedding Day!” banner that had been made by the girls hanging on the wall, decorated with adorable crayon drawings of flowers, you and Javi, and all of the horses of the Peña ranch dressed in wedding apparel. As your eyes scanned across the rest of the room, the kitchen table was already full of breakfast, balloons dangled from the ceiling, and your mom and Connie were actively working on filling up what was most likely one too many glasses of mimosas.

“Happy wedding day, Auntie Bear!” A little voice cooed behind you, looking down to see a still very sleepy Olivia, hair still crazed and bed ridden as she wrapped herself around your hip, squeezing you in a tight hug.

“Ahhhhh, there’s the bride!!” Your mom shrieked, her pitch enough to make everyone in the room wince as she barreled towards you, joining Olivia to engulf you in her grasp. After everyone had recovered from your mom’s shrill greeting, everyone else had soon joined in on squeezing you in a giant group hug, the gesture in itself making you smile, but the physical restraint in the middle of a human sandwich being a little too much for you this early in the morning.

“Thanks guys. I uh, I would like to make it out alive for my wedding so maybe if we don’t squish me to death, that would be great.” You grunted, trying to wriggle out of the arms squishing your body, hoping that someone would get the hint.

“Alright, I think she’s probably had enough.” Connie laughed, finally noticing the look on your face, prompting everyone to give you at least a little breathing room.

“I’m just so excited for you! I can’t believe you’re getting married, sweetie!” Your mom, clearly not picking up on the hint, was now back to squeezing you in a bear hug again tight enough to make your eyes pop out of your head. “Okay, sorry, sorry, I’m done now, just had to get one last one out of my system… for now. Here, have a seat, honey,” Your mom gestured towards the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for you to sit in, “we have about an hour before we have to start doing hair and makeup but we have plenty of breakfast for you to choose from before we get the day started. How’d you sleep?”

“Oh, um- fine, I um, I slept fine.” You lied, now sheepishly staring down at the overflowing plate of breakfast food your mom had set in front of you, taking a hefty bite of pancake before looking back up, your eyes meeting Connie’s, a suspicious smirk gleaming on her face as she stared at you, crossing your arms over your chest as you swallowed your food with a more audible than intended gulp.

“Oh good!” Your mom replied, obvious to yours and Connie’s silent interaction as she meandered around the kitchen. “Well, eat up, I’m off to go check on some things outside, but by the time I get back in here, that plate better be cleared! Girls, come help Grandma, let your Aunt finish her breakfast!”

“Okay!” Your nieces giggled, following behind your mom into the backyard, leaving you and Connie alone in the kitchen, hearing her silently laugh to herself as she sat down next to you at the table.

“Good sleep, huh? Good sleep that definitely had nothing to do with Javi’s truck that left here at 6:00 AM this morning?” Connie snickered, giving you a little wink as your cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, letting out a defeated sigh.

“I promise it’s not what you think. I actually couldn’t sleep and I called Javi and he ended up coming over so I wouldn’t be up the whole night. I told him he didn’t have to, but I was up and stressed and having him here was the only thing that was going to help. It was just sleep, I promise.”

“It’s okay, I believe you. I couldn’t sleep the night before my wedding either. I’m pretty sure if I did what you had done, Steve would have slept right through the phone call, or still would have been too drunk to drive over.” The two of you quietly giggled to yourselves as Connie reached out for your hand, holding it in hers, “I hope you know that he loves you so much. It always broke my heart to see Javi go through what he did, and how hard on himself he was because of it. You really are the best thing that could have ever happened to him. I’m so happy for the two of you, I couldn’t be more excited for today, honey.”

Reaching across the table, Connie wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you in another hug, trying to hold back your sniffles as you felt happy tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“Thank you, Connie.”

“Of course. Now, you better pick what you want from that breakfast and throw away the rest before your mom gets back, I don’t think either one of us wants to be responsible for telling her that her food wasn’t sufficient enough for you.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes at the thought of the dismay your mom would be in thinking that you didn’t get enough to eat before your big day as you put a reasonable amount of breakfast on a new plate to eat, discarding the other heaping pile that your mom had left you.

“You are a smart woman, Connie Murphy.”

“So I’ve been told.”

The rest of the morning seemed to move by at an exponential pace- At the Pena ranch, hair and makeup was well underway for everyone, and running on time with incredible efficiency from the detailed schedule that your mom and Connie had put together. Even though your body was riddled with endless amounts of anxious anticipation and excitement as the clock ticked closer and closer to when Javi and the rest of the boys would finally get here, you were pleasantly surprised at how fun the morning had ended up being with all the girls, especially since your nieces and the Murphy girls had insisted on putting on a hilarious sing along spectacular for the majority of the time for entertainment while you got ready.

Over at your new house, however, with the only getting ready that Javi needed to do being taking a shower and putting on his suit, the boys were convinced that he was going to put a hole in the floor from his anxious pacing as he counted down the minutes to leave.

“Jav, have a beer, man, you just put this floor in, I think your wife’s gonna be pissed when she finds out she has to replace it before y’all even move in because you can’t sit still.” Steve chuckled, taking a sip out of his can before nudging your brothers sitting next to him on the couch as they watched their friend and future brother in law tread back and forth across the living room for what felt like the 117th time since they’d sat down.

“I think I have to agree with Steve on this one, Javier, you are making me anxious and I’m not even the one getting married.” Chucho chimed in from the armchair seated next to the couch.

“I’ll second what Steve said, man. Have a beer, Javi. You haven’t shut up all day about how fuckin’ excited you are, so what’s got you so worked up? You’ve seen her in a dress before dude, this one’s just white.” Your brother David snorted, his joke now soliciting some eye rolls from the rest of the boys, considering David was about single as they came, and was the only one of the group who wasn’t even remotely close to being married.

“It’s a fucking wedding dress, you dingus, there’s obviously a difference.” Your dad groaned, walking up to your brother to give him a prompt smack in the back of the head, making your other brother Charlie snicker to himself, until he also decided to greet him with an equally harsh slap for good measure.

“What the fuck was that for? I didn’t say anything!” Charlie winced, holding his hands up in defense.

“Tell your brother to stop being an ass! She’s your sister too, for Christ’s Sake, you’re not gonna stand up for her either?! Jesus you two are the biggest idiots I’ve ever met. Even Patrick would have had enough common sense to keep that one in his head. Well, maybe not, but that’s besides the point.” That one at least cracked a little smile from your brothers, wishing that Patrick would have been here to see their sister’s big day, and to distribute the slapping pain more equally between the pair.

“I just… Fuck, I just wanna see her. I can’t wait to see her. I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my whole life. The suspense is fucking killing me.” Javi signed, resting one hand on his hip before running his hand through his hair, anxiously drumming his fingers on his side, foot tapping on the well worn path he had been treading on the hardwood floor of the living room.

Chucho chuckled, resting his hands on his knees and pushing himself up to stand with a low grunt, making his way over to his son, resting his hand on his shoulder as he looked up at him. “Eres como tu madre.. Impaciente. (You are just like your mother… Impatient). Mijo, I remember when I married your mother, she was so excited that she actually asked if we could start the wedding an hour early, just so we could see each other sooner. I can almost hear her laughing at the fact that her son is no better than her. How I wish she were here to see this. Soon, Javier. I promise.”

“Do you think she’s gonna like the gift? You made sure she has it for today, right? And everything from her brothers too?” Javi asked, nervously biting at the tip of his thumb as he glanced down at his father before looking over at David and Charlie sitting on the couch, smiling back at him.

“Yes, Javier. I triple checked last night. I’m sure that she will love it. I know she will love it. All of it. Now, why don’t you go put on your suit and we can leave a little ahead of schedule, I will just make sure to drive extra slow. Even slower than normal. I think if we wait any longer you may actually combust.” He teased, pulling Javi into a tight hug before releasing him, giving him a gentle pat on the back.

“Alright boys, you heard the man, get your sorry asses moving and let’s get these monkey suits on, it’s time to get this boy married!” David cheered, holding up his beer to toast Javi before promptly chugging the rest of it down his throat and slamming it down on the table, soliciting another round of eye rolls and muffled laughter from the crowd.

Silently nodding and smiling to himself, letting out one last reassuring breath before looking at the boys standing in front of him.

“Fuck. I’m gonna get married.”

Back at the ranch, the last of getting ready was beginning to wrap up, all the girls' hair and makeup finally finished, and the youngest of the crew giddily dancing in their flower girl dresses, twirling and swirling in excitement at their pristine outfits as they gathered around you, patiently awaiting for you to get into your own wedding dress.

For as long as you’d wanted to get married, you’d always known that you wanted your wedding dress to be simple- No excessive frills, poof, glitter, or anything that made you feel like you were playing dress up for the world’s goofiest fashion show, simply because it was your wedding, and your dress needed to reflect the extravagance of the event. Your style choice came as a surprise to no one, given the fact you had practically lived in your brother’s hand-me-down’s until the 8th grade, and even when your mom had flown down a few months ago to go dress shopping with you and Connie, she had even laid down the hammer with one of the wedding dress consultants that you wouldn’t even step anywhere near a dress that was an ounce too over the top.

That’s why you were absolutely shocked that despite your firm parameters around what you wanted to wear for your big day, that you fell in love with the very first dress you tried on, and never looked back.

It was everything you wanted and never you needed in a dress- a simple a-line skirt with thin straps that ran across your shoulders and scooped down your back, along with a delicate, lacy floral pattern stitched across your top that flowed down the wispy length of your gown. There were few times that you had ever admitted it to yourself, but you had truly never felt more beautiful than when you were wearing that dress, and when you had tried it on for the first time, only to turn around to see the tears welling in your mom and Connie’s eyes as you revealed it to them, it was every confirmation that you needed that this dress was made for you.

And while you had been counting down the days in excitement, waiting to put your dress on for your big day, Javi had been counting down along with you, to the point where Connie had made the executive decision to keep the dress at her house to prevent any preemptive peeking, considering that Javi had spent every day since you had bought your dress telling you how he couldn’t wait to see how beautiful you were going to look in it, without even knowing a single clue about what you had boughten, besides your lovingly sarcastic and vague “It’s a dress, and it’s white, Jav.”

But after all the time you had spent imagining what it would be like to finally put your dress on for your actual wedding day, you almost couldn’t believe that you were finally here, carefully taking the straps off the hanger where it had been resting, holding the beautiful, white fabric out in front of you with a goofy grin spread across your face, eyeing down the outfit that meant you got to spend forever with your best friend.

“You ready to put it on?” Connie asked softly, her hand resting on your shoulder as she stepped behind you, excitedly gazing at your dress right alongside you.

“Yeah.” You smiled, gently nodding your head as you looked back at Connie, taking one last deep breath before passing off the dress to her before shimmying out of your clothes, letting them fall to a pile on the floor before turning to Connie, stepping into the opening of the dress and carefully pulling each strap over your shoulders while she pulled the zipper along your back, letting out a little sigh of relief as it clasped at the top. With one more long inhale, you slowly turned around to face everyone, eagerly awaiting your reveal, picking up your gown with a little floof as it gently draped around you, meeting the tears and smiles painted across everyone’s faces while they gazed at you.

“Auntie Bear, you look like a princess! Uncle Javi is gonna think that you look like the most beautifulest person he’s ever seen.” Olivia squealed, jumping up and down in excitement before running over to you, wrapping her little arms around your waist in a tight hug.

“Oh sweetheart…. You look absolutely stunning.” Your mom sniffled through her tears, holding her hands crossed over her chest, soaking in your full wedding ensemble.

“You look gorgeous. Like, seriously. I hope you know that Javi’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you in this.” Connie giggled, giving you a wink and a playful nudge, looking you up and down in astonishment.

Stepping over to see yourself in the mirror, your heart skipped a beat to see yourself, your stomach churning with anxious, excited butterflies knowing that you were only getting closer and closer to finally seeing Javi and his reaction, trying your best to not your smirk grow too wide between your warm cheeks, thinking about his reaction.

“You really think he’s gonna like it?” You asked, your eyes still fixed at your reflection in the mirror, gently swaying your lacy, floral skirt back and forth, running your hand against the delicate fabric.

“Honey, I’ve watched that man ogle over you in a hockey jersey. I told the boys they’re in charge of making sure he doesn’t faint when you walk down the aisle.” Your mom teased, Connie nodding her head in agreement.

“I’m gonna second your mom on this one, girl. Steve has a running bet with the guys on how long it takes Javi to cry after he sees you. I think the over/under is 2 seconds, but after seeing you right now, I’m convinced he’s all waterworks from the moment he lays eyes on you.”

Connie’s comment made you laugh to yourself, shaking your head at the idea of Javi instantly bursting into tears from just the sight of you, but when you thought about seeing Javi in his tux (that you had already seen before, multiple times) and what a mess you were going to be, maybe the boy’s betting line didn’t seem so unfair after all.

“Speaking of tears…” Connie smirked at your mom, nodding at her to signify some little secret they seemed to be in on, “There’s one last thing you need to see before… Well, we’ll let you open it up and find out.”

With that, your mom reached over to one of the tables where a white box with a neatly wrapped bow had been hidden, your mom passing it to Connie before then passing it over to you, making you tilt your head in confusion as you took the box in your hands, looking back and forth between your mom, Connie and the box waiting for some sort of explanation.

“What is this?” you questioned, still puzzled as you noticed the gift tag hidden under the bow, gently peeling it open, their suspicious smirks beginning to spread as you read the all too familiar scratchy handwriting inside.

To: Osita

Love: Javi

Now even more confused, you carefully began unwrapping the bow from around the packaging, letting the ribbon fall to the floor, followed by the lid of the box, revealing another longer note from Javi, resting on top of a bed of neatly folded tissue paper. You sat down in one of the chairs close by, letting the box rest on your lap as you held the note in your hands, already beginning to tremble as you felt the tears start to well in your eyes as you began to read.

Osita,

I knew from the moment I met you, that I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t believe that day is finally here. I hope that this day is everything that you could ever dream it to be.

I hope you know that if I could I would give you everything. The moon, the sun, the stars- if you wanted it, I would give it to you.

But I know that no matter how hard I try, there is one thing I know can’t give to you, and that’s the presence of the people who aren’t with us anymore.

And while I can’t bring back your brother or my mom to be here today, I hope that what’s in this box will remind you that they’ll always be here for you, no matter what.

I know my mom would have wanted you to have this. There’s not a day that goes by that I wish she could have met you. She would have loved you so much. I hope she knows that you’re the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

Your family was able to find something of your brother’s for you to have on here too- I wish I could have met him. I hope he knows how much I love you, and the beautiful and resilient woman you’ve become. I hope he knows how proud I am of you.

I can’t wait to see you, amor. I can’t even imagine how beautiful you look right now. I’m the luckiest man in the world.

I love you more than words, and I promise I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life making sure you know it.

Happy Wedding Day, Osita. Soy tuyo para siempre (I’m yours forever).

-J

You could feel your heart practically exploding after reading what Javi had wrote for you, wiping away the wetness from your cheeks, you took a deep breath as you carefully set down his note next to you before ever so slowly peeling back the layers of tissue paper folded on top of one another, hiding the gift hidden beneath them. As the last layer of the delicate paper was shed, you let out a gasp, you hand covering your mouth in shock as you put together the pieces of Javi’s note and the present now sitting in your lap, looking up at everyone else in the room, nodding back at you with sympathetic smiles and tears in their eyes at your realization.

Not only had Javi had given you his mother’s wedding veil to wear, but stitched in the bottom corner was a patch of Patrick’s old hockey jerseys, a small number 2 from his arm sleeve, the number he had worn for every jersey he had ever played in.

“Oh my… Oh my god? I can’t, I- how did you- oh my god.” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling in disbelief, tears now streaming down your face as you held the veil in your hands, your thumb gently tracing over the worn patch of Patrick’s jersey, truly too stunned to speak at what Javi had done for you, to make sure a piece of two people who were no longer with you could still be a part of the biggest day of your life.

“Can I put it on?” Your mom asked, smiling at you with tears in her eyes, walking towards you as you nodded, handing her over the veil as she gently nestled it into your hair, straightening it out behind you, even more tears streaming down her face while she watched your reaction in the mirror.

Not only was Lucia’s veil absolutely beautiful, if you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought Javi had asked someone to see what your dress looked like to pick out a veil that matched it perfectly. Like it truly was meant to be.

Still too shocked to form any sort of coherent thought, you stared at yourself in the mirror, silently smiling and crying at your reflection until a soft knock came from outside the bedroom door, making everyone in the room whip their heads around to see all of the boys who had just arrived peeking through the door frame, waiting in anticipation.

“Can we come in? We’re dyin’ to see you, Cubby. Well, the one who’s dyin to see you the most we banished to the outside so he wasn’t even tempted to come in, but the rest of us fools still wanna see you too.” Your dad’s voice chuckled from behind the door, making you break from your crying just enough to let a soft laugh escape from your chest, nodding your head as you turned around to greet the gang gathered at the door.

Growing up the youngest of 3 brothers, sentimental wasn’t a term thrown around in your household very often. Of course you loved your family, and they loved you, but you and your brothers had often joked that it’d probably be easier to projectile vomit than to actually say the words “I love you” eachother. So that’s why when your dad and brothers walked through the door with awestruck looks on their faces, you couldn’t help but start crying even more.

Well, until they actually got a chance to speak.

“Don’t cry you dingus, you’re gonna mess up all your makeup. And god knows how long it took to try and make you look like you didn’t just crawl out of a garbage can.” David quietly snickered, pulling you in for a much gentler than usual headlock before wrapping his arms around you for a legitimate hug.

“Fuck off, David. How many people had to help you put that suit on, huh? You use every last brain cell trying to do up those buttons?” You teased back, trying to wipe the tears that had been rolling down your cheeks before giving him a loving slap to the stomach, making the two of you laugh even more.

“You know his dumbass needed all the help he could get.” Charlie joked, pulling you in for another hug before stepping back to look you up and down, “Not too shabby. You clean up good, Cubby.”

“Thanks Charlie.”

The last one to step towards you was your dad, who you could tell was trying with everything in him not to absolutely burst into tears, putting one hand on your shoulder as he smiled at you. “I’ll say it once and I won’t say it again because you know as well as I do I’m not good with the sappy shit. You look beautiful, Cubby. I’m so proud of you. I know Patrick would have been too. Although that motherfucker is probably pissed at us that we cut the number off of his favorite jersey, but I think he’ll forgive us.” Wrapping you in a tight squeeze, your dad engulfed you in a bear hug, quickly followed by your brothers and your mom, trapping you in the center of their bodies, knowing you all were wishing there was one more person there in your group to fill in your hug.

“I love you guys. Thank you.” You whispered, just loud enough to make sure they could hear, but quiet enough that even though your brothers had heard it, just this once, they wouldn’t give you shit for it. And just this once, everyone seemed to silently agree that they really, truly, did love you too.

After a few more seconds of your group hug, there was another soft knock on the door, followed by another familiar voice, Chucho and Steve now peeking through the doorway to say hello.

“Is it okay if we come in, Mija?” Chuco asked, already halfway through the door in excitement.

“Yes, of course.” You sniffed, breaking free from the middle of your group hug to greet Chucho, less than shocked that his hug was almost tighter than the 4 other members of your family combined.

“Mija… Mija, you look so beautiful. Oh, goodness. I had always saved this veil one day, just in case. And even though it sat in the attic for years, I pulled it out the week that Javier first met you. I don’t think that there was ever a doubt in anyone’s mind that you weren’t the one for him. My sweet Lucia would have been so happy to know that you have given Javier everything he never thought that he deserved. Oh, how I wish with everything she could have been here today to see how happy you make him. But I hope that you know, she would have been so excited that you get to be a part of our family.” He grinned through his tears, stepping back to look at you with a soft smile on his face, gently reaching up to wipe away the wetness on your cheek before pulling you back in for another hug. “I hope you know that Javier is going to be a wreck when he sees you. Poor boy has been in shambles all day waiting to see you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man this anxious. And that’s sayin’ somethin’.” Steve chimed in, laughing to himself. “You look great, sweetheart. Chucho’s right, Javi’s ‘bout to be a goddamn mess.”

As if your heart couldn’t feel any fuller from all of the love and warmth overflowing into the room, you had almost forgotten about the one person that had brought you all together in the first place- Javi.

You could feel the pace of your heart begin to race, your stomach swirling in anticipation as the reality of the situation slowly began to sink in.

Your future husband was here, and there was nothing more in the world that you wanted than to see him. Not soon, not at the end of the aisle, not waiting for you at the altar, right this very second.

“He’s here, right? Javi?” You asked, biting down on your lip to contain the stupid grin growing between your cheeks, swaying back and forth on your heels in childlike impatience. Before you could barely ask your question, all eyes in the room were on your, giving you a collective look that seemed to scream “Seriously? You can’t wait either?” without having to say a word.

As you could hear the beginning rumblings of protest, David stepped in as the most unexpected voice of reason, holding his hands up to the crowd in your defense, trying to silence everyone’s potential disagreement for what you were about to suggest.

“Listen… Y’all know as well as I do that we could hold back these two with iron restraints, and they’d still probably find a way to see each other before the ceremony. And to be quite honest, I am pretty convinced if we don’t let them, one of them is gonna fucking combust, and I am not willing to be held personally responsible for any damages done before you two idiots can even get married.”

Giving you a silent nod of approval, David stepped back to pat your back with the loving force that only a brother could, as everyone else in the room seemed to very quickly agree with his sentiment, joining with head bobs of quiet agreement.

“I’ll go let the big man know you’re comin’. Gotta find some way to redeem myself before I bust his balls in my speech later.” Steve snickered, giving you a quick wink before quickly disappearing out the door to find the man behind it, waiting half as patiently as you.

To say that Javi was disappointed when the boys booted him to the outdoors while everyone else got to go in and see you was the understatement of the year. Even though he couldn’t have been sitting on the front porch of his childhood home for more than 10 minutes, it felt like he had been waiting for hours, counting down each second until the moment he finally got to lay his eyes on you. After about 2 minutes of sitting in his dad’s rocking chair, nervously swaying as his hands shifted between his fingers drumming on his legs and balling up in anxious fists, he pushed himself up to stand, walking off the steps of the porch to pace in the front yard under the warmth of the late June sun.

He had been so preoccupied as he meandered the front of the home, picturing just how breathtaking you would look as you walked down the aisle to greet him- how gorgeous you would be in your dress, your hair, your stunning smile, everything about you that made him look at you and know that he was the luckiest man in the world. That you were his. That you were everything that made him feel like home. It wasn’t until after a few careless steps too far around the corner of the house, that Javi was catching himself from tumbling to the ground as he tripped over a larger than suspected rock underneath him, quietly cursing under his breath while he tried to steady himself, peering down at the ground to see what had almost caused his fall. And when he finally read the words etched into the round stone beneath him, he couldn’t help but laugh at the fact the thing resting below him was none other than the heading that read “Lucia’s Garden”.

“Jesus Christ, Ma, you’re not even here and you’re gonna take me out before the wedding even happens.” Javi chuckled to himself, gently tapping his foot against the rock, staring at the worn and weathered letters of her name. “You know, the very first time Pops met her, he let her work on the garden. I couldn’t believe it, because he barely lets me within 10 feet of here without worrying I’m gonna ruin something. But uh, I think that he knew. I think before he even met her, he already knew that she was the one.”

Letting out a soft sigh, Javi crouched down, squatting next to the stone, gently brushing his thumb across the grittiness, carefully tracing each letter back and forth, praying with every ounce of him that one way or another, she could hear what he had to say.

“I really wish you could be here, Mom. I really miss you. I really wish she could have gotten to meet you. I know that you’d love her.” Javi paused, his eyes beginning to well with tears, letting out a long, shaky exhale to try and compose himself. “She’s so good to me. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve her. She’s made me a better man. A man that I’m proud of. A man I hope you’d be proud of, too.” He paused again, pinching the bridge of his nose before wiping his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. “I know that uh- I know before, um you were gone, that you really worried about me. I know you’d never say it, but um, I could tell. And I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mom.” His voice was now barely above a whisper, years of guilt and anger bubbling in his chest for the person he’d been, the life his mother had lived to see him play out while halfway across the world, fighting for a cause he wasn’t even sure he believed in anymore.

“But, I um- I just- fuck, I just want you to know that I’m okay. I’m more than okay, now. This is the happiest I’ve ever been, all because of her. We’re gonna build a house, we’re gonna have kids, we’re gonna be so happy, Mom. So fucking happy. Te amo mucho, Mama. Siempre lo hare (I love you so much, Mama. I always will).”

So focused on the quiet conversation with the simple stone sitting beneath him, Javi hadn’t even heard Steve’s hurried footsteps creeping up behind him, making Javi practically jump out of his skin as Steve’s hand met his shoulder.

“Hey, buddy. You ready to-”

“Jesus, fuck Murph. You scared the fucking shit out of me.” Javi gasped, thoroughly startled as he shot to his feet, quickly trying to wipe the tears from his face as he faced his friend.

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to, promise!” Steve laughed, holding his hands up in defense before letting his expression shift to concern at Javi’s face. “Hey, you okay, Jav?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m- No, I’m good, sorry. Just um- Just wish my mom could have been here for this, ya know? She would have really fucking loved her.”

“Hey, it’s okay, man. My dad was gone before my wedding, too. Fuckin’ sucks.” Steve smiled sympathetically, “Truth be told Jav, that girl you’re gonna marry, I think it’s hard for anyone not to love her. Your mom would be really happy for ya.”

“Thanks, Murph.” Javi huffed, a small smile spreading across his face at Steve’s genuine sympathy, a trait he didn’t see very often.

“C’mere, buddy.” Without giving him a choice, Steve wrapped his arms around Javi, pulling him in for a hug with a few stiff pats on the back before pulling away with a nod, hands on his hips as he stared down his friend with a shit eating grin, knowing the news he was about to tell Javi would instantly turn his mood around. “Speakin’ of your future wife… You wanna see her?”

“Wait, like, now? Like, actually?” Javi’s mood instantly shifted, his entire body lighting up at the prospect, looking at Steve with relief glistening in his dark brown eyes.

“Yeah, actually. Thank God your wife is just as obsessed with you as you are with her. Jesus Christ, I think the both of ya would have fuckin’ exploded if we made you wait ‘till the ceremony.” Steve chuckled, grabbing Javi’s shoulder and giving it a playful shake. “Alright, you turn around so it’s a surprise when she gets out here, lemme go get her. And Jav?” Steve asked, turning his head back over his shoulder to look at his friend as he began to walk away back towards the house.

“Yeah, Murph?”

“You’re losin’ that bet. No way in fuckin’ hell you ain’t sobbin’ like a baby the second you lay eyes on her.”

As Steve disappeared back into the house, Javi couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself, because as much as he wanted to dish shit back to Steve, he knew his friend was right- He was about to be a fucking mess.

“So? Are we good? Does he wanna see me?” You asked, anxiously waiting at the door, feet tapping on the floor hidden underneath your dress as you waited for Steve’s return.

“No offense, Sweetheart, but that's just about the dumbest question I've ever heard. What do you think? Of course the bastard wants to see you. I’m just gonna warn ya though, that man is a hot mess, and I really think ya just may kill him the second he sees you.” The two of you laughed to yourselves, feeling your heart beat faster and faster in your chest with every passing second, using all of your self restraint to keep from bolting out the door past Steve to see Javi. “Alright, I won’t keep ya any longer, go get ‘em, killer.”

Before you could get yourself out the door, you embraced Steve in a hug, catching him off guard for a moment before he hugged you back, smiles spread across both your faces.

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Sweetheart, you ain’t got nothin’ to thank me for. If anything, hell, I should be thankin’ you. You two lovebirds are a match made in fuckin’ heaven. I was real worried about that old bastard for a long time. Glad to know I don’t have to worry about him anymore. Well, at least too much more. Now, enough about my sorry ass, go see your husband.”

With a silent nod, you gave Steve one more quick hug before you were turning the knob to the front door, quietly stepping out to the front porch to see Javi’s back to you at the bottom of the stairs, already trying to fight the tears welling in your eyes without even seeing his face. As you closed the door behind you, Javi instantly perked up, turning his head back over his shoulder just enough to speak, but not enough to see that it was you who was walking to greet him.

“She good to come out, Murph? I’m fucking dying out here.” Javi laughed, making you giggle at the fact that he had no idea it was you who was standing behind him.

“Hate to break it to you, but unfortunately, I am not Steve. So sorry.” You snickered, practically feeling Javi’s eyes roll at your sarcastic comment, even though the both of you were thankful for a little humor to break the anxious anticipation that had been festering in your stomachs since this morning.

“God, you’re such a dork.” He laughed, his back still turned to you as you took your final steps down the stairs with your dress in hand, trying to fluff it back out as you settled yourself behind him.

“Hey, you’ve got me for the rest of your life, babe. Lucky you. I’m not gonna lie, don’t think I cleaned up half bad, ya know, if you wanna see.” You teased, giving Javi a playful poke on the back as you bit down on your bottom lip, so excited to see Javi’s reaction you truly thought your heart was going to explode out of your chest.

“Baby, you have no fucking idea. C-can I, can I see you?” Javi stammered, his voice already beginning to tremble.

“Well, I think I’m gonna implode if you don’t, so yeah.” You took one last long inhale in, holding your breath as Javi slowly began to turn to face you, feeling like everything was suddenly moving in slow motion when Javi’s eyes finally locked with yours.

Javi couldn’t even get a word out before his hands were covering his mouth, his jaw dropping open in absolute awe to see you standing behind him. The tears he swore to himself he’d try to fight back were already streaming down his face, his eyes looking you up and down over and over again, trying to soak in every ounce of you, only crying harder as he noticed each and every new detail of you standing before him.

“Osita… Oh my god. Oh my god.” Javi’s hand stayed glued over his mouth to try and keep his jaw from dropping any further than it already was, absolutely mesmerized by your beauty, barely able to get out any sort of coherent thought out of his brain. “Baby, you, oh my god, you look so beautiful. You look so fucking beautiful.”

While you figured that Javi would cry and be excited to see you, nothing could have prepared you for the reaction that you were witnessing in real time, watching your future husband become a complete, blubbering mess at the sight of you, making it damn near impossible for you to hold it together yourself, considering the fact that you were also busy trying to take in the ridiculously handsome sight of Javi in his tuxedo- his broad body filling out every inch of the black fabric perfectly, hair and mustache impeccably groomed, and sweet, teary brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight, making you melt, tears rolling down your face as your heart bursted at the seams over and over again, wondering how in the world this wasn’t all some sort of a perfect dream.

“You like it?” You managed to choke out through your happy sobs, your cheeks straining from the stupid grin that had spread across your face, the both of you radiating in the blissful glow of your excitement.

“Like it? Osita, are you fucking kidding me? Do I like it? Holy shit, baby, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You look... Osita, you look incredible.” Javi laughed through his tears, taking another step back to grab your hand, looking you up and down again before holding your arms up to twirl you in a circle, your dress flowing around you, making you giggle as you finally finished rotating to lock eyes with Javi again. “Hermosa, I knew you were gonna look amazing, but I- I never, I never could have imagined that you were gonna look like this.”

“Coming from you? Jesus, Jav, I’m convinced you’re trying to kill me in that tux before we can even get married. You look so good. Javi?” You paused, grabbing his other hand so your fingers were intertwined, his thumb automatically tracing soft circles on your skin.

“Yeah, baby?” Javi replied, biting down on his bottom lip as he gulped, trying to hold back the lump resting in his throat from his happy tears as he stared down at you.

“Javi… We’re getting married. We’re getting fucking married.”

“Fuck. We’re getting married. Holy shit.” As if the smile on Javi’s face couldn’t get any wider, his boyish grin gleamed between his cheeks, wrapping his arms around you to engulf you in a tight hug against his chest, the two of you laughing to yourself in disbelief that you had finally made it here- that only a few short moments, the two of you got to begin the rest of your forevers together. “Can I- Can I kiss you?” He asked in a soft whisper, pulling back to tilt his head towards yours, sliding one of his hands up to gently cup your cheek, shifting your gaze up towards him.

“What kind of question is that, you dork?” You teased, bringing your mouth close enough to his to let your lips barely ghost over one anothers, butterflies swarming in a sea of excitement.

“Because I’m afraid if I start kissing you, I’m not gonna be able to stop.”

“Do your worst, Peña.”

As if time began to move in slow motion, your mouths met with an electric and tender intensity, slowly becoming a mix of tangled tongues and teeth, your hand sneaking under the opening of Javi’s suit jacket to wrap around his waist as the grip around your face began to tighten, your bodies melting together as one in a nearly magical moment- Well, as magical as it could get before being interrupted by all your friends and family that had gathered on the front porch to share in the moment with you.

“Hey! Lovebirds! Jesus Christ, save it for the ceremony!” Steve shouted, a chorus of laughter erupting behind him, startling you and Javi.

“Good Lord, Steve, give it a rest. They missed each other!” Connie sighed, shaking her head at her husband’s loud interruption.

“Yeah, that’s our sister, you pervert!” David chimed in, the familiarity of his taunting voice making you roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips as you stared back at the crowd.

“Will you can it, you dingus? It’s their wedding day for Christ’s sake!” Your dad groaned, slapping David in the back of the head.

“Daddy, what’s a pervert?” Olivia asked, looking over at Charlie as Chucho held her against his hip, grimacing as he tried not to laugh at the exchange.

“Seriously David, really? Grow up! They’re so adorable, let your sister have this.” Your mom scolded, promptly giving him another whack to the stomach, you and Javi now laughing to each other at the scene that was unfolding in front of you on the porch.

“Well,” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge, “It seems like everyone else has been able to solve the ‘you not being able to stop kissing me’ problem.”

“Jesus Christ…” Javi sighed to himself, running his hand over his face as he stared back into the crowd watching you and him, “Can we get a few more minutes to ourselves before the ceremony? Please? I haven’t seen her all day.”

“C’mon, let’s give the two some privacy. Lindas (cuties), why don’t we go look to make sure all the flowers are ready. Maybe we can practice walking down the aisle again?” Cucho smiled at the two of you, giving Javi a subtle wink as the girls began to giggle with delight, racing off to the backyard in a fit of squeals of excitement.

“We’ll do another check of everything, too, I wanna make sure everything’s in place before the ceremony. Do you mind helping, Connie? Boys, will you go check to make sure all the food and drinks are ready for cocktail hour” Your mom asked, picking up on Chucho’s hint to give the two of you some space, now trying to rope your dad, brothers and Steve into that equation as well.

“Can I have a beer if I help?”

“Jesus Christ, David.”

Everyone's conversations began to trail as they headed their separate ways, leaving you and Javi standing in the front yard alone, once again, looking at each other with mischievous grins- Yours from knowing damn well that Javi had something up his sleeve, and Javi’s from the something stored up there.

“What’s that look for, Jav?” You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at Javi as you waited for him to let you in on whatever plan he had brewing in his brain.

“I think… I think that I really have to go to the bathroom.” Javi replied, boyish grin glowing between his cheeks as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his chest.

“And you’re really making it seem like going to the bathroom is a two person job.” You snickered, rolling your eyes at Javi, knowing exactly what he was implying. “Baby, the ceremony is gonna start in an hour, everyone’s here and I don’t think there’s gonna be enough-”

Before you could finish your thought, Javi was swallowing the rest of your sentence in a long, deep kiss, only pulling away to quietly rasp in your ear.

“Is that a challenge, Osita? I promise I’ll be fast, baby, you just look so fucking beautiful, and I don’t think I’m gonna make it if I can’t have my wife all to myself, even if it’s just for a few minutes. ”

“God, you’re such a drama queen.” You sighed with a snicker, heat creeping in your core knowing that you had just as little self control as Javi did, peeking your head to make sure that everyone had dispersed before they watched you and Javi sneak inside together. “We have to be quick, okay? I just don’t want-AH! Javi!” You squealed as Javi was scooping you off your feet mid sentence, very fittingly carrying you bridal style across the front yard and up the steps of the porch, nudging the door open with his hip, the two of you all giggles and smiles as he whisked you through the house, stopping at his childhood bedroom, promptly setting you on the ground to shut the door behind him.

With a click of the lock and a rattle of the door handle to make sure they were safe from intruders, Javi’s hands were all over you in an instant, his mouth crashing into yours as he walked you back towards the ensuite attached to his bedroom, hoisting you up onto the kitchen sink as he shut the bathroom door behind him for an extra layer of protection.

You could tell how hard Javi was trying to keep himself in check, considering the amount of time and effort that had gone into your hair and makeup, and the delicacy of your dress, but it was taking every ounce of self control he had to not rip it right off you. Softly letting his kisses trail down your body, Javi began to sink to his knees, smirking up at you with his awestruck gaze as he carefully began to lift up the layers of your dress, running his hands up and down your bare thighs.

“Do you know how fucking beautiful you are, Osita? Fuck, I can’t believe you’re gonna be my wife. My beautiful, amazing, perfect wife.” The hot breath of his words danced against your skin as Javi peppered soft kisses up the inside of your thighs, his head almost disappearing underneath your dress as he creeped closer and closer to your core, already soaked with your arousal waiting for Javi’s touch. “You’re mine forever, Hermosa. Fuck, I’m so lucky. I love you so much.”

“I-I love you too, Javi.” You whined, your breath already shaky as Javi’s fingers hooked around the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down your legs and letting them drop to the floor below you before letting his fingers glide through your folds, already glistening with your arousal.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet, baby. Can’t believe this perfect pussy is all mine forever too. God, you’re so fucking perfect. Everything about you. Mmmm, I know we don’t have a lot of time, but I have to taste you, Hermosa. Can I, baby?” Javi mewled, making you gasp as he gently slid two fingers into your aching core, curling them to bump against the spongy spot inside you that already had you fisting at the edge of the bathroom counter to try and keep your composure, and better yet, your voice down.

“Javi… Oh, shit. Fuck, Fu-ahhhhh.” You moaned, feeling the strong arch of Javi’s nose bumping against your clit, placing a soft kiss there before the flat of his tongue licked a long, broad stroke across your cunt, putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to send the sweet tingling sensation to start building in your spine.

While Javi would have loved to take every second of his sweet time to savor in watching you fall apart on his tongue, he knew just as well as you that he was working on a limited schedule, and wanted, no, needed to make sure he could get you off at least once before his luck ran out.

Javi began to work his tongue against your clit, circling and flicking in fast and firm motions as his fingers curled deeper into your heat, his free hand hooking around your thigh and draping it over his shoulder, digging his fingertips into the meat of your flesh, like he was trying to ground himself more than you.

You could already feel the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten from the way Javi was working so relentlessly to make you come undone, drinking every ounce of you up as, his lips now latching around your sensitive bundle of nerves, making your back arch and mind go blank while that all too familiar tingle began to creep through your core, cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around Javi’s fingers with every movement of his mouth against you.

“That’s it, mi amor.” Javi cooed, peeking his head out from under you just enough so that his sweet, brown eyes were locked with yours, the hot words of his breath dancing against your pussy as his fingers continued to rock in and out of you. “I’ve got you, Osita. Forever. I’ve always got you. Promento (I promise).”

Before you could respond, your jaw dropped open and face scrunched in pleasure as Javi dove back in, burying his face in your cunt as each press of his tongue became more firm and precise than the last, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as you clutched tighter around the edge of the counter, trying to keep from screaming out in pleasure and raise any suspicion. But as your legs began to tremble and heart race, teetering on the brink of collapse, it was taking every ounce of willpower you had left to make that happen

“Fuck, Javi. Oh shit- Baby, I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so cl-ooohhhhh.” You whimpered, feeling your orgasm crash through you, pleasure radiating in your veins as you fell apart, losing all inhibitions to keep yourself quiet as you threw your head back in all consuming bliss. With his fingers still buried in your cunt, gently working you through your high, Javi shot back up, his mouth engulfing yours in an electric kiss to try and capture your ragged moans that had been coating the walls of the bathroom, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips.

Your heartbeat finally began to slow, your chest heaving in long, heavy breaths as you slumped into Javi, your head resting on his shoulder, shuttering at the loss of Javi’s fingers inside you. He carefully pulled them out, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean with a devilish smirk of satisfaction on his face.

“Tastes so fucking sweet. My wife tastes so fucking sweet. Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.” Javi chuckled with a boyish grin, gently cupping his hand under your chin as the other wrapped around your waist.

“Get over what? Calling me your wife or eating me out?” You giggled, still trying to catch your breath as you came down from your high, biting down on your lip as your arms draped over Javi’s shoulders, your fingers tracing soft circles at the nape of his neck.

“Both. Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you so much too, you menace.” You smiled, tilting your head back to kiss Javi again, so blissfully lost in the moment, that the two of you both about jumped out of your skin when you heard a loud knock coming from the bedroom door.

“Jav? You in here, buddy?”

“Goddamnit, Murph…”

The familiar twang of Steve’s voice made you freeze in fear, Javi quickly helping you down off the counter as he cursed to himself before the two of you were trying your best to fix yourselves up in the mirror to try and hide any signs of the horny whirlwind that had blown through the bathroom.

“Javi?” Steve called out again, continuing to knock on the door.

“Yeah, I’m here, just uh- Just give me a second, Murph.” Javi sighed, the two of you trying to keep from laughing at your current predicament, wondering how the hell Javi was going to talk you both out of this one.

“What’s the plan, Peña?” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge as he carefully turned the knob to the bathroom door.

“To tell Murph to fuck off if he tries to give me shit.” The two of you quietly snorted, feeling a little less guilty than you would have if it wasn’t your wedding day. “You stay here, okay? I’ll take care of him.” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek as he opened the door.

“God, I love you.”

“I love you too, Osita.”

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Javi took a few deep breaths as he ran his hands through his hair, turning the knob to open up his bedroom door to be greeted by an unamused Steve leaning in the door frame.

“What’s up, Murph? We were just, uh-” Javi asked, trying his best to stay casual.

“I fuckin’ knew it. Don’t ‘what’s up’ me, you horny bastard.” Steve groaned, rolling his eyes at his friend. “Y’all haven’t even made it to the ceremony yet! Jesus Fuckin’ Christ. Everyone’s been lookin’ for y’all. I had a fuckin’ feeling this is what you two were up two, and as your Best Man, I’ll cover for your ass now, but I sure as shit ain’t doin’ this all night for you two rabbits. Now c’mon, Casanova, go get your wife from in there and come outside. Remember that thing y’all gotta do where you actually go get married?” Steve teased, slapping Javi in the chest before shaking his head at his friend, his cheeks pink in embarrassment as his eyes darted to the floor.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be out in a second.” Javi grumbled sheepishly, quietly accepting defeat.

“An actual second, ya hear? Not a horny Javier Peña second, or I swear to God.” Steve groaned, raising an eyebrow at Javi.

“Promise.”

“Alright then. Chop, chop, Mr. Peña. Let’s go get your ass married.” Steve laughed, grabbing Javi by the shoulder before giving him a little shake and disappearing back down the hallway.

Hearing Steve’s voice and footsteps fade, you slowly peeked your head out of the bathroom door to see Javi standing by himself, head buried in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning back to see your face, equally embarrassed as his.

“... He knew, didn’t he?” You grimaced, now fully opening the door and walking through to meet Javi on the other side.

“Yup.” Javi sighed, adding an extra emphasis to the “p” with a pop.

“Well… Either Steve has the world’s most unlucky timing, or he just needs to do a better job of minding his business.” The two of you snickered, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared up at Javi. “Or maybe someone needs to stop being such a bad influence.” You teased, poking Javi in the chest.

“Me? I’m the bad influence? Okay.” Javi chuckled, teasing you right back. “Sorry I’m getting married to the hottest woman alive and I can’t help myself. My gorgeous wife is one not making it any easier on me.”

“Still not technically your wife yet, you dork.”

“Close enough.”

Grabbing you by your waist, Javi pulled you flush against chest, tilting his head in for a long, tender kiss- the kind that made heat creep through your cheeks and butterflies churn in your stomach, the kind that made your heart beat a million miles a minute, the kind that seemed to make everything else in the world stand still, even if just for a moment. The kind of kiss that made you know without a single doubt that you had never been more in love than you were at this very moment.

“I love you, Javi.”

“I love you too, Osita.”

“You wanna go get married?”

“Mrs. Peña,” Javi grinned, grabbing your hand to interlock it with his, “There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more in my fucking life.”

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3 @chaotic-iguana

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bambooochan6 · 20 days

Text

Congratulations to Thailand 🏳️‍🌈

Countries Where same-sex marriage is legal: ⏬

2001: Netherlands 🇳🇱

2003: Belgium 🇧🇪

2005: Canada 🇨🇦, Spain 🇪🇸

2006: South Africa 🇿🇦

2009: Norway 🇳🇴, Sweden 🇸🇪

2010: Argentina 🇦🇷, Iceland 🇮🇸, Portugal 🇵🇹

2012: Denmark 🇩🇰

2013: Brazil 🇧🇷, England 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿, Wales 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿, France 🇫🇷, New Zealand 🇳🇿, Uruguay 🇺🇾

2014: Luxembourg 🇱🇺, Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

2015: Finland 🇫🇮, Ireland 🇮🇪, USA 🇺🇸

2016: Colombia 🇨🇴, Greenland 🇬🇱

2017: Australia 🇦🇺, Malta 🇲🇹, Germany 🇩🇪

2019: Austria 🇦🇹, Ecuador 🇪🇨, Taiwan 🇹🇼, Northern Ireland

2020: Costa Rica 🇨🇷

2021: Chile 🇨🇱

2022: Switzerland 🇨🇭, Slovenia 🇸🇮, Cuba 🇨🇺

2023: Andorra 🇦🇩

2024: Estonia 🇪🇪, Greece 🇬🇷, Thailand 🇹🇭

#legal marriage Thailand #lgbtqia #loveislove #thailand #love wins

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creedslove · 9 months

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KEEPING YOUR PICTURE 💋

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Javi sees you going a little crazy over your ex and he tries to make you feel better

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of bad relationships, mentions of cheating, javier peña (because he is a trigger warning himself)

A/N: besties, this is just a short silly drabble that came to me because I actually dreamed of that, lol!

0.8k words

"I hope you know I can have you arrested for that, cariño" Javi's voice startled you as he took a step closer and lit up a cigarette.

He was the last person you expected to see at that hour, but there he was, having a smoke and wondering what the hell you were doing.

You couldn't sleep that night, not after the news you got, and you tried several times to get rid of the annoying pang that grew in your chest, however, the more you tried not thinking of it, the more you thought of it and that was bothering you to no end so you thought of the most illogical idea that could possibly cross someone's mind: you went out in the street in the middle of the night, grabbed one of the trash cans outside, dragged it to the patio of your apartment complex, started a small fire inside the can and threw it into the flames all of the painful memories that troubled your sleep and disturbed your heart.

And of course that working with Javier wasn't enough, you had to be his neighbor too, door to door, and not only that, he had to be up in the middle of the night to watch your mentally unstable horror show.

He could've made fun of it, he could've made a cheeky comment, but instead, he just stood there, curiously watching what you were doing as he took some puffs of his cigarette.

"You can try to arrest me, I may not be an agent but I have my DEA privileges" you winked at him with a sad smile and watched as Javi took a step closer and finally watched what was in your hands. He saw the photographs you held and looked at you

"That's the bastard who broke your heart?" You nodded and he hummed, taking the pictures into his own hands and watched them carefully "I'm guessing you are burning them down? Lorraine did the same when I left her at the altar" he smiled sadly and earned a chuckle from you

"Well, maybe you and my ex could have a drink together and exchange life experiences…"

Javi gave you a stinky eye and shook his head "I was a dick, but I was also immature as fuck, barely had left highschool and thought I was adult enough to get married. Your ex, on the other hand, was just a dick, because he couldn't see how lucky he was to have a wonderful woman like yourself and decided to change you for some whore" he shrugged and a blush spread through your cheeks. Javier Peña considered you a wonderful woman? You hadn't really thought that was possible, well, Javier had flirted with you and hinted at taking you back to his apartment, but he did this to every woman he saw, so you figured it wasn't a big deal.

"Cariño, you told me what he did, he cheated and deceived and he got the other girl pregnant, didn't he?" His thumb stroked your cheek gently as you nodded, looking into his eyes

"And after he said he would never marry me because he just didn't do marriages, he married his bitch" you groaned "and that's not it, guess where they're coming on their honeymoon?"

"Colombia?" He raised his eyebrow and you nodded

"Let me guess… they aren't going to Cartagena or any other beautiful place, they're coming here?" You nodded again and Javi licked his lips

"That's cruel" he said "tell you what, you let me know when they're coming and they will get a cop visit" he suggested it and made you scoff "would you really harass innocent civilians in order to protect me?"

Javi took another step closer, this time placing his hand on your waist and pulling you closer

"For you, I would yeah… now, instead of burning these pics, why don't you give me them? I will cut out your shitty ex boyfriend from them and keep the rest to myself…"

"The rest as in… my pictures? Why would you keep them?"

"Because you are too pretty to just burn it down, I'd take better care of the pics, cariño, just like I would take better care of you" he winked and you laughed again, Javi was a true womanizer, he just had whoever he wanted, and yet, it never seemed to work on you.

"Why didn't you accept when I asked you out, cariño? Were you afraid I'd play with your feelings?"

"You didn't ask me out, Javi, you invited me over for drinks and cigarettes which translates into sex…"

"That doesn't mean I wouldn't take good care of you, hermosa…"

Your hands rested over Javi's and you smiled big "yeah? Prove it"

And Javi pulled you for a kiss, a deep, intense one, where your lips wouldn't leave his even if someone forced you to.

Your whole body shook and it just felt right to be in his arms, it was a warm, soothing and intoxicating embrace. In his arms nothing else matter but you and him and you moaned disappointed the moment he broke the kiss, his fingers gently placing a strand of hair behind your ear, as he smirked

"See? Told you I could take care of you, cariño"

____

A/N: Besties, I know it wasn't great, but I had a dream about that lol, and I thought I should put it into paper. Also, I'm working on the epilogue of Deserve It, it's just going slower than I thought... 🌹❤️

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noxturnalpascal · 4 months

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My 2023 Fanfic-Wrapped

I only really started reading Pedro fanfic in April or May, I got started on some of the well-known fics on AO3 that were recommended on tiktok. However, one of them brought me to tumblr (because I wanted to see more from this author, I wanted to see their moodboards and their sneak peeks). And I haven’t left since.

I even decided to try my hand at writing as well. It’s been a LOT of fun. (My masterlist is here if you want to see all the weird shit I wrote so far). Thank you to everyone who has supported me in all my efforts and to all the friends I've made.

I wanted to create this list to highlight some of my faves this year. If you haven’t read these, they all come highly recommended by me.

I'll be reblogging everything on this list throughout the day. If you’d like to reblog this post and add some of your own favorites from this year - PLEASE DO!!! I would absolutely love to get new recs!! Let’s share the love!!

In no particular Order - Here are some of my favorites from the year!

Fave Writers (I’ll read anything they write)

@toxicanonymity (joel miller masterlist) Personal Faves: NightWalks!Joel, Vamp!Joel (both Ongoing)

@theywhowriteandknowthings (masterlist) Personal Faves: Creep - Joel, Princess and the Duke - Dave York (Ongoing)

@chloeangelic (masterlist) Personal Faves: Love Me Back - Joel, Seeking What is Desirable - Joel (Ongoing)

@goodwithcheese (masterlist) Personal Faves: The Layover - Frankie, Paranoid Heart - Javi P (Ongoing)

@beskarandblasters (masterlist) Personal Faves: Me and My Husband - Din Djarin, New York or Nowhere - Bodega!Joel (Ongoing)

@absurdthirst (masterlist) Personal Faves: Kinktober 2023 Oct 15th - LactationKink!Dieter, A Marriage of Convenience - Regency!PeroTovar, (they have SO many good ones)

Fave Ongoing Series

Mall Rats (Jackson-era!Joel) by @strang3lov3

Oh! Honey (Monster!Joel x Mortician!Reader) by @lincolndjarin

Hard to be Soft, Tough to be Tender (Pimp!Joel) by @iamasaddie

On the Waterfront (Chubby!Mafia!Frankie) by @beefrobeefcal

The King’s Queen (Royalty/ArrangedMarriageAU!Javi G) by @wardenparker

From Eden (PlantShopOwner!Joel x Married!F!Reader) by @5oh5

A Lover’s Pinch (Professor!Joel x Student!Reader) by @hier--soir

Into the Beat of the Night (Bi!Frankie x afab!gn!OC) by @perotovar

Fave Finished Series

A Stranger’s Heart Without a Home (Jackson-era Joel) by @morning-star-joy (This is the one that brought me to tumblr. Doni created this beautiful story and it has a very special place in my heart.)

Late Night Texts (Post-Colombia Javier Peña) by @undercoverpena

Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband (Married!No-Outbreak!Joel) by @netherfeildren

Something New (SexWorker!Frankie) by @prolix-yuy

Something Wretched About This (DrugDealer!Joel) by @covetyou

Pioneer Frankie (A series of stories about Pioneer!AU!Frankie) by @frannyzooey

Trial & Error (No-Outbreak!Joel helps Tommy & reader get pregnant) by @thetriumphantpanda

Pleased to Meet You (Meeting Francisco Morales - twice) by @intheorangebedroom

Fave Characters

Husband's Best Friend Joel Miller (with Married! Reader) (HBF!Joel) by @gracieispunk

Jackson-Era Vampire! Joel Miller (A Secret Worth Keeping) by @multiversed-daydreamer

Soccer-dad No-Outbreak Joel Miller gets a racy text from an unknown number (The Right Wrong Number) by @proxima-writes

Demon! Ezra (with Witch! Reader) (In Every Lifetime) by @xdaddysprincessxx

Protective Jackson-Era Joel Miller (A Safe Haven) by @joelsgreys

THROUPLE Frankie x Joel x F!Reader (Catalyst Masterlist) by @ezrasbirdie

Sleezy Gas Station Joel *MC* Miller (Meet Me in the Back) by @atticrissfinch

Porn Star Joel Miller (with Porn Star Reader) (I Know it When I See it) by @bageldaddy

Fave Dark/DDDNE Fics (These fics aren’t being put in the corner but they do come with some very special warnings so I wanted to separate them)

Trick or Treat? (DDDNE Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York x F!Reader) by @morallyinept

Bullet For You, Darlin’ (DDDNE Dark!Raider!Joel Miller) by @kewwrites

Online Friends (Cherry Bomb) (Dom!Joel, online/phone sex) by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Blessed Be the Fruit (Dark!DubCon! Joel Miller - Handmaid’s Tale AU) by @romana-after-dark

Red Light (Dark!Obsessive!DubCon! Landlord Joel Miller) by @kiwisbell

The Burglary (DDDNE burglar!Joel Miller x f!reader x burglar!Tommy Miller) by @milla-frenchy and @aurorawritestoescape

I don't know man.... I just know I like it

Menuet (It’s an animal/shapeshifter/monster fucking thing (Pero Tovar) that fundamentally changed who I am as a person) by @psychedelic-ink

Liquid Gold (Joel - and Tommy? - help Pregnant!Reader out when an issue arises) by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Get a Grip (Watch Model!Joel Miller x Manicurist!Reader Hand/GloveKink!) by @bonezone44

Mother Who Provides (Mommy!Kink Joel gets breastfed) by @pedge-page

Goodbye 2023, See you all next year!!!!

#fanfic wrapped #noxturnalpascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction

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pimosworld · 1 month

Text

Unrequited

Pairing- Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Francisco Morales

Series Summary- Francisco was always afraid of settling down. He left Santiago to pick up the pieces after Colombia and now someone else is taking his place. Now he must cope with repairing the past without disrupting his future.

CW-18+,NSFW,MDNI, Angst, hurt/comfort, lovers to enemies to friends, friends to lovers, PTSD, mentions of addiction, therapy,canon typical violence, depression, anxiety, smut, m/m, m/m/f, eventual poly relationship, alcohol consumption,infidelity, unprotected piv,oral f receiving, oral m receiving, marriage proposals)

WC-5.2k

A/N- I hope you enjoy the first chapter and I’m just going to apologize now for the angst but it will get better…eventually. Happy Frankie Friday. @triplefrontier-anniversary

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter 1 Love sick

adjective: love-sick

in love, or missing the person one loves, so much that one is unable to act normally.

Frankie hates how everything feels the same. When the wheels touched down and he exited the plane, it smelled the same. All of his favorite places to eat, the usual stores, the same amount of unbearable traffic. He wanted this to feel different when he returned home. Like he expected his friends and him to be waiting at the airport to greet him with open arms. Like they would roll out the red carpet for him because they all missed him so much. How could he expect that when he couldn’t bother to tell anyone he was still alive let alone returning home? That’s like expecting to win the lottery but never playing. That delusional part of your brain where you imagine how you would spend the money and how you wouldn’t tell anyone.

He’s home now.

The bile starts to rise up in his throat as he approaches the neighborhood he was going to spend the rest of his life in. He was going to live a peaceful, quiet life with him. After Colombia they would have enough money to do whatever they wanted. Relax and finally work out some of that trauma from their shared experiences in the military. He supposed everyone did settle down anyway. What choice did they have after coming back with practically nothing. He heard Will eventually got married and Benny took what little money he had and opened up a boxing gym. Santi-

How was he supposed to return to this life with him after everything that happened in Colombia. Santiago finally gave him everything he wanted on a silver platter, everything Frankie had been asking of him for years. Love me out in the open, Love me out loud, Love me without fear or consequence of failure. So he did. He finally told him ‘after this, no more playing games. We do this for real or not at all, I'm all in if you are.’

His response was to flee. One month turned into six, six months turned into a year. Now three years later he’s coming back to the man he broke and he’s not sure what he’s expecting but it’s making him nearly break out in hives. The outside of the house looks a little different but he can’t put his finger on why. It’s brighter and somehow cleaner. Maybe Santiago had it painted recently. He huffs his bag out of the cab suddenly feeling a thousand times heavier than any pack he’s carried through the jungle with rain soaked clothes all the way down to his socks.

The bench is still there on the front porch that Frankie found at a garage sale. The first piece of furniture that graced the home they picked out together.Frankie told the guys it would be easier if they bought it together. He’s not sure who he thought he was fooling but it certainly wasn’t Benny and Will. Tom didn’t give a shit, he was such a cheap bastard he truly believed they would buy a house together to save money. Another example of Santiago going along with whatever Frankie said as long as he got to call it theirs.

His hands are sweaty and his arms are shaky as he raises them up to knock on the door. Santiago hated doorbells, such a weird quirky thing he never explained makes him laugh now, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. He waits…an uncomfortable amount of time before he thinks he could just turn around and act like he was never here until the door flies open.

You’re standing there practically beaming at him, he’s sure he’s got the most dumbfounded look on his face as he takes you in. You’re adorable as you lean against the door frame in a pair of leggings and a shirt he sort of recognizes, waiting for him to say something. Maybe he has the wrong house and you’re just sparing him the embarrassment. He’s completely bewildered when you surge forward and wrap your some around his middle, he instinctively despite you being a complete stranger embraces your hug. You’re like liquid in his arms as you press your chest to his and he can feel something awaken in him. The amount of warm bodies he found himself under or on top of over the years couldn’t compare to this consuming feeling. The worst part is how innocent you seem and how his thoughts are nothing but. He can smell you, a hint of orange and peach. Body wash, shampoo or perfume he doesn’t really care at the moment.

You mumble something that’s inaudible as you pull back and look at him, something sparkling in your eyes. “I was beginning to think you were like bigfoot, or the Easter bunny…or maybe even Santa Claus.” You giggle and it’s something else he has to add to the list. “Forgive me…it’s nice to meet you Francisco.”

“I see you’ve met my girlfriend.” That voice. The low sultry voice he’s sure he could never forget, not even if he tried. Frankie cried the day his phone was smashed and the voicemail Santi had left for him was lost forever. The last one he left, begging for him to come back, to come home. “Sorry she’s a hugger.” You sheepishly extract yourself from him as his body goes taut.

Santi steps up behind you, protectively and it cuts like a knife. His hand starts at the small of your back and wraps around to your front as he pulls you into his chest. You preen at the touch as you lean against him, kissing the dark stubble on his cheek. Frankie’s sure you don’t notice the fire in your boyfriend's eyes, a threatening stare that was usually only reserved for his enemies. He can see it then, shrouded in hurt and anger. She’s mine. Santiago won’t let him hurt you the way he was hurt. Thrown away and cast aside. That’s how Frankie thinks he’d paint the picture but that’s far from the truth. He was sparing him a lifetime of disappointment.

The feelings he had for you are going up in gray smoke like water doused onto a fire. This is a dangerous feeling, seeing you in his place. It’s not your fault at all that you met Santiago and walked into years of love,torment and jealousy. Frankie can tell how blindly you love Santiago, the way he loved Frankie all those years. He would lay down on a live wire for him, take a bullet for him, take public scrutiny and throw away his family’s judgmental stares for him. Being that vulnerable only puts you in danger.

“Invite him in silly.” You nudge Santi and he barely budges as he scoops up Frankie’s bag and slings it over his shoulder. You yelp as he pats you on the ass to coax you inside.

“Come on in Frank, make yourself at home.” His voice is raw and open, like Frankie’s heart. He grinds his teeth at the name he hates and the implication of home. But he deserves that. Santi is going to make him hurt.

****

The house looks relatively the same on the inside.

Some extra plants and a bookshelf, the distinct smell of lavender and vanilla are the only differences. He wishes it wouldn’t look the same, like everything else. It was like he never left, the same couch they used to spend late nights on, watching the same tv that sits in the corner. The same dining table that they would eat breakfast before going to work and dinner after a long day.

“I’m gonna make some cookies, since it’s a special occasion.” You wink at him and start moving around his kitchen like you know everything. The oven is preheated and you're mixing something into a bowl before he can blink. Humming some tune he’s sure he’s heard as he realizes the shirt you’re wearing is Santi’s favorite.

Santi slides up behind you kissing your neck. “Sounds like a good idea baby.” You glance up at Frankie looking a little bashful as you narrow your eyes at Santi.

“Why don’t you go put your stuff down in the spare bedroom.” Santi doesn’t move and that annoys him even more. He doesn’t have to show him where the room is because this used to be his house, still is technically. He stomps down the hall glaring at some artwork and photos he’s never seen. Stopping in his tracks when he sees a photo of the five of them in Delta. A stupid grin on Santi’s face because Frankie’s grabbing his ass while the photo is being taken. The younger faces of the Miller brothers and Tom.

He stops again when he sees the bedroom they used to share. Nothing much has changed about that either. The bedspread and the ungodly amount of pillows maybe…hopefully the mattress.

He sets his bag down against the wall and opens the window to let some air in. It’s stale and muggy so he shuts it immediately. He can still smell you on him and it’s driving him nuts. He got a whiff of Santi’s cologne during the brief greeting. That was different. He stopped wearing the one Frankie bought him on a mission in Morocco. Santi hadn’t so much as touched him during their hello and he’s not sure if that hurts worse than being able to hold him.

His body eases into the queen mattress as he leans back against the pillows. It’s much more comfortable than the previous one. Frankie never cared about the comfort of others and they argued about it. "It's just a spare bed, what's the problem?” Santiago would roll his eyes and he wanted to kiss that smug look off his face. ‘Our guests should be comfortable too.” He didn’t think they would ever have guests staying in their home other than Benny or Will and those bastards didn’t need a four star plush hotel stay. Now he’s a guest, in his own home and he hates how comfortable he is.

He’s exhausted…mentally, physically, emotionally. Too fatigued to even stand and turn on the ceiling fan that he’s staring at. He’s just starting to close his eyes when he hears a soft rap on the door. He sighs out in frustration, he needs a break from you right now, you’re too perfect and he’s too broken so he just needs a moment. He goes to protest when the door opens but it’s not you who greets him.

Santiago stands in the doorway with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. He looks as though he’s approaching a wild animal in a cage with their favorite treat to calm them down just before they tranquilize them. Frankie sits up as he steps into the room and sets the items down on the bedside table.

“They’re still hot.” His tone is warning like he knows Frankie is going to shove one whole in his mouth the moment he leaves the room and then complain that it burned his tongue.

Frankie wants to say something but now doesn’t feel right. His tongue is heavy like lead in his mouth and his eyes can’t quite possibly say all that he wants to. I love you, I’m sorry. “You look good.” It’s weak, Santiago knows it as he huffs out a laugh.

“You look tired.” It’s said more of a truth than an insult. He’s sad when he looks at him like someone he used to know. Frankie probably hasn’t had a good night's sleep in three years and that is Santi’s only consolation prize. He got a broken heart and Frankie got perpetual insomnia. “You can stay as long as you want Fish…dinner will be ready in an hour.” Santi exits the bedroom, closing the door softly, leaving his new cologne in the omnium of your scent that clings to him.

As long as he wants and as long as he needs are two very different things. He’s just glad as he takes a bite of the cookie that he’s graduated from Frank to Fish. This cookie tastes how you look. Sickly sweet and warm on his tongue. He’s glad Santi has left the room because he didn’t recognize the sounds coming from him as he savored his first homemade provisions in over three years. Surviving on street food that his stomach hated and questionable canned meat products. He can taste you on his tongue as he finishes the first cookie in the blink of an eye. Four of them stacked on the plate before eating dinner seemed like overkill at first but Santiago had tasted your cookies... He gets to indulge in them whenever he wants and this is just his way of taunting Frankie. He knows Frankie is a weak man who hasn’t let himself enjoy the pleasures in life for quite a while. Temporary pleasures don’t measure up to this.

He kicks off his shoes and props himself up against the pillows again as he absentmindedly reaches for another. A cool breeze whips his face as he looks up at the spinning blades. Santiago must have turned it on without him noticing. His mama always used to tell him to slow down and enjoy his food so he does in this moment. The first one he ate with such urgency like it would be his last, this one he can savor the hints of cinnamon and vanilla. The gooey chocolate makes a mess on his fingers. He glances over to see no napkin so he licks it off getting a hint of salt and peanut butter. There’s no way you could know unless Santiago told you. He holds it in front of him to inspect and sees the small peanut butter chips melted in. That was always his favorite and only Santi knew.

It’s much easier to fall asleep as he polished off the last cookie and most of the milk. This one hour felt better than any full night of sleep he got when he wasn’t home.

****

Frankie feels like his body weighs a ton. Waking up from his nap is disorienting as he remembers where he is. Sleeping in a room he never thought he’d be in, in a place he never thought he’d ever come back to. This short slumber after being sleep deprived for so long is like serving someone an appetizer and telling them the restaurant is closing early.

He showed up unexpectedly and you took it in stride. Like you’ve been here waiting for him this whole time to put the pieces back together. Frankie doesn’t think you’d mind if he skipped out on dinner for some much needed rest but his stomach grumbles as he stares at the empty plate next to him. The smell of garlic,onions and peppers coax him out of the bed as he stretches his creaky bones. He can hear laughter and the clinking of plates as he walks down the hallway, it dawns on him that he hasn’t showered in twelve hours but he doesn’t want to keep you waiting any longer. He’s been enough of a burden these last few years and he won’t let you bear the load any longer.

“Hola bella durmiente.” Santi’s teasing voice hits his ears before he sees him. He wants to flip him off but he’s too tired and that feels too normal.

Frankie glances at the time on the oven as you finish plating something that smells like home. “Shit it’s been two hours.” Santi whistles at him to sit down as he scrubs his hands through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it Francisco, this man takes four hour naps.” You lean over setting the plate down in front of him and your boyfriend. He watches you plant a kiss on Santi’s head, not to flaunt it but just because it’s second nature.

“You never take naps.”

“I’ve learned to relax.” Santi says with a mouthful of food as he points his fork. “You should learn to do the same, Frankie.”

He can breathe a sigh of relief that he can be Frankie again, even in jest.

He takes a bite as you settle in across from him, it’s perfect much like the cookies as he closes his eyes not afraid of the moan that leaves him. “Holy shit this is better than Santi’s Chile verde.”

Santi takes your hand placing a kiss on your fingers. “That’s why I don’t make it anymore.”

“Well don’t be shy, there’s plenty on the stove.” You smile at him and he notices then that you changed. A light touch of makeup and a little perfume. Santi’s still in his tee shirt and jeans but you’ve ditched the old ratty Metallica shirt and swapped it for a bright yellow blouse and jeans.

Santi clears his throat interrupting Frankie observing you. “She’s an amazing chef. She takes a lot of pride in her work, and I take my job as the Guinea pig very seriously.” He leans back and pats his belly.

You’re practically beaming at him as you stand to take his empty plate. He gently grabs your wrist urging you to sit as he absentmindedly grabs Frankie’s to serve them up some more.

****

Frankie used to run from his compliments or brush them off as nothing. He was always too afraid of the praise not realizing how hurtful it was to the other man when he would wave him off. Santi loves you in the way he always wanted Frankie to love him.

He’s grateful for the small talk during the rest of the evening. A few beers and a way too nice bottle of wine has him comfortably buzzed as he listens to you talk about how you met Santiago. In true Santiago form he almost ruined it before it even began.

It was at Will's wedding a little over a year ago.Santiago assumed you were a guest of the bride because he’s certain he would remember meeting you in the many years he’d known Will. He saw you just before the ceremony in a navy blue silk suit, the plunging neckline leaving nothing to the imagination. You looked lost and a little irked when he approached you asking to save him a dance.

He looked for you in the sea of unfamiliar faces during the ceremony and again during the reception. It wasn’t until a very unfortunate moment with a clingy bridesmaid in his lap drunkenly telling him about her new piercing that he locked eyes with you. There was a humorous look on your face as you winked at him. Two men approached you in matching white button ups and black ties and you snapped to attention. He could always tell when someone was giving orders and needed to be taken seriously. The men scurry away when you’re done speaking and start gathering plates and cutlery. Your face relaxes again and you wink at him exiting the ballroom as the girl screeches in his ear ‘are you even listening to me?”

“No sweetheart I’m not.” He quickly displaces her from his lap as she stands there dumbstruck by his actions.

He bursts through the doors and is met with a mostly empty kitchen. You’re standing there wide eyed with another girl in the matching uniform. “Finish boxing up the leftovers for the newlyweds and then you’re good to go.” You brush her arm as you walk past and beeline it straight for him.

“Lost?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“No I ugh…you…-“ He’s scrambling as you stare him down unwavering.

“A man of many words I see.” You pick a piece of lint off his suit jacket and he notes your close proximity.

“You never danced with me.” He teases and you laugh a little. It’s a start

“You seemed to already have a dance partner…and as you can see.” You gesture around the kitchen. “I was a little busy.”

“Oh her…I don’t even know her name.” He winces as you give him an incredulous look.

You’re already walking away toward the ballroom doors before he can recover. He’s hot on your heels, never one to back down from a challenge. “So I can’t convince you to dance with me?”

You spin and he has to stop himself from crashing into you. “Maybe some other time Santiago.” You kiss him on the cheek, leaving a red lipstick reminder for any unknown nameless women.

“Wait…how do you know my name!?”

“I was warned about you.” You yell over your shoulder as you exit the kitchen leaving him there stunned.

It took a lifetime of bribes and I owe yous and promises of future baby sitting to get your number from Will. His wife Emma was pissed until you weaved your way into their lives and the rest is history.

****

It’s been at least an hour since you went off to bed, saying your goodnights to both men. They stayed mostly silent on the couch as they stared at some movie on the tv. Neither one of them paid any attention. Just waiting for any signs of life from you to die down in the bedroom down the hall.

Santi knew your night routine like the back of his hand. You’d wash your face of any makeup and apply what he thought was an absurd amount of creams and oils. You’d sit gingerly on the edge of the bed as you applied this lotion that smelled of rose and coconut, taking your time to cover every inch of your body. Smiling at him all the while asking if he’d like to join to which he’d just tell you one of you had to be rough in the relationship. On the nights he didn’t personally see to it that you were passed out you’d read a few chapters of your book before falling asleep with your finger marking the page and he’d gently retrieve it from you before kissing your forehead making sure not to wake you.

It’s this thought that’s ticking away at him as he counts down the minutes silently while he watches Frankie’s leg nervously bounce beside him. He’s sitting in the spot he used to but he feels miles away. Stark contrast to how they used to be on this couch, cuddling and laughing while they talked about their future.

“Do you love her?”

The words that leave Frankie’s mouth rip through the silence like the sound of a thunder clap. Only the light from the tv illuminates the look on Santi’s face but Frankie can see it clear as day. It’s moments like these that Santi’s aware of his high blood pressure as the sound of his heartbeat whooshes in his ears.

“How dare you ask me that.” His voice starts low but the rage behind it is threatening to boil over.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Yes I love her.” He says a little louder, no lie or waver to his voice.

Frankie scrubs his jaw as he huffs under his breath. “I’m glad you moved on.” The sarcasm dripped from his tone and now Santi is seeing red.

Santi grabs the remote, flicking off the tv plunging them into darkness. “You think I just moved on the moment you left. You do remember being the one who left right?” He hates how Frankie can so quickly get under his skin. This is the exact reaction he wanted from him and he took the bait. “I waited for you. I waited and waited until Will had to pick me up off the floor and make me shower and eat and really take a look at the situation.”

Santi stands and paces the room as Frankie watches someone he thought he knew open up like he’s never done before. Santi loved him but he always let Frankie take the lead. He never put himself first and it almost swallowed him up whole. Frankie knows it’s not fair to judge any of his actions but he’s a scared animal backed into a corner and this is all he’s got left. One last fight before he lunges out in hope’s that Santi will tell him something to justify what he did.

“You may have been torn up for a bit but you look pretty comfortable to me.” Frankie gestures around the room as he stands in front of Santi. “You’ve got nice home cooked meals, all your friends, a beautiful house and someone to fuck at the end of a long day.”

Santi grabs his shirt shoving him back down to the couch. “Don’t act like your bed wasn’t warm these last three years. You and I both know how you are Frank.” Fuck he’s back to Frank.

“I didn’t love any of them.” Frankie says as Santi rolls his eyes.

“You want an award for not falling in love with them.” Frank grits his teeth as the sing song words ooze out of Santi’s mouth while he claps his hands in his face.

“You should keep your voice down, you wouldn't want to wake up your wife.” Frankie says and with no remorse Santi knows he’s wounded. A small part of him is glad for it.

With his voice barely above a whisper as he leans down face to face with Frankie. “She’s not my wife, and you’re not my husband.”

****

Santi quietly closes the door as he watches your sleeping form. It’s one of his favorite things to do. The steady rise and fall of your chest, wondering what peaceful things drift in your dreams. You’re wearing one of his shirts and probably nothing else. Majority of your wardrobe when you weren’t at work consisted of his clothing. It stirred something in him he’d never experienced before you. The way he was possessive over you…he never understood why Frankie would act the way he did when men and women would flirt with him until he met you.

How dare Frankie question his love and his loyalty. He was the one who walked away. How dare he look at you the way he did, thinking Santi wouldn’t notice the desire in his eyes.

“Baby, are you coming to bed or do you want to keep holding the door up?” Your sleepy voice grabs his attention as you pat the spot beside you.

He pushes off the door and pulls his shirt off, tossing it aside.”I thought you were asleep.” His jeans and belt hit the floor with a thud as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“I was but I could hear your thoughts in my dreams.” You sit up wrapping your arms around him. Your hands drift to his stomach, his soft abs flex under your touch as he relaxes against you. You know he wants to say something. The elephant in the room that is Frankie.

“I love you.” His voice barely above a whisper. He squeezes your hand and brings it up to his chest. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart under your fingers.

“I love you too.”He shivers as your lips graze the faint scar traveling down his neck. A reminder of something he’s been through with you that Frankie wasn’t there for. His need for you is made all that more evident with the man he loved, loves in the room down the hall.

He shifts so fast your head is spinning as he pins you underneath him. Whatever thoughts were plaguing him before are long gone with his hands roaming underneath his shirt to graze the soft skin under your breast. His lips swallow your whine as he rolls your nipple between his fingers reveling in the way your body responds to him.

You can feel the hard press of his cock beneath his boxers as he rolls his hips into you. Searching for some kind of friction.

“I need this off.” His voice is strained as he pulls the shirt over your head.

You chuckle trying to reach for him as he shoves his boxers down, laughter dies in your throat at the sight of him. The moonlight in the room illuminates his hard cock, dark at the tip leaking precum on the sheets below.

His hands slide up your thighs as he squeezes the flesh between his fingers. His grip tightens as he cups your ass, lifting you slightly to wrap your legs around him. “Look at you…and you’re all mine.”

You’re breathless as you reach for him, pulling him into your chest.”Santi, kiss me.” You don’t have to ask him twice, your voice is like a siren song as he dips his tongue into you. He can taste the mint from your toothpaste and your cherry chapstick. Mine.

He should go slow, work you open like he always does. He drags the tip through your slick folds and a soft whimper leaves your mouth. You’re being too quiet…because of him. His hands gently press your throat as he buries himself to the hilt. A louder whine escapes you, he knows it drives you crazy as he squeezes just enough to have you panting.

“Fuck I need you, I’m sorry.” He releases your throat and starts an unrelenting pace as you quickly adjust to his size. He’s never been this desperate, not willing to make you come on his mouth or fingers first.

Your body doesn’t seem to care as the slick wet sound of your bodies and your pussy clenching with each thrust has him growling in your ear. “I want to hear you.” He wraps his arms underneath you and grips your shoulders.

“Santi…please.” You don’t want to be used for his anger and revenge but you can’t think straight with his cock ramming that spot deep inside you.

“Please what baby?” He fucks you harder as he watches your face contort in pleasure as you chant his name. He bites down on the swell of your breast and you cry out as he licks and soothes the spot with his tongue.

“Santi…I’m so close.” He knows…he can feel how close you are as your heels dig into his back, your blunt nails scratch at his scalp and you arch your body as your climax washes over you. “Come inside me please, Santi.”

Images flash in his mind of Frankie fucking you through your orgasm as you scream his name, his cock is pulsing and throbbing inside you as he fills you up. His deep ragged breaths in your ear as the aftershocks jolt through him. “I love you.” He says it over and over as he kisses your face, your mouth, your sweat soaked forehead. He’s really saying I’m sorry but those words mean the same right now.

“I love you too baby.” Your voice is wrecked from screaming, having long forgotten about your houseguest. You know this is what he wanted and a small part of you wanted it to. Santiago is yours to keep.

****

Shame washes over Frankie as he cleans his spend off his stomach with his tee shirt. He pulls his boxers up and sits on the edge of the bed staring out into the backyard.

It’s quiet now, in his post orgasmic clarity. All he has are the thoughts running through his mind. The thoughts that have plagued him since he set foot back into this house. How selfish it is to want what’s down the hall in a place he called home.

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tropes-and-tales · 8 days

Text

Ten Months as Yours

Colonel Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

CW: Angst (reader is CIA and has feelings about it; failed first marriages; talk of Catholicism); smut (oral, m! and f! receiving; PiV, unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count: 10,951

AN: This was from an "Arranged Marriage" prompt list. An anon asked for it, and it was supposed to incorporate dates where the couple gets to know each other. I, an idiot, didn't remember that until nearly the end, but if you kind of squint, you can see it.

AN2: Not edited. Not even a little bit.

AN3: Sigh. I dunno, folks. It's whatever.

Horacio Carrillo’s first marriage was standard Catholic fare: the reading of the banns beforehand, then the long wedding Mass. Heavy on the incense, crowded church, a red-faced priest droning through the Gospel. Juliana, his blushing bride in a heavy lace veil, clutching a bouquet of lilies already wilted and brown at the edges in the Colombian heat.

Then, years later, the dissolution of that marriage. Papers signed separately in the presence of lawyers after an ice age formed between the couple. Then more years of Horacio being single again, but the time slipped by like water. He was so busy with work, he hardly registered the empty house he returned to every evening.

Horacio Carrillo’s second marriage is something else entirely.

It’s not, strictly or spiritually speaking, a real marriage. It’s a bit of maneuvering on the part of the U.S. government, logistical choreography as part of a larger plan. To the world at large, Horacio Carrillo is dead: murdered by Escobar’s men in a trap. Only a handful of people know the truth—the doctor and nurses at the American hospital who healed him under a temporary alias. And this man, Johnson, a U.S. Marshal and handler for the U.S. Witness Protection program

Johnson is the sole witness to this so-called marriage, if one could even call it that. It happens on the cargo plane from Bogota to Atlanta. Johnson sits in the jump seat across from his two charges: Horacio…and you.

Horacio doesn’t even learn your real name. There’s no exchange of vow and certainly no incense or bouquet of lilies. Instead of a blushing bride, there’s a silent one. Your mouth is set in a thin, straight line as you listen to Johnson’s rundown of your new life, and every time Horacio chances a look at you, he only sees the tension in you. Grim-set mouth, clenched jaw…and the white edge of a bandage on your temple, mostly hidden under the sweep of your hair.

Horacio wonders if you’re dead to the world too. You aren’t DEA or CIA, at least not in the Colombian theater, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t nearby. The U.S. agencies have their sticky fingers all over South America.

The broad strokes of the situation: you and Horacio are newlyweds. You met in Spain and are returning to the U.S. Horacio is dead, but he’s been replaced by Davide, and Johnson hands over a thick packet of official documents—Spanish birth certificate, Spanish passport, U.S. green card.

You are also dead, but you’ve been replaced by Gwen. Another thick packet of documents detailing your fake life as an ex-pat American in Spain.

Each packet also contains a simple gold band for each of you. Horacio turns it over and over in his hand, contemplates the little twist he gets in his gut to put a ring back on his finger after years of being divorced.

You slide yours on too, but you fuss with it the rest of the flight, twisting it around and around your finger.

“You’re going to Vermont, of all places,” Johnson tells you. “There’s a mid-sized college there with a lot of international folk coming and going, so you’ll blend in. The house is handled, and you’ll get a stipend every month, but we expect you to find jobs as quickly as you can.”

Johnson doesn’t even attempt to say how long it will be. Horacio knows he has to wait out Escobar before he can return to Colombia. You? Who can say?

The rest of the flight is silent except for the low roar of the engines and the creak of the netting holding the cargo in place. Once you land, you stand and follow Johnson and Horacio off of the plane to transfer to a smaller passenger plane that will take you to Vermont.

The final leg of the journey is silent too.

When you deplane in the small regional airport in Vermont, you stumble on the step down from the fuselage. Horacio catches your arm, keeps you upright.

“Watch your step,” he says softly.

“Thank you,” you reply.

It’s the first words you exchange, and his hand on your clothed arm—that’s the first time he touches you.

-----

Horacio has never been to the United States before, but when he thinks of it, he thinks of what he’s seen in the movies: New York City, perhaps, with the traffic and skyscrapers and Statue of Liberty. Or Miami with its white beaches and turquoise water and neon-tinged nightlife.

Vermont is something else.

It’s green. Everything is so green. The rounded mountains in the distance, the old trees with huge, spreading branches. The grass of the lawns in this college town. Even though it is near twilight, even the shadows are green-tinged as the sun sets.

“At least we arrived in the spring,” you say. You glance at him, explain that New England winters can be brutal.

The house is small, trim. It’s a simple ranch but well-built. There’s a fair amount of land, and the nearest neighbors are far enough away that there’s privacy.

Of course it’s awkward. You don’t know each other at all, and you’re both in hiding. Horacio is out of habit with living with another person, and he has to guess you are too.

That first night, the first moment of awkwardness: when you arrive at the house, there’s two bedrooms, and you both hesitate in the hallway that leads to both. You’re married on paper (kinda) but who would expect you to share a bed? But you’re also both exhausted, and Horacio takes in the dark circles under your eyes. The larger room has a full-sized bed, but the guest only has an uncomfortable-looking daybed.

“Take the master bedroom,” he says. “I’ll take the guest room.”

“You sure?” Your words, Horacio notices, are slightly accented, like you’ve been around people like him who speak English as a second language. He wonders about your past and what landed you here with him.

“Of course. Take the room. We’ll talk in the morning.”

You nod, and he glances down at where you twist that gold band over and over around your slim finger. It’s here, he’ll realize later, that he starts to feel something for you, but at the moment, it’s only sympathy. You’re trapped in the same miserable situation as him, so sympathy is an easy emotion to access.

“I appreciate it…Davide,” you reply, and you give him a nod, then turn in for the night. He hears the quiet click of the bedroom door as you shut it, and he turns in too. The daybed is cramped, and he can’t stretch out completely, but he’s so bone-tired that he’s asleep the minute his head hits the pillow.

-----

The first month, April.

It’s awkward. It’s more awkward for Horacio; everything in the U.S. is familiar, but just different enough to make it seem like he’s dreaming. You’re already an American, and life in an idyllic New England college town is easier for you to settle into.

Living with another person is strange. Horacio finds that the two of you engage in a civil, stilted dance each day that first month. You each tiptoe around the other, defer to each other in a painfully polite way. When Horacio catches you singing along softly to the radio one night, you snap the music off and go quiet. When you walk in on him in the bathroom once—he was only brushing his teeth, so it is hardly salacious—you apologize and refuse to meet his eyes for the rest of the week.

The two of you don’t really talk, not that first month. You aren’t supposed to share details about your real lives with each other, so neither of you know how to converse in the weird liminal space you find yourselves. Your conversations are limited to menial topics. The weather, the house and yard, what you each want for dinner that night. You trade off chores, you drift around each other, and it’s like living in purgatory with another ghost.

Sometimes, Horacio swears he can hear you crying softly through the wall that separates your room from his, but you never offer any insight into your feelings and he doesn’t ask.

-----

The second month, May.

Johnson told each of you to find work, and you land a job first: you get a position at the college. You ask him, a bit shy, if you can take a certain portion of the monthly stipend to buy some new clothes for your office job, and Horacio’s gut does that twist again. Of course you need new clothes. You left wherever with nothing, the same way he left Colombia with nothing.

“Of course,” he says. “You don’t even need to ask.”

That makes you smile a little, and you make a weak joke about not wanting to be the sort of wife to spend frivolously. It makes Horacio chuckle. It breaks the uneasy tension in the house a bit, and he ends up going to the mall with you that weekend as you shop.

There’s nothing like a mall to encapsulate American culture, and Horacio tries to play it cool at the conspicuous consumption on display. The giant building, the icy air conditioning, the cacophony of sound echoing around the marble floors and walls. There’s so many people and only a handful of security guards. When Horacio studies them closer, he sees that they don’t even carry guns—they only have walkie-talkies as they saunter around at a lazy pace.

His life now is a far cry from his life as the leader of the Search Bloc. And when he glances over at the woman walking beside him, he realizes how far this second marriage is from his first.

But the thought leads to him ruminating about his first marriage and all the little ways he failed Juliana. This situation with you isn’t a marriage, of course, but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to be better.

So once you are done shopping, he pulls you into the Sam Goody and insists that you buy an album to celebrate. He catches you singing all the time in the house, listening to the radio, humming or singing along. When he imagines your mysterious life before now, he imagines an apartment filled with a big stereo and shelves of albums.

“Seriously?” It makes you smile again, and Horacio thinks you have a nice smile, though he wonders how often people ever get to see it.

“Well, it’s our stipend,” he clarifies. “It’s not like I’m treating you, really. I guess it’s not really a gift if it’s ours.”

Another smile, and he stands back and watches as you rifle through the stacks of vinyl records and CD’s, as you pull one out and read the list of songs, then replace it. You finally settle on one, and the two of you check out, and Horacio pulls out his wallet and pays.

And even if it’s your shared stipend, you thank him and smile again, and it feels like something that he can’t quite name.

-----

The third month, June.

You leave the house every weekday for work. Horacio finally has some firsthand knowledge of what Juliana must have felt when he left each day. He had always prided himself that he was able to provide for both of them, that she never had to work.

He had never considered how bored she must have been.

He wakes up early out of habit, but you do too. In the soft pre-dawn light, you go out for a run every day. Part of him remains Search Bloc; he stands at the living room window and watches for you until you return, panting, your t-shirt ringed with sweat. He finds he can breathe easier once you’re in sight.

While you shower and dress, Horacio makes you coffee. The two of you sip at your coffee in companionable silence, and then you’re off.

It leaves him with a full day with little to do.

He cleans the house, but that takes no time at all because both of you are fastidious and neat anyway. He maintains the lawn, trims back the unruly rhododendrons. He bought a weight bench and a set of free weights from a yard sale a few weeks after you moved, and he spends some time lifting in the garage.

That takes him to noon, if he’s lucky.

His afternoons are when he thinks of Juliana the most. Is this what her life with him was like? Back then, he used to scoff at the claim that women needed a life outside of the home. His mother had seemed happy to be a housewife and mother, and he had always assumed that Juliana was the same. Except the children never came, and Juliana had a degree in fashion design from the university—yet when she broached the idea of a job or even an internship, Horacio had dissuaded her.

He had thought he was being a good husband. Now, as he sits and drowses to “Days of Our Lives,” he wonders how he had missed the obvious.

But if he’s Juliana in this situation, you are no Horacio. For one thing, you return home in the late afternoon—he’s never left to eat dinner alone in a too-quiet house. For another, you immediately kick off your shoes and pad over to where he’s cooking dinner, and you fall into an easy rhythm of helping him finish it off.

Halfway through June, you get comfortable enough to start calling out, “honey, I’m home!” each time you return.

Which makes him smile, every time.

And he’s only a passable cook, but you praise every meal he puts in front of you. You joke once, say “I should have gotten a husband a long time ago,” and that makes him smile even wider, and it is easy to fall into the fantasy that this easy domesticity is real. The fantasy only falls apart at night, when you each retire to your separate rooms, as you do every night.

-----

The fourth month, July.

The easy domesticity cedes to something deeper and darker right at the start of the month.

Horacio has never been to the U.S. before, so he hasn’t experienced the usual Independence Day celebrations. When he asks, you grin and tell him that a good old-fashioned U.S.-style barbecue might be nice, and that’s what the two of you plan. You and Horacio as Davide and Gwen: patriotic Americans.

The day starts off great. The weather is hot and humid enough to feel like Colombia, and Horacio will admit that you look nice in your cut-off shorts and cotton tank top. He will admit that if you were really his wife, he might never even make it to lunchtime before taking advantage of a quiet house set apart from its neighbors.

The barbecue is nice. It’s all-American fare: hot dogs and hamburgers, corn on the cob steamed over hot coals. You buy an apple pie from a nearby farm stand, and you also make some trifle type dessert, and the two of you wash it all down with ice-cold beer. By the time dusk rolls around and lightning bugs start to flicker across the lawn, Horacio is pleasantly buzzed.

The town puts on a fireworks display, and as the sky turns a velvety black, the light show starts. Your house is in the perfect place to see it, slightly set on a ridge, and blossoms of red and white and blue sparks explode across the sky. Horacio, tipsy, watches the first few minutes, completely mesmerized…but when he turns to say something to you, he finds you missing.

He finds you in the house. More specifically, he finds you in the bathtub, hugging your knees to your chest, forehead pressed to knees.

“Gwen?” he says, and he feels stupid saying the obviously fake name, but he doesn’t know your real one.

You don’t answer anyway, and he steps into the bathroom. Studies you closer. Sees that you are shaking, and between the muffled booms of the fireworks, he can hear your panting breath.

He moves without any real thought. He knows—or can guess, at least—at what is happening to you. Horacio has led enough men through enough battles to recognize a panic attack when he sees one, but you aren’t one of his men and this is no battle, so he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder to alert you that he’s there. Then he climbs into the bathtub with you.

“Scoot forward a little,” he orders softly, and you do. He maneuvers himself behind you, then pulls you closer to him. Your back pressed against his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, he holds you close despite the heat and humidity of the day.

“Just breathe with me.” He takes a deep, slow breath, feels his chest push against you. He does it again and again, and after a long while, you start to mimic him.

The fireworks end, and eventually you stop trembling. Tucked this close to him, Horacio can see the edge of a thick scar disappearing under your hair, and he remembers the bandage on the plane from Bogota.

He wonders if the moment that caused that scar is linked to this moment now.

After you calm, and after you sheepishly untangle yourself from him, he urges you to do whatever you need to. To take a cool shower or go to bed. That he’ll clean up. You gaze back at him a long moment, like you’re trying to decide something, and then you nod. You leave the bathroom and disappear into your bedroom, and he hears that quiet click of the door closing.

The rest of the month is uneasy. The panic attack seems to have dredged up the muck in your past, the trauma of a life that has resulted in you being in Witness Protection, injured enough at some point to have a thick scar on your head.

Something about this feels like an echo from his first marriage. Juliana went silent on him too, but for different reasons. Your silence is driven by an inner turmoil that he can only guess at, and he feels powerless to help.

So he only does what he can. He makes you coffee each morning before work. He makes you dinner each night. He asks gentle, tame questions about your work day, and when you don’t have much to say in that quarter, he tells you that day’s drama on “Days of Our Lives.”

“Stefano DiMera is back,” he tells you one night. “And Marlena is possessed by el Diablo.”

That’s the sole smile he is able to coax from you all month. You pick at the dinner he made, pushing it around with the tines of your fork, and repeat, “the Devil?”

Horacio nods.

“Like, Lucifer the Devil?”

“Yes.”

You smile. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

He nods again, smiles back at you. “It really is.”

-----

The fifth month, August.

Horacio finds a job with a state nursery, and when he applies, he nearly despairs at the cliché of it: a South American immigrant becoming a landscaper.

But it’s not landscaping at all. It’s a quiet, peaceful job. The summer interns have already left for the year, so Horacio is hired on to help the old-timer, Lawrence. Lawrence has a thick Yankee accent, says little, but Horacio finds the job a revelation. He walks the rolling grounds and checks on the saplings that will one day be planted across the state. They’ll go into parks and line city streets, and it knocks something loose in him. A job where he’s nurturing life that will potentially live on long after him. The oak sapling he waters and feeds today could live hundreds of years when he’ll be long forgotten.

With him working now, you and Horacio switch off on meals. You teach him how to use the most American of small appliances, the slow cooker. You make him the most American of working class meals, the one-pot dish. He makes you the comfort food from his childhood, and together you find an egalitarian balance.

But something about July and your low mental health…it makes Horacio want to do better. Who knows how long the two of you will end up living like this? He wants to understand you better, and he wants you to know him, because the two of you exist as the sole inhabitants of this weird, unlikely life as Davide and Gwen.

“Let’s each say one true thing about ourselves,” he proposes over dinner one night. He’s bone-tired from work—he spent the day mulching rows and rows of tender little Eastern Hemlocks (and he knows the difference now between them and a balsam fir and a spruce). You look tired too, but at his suggestion, your eyes light up. Maybe you’ve been wanting some familiarity with him too and just were waiting on him to suggest it first.

So August is this: getting to know each other. Dumb stuff, usually. Favorite colors, favorite songs, favorite foods. Most embarrassing memory. Best memory. Age of first kiss.

-----

The sixth month, September.

The weather starts to turn. The nights grow cold, and the leaves transform from all that green to a riot of reds and yellows and oranges. Work at the nursery slows way down, and Horacio spends long hours following Lawrence’s lead, which means an hour or two of paperwork, then lunch, then quietly reading a book at his desk.

You’re busy with the new academic year, but the weekends are spent doing day trips. You’re six months into this, and you’re both braver, more willing to travel afield. You go into the mountains to look at the leaves from a different angle than what you see from your house. You go to pick apples, and you spend a weekend cooking them into pies, cobblers, and apple sauce.

The dinner-time “one true thing” game ends, and it turns into natural conversation. It’s so comfortable now. You chat and laugh and joke, and sometimes he teases you, and it makes you duck your head to hide your pleased smile. You like being teased, Horacio finds. You like being the butt of gentle jokes, so he obliges you as often as he dares.

It’s a revelation to find that he has a sense of humor after all.

Over one dinner, he mentions his first marriage, his first wife. You ask him questions, and he answers them honestly, and then he asks if you’ve ever been married.

“No.” You shake your head to emphasize the point.

“Ever engaged?”

You hesitate, then nod. “Yes. A long time ago.”

“What happened?”

You shrug, lifting one shoulder up before dropping it back down. “Life. Expectations. It’s hard to say.” You take a sip of your water, then settle your gaze somewhere past Horacio, like you’re looking at the specter of your failed engagement.

“I was young and very career-driven,” you add. “And not many men want that in a wife.”

“I’m sorry.” He is, of course, and he’s doubly-sorry because he was arguably one of those men. He kept Juliana at home, stifled her own career aspirations. A flush of shame courses through him at the memory of his own failings.

Another shrug. “It was for the best.”

“And now here you are, married to me,” he teases, and yes—you duck your head, but he catches the shy little grin, the curve of your cheek as you smile at the joke.

-----

The seventh month, October.

It’s the first time you’ve actually ordered him to do anything, so Horacio finds himself busy each weekend, decorating the house for Halloween. There’s ghosts strung in the trees in the front yard. Fake gravestones jut from the lawn like rotting teeth. Purple and orange lights are strung around the windows and banisters of the porch, and the two of you set to carving more pumpkins than Horacio thought possible.

But it’s worth it, because your town goes all out for the holiday. You bought him a costume weeks ago, and when he dresses after dinner, he’s surprised to find you openly checking him out. Your gaze sweeps from the hair on the top of his head—longer than Search Bloc reg, curling at the nape of his neck—to his shoes, and you take in his vampire costume.

“You look handsome,” you tell him, and he tries not to ogle you in turn and utterly fails, because you’re dressed up like a witch but the black dress hugs your curves, and the ridiculous hat, complete with a floppy brim, does nothing to detract from how sexy you look.

Horacio finds himself sitting on the front porch with you, handing out candy to the children that come by. And it charms him, how much you get into it, how you guess at what each child is supposed to be. You read the kids perfectly—you’re sweet with the scared little ones, but you play up the witchiness with the older ones, crooking your fingers and cacking at them.

When there’s a lull in the crowd at one point, he catches you as you shiver, so he pulls you close to him and wraps his cloak around your shoulder. He never touches you much, but this is blatant, and the moment feels heavy with intent.

You lean into him. A moment later, he feels your arm wend its way around his waist, under his cloak, so he holds you closer.

The evening continues like that. The two of you play it up more and more, comfortable with pretending. Not you and Horacio, and not Davide and Gwen, but a vampire and a witch, and the more you cackle and scare the children, the more Horacio flashes his fake teeth and hisses at them.

Who ever knew handing out candy in a cheap drugstore costume could be so fun?

When another lull happens, he pulls you back to him, and the motion takes you off balance a little. You hold him back but lean away from him, searching for your equilibrium, and it bares the smooth column of your neck to him.

Horacio forgets himself. Davide forgets himself. The vampire he’s pretending to be dips his head, and he presses the plastic points of his fake teeth into your pulse point, and you give a squeal of surprise, but when Horacio lifts his head to study you, he sees you staring back at him, your eyes wide and dark with obvious desire.

“That’s a good way to get a hex on you,” you warn, but there’s a smile on your red lips, and you don’t release your own hold on him. You don’t shove him away.

“I enjoy a good hex,” he replies.

The stream of children eventually dies off. The bowl of candy has been replenished multiple times, but you fill it one last time and set it on the porch for any stragglers.

Inside the house, you go from room to room and check the locks on the doors, turn off the lights. Horacio lingers near the hallway, and when you turn to make your way to your room, he stills you. He puts his hand on your waist, lightly, and he doesn’t say anything. The moment hangs suspended as you both stand there, silent.

What does it mean for Horacio Carrillo to take you to bed?

He has always tried to be a good Catholic (the killing of narcos aside). He’s never been with anyone other than Juliana, and he feels a tinge of doubt. Guilt, too. He’s always prided himself on his fidelity, and post-divorce, he took a perverse pride in the fact that he never took a lover. That he still honored his vows despite the legal fact that he was no longer married.

He doesn’t mourn Juliana anymore, and he knows that something is growing between the two of you now, but what does it mean? Would it be right to sleep with you, knowing that this is just circumstantial? That it may end at any moment? That if you both weren’t in WitSec, you’d have never met, and might have never liked each other if you had?

Is this thing growing between the two of you only the result of being flung together by circumstances out of your control?

All of those questions rapid-fire through his head, and you seem to see the doubt in his eyes because the moment deflates. The energy and anticipation sour, and he sees it on your face. Your soft smile falls, and then you nod to yourself, as if you knew it would happen like this.

Then you smile again, thank him softly for his help handing out candy. You stretch towards him and brush the lightest of kisses against his cheek, and you step around him to go to your room.

When Horacio goes to bed, it takes him a long time to fall asleep, and he swears you must be awake too, separated only by the wall between you.

-----

The eighth month, November.

Your department at the university puts on a wine and cheese social, and spouses are encouraged to attend.

“We never really practiced our cover story,” he says as he bends over to tie his dress shoes. “Do you remember all of it?”

“I have a eidetic memory.”

“Yeah?” He glances up at you. “You’re full of surprises.”

“Don’t sweat it. It’s a bunch of tenured professors. They love to talk about themselves and nothing else. They are all narcissists of the worse variety.”

But you aren’t entirely correct. The party is at the house of the department chair, and Horacio finds himself cornered by a pair of fellow lecturers. They are older women, charming and gregarious, and they sing your praises…and his own.

“I can see why she’s kept you hidden away,” says the taller of the two. “She said you were handsome but—”

“You make a gorgeous couple,” the shorter one cut in. “And she’s brilliant, you know, she planned out this—”

On and on they go, cutting each other off, redirecting each other, not letting Horacio get a word in edgewise. It’s not far off base from how you explained it would go, and when he catches your eye from across the room, you smile but mouth, “you okay?”

He nods, smiles back at you.

The evening is halfway over when he realizes with a start that he hasn’t cased the room once.

He hasn’t counted the exits and windows, hasn’t studied the egresses and any obstacles to them. He hasn’t scowled at each face to try and determine what dirty secret they held, if Escobar or one of his men had compromised them or their family. He hasn’t studied the lines of their clothing to see who might be hiding a piece.

What does it mean for Horacio Carrillo to lose his edge?

It’s another question he ponders at night, since the minor disaster of Halloween. He knows he hurt you by hesitating in that moment in the hallway, but it’s a subtle hurt. He can see it in your eyes each morning, the way they study his face as if you could perhaps read his thoughts if you watch him closely enough.

More and more, these questions plague him because there’s no easy answers. Horacio is used to solving problems, but he’d be the first to admit that many of his solutions were just brute force. Displays of power. The Search Bloc has a problem? Send in men, armed men, men with guns and night-sticks, men with flint in their souls, men with hearts cased in granite. Send in Colonel Carrillo himself to a clandestine meeting place where a suspect is strung up. What’s a little light torture and murder when the fate of a country hangs in the balance?

That man is dead now. Horacio Carrillo received a state funeral, and his empty coffin lies in the mausoleum. Davide, his replacement, spent the week wrapping tender saplings in burlap in anticipation for the coming snows—all the while considering his place in the greater world and what his legacy may be.

At the end of the evening, Horacio finds you, brings you your coat, holds it out while you shrug your way into it. When the two of you leave, you pass the pair of lecturers who had cornered him, and their exchange is like a Greek chorus that follows him home.

“He is handsome, isn’t he?” says one. “She’s a lucky woman.”

The other one scoffs lightly. “He’s the lucky one.”

You must not hear them because you don’t react. You only let him lead you to the car, and when he brushes away the light dusting of snow with the snow brush, his eyes find yours through the windshield—and you smile at him.

-----

The ninth month, December.

The university shuts down for most of the month, and Horacio is on an abbreviated schedule a the nursery.

The two of you have so much time together.

Horacio has seen snow before, but never like this. Vermont, so green when he arrived, is swaddled in thick layers of white like cotton batting. It absorbs and reflects sounds in weird ways, and a hush falls over your little home.

Being Colombian, he should hate it. He should curse the cold and the snow and the quiet, but it does something to his soul. It soothes him in a way he never would have guessed. True, the cold is difficult at first, but you take him to the mall one weekend and load him up with sweaters and thick woolen socks, and he’s better after that.

Everything is so calm. Peaceful. Horacio has never slept so well in his life, bundled under layers of blankets, even on the uncomfortable daybed. He sleeps, he doesn’t dream, and he wakes up naturally, in slow measure, to a soft light creeping across his bedroom floor.

Being on break, you still wake up early. Earlier than him, some days, and when Horacio wakes to the scent of brewing coffee and something delicious baking in the oven, he wishes sometimes that this was the afterlife. He wants to freeze the moment in time and never let it slip past him. He wants nothing more, in this moment.

He’s always half-asleep those mornings, but the smell of food draws him out. One morning, he pads out to the kitchen in his thick socks and startles you when he grumbles “good morning.” You shriek, then swear, then lightly try to swat him with the spatula in your hands, but he’s still half-asleep, still incredulous that this is his life at the moment, and he takes the spatula from you and pulls you into a big bear hug.

“What’s this for?” you ask. Your words are muffled against his chest, but after a beat, you wrap your arms around his midsection and hug him back.

“Just because,” he replies.

You spend your days doing puzzles, reading, listening to music. You watch “Days of Our Lives” with him and you both laugh at the bad cosmetics and even worse acting on the demonic possession storyline.

Your evenings are spent cooking dinner together. You make the trip into town every few days, and you rent movies and watch them too. You watch everything together—old Hollywood classics, campy horror, meandering romances. The two of you sit on the couch side by side, and it takes all of a day before you’re tucked in against his side, his arm firm around your shoulders.

Sometimes he glances down at you and sees your face in profile lit by the flickering light of the television. Sometimes he can make out the edge of your scar, but he doesn’t linger there. Instead he takes in the whole of your face—the curve of your cheek, the sweep of your lashes as you blink. When something funny happens on the screen, you smile, and it makes Horacio’s heart stutter in his chest to see it.

What does it mean for Horacio Carrillo to fall in love?

Another question to ponder. Another riddle to solve. He’s losing sight of the man he was. Maybe that man is completely lost already. The thought doesn’t unnerve him; he thinks he likes the man he is here. He likes the man he is with you, the job that coaxes life into being instead of snuffing it out. He likes wearing cable-knit sweaters and thick socks and eating the banana bread you bake on mornings you don’t have to work.

He likes sitting on the couch with you and watching a rental VHS of “Beetlejuice.” He likes the feel of your body pressed against his, and he likes looking down to see you smile.

That’s the night he dares ask for more.

After the movie, you do your usual pre-bedtime sweep of the house—locks, lights—then brush your teeth and go to your room. The usual quiet click of your door closing. Horacio, as usual, goes to his room, peels back the layers of blankets, prepares to tuck himself into the cramped bed….then doesn’t.

Instead, he returns to the hallway. He taps a finger on your door, a soft staccato, and he hears you call out, “Davide?”

“Yes.”

You tell him to come in, and you’re sitting up in bed. Your eyebrows are furrowed together.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He shakes his head. How can he begin to explain it? He’s fluent in English, Spanish, and Portuguese, and his Italian is passable, yet not a single language he knows can capture the maelstrom of emotions roiling through him. He loves you, he wants you. He’s afraid you don’t feel the same for him. He’s afraid you do feel the same for him. Is this just situational or are you truly the woman he was meant for all along? Has he gone mad? Is this some tame mental breakdown, the result of coming close to death and then finding himself, improbably, in Vermont with a woman who also was near death?

From your “one true thing” game, he knows you’re a polyglot too—English and Spanish and Russian—but that shake of his head to your question seems to transcend the need for language. You seem to read it exactly, the turmoil in him, and you climb out of bed slowly, make your way over to where he stands by the door.

You reach down and take his hands in yours, and the touch bolsters him. Reassures him. He’s Horacio and Davide both, and you’re both Gwen and yourself, and he doesn’t need to parse the two. He can be both with you. You’re both complicated people with complicated pasts, but none of it matters right now because the world is swathed in layers of snow, and the two of you are the only two who exist in it.

Neither of you say much else for the rest of the night. When you turn your head to peer up at him, Horacio tilts his head to kiss you, and it’s like a bolt of lightning when he does. Maybe he fell in love with you by small moments, but this is the moment that seals it forever: this first kiss, his mouth on yours, writes your name—your real name, even if he doesn’t know it—on his heart like a line of fire.

You each lead the other back to bed; you tug him, he pushes you, and you fall gracelessly back on the rumpled covers, but each kiss, each searching touch peels back another layer of reserve. Horacio slides his hand under your shirt and cups the softness of your breasts, pinches lightly at your hardened buds. You slip your hand under the waistband of his flannel pajamas and grasp his growing erection, stroke it into full hardness as he groans into your mouth.

There’s no art to it. No seduction. You’re both starving for each other, ravenous, and you both kiss the other as you each strip out of your layers. He kisses down your neck, nips at your pulse point like he did on Halloween. He licks against the hollow at the base of your throat, draws the sweetest goddamned moans out of you, then returns to kiss you, to lick against the inside of your mouth so he can feel the sounds you’re making too.

If he’d known how vocal you were in bed, he would have summoned his courage months ago.

Your mouth is on him too. It’s another line of fire, each press of your lips on his bare skin. He finds himself on his back and you astride him. He reaches up to touch your bared breasts, but you don’t even notice because you lean down, focused only on him. Your mouth on his neck, along his stubbled jaw. You kiss his collarbones, his chest. You bite lightly against his nipples, your teeth making him huff at the sensation, and then your warm tongue laving him. Further down, a trail of kisses across his belly, which is less firm than it was in his Search Bloc days but you make a pleased noise as your mouth places wet, lingering kisses there.

Then even lower, and this is uncharted territory. Love-making with Juliana was only ever for the purpose of making children, and while Horacio had convinced her a time or two to go down on her in the interest of foreplay, he never has received head in his life. Juliana had called it dirty, and he had left it at that.

He doesn’t even register it until he feels your hand grasp him at the root of his cock, then feels the smallest, most kittenish little lick of your tongue against his leaking tip.

“Dios,” he groans out, and then he feels the rest: your tongue tracing a pattern along the length of him, then a teasing rhythm where you work him into your mouth. First just the tip. You lavish him with attention there, suckling against the most sensitive part of him, lapping up the pre-cum that leaks from him. Then more and more and more; you work him into your warm, wet mouth, and he feels your breath tickling against his groin, feels you breathing carefully through your nose as you take him as far as you can, and then you swallow against him, you hum against him, and it’s nothing like he’s ever felt before. You press your tongue against the underside of him and you hollow your cheeks, and when your warm palm reaches up to lightly fondle his balls, Horacio’s orgasm breaks around him like a tidal wave. His hips judder once, twice, and he thinks he warns you, but you don’t move. You only hold yourself there, and when he comes, you swallow every drop of him, and he wishes he could explain this feeling to Juliana: that it doesn’t feel dirty at all. It feels like a sacrament. That it feels like love.

It's only fair that he shows you his love for you in turn.

Once he recovers, he flips you onto your back and repays you in kind. He kisses his way down your naked body, makes a note of all the spots that you moan at. Make a note too of all the scars that speak to a life a lot like his was in Colombia. He kisses your scars, presses his lips to each raised ridge as if he can take away any lingering pain.

Then he settles between your legs. There’s no shyness he can detect; you spread your thighs eagerly for him. You allow him to put a pillow under your hips to tilt your pelvis into a more agreeable angle.

He’s not especially skilled at this. The handful of times with Juliana had been a race against the clock—a sprint to coax her to orgasm before she gripped his hair and made him stop. There’s no clock now, so he takes his time. He settles your legs on his shoulders and he bends his head to your gorgeous pussy, and he takes his time.

He licks against your folds, then reaches down to part them with his fingers. Licks a slow, tortuous route from the firm bud of your clit to your entrance. Over and over and over until you squirm underneath him—then he slides a finger into your clenching heat, then another, then a third, and he feels how your pussy twitches against the intrusion, how you grab against his fingers like you’re trying to pull him deeper into you.

He fingers you in a lazy rhythm, and he circles his tongue against your clit. That does something for you; you whine out a curse, and a moment later your hand is on his head, your fingers tugging against his hair, so he purses his lips, suckles against your clit, and that turns your whine into a wail.

He wishes he could tell Juliana this too, that this isn’t dirty either. When you come, he feels a flush of pride at drawing pleasure from your body—your thighs tight against his head, your pussy clamped down on his fingers, and the slick cum that pulses from you, that coats his tongue and lips in the taste of you.

He’s hard again, but he wouldn’t press his luck. This is more than he ever dared hope for. He’d be happy to curl up with you now, to fall asleep beside you, but when he lifts his head from where he’s perched between your thighs, he sees you gazing back at him.

“Please,” is all you say, and he knows what you’re asking for because he wants it to.

If there’s an argument about this being two people pushed together because of circumstances beyond their control, there’s also an argument about the two of you fitting together so well. Because you do. Your body seems like it was made for his; you fit together like two jagged puzzles pieces. Horacio settles over you, lowers his body onto yours, and it’s like magic: his cock bumps against your inner thigh, but he moves half an inch and he finds your wet heat, and then he’s pushing into you, feeling your feverish flesh part and mold to the shape of him, and then your legs are around his waist, holding him to you as he bottoms out inside you.

He stills for a long moment. He’s unable to move. It’s not because he’s afraid he’ll come too soon but because he’s afraid he might cry. Horacio Carrillo is not a man who cries (maybe Davide is), but gazing down at your face, seeing the stunned love written in your expression, he nearly cries at how lucky he feels. How blessed. That shootout in the Medellín alley should have killed him, yet here he is.

Eventually, you give him the faintest of nods, and he starts to move. He’s gentle at first. He warms you up to the feel of him, and him to you. You lay one hand on the side of his face, cupping his cheek as he thrusts into you, but the other hand settles over his heart.

He could love you like this forever. He coaxes a second, then a third orgasm from you, and he watches your face during each one—the way your eyes go wide, then close tight, the way your mouth takes a hitching breath then goes slack as you breathe through it. The look on your face as it ebbs away, your eyes shiny with tears, and happy little smile curving your lips.

“I want you to come,” you whisper to him. You must feel the tension in him, and you bear down on his pistoning cock to urge him along.

“Where?” he pants out.

“Inside me. Please. Come inside me.”

He knows you’re safe. He’s lived with you for nine months now, and he’s run enough errands with you to know that you have that little plastic compact you pick up from the pharmacy once a month. He sees you swallow the same pill each morning with your vitamin. But still—he’s a man with his history, so he doesn’t register your contraceptive use in this moment. The thought comes to him that if he comes inside you, he may make you pregnant, and Horacio is surprised by how quickly the thought urges his orgasm forward.

“You sure?” At your words, he’s amped up his thrusting, driving forward in deep, strong strokes until he swears he can feel the crown of his cock nudging against the end of you, and the thought takes hold: you round with his child, the two of you in this bedroom with a child in the guest room converted into a nursery. At this moment, it’s the tamest of breeding kinks, but in the morning, he’ll realize it’s just more of this perfect life extrapolated. You not as his pretend-wife but as his real wife. A child as tangible proof that this isn’t just an incongruous moment in time.

“Yes. Please.” You lick your lips, blink up at him. “I-I want to feel you coming inside me.”

It’s only fair that he obliges you. You ask so nicely, so he does: he thrusts three, four times more, then feels his pleasure snap and spark up his spine as he fills you.

Then he collapses on top of you, and a moment later, he feels your fingers combing through his hair, lightly running over his back.

“You can sleep here, if you want.” You say it shyly, like you think this might just be a physical release for him, so he lifts his head to kiss you and reply that he wants that very much.

Horacio never sleeps in that cramped daybed again.

-----

The tenth month, January.

What does it mean to Horacio Carrillo for the lines between real and pretend to blur?

It means that through Christmas and into the new year, you live as husband and wife. You live as newlyweds. You make love in every room in the house, and you spent lazy days tangled up together. It means you draw straws to see who has to drive into town for provisions, and it’s all a joke anyway because you always go together. It means your world collapses down into the most basic of human needs: feeding and fucking.

It means that between love-making, the two of you share more about your real lives. Horacio learns about your family life. He learns that you’re CIA, and you’ve been stationed in Panama post-Noriega. He learns that it was an explosion, a car bomb outside of your headquarters, that left you with that scar on your head.

You learn about the Search Bloc and Escobar. You learn about his childhood as the son of a great military leader, and how that legacy shaped his own life and career.

But what does it mean when that line blurs?

It means that when Johnson returns to your lives, everything ends abruptly.

“Everything is all clear,” he tells you when he turns up one Saturday in the middle of January. He sips at the cup of coffee you made him, and if he notices the stunned silence of both of you, he doesn’t remark on it.

“Escobar was gunned down early today. It hasn’t hit the wire yet.” Johnson glances at you. “And the group that bombed your HQ has been cleared out too. You’ve been safe for a few months, but we didn’t want to upset the situation here.”

“So now what?” you ask, and Horacio feels sick to his stomach as Johnson explains that your old lives are waiting for you and that it’s time to go.

-----

The end comes that day, but not the way Horacio thought it would.

You gesture to Johnson after he gives the rundown on the logistics, and the two of you go outside. Horacio watches from the kitchen window as you cross your arms against the cold. You talk, Johnson listens. Then Johnson talks, you listen. Back and forth, and by the end Johnson shakes his head, shakes your hand, and returns inside.

“Okay, so change of plans,” he says, and he rubs his hands together briskly to bring the warmth back to them. “It’s just you and me now. Go pack and say your goodbyes, and I’ll be back in an hour.”

He leaves, and Horacio watches him pull out of the driveway, and when he turns back to the interior of the house, he sees you standing there. Crying openly, tears cutting tracks down your face.

“I can’t go back,” you explain, your voice thick with tears. “I won’t.”

Then you break down into sobs, and it’s second nature to stride over to you, to pull you into his arms. He tries to soothe you—rubs your back, holds you to him—as you choke out the words. That you have had a crisis of conscience. That you wonder if your work in the CIA did more harm than good. That you think it’s the former, and how you want to spend the balance of your life not doing more harm than good. That you want to live in a quiet town that is green in the summer and swaddled in white in the winter. You want to teach, you want to come home to a house with….and you catch yourself at the last minute. You don’t say it, but Horacio can guess it.

You want to come home to a house with him in it. You want to come home to him.

“I love my life here,” you amend hastily, but you push away from him, aware he’s leaving and that your life won’t be exactly the same either way. You mumble something about not wanting to say goodbye, about wishing him the best, and then you disappear down the hallway. He hears the click of the door and your crying, and it doesn’t abate while he packs.

When Johnson returns, Horacio taps on the bedroom door, but you don’t answer and he doesn’t push it. He’s sleepwalking through the moment, numb, so he leaves. He doesn’t say goodbye. He only climbs into Johnson’s rental car, and each mile that Johnson puts between you and Horacio only makes the numbness grow.

“Women, huh?” Johnson says as they near the airport. “That’s why I said they should never take field work. They don’t have the stomach for it, in the end.”

Horacio grunts a non-reply, but he thinks Johnson is off the mark. It’s not that you don’t have the stomach for it. It’s that you don’t have the heart.

-----

February.

He goes from Vermont to Miami, this time around.

Horacio is given a hotel room, and he’s given the orders to just chill for a bit. Johnson has extricated him from his fake life as Davide, but his old life as Colonel Horacio Carrillo isn’t quite ready for him yet.

There are mountains of paperwork to bring a man back from the dead. There’s talk of giving him a cushy role in Madrid. There’s talk of commendations, medals, a comfortable pension to retire on. He’s done a lot for his country of Colombia, and Colombia wants to reward him.

He sleepwalks through this liminal space. The not-Davide, not-Horacio time. He wanders the streets around the hotel and picks at the food he orders in restaurants, and each time he hears a woman speak, he looks up expecting to see you.

I don’t even know her real name, he thinks.

Gwen, his one-time pretend-wife. Gwen, who had a panic attack on her country’s birthday. Gwen, who questioned the harm she may have caused to another country, another people. Gwen, who only wants the chance to do a little good now, or at least to do no more bad. It wasn’t Gwen at all, but he has no other name to use, so he runs through all the lovely little moments he had with Gwen.

Watching for you to return from your daily jogs. Walking through the falling leaves of autumn with you. Making you coffee, pressing the steaming mug into your hands each morning. Handing out candy to the children at Halloween, tucking you under his cloak at the autumn chill. Watching movies with you as the snow fell outside, then curling up in bed with you, slotting his body against yours, giving you pleasure and taking pleasure from you in equal measure. Threading his fingers through yours as he arched over you, his eyes falling on the glinting light in the gold band in your ring finger, it’s twin on his own.

What does it mean for Horacio Carrillo to finally make a choice?

Of course he’s made choices before. Every day, he made a million choices, large and small. But the big stuff, the giant stuff, the life-shaping stuff—did he have much choice? His father’s military career pretty much guaranteed his own career in the Search Bloc. His family’s status pretty much guaranteed he’d marry a Catholic girl from a family of similar standing. And when Juliana chose to leave him, he really had no choice then, either.

Same with his pretend life of ten months. He had no choice in being paired with you, no choice in ending up in New England, little choice in working as a man who tended trees.

He imagines you in your shared home, alone. Johnson explained on the plane that you’d be able to buy the place, that WitSec only rents homes across the U.S. He explained that this has happened more than once, and that it’s actually not too difficult to let a witness slide into their pretend-life permanently.

The choice comes down to the most mundane thought. Horacio stands in his hotel room in Miami and wonders, who will make her coffee in the morning if I’m not there?

*****

Winter always loses its charm by the time February rolls around. The fleecy white snow turns into grey slush, and everything is cold and soggy and depressing.

Davide leaving doesn’t help at all.

You knew it would end eventually. You didn’t have much insight into his situation, but you knew that the cartel targeting you would be easy enough to neutralize. They were only there because of the power vacuum left behind by Noriega, and they were poorly organized.

You just thought when it ended, you’d have more time. Which is one of your fatal flaws, always thinking you’ll have more time. Your father died from a heart attack when you were in high school, and your mother died from a car crash when you were in college. You, more than anyone, should realize that time was never a guarantee, yet you always think you have a surfeit of it.

It's not your proudest moment, those final minutes with Davide. Not falling apart in a wash of tears, and not fleeing to your room. You should have committed to one extreme or the other. You should have either calmly explained your decision and bade him farewell…or you should have given in to the emotion of the moment and spilled everything.

Why do you never learn your lesson? You never had a chance to tell your parents that you loved them before they died. Why didn’t you tell Davide you loved him before he left to return to whoever he was before?

You know you could find him. You’d caught his lightly accented English and guessed at South America. Colombia, if he was hiding from Escobar. He told you about the Search Bloc. You knew some people in that theater. You could find him and tell him that you loved him, but would it do more harm than good? Doesn’t he have the right to return to his previous life without any baggage from this one?

February, then: grey, cold. You go to work. You teach your classes and hold office hours. Political science can create real monsters, so you gently try to steer your students towards the path of diplomacy and not war. Maybe this is how you make amends, if such a thing is even possible.

You go home each evening and pull together a sandwich for dinner. Sometimes you get take-out, and you eat over the sink. Sometimes you watch T.V. and sometimes you read, but you always sleep alone with Davide’s pillow clutched to your chest, the lingering scent of him fading away within days.

-----

Then March. The snow starts to melt a bit, and under some of the trees in your backyard you start to see the little purple and white jewels of budding crocuses.

You resume your runs in the mornings. The campus shakes off its doldrums too and the students seem livelier.

You made the right choice to stay. You go to the bank with your real name and get a mortgage. You buy the house under your real name, and you go to the university human resources and hand over the paperwork Johnston gave you, and it’s weird at first, explaining why you’re not really Gwen, but it shocks you how quickly people adapt to using your real name.

-----

March is still fresh when there’s a knock at your door one Saturday morning.

Your first guess is that it’s a delivery. Johnson promised to ship all of your stuff from your apartment in Panama City. Not that you have anything valuable, but it would be nice to have your record collection back. You don’t want to have to rebuild that from scratch.

You’re already out of practice from your prior life. You don’t bother to check who it is, don’t look out the window before you open the door, and so it’s a shock to see Davide standing there, his fist lifted like he’s about to knock again.

He drops his hand and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. You are speechless too, but you don’t need words to because as he drops and unfurls his hand by his side, you see the way the gold ring on his finger catches the morning light.

He’s still wearing his wedding ring, you think, and your body moves towards his, you leap into his arms and he’s there to catch you. You breathe out his name, but he chuckles, pushes you gently away from him.

“No, cariño,” he replies, shakes his head. “Not Davide.”

“Well, no. I mean—”

“I’m Horacio,” he interrupts. You reply with your own name, and he repeats it, almost to himself.

“Everything else was me,” he adds. “Everything but the name. What we had…” He trails off, fixes you with that dark-eyed stare of his.

“Everything else was me too.” All of the bare facts of your fake life as Gwen hold little weight to that nebulous everything else: every joke and shared laugh, your Fourth of July panic attack. The feel of his hand on your waist when you went apple picking. The way his hair curled after a shower, and how you loved to run your fingers through it when he fell asleep beside you. All of it. Every stupid little moment that most other people would have already forgotten.

Horacio holds up his hand to show you the ring you’ve already noticed. “I never took it off. It didn’t even occur to me to.”

You hold up your own hand. “Me neither.”

He looks away, squints his eyes as he looks off into the distance, but you swear you can see tears there. He clears his throat, but his voice comes out rougher than usual.

“I’d like to see if I’m as good a man as Davide was,” he says. “I’d like that chance, but only if you…” Another cough as he clears he throat, then continues. “Only if you’ll have me.”

You reach out and take his hand in yours. You touch the warm metal on his finger, then the thought comes to you. You slide the ring off, and you feel Horacio watching you. On the plane, you each put your rings on yourselves, but that wasn’t how it was supposed to go, was it?

Now, nearly a year later, you take his wedding ring off. For a long beat, you study it—it’s a simple thing, nothing elaborate. WitSec wasn’t going to waste money on an expensive ring for a fake marriage, and it already has a shallow scratch in it, likely from his job at the nursery.

Then you lift your head and gaze at him, and without breaking eye contact, you slide the ring back on his finger. The smile that spreads across his face when you do is enough of a promise as any vows recited in a church, and he repeats the motion with your own ring—takes it off, then slides it back on with intention.

And then, because there’s no priest there to give the order, Horacio bends down and kisses you for the first time as himself, and the first time as yourself, and perhaps you learn your lesson about time after all because the moment you part, you whisper, “I love you” to him.

And perhaps he needed to learn the same lesson because he sighs, pulls you closer to him, and whispers “I love you too.”

#colonel horacio carrillo x reader #colonel horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo imagine #horacio carrillo #colonel carrillo #colonel carrillo imagine #colonel carrillo x reader #narcos #tropes and tales

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pedroscurls · 1 year

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Hi there! I’m J. Below the “keep reading” line is my ultimate masterlist for the stories I’ve written for Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Pedro Pascal characters! Please note that all stories at 18+ and this list is very long, so if there are any issues with any of the below links, please let me know!

Happy reading!🫶

1️⃣ = One-shots || ✍ = Multi-chaptered stories / WIP (✍️✅ = complete)

FRANKIE “CATFISH” MORALES (triple frontier)

1️⃣ Always Here For You: Frankie comforts you as you cope with your grief. (Francisco “Catfish” Morales x fem!Reader || part of the pedrostores 1k celebration)

1️⃣ Hold My Hand: For years, you have been in love with Frankie. Everyone else saw it, except him, and you never had the courage to tell him how you truly felt. Instead, you stuck by his side even when it hurt. And after Colombia, he hadn’t been the same. You knew he had demons (being a veteran and all), but this… This was different. Would Frankie finally open his eyes and realize that the woman he was meant to be with had been right in front of him all along? (Francisco “Catfish” Morales x fem!Reader)

✍️✅ Third Time’s A Charm: There is history between you and Frankie. In fact, you have both broken up twice and yet, you still seem to find your way back to each other. Could this third chance be the last and final one? (Francisco “Catfish” Morales x fem!Reader)

JAVIER PEÑA (narcos)

1️⃣ All We Are: You and Javier have history and have been in this endless cycle for years, always trying to “one-up” each other, but what happens after a night of steamy, dirty sex that the truth finally comes out? (Javier Peña x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Innocent Eyes: Javier and his partner, Steve Murphy, finally have one night off. So, when they go to a local bar to unwind, Javier certainly wasn’t expecting you to walk through the doors. (Javier Peña x fem!Reader)

JOEL MILLER (the last of us)

✍️✅ Always Been You: You and Joel have become best friends, but as the years pass, you both realize that the love you have for each other goes beyond just “best friends”. Will either of you have the courage to express your true feelings or will you both just remain secretly in love with each other? (no-outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!Reader)

✍️ Broken Souls: What happens when you realize love isn’t enough? And when years later, you meet again that all the pain and heartbreak comes rushing back… Like it never left. (Joel Miller x fem!Reader)

✍️ Dirty Little Secret: When your best friend and his fiancée, Sarah, have their belated engagement party (kicking off their pre-wedding parties), you meet the father of the bride and realize that he’s completely off limits. But you always did like older men, and Joel? Well, maybe he could be your dirty little secret. (age-gap, no-outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Guys Night Out: Tommy takes Joel to a strip club. (Joel Miller pre-apocalypse x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ In Case You Didn’t Know: Joel steps out of his comfort zone and puts his feelings into words the best way he knows how. (Joel Miller x fem!Reader)

✍️✅ One Drunken Night: Reader’s date stands her up, so she decides to stay at the bar anyway. Then, she meets Negan who unravels her entire world. All the while, trying to navigate her relationship with Joel. (Negan x fem!Reader, Joel Miller x fem!Reader, TLOU x TWD crossover)

✍️ The Teacher: You have been on your own for over a year and after Maria saves you and brings you to Jackson, you try and settle in, doing your best to contribute to the community. Though, it doesn’t help that your neighbor, Joel Miller, reminds you of a special person from before Outbreak day. (Joel Miller x fem!Reader)

MARCUS PIKE (the mentalist)

✍️ Second Chances: After Marcus moves to DC - alone - he’s determined to just focus on work. After a failed marriage followed with his failed relationship with Lisbon, Marcus believes that love just isn’t in the cards for him anymore. Until you move in next door. (Marcus Pike x fem!Reader)

DENNY DUQUETTE (grey’s anatomy)

✍️✅ Dear Maisie: Maisie receives a letter. (Denny Duquette x fem!OC)

✍️✅ Love At First Sight?: Jess meets an unlikely stranger that changes her life forever. (Denny Duquette x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Our Confession: Denny has a confession to make. (Denny Duquette x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Our Happy Ending: Denny and Izzie finally have their happy ending. (Denny Duquette x Izzie Stevens)

1️⃣ Our Own ‘Getaway’: Denny notices the change in your demeanor and despite being stuck in a hospital, he decides to comfort you in a way he only knows how. (Denny Duquette x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Reassure Me: After being released from the hospital since his heart transplant, Denny feels a bit self-conscious with his new scar. (Denny Duquette x fem!Reader)

IKE EVANS (magic city)

✍️✅ Fatal Attraction: Diana is newly married to Ben Diamond, also known as The Butcher. However, after meeting Ike Evans, the charming older gentleman of the Miramar Playa, she can’t help but indulge in an intimate relationship with the man. Can she keep this a secret from her dangerous husband? (Ike Evans x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Fever: Ike’s entertainment manager hires a burlesque dancer that catches Ike’s attention. (Ike Evans x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Gender Reveal: Ike and Vera find out the gender of their baby. (Ike Evans x Vera Evans)

1️⃣ Playing with Fire: Your father stays in one of the suites at the Miramar Playa, and the hotel’s owner, caters to his every need. But, when you finally see what this man looks like, you cannot help but tease him every chance you could get. (Ike Evans x fem!Reader)

✍️✅ Sway With Me: Ike, a business professor and hotel owner of the Miramar Playa, meets an unexpected woman that catches his interest. (Ike Evans x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Your Secret’s Safe With Me: Ashton has a secret that only Ike knows. (Ike Evans x male!OC)

JASON CROUSE (the good wife)

1️⃣ I Won’t Give Up: Jason reminds his wife, Jen, just how important and loved she is. (Jason Crouse x OC)

1️⃣ Let Me Make it Up to You: Once at home, waiting for Jason, a burglar enters your home. (Jason Crouse x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Let’s Stargaze: After a long day at work, you decide to cook dinner for Jason and your son, Luke, while the two stargaze out in the backyard. (Jason Crouse x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Not What It Seems: Deciding to bring Jason lunch, you weren’t expecting to witness when showing up to his office. (Jason Crouse x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Old Friends: It’s been twenty years since Jason and [Y/N] have seen each other. (Jason Crouse x Reader)

✍️✅ Protect Me: Samantha, a freelance writer, moves to Chicago. She didn’t expect to be a victim of a stalker, but what happens when she seeks professional help from Alicia and Lucca? Then Jason Crouse, the private investigator, comes in and offers his help. (Jason Crouse x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Sunday Funday Surprise: Jason and his daughter, Susie, plan a surprise for Mother’s Day. (Jason Crouse x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Take A Bite: Jason introduces Alicia to something new. || part of jeffreydeanmorganrarechar/ladylorelitany‘s Red Velvet challenge. (Jason Crouse x Alicia Florrick)

1️⃣ Teasing is a Fun Game: After a few trysts with Jason, he shows up unexpectedly during your lecture and all you can think of are the intimate moments you two shared. (Jason Crouse x Reader)

1️⃣ The Newest Family Addition: Jason and Jen tell Susie the good news, but as the months progress and Jen’s baby bump begins to show, Susie becomes anxious that her parents will replace her. (Part 2 to Sunday Funday Surprise). (Jason Crouse x fem!OC)

1️⃣ The Other Sister: You accidentally walk in your older sister, Alicia’s, apartment to find her newest affair naked on her bed. (Jason Crouse x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ You Are Mine: Jason reveals his jealous side. (Jason Crouse x Reader)

MAX (the resident)

1️⃣ Coffee Date: Since Max wasn’t going to make the first move, you take him by surprise and ask him out for coffee. (Max x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Similar Personalities: Max needs some comforting and turns to you to make him feel better. What he didn’t expect was for you to find out his secret, and more than willing to partake in one of his fantasies. (Max x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ The Breakthrough: What if Juliet didn’t stop Max? Would that have changed everything? (Max x Juliet)

1️⃣ You’re Safe With Me: Max didn’t expect for you, the new tenant, to be newly divorced with two young children. However, the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that you had taken him out of the walls and shown him a world that he always knew he could live. (Max x fem!Reader)

NEGAN SMITH (the walking dead)

1️⃣ A Broken Facade: Negan gives Father Gabriel his confession. In doing so, a vivid memory enters his mind about the one person he failed to protect. || part of flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash writing challenge. (Negan x Lucille)

1️⃣ A Flood of Old Memories: While singing in the shower, Negan overhears the song that brings back old memories that he has tried to suppress for so long. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ A Hands-On Demonstration: Negan shows you just how it’s like to be pleasured by a real man. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ A Private Dance: As a new dancer, you try and familiarize yourself with the regulars, listening to the other women’s advice. However, your eye catches a man in a leather jacket sitting towards the back of the room. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ A Proper Thank You: An underestimated, young Savior saves Negan’s life and he repays her the only way he knows how. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ An Unwanted Flashback: After Negan makes Carl face down onto the pavement, flashbacks from the Claimers enter the young boy’s mind and goes into a mental breakdown. (Negan x Carl)

1️⃣ Baby, I’m Back!: After his month-long supply run, you and Negan show each other just how much you missed one another. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Coach Negan: Coach Negan takes a liking to you and after he witnesses the bullying that you endure, he shows you just exactly how special you are. (Negan x fem!Reader)

✍️✅ Coach Negan: You always loved sports. Most specifically, basketball. After deciding to join the new season after a very embarrassing last season, you believe that you could change the team’s bad luck and bring them to the championships, but you weren’t expecting the team’s coach to be as good looking as him. It was going to be tougher than you planned. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Control: You and Negan have the same temperament, and when you both get into an argument, it is always a battle of power and control that ultimately leads to angry, rough, dominant sex. In this instance, who wins the argument? (Negan x fem!Reader

1️⃣ Goodbye My Lover: Negan knows what’s to come, but he can’t seem to come to terms with it. Lucille was the woman he loved, despite everything he had done || Inspired by “Here’s Negan” (Negan x Lucille)

1️⃣ Hurt Me: You finally have enough of Negan’s behavior towards you. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ I Don’t Wanna Live Forever: Negan realizes the truth to the saying, “you never know what you have until you’ve lost it.” When you, one of his wives, decide to leave him, you wonder if you’ve made the right decision and Negan starts to question if he should have let you go in the first place. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ I Know Your Secret: After a year from being accepted into The Sanctuary, you had become one of Negan’s top Saviors. During a night of fun with the rest of your fellow Saviors, Negan drops in and decides to tease you for hiding such an “important” secret. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ I Truly Am Sorry: Witnessing your father’s death broke you and the one man that has been haunting your nightmares finally show up for the first pick-up. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ I Trust You: Negan asks Mary an important question that will change her entire life. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ It’s Over: Negan doesn’t understand that your affair with him is over. You, however, had enough and finally lose control || part of @embracetheapocalypsewithme‘s 400 Follower Negan Challenge. (Negan x fem!Reader)

✍️✅ Just the Three of Us: You meet Negan and Simon at a bachelor party and realize a hunger you never knew you had. What happens when you finally are able to have each of them and then suddenly, the world collapses? (Negan x fem!Reader x Simon)

1️⃣ Let Me Take Care of You: After sorting out the supplies from a successful run on a hot, summer’s day, you accidentally cut yourself after opening a box with your knife. Negan takes notice and decides to take care of it himself. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Let’s Make A Deal: After the deaths of Glenn and Abraham, Rick and the rest of the group have been on edge. Hannah didn’t know what she had gotten herself into when joining this group, but she was just about to find out what had everyone working their asses off. Negan shows up and offers her a deal that she cannot refuse. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ My Not-So Little Girl: Pre-apocalypse AU. Negan gives his daughter, Casey, advice on how to drive and it gets out of hand. || Part of flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash writing challenge. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Now, What Do We Have Here?: You have been living in the Sanctuary for two months now and neither men showed any interest towards you. Though, it is a good thing that you’ve got a vivid imagination and after a long day at work, you decide to let out some steam. (Negan x fem!Reader x Simon)

1️⃣ Our First Night: Lara has a big crush on the leader of the Sanctuary, Negan. Tonight, though, she finds out just exactly how mutual the feelings are. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Save Me: Rick and Shane receive a call about a domestic disturbance, but so did Negan and Simon. (Rick x Shane x fem!Reader x Negan x Simon)

1️⃣ Straight for the Castle: King Ezekiel’s daughter, “Princess” Ramona, has a plan to overthrow her father and take over the Kingdom. When her plan finally goes through, Negan shows up at the gates of the Kingdom while her father was on a supply run. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Talk Dirty to Me: You can’t help but be attracted your leader, to your Savior, Negan. What happens when he brings you back to his office? Will it finally happen? (Negan x fem!OC)

✍️✅ The Moon: Luna, a shy and timid woman, encounters Negan who is the complete opposite. Negan tries to break her out of her shell, but will it work? It was going to be tough, especially since he reminds Luna of her late husband… And not in a good way. (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ The Physical: Going to the doctor’s have always been a big fear of yours and now that you were waiting for your doctor to enter the room, he walks in with a large grin and deep dimples || part of noodlescupcakes 1st Writing Challenge. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ The Proposal: @a-girl-interupted requested: “I had an idea of a character with negan where she eventually becomes his/a wife and somehow he realizes how important it would be to her to have an actual proposal and wedding. We dont want to Negan too soft and the details are up to you but I would cry to see this” (Negan x fem!OC)

1️⃣ The Punishment: You hire a lawyer after being wrongfully accused of a crime. However, your lawyer, Negan, has a different way to punish you || pre-apocalypse AU. part of flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash‘s writing challenge. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Unknown Feelings: Negan takes notice of one of the new Saviors during their weekly game night with the rest of the guys. Though, what he doesn’t expect is the feelings that follow… (Negan x male!OC)

1️⃣ You Belong to Me: You didn’t realize what you were getting into after stealing the supplies. However, what you also didn’t expect was to be attracted by the man who ultimately had your fate in his hands. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ You, Doll, Are Special: You and Negan finally give in to one another. (Negan x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ You’ve Got A Friend in Me: Negan realizes that Fat Joey has a sister. Little does he know, she’s also got a voice of an angel. (Negan x fem!OC)

THE COMEDIAN (watchmen)

1️⃣ A Double Life: Eddie secretly leads a double life, but as his wife, you think it’s time that he hangs up his costume as “The Comedian.” (The Comedian x fem!Reader)

1️⃣ Opposites Attract: Can the God of War and the Goddess of Love and Beauty – both opposite sides of the spectrum – find a way to meet in the middle? || part of jeffreydeanneganstrash 1k writing challenge. (The Comedian x fem!OC)

1️⃣ Unsteady: Eddie turns to you for some stress relief. (The Comedian x fem!Reader)

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millerscoffee · 9 months

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my content is for people 18+; minors are not welcome. MDNI!

requests are currently closed

joel miller

dancing a dangerous game series (joel x f!reader)

this series is inspired by "cowboy like me" by taylor swift, and is set in post-outbreak au where joel is a survivalist (think bill, but a little less committed). the reader is a lone raider with a past, and chooses joel's home to stalk and steal from. though not the smartest decision, tenderness unfolds between the two of you, catching you both off guard.

⟡ part one (5.5k): when you stalk joel’s cabin for the third day, you get interrogated by none other than joel miller himself.

⟡ part two (5.6k): joel is a survivalist who (after putting you in your place™️) has invited you to stay at his homestead for one (1) month.

⟡ part three (6.8k): within your second week at joel’s, there are things you are forced to look within yourself. joel helps you through it.

one-shots

⟡ "the perfect storm" (1.4k ~ joel x f!reader): after a boring, rainy morning of joel working from home, you stay nestled in your shared bedroom to have some fun on your own. you’re pretty sure you’re quiet about it.

⟡ "the soft animal of your body" (812 ~ joel x reader): you were working on a hobby, but got distracted by joel’s cheeks.

⟡ "my special toy" (10.2k ~ joel x f!reader): after a rough couple of weeks, joel decides you need the day off.

requests

⟡ "only daddy that'll walk the line" (6.2k ~ joel x f!reader): based in jackson, you have the unfortunate predicament of being friends with tommy miller and hating his brother, joel – and you have no problem in letting either of them know that! until one night you are brought to joel’s doorstep.

⟡ "extra credit" (6.2k ~ professor!joel x afab!reader): professor miller invites you to his house to go over your failed paper.

⟡ "heat lightning" (6.5k ~ sub!joel x f!reader): you've told joel to wear his glasses or contacts repeatedly, still he doesn't listen. you're sick of it.

javier peña

soft spot for trouble series | (hbf!javi) - javi x f!reader

after a dinner party at your house, a simple game ignites a falling out between you and your husband. who happens to be javier peña's best friend. needless to say, things get messy.

⟡ part one (6.3k): tw: drunk sex. javier peña is back from colombia and decides to spend some time with you and your husband, his best friend since college. after telling a story you know nothing about, an argument ensues between you and your husband, and you get drunk… both on whiskey, and on javi.

⟡ part two (6.8k): after waking up in javi– peña's house, guilt rushes you. after discovering another truth about your husband, you wonder if your marriage is salvageable.

frankie morales/santiago garcia

all i wanted was you series (frankie morales x santiago garcia x f!reader)

a queer friendly series

this is a series of different moments in the life of the reader's relationship with frankie morales and santiago garcia.

⟡ at my fingertips (2.3k): you, frankie, and santi are celebrating your one year anniversary in costa rica after everyone ignoring their feelings for each other for three years – though frankie and santi for way longer.

misc. requests

✧ 500 followers prompt

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rhoorl · 8 months

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Delta Landscaping |

Chapter 4: The Pool Party

Series Summary: In this AU, the boys of Delta Force start a new business post-Colombia.

Series Masterlist

Rating: Explicit (18+) - This is here as a blanket rating

Word Count: 8.8k

Chapter Summary: It’s pool party time. Once we get to the party we are going to be bouncing around to a lot of little scenes amongst various characters. Some stuff from the party hit the cutting room floor.

Chapter Warning: Allusions to cheating, co-dependent relationship. Some military/veteran talk. If something else should be added here please let me know! Also, I don’t have a beta for this, so any mistakes are all me.

A/N: At the beginning of this chapter, I provide some background on another one of the neighbors – the most in-depth I think I've gone since Lucille. I’m not trying to pass a moral judgment on this character one way or another, but I think it’s important to lay out some of her past.

Also, shoutout to @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain whose comment from Chapter 3 about Benny’s choice in swim trunks took me down a rabbit hole. Another shoutout to @trulybetty for bouncing ideas about one of the storylines with me!

“So…that Santiago sure was giving you the fuck me eyes wasn’t he?” David chuckled as he, Ty, and Melissa made their way back to their respective houses after the watch party at Lucille’s.

“Yeah, Mel, the guy couldn’t take his eyes off you."

“Oh it's fine, just some harmless flirting,” she waved them off. “Doesn’t hurt that he’s also gorgeous and probably a really good kis-” she cut herself off as they side-eyed her.

“Ten cuidado con eso,” Ty cautioned her. “It's harmless flirting to you, but he may not see it that way…"

"Yea, girl…don't write checks your ass can't cash."

Melissa rolled her eyes as the trio stopped in front of David and Ty's house.

"Anyway," Ty cleared his throat. "With the party tomorrow, I guess we have to cancel our appointment with the event planner at the golf course. That's the third venue in a row we've canceled. You getting cold feet or somethin?”

“No, of course not,” she shook her head, nervously laughing. "We can always reschedule, right? Everyone seemed so excited to do it tomorrow so why wait…sorry for the short notice, I didn't leave you with enough time to come up with a theme.” She wanted to change the subject and change it fast.

_______________

Melissa was no stranger to turning heads. She was one of the younger women who lived in Torrey Hills. She was fit, attractive, and had an infectious laugh and quickly bonded with David and Ty over RuPaul's Drag Race after they saw Melissa wearing an Alyssa Edwards shirt one day. The three alternated locations for their weekly watch parties, even going back and watching old seasons in between the new ones.

They also bonded over wedding planning. David and Ty were some of the most sought-after wedding planners in the greater Tampa Bay area. And when Danny confided in them that he thought Melissa was overwhelmed with wedding planning, trying to do it all herself, they knew they had to step in and help…free of charge.

The idea of a wedding and impending marriage loomed over Melissa like a dark cloud. She loved Danny, they were high school sweethearts, but more and more she felt like her life was planned for her and not by her. For the last 12 years, all they knew was each other. They were each other's firsts and last in so many respects. First relationship. Last kiss. And when it came to sex, they had been each other's first and last in almost every respect.

In high school, Danny was the star quarterback and Melissa was the head cheerleader, so of course they were bound to get together. When Danny suffered a torn ACL in the last game of his senior season, all hopes of a college scholarship were dashed. Devastated, he had to rethink his plans since the hopes of a prospective NFL career were no more. He reluctantly decided to follow in his father's footsteps and attend Embry-Riddle and start on the path toward being a commercial airline pilot.

Melissa was a fantastic athlete in her own right and received a cheerleading scholarship to attend the University of Florida. Despite the distance, she and Danny wanted to make it work; everyone told them since they were high school sweethearts, and clearly soulmates, this was just the next logical step for their relationship.

They alternated making the two-hour drive on weekends to see each other. Although it was tough for Danny to attend the football games, wishing it was him on the field, he absolutely beamed seeing Melissa on the sidelines getting tossed in the air and leading the crowd in cheers.

When it came to her college experience, Melissa had a much different one than her sorority sisters. She didn't go out with the girls as much because she was either visiting Danny or he was there seeing her. It was hard for her to turn down social events. One of the reasons she decided to go to a big school like UF was to live the ultimate college experience. But, she loved Danny and the distance was hard, so she relished any opportunity to see him even if it meant they wouldn’t leave their rooms the whole time.

Fast forward a few years, and a couple of changes in majors, and Melissa graduated with a degree in health education with a minor in Spanish. After he graduated, Danny benefitted from the pilot shortage and quickly made the jump from a regional to a major airline. Moving in together after college was the next milestone on their trajectory – their families assumed marriage and babies wouldn’t be too far behind.

The next few years they moved wherever Danny's job took them, before ultimately landing in the Tampa Bay area. Danny knew he wanted to marry Melissa from the moment she agreed to go on a date with him. She was it for him. He proposed during a romantic beachside dinner in Clearwater Beach 10 years to the day he asked her out for the first time. He even organized it so their families were there as a surprise. Everyone was absolutely over the moon as the next milestone got checked off the list.

Danny was all in on wedding planning, suggesting they attend a local wedding expo so they could start to meet with vendors. Melissa, on the other hand, was not as gung ho to get started. Most of her sorority sisters either were married already or in the midst of wedding planning, so she was no stranger to the machine that was the wedding industry.

Everyone had questions. Were they having an engagement party? Where were the bachelorette and bachelor parties going to be? Did they want a local wedding or a destination wedding? Were kids going to be invited? What colors for the bridesmaids' dresses?

Melissa's head was spinning with all of these decisions she needed to make. Everyone meant well, encouraging her to do whatever she wanted because it was her day, yet she came to the realization that this - a wedding, marriage, kids - wasn’t what she wanted.

This epiphany tore her up inside and she hated herself for it. Danny was a good man and deserved to be with someone who worshiped him the way he worshiped her. But, at the same time, she didn’t know how to navigate life without him. He was her best friend and had been by her side through her highest highs and lowest lows.

She couldn't bring herself to call things off, she couldn’t bear to break Danny's heart. She rationalized her hesitation saying it was a phase or something she needed to work through. So, she tried to find some distraction to help put off wedding planning just a bit longer – and buying a house seemed like the perfect distraction. Their focus would be on stalking Zillow, going to open houses, and driving around looking at neighborhoods.

When they drove through Torrey Hills with their realtor, Melissa immediately fell in love with 305 Mulefall Court, a house newly on the market. She was awed by its spacious, inviting interiors and massive backyard. She could envision a life with Danny here. Things moved quickly from that point on from making an offer to closing, and before they knew it, the two of them were homeowners.

Once they moved in, her focus immediately went to making her home perfect. She had a list of projects, which included lots of additions, including a pool, and Danny was receptive to it all. He hadn't seen her this focused and excited in a long time.

"Whatever makes you happy babe," he'd say whenever she came to him with an idea.

Every so often Danny would broach the subject of wedding planning and Melissa would find some convenient excuse as to why she couldn't focus on it. She was changing jobs, she didn't want to compete with another friend's wedding, or her sister-in-law was pregnant. She latched onto anything that could delay wedding planning more.

When construction started on their pool, the last of the big home improvement projects, Danny upped the pressure for a date. Melissa, David, and Ty went to see nearly every possible wedding venue in Tampa Bay, St. Petersburg, and Clearwater and even drove to Orlando to check out what a Disney wedding would entail. Making matters worse, their respective parents were also starting to run out of patience, blaming it on their desires to spoil their future grandchildren.

Melissa knew she was destined for a crossroads and she felt the walls closing in on her. She was turning 30 in a few months and had lost track of who she was. Danny was the only boyfriend she had ever had. He was the only sexual partner she'd ever had. And for the past 12 years, they navigated life together, their whole adulthood wrapped up in each other.

_______________

"Hey…Fish and I are at the store, what do you need us to pick up again?" Santiago stared at the wall of beers as Frankie checked out the whiskey selection.

"You know the beers we all like, but maybe add in some…uh…I don't know…hard seltzers or something." Will tried to be sly with that inclusion. The other day coming home from his run he noticed Katie had an Instacart delivery which included hard seltzers.

"Hard seltzers? The fuck? You watching your figure?"

"Shut up. I’m just thinking we should bring…a variety. We don't know what everyone likes to drink."

"A variety…ok man. Lemme add some Sunny D and juice boxes while I'm at it." Santiago countered sarcastically.

"Fuck off, we'll see you and what I imagine is your obnoxious as-hell swimsuit soon."

Will hung up the phone as he walked into the kitchen, shaking his head. Benny was at the kitchen table doodling in his notebook.

"Are they on their way?" He asked without looking up, concentrating on his drawing.

"Yeah, they’re wrapping up at the store. What are you working on?"

"Oh, nothing…just had an idea I couldn't get out of my head," Benny looked up and gave a half smile. He heard his phone ding and saw it was Connor.

Connor: Guess what I did?

Benny: ?

Connor: I asked Aria if she and her parents were coming to the party.

Connor: I had Mom ask Ms. Melissa if that was cool, but turns out they were invited already lol

Benny: FUCK YEA

Benny: I mean hell yeah!

Benny: You excited?

Connor: Haha. Yea. And nervous.

Benny: I get it. I'll give ya a pep talk when you get there 😉

"What are you smiling at?"

"Oh, it's Connor," Benny waved his phone. "That girl he likes is coming to the party."

"He's a good kid. You're not trying to replace me are ya?"

Benny rolled his eyes and laughed. "Nah, man. Wherever you go, I go, you know that."

___________________

"Wait, I thought we were supposed to go look at a venue today. I leave tomorrow for a couple of weeks, Lis, what're we doing hosting a party?"

Danny was the planner. Meticulous and always wanting to have things in order. And, for the most part, Melissa was the same way. Except in recent months, he noticed she was getting more spontaneous, erratic even, randomly deciding to go off and do things with a moment's notice…including hosting the entire neighborhood at their house for a pool party.

"I know, but I was talking with D and we just don't think that place is our vibe, so like why waste everyone's time."

"Well, what is our vibe? Jesus Lis, you've seen like, what 20 places…you don't like any of them? Budget isn’t a hurdle, you know. I want you to have your dream wedding."

"I know, baby,” she walked to him, putting her arms around his waist. “I want it to be someplace special. I'll know it when I see it. I just haven't had that..feeling yet when I've gone places. But we're close, I know we are." She kissed Danny, trying to reassure him although she could practically see his patience wearing thin.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. "At this point, why don't we just go to the courthouse?"

"The what?" She pulled back to look up at him.

"Yea. It's just a piece of paper anyway. Then we can go on a trip or something…whatever you want - Lord knows I have miles for it. Take the pressure off of planning a big party," he rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

"You know both of our moms would not go for that. Heck, I'm my dad's only daughter so he will be heartbroken if he can't walk me down the aisle," she chuckled. "We'll figure it out, baby. Now, can you help and put the tables out back?"

___________

"Lulu, need help?" Megan opened the door to Lucille’s. She had Connor bring their wagon, knowing that Lucille was going to have several different platters to haul down the street.

"Sí, por favor!" She called from the kitchen. It was no surprise that she had made a ton of food, including a flan, another one of Connor’s favorites.

The three of them got everything loaded up and started walking toward Melissa and Danny’s house, stopping abruptly when they heard a loud whistle from behind them. Turning, they saw Benny giving them a big wave with his free hand as he hauled a case of beer on his other shoulder.

He was decked out in what, on a normal person, would look like the most obnoxious pair of swim trunks, but somehow he made look cool. They hung low on his hips and were all black, with a retro flame design in various shades of orange, red, and yellow extending up from his knees towards his crotch. His shirt choice was much more understated, a red cut-off shirt paired with a white Houston Astros baseball cap which he wore backward, of course.

Will followed, donning a pair of mostly red swim trunks with alternating stripes of white and navy blue near the waistband, and a plain gray T-shirt. Behind him was Frankie who had on solid black swim shorts with a light gray, button-down short-sleeve shirt with what looked like a crane pattern on it. He left the top several buttons of his shirt unbuttoned exposing his tanned chest. His signature baseball cap was affixed to his head and his aviators were tucked into the pocket of his shirt.

Santiago trailed behind with the shortest trunks of the bunch, showing off several inches of thigh. They were navy blue with white and baby blue tie-dyed roosters scattered across them. He paired the shorts with a baby blue tank top. Not wanting to mess up his hair, he went sans hat but did have on his Oakley sunglasses.

All the men carried various cases of alcoholic beverages. Frankie knew they should have just driven it all over, but the other three insisted on walking.

"Wait up!" Benny called after Megan, Connor, and Lucille.

"Hey, where's the party?" David shouted from his porch across the street as Ty wheeled their wagon full of goodies down the driveway. "You boys actually planning on going into the water?"

"Well…yea…I mean, it's a pool party right?" Benny was confused at the lack of swim attire and towels from David and Ty.

"David never goes into the water, he prefers to sit on a lounger and get the chisme from Lucille. Those two know everything," Ty laughed.

David and Ty bickered about their pool party behavior as they all made the relatively short trek to Melissa and Danny's.

"So, Megan…is uh…Melissa's fiancé cool?" Santiago asked as they reached the driveway.

"Oh, Danny? Yeah, he's a sweetheart, really nice guy."

"Awesome…great," Santiago said flatly, trying to avoid the confused look he could feel Frankie giving him.

"Party's here!!" David announced as the crew made their way into the backyard.

The backyard was almost as big as Will and Benny’s. It was a little sparse, with just a few palm trees, but it had lush green grass and a large sparkling pool. The lanai was expansive with a full outdoor kitchen and a table that could easily seat eight comfortably. Loungers and chairs were scattered throughout for seating.

Danny was just finishing setting up the last of the foldout tables as Melissa walked outside with a plastic tablecloth to cover it.

"Oh hey! Welcome!" She gave a dazzling smile to everyone, pleased that the four new additions to the neighborhood all came with their swim trunks on.

She had a black, sheer cover-up on over her blue and white tie-dyed bikini, a more revealing swimsuit than her usual pool party attire.

“Ok hot momma, I see you!” David whistled as he saw her, bringing her in for a big bear hug.

When David finally put her down, her eyes immediately connected with Santiago, who tilted his head down to peer from over his sunglasses. He didn’t hide the up and down he gave Melissa, leaving her a bit flustered at the attention. She walked over to Lucille who was helping Connor and Frankie unload the contents of her wagon onto one of the tables.

"Lulu, esto es demasiado…you didn't have to make all of this!"

"¡Ay, basta! You know I can't help myself when there’s a party," she winked.

"Oh babe, here meet the guys," Melissa called Danny over. "This is Will and Benny, they moved into 319. And these are their friends Frankie and Santiago."

"Hey guys, nice to meet you," he shook all of their hands. "You guys are fixing that house up really nicely, it looks awesome."

"Well, it couldn't look any worse," Will joked.

Once they started talking, Danny and Frankie immediately hit it off once they realized their aviation connection.

"Do…do you need help with anything?" Santiago asked Melissa as Frankie and Danny started to nerd out about engines on their walk over to the grill.

"Uh…yeah. Actually, I have a cooler I need to bring around from the garage."

"Lead the way," he opened his arms for her to pass, trying to discreetly check her out as she walked by him.

Frankie quickly side-eyed where his best friend was going, trying to not make it too apparent as Danny continued on his rant about the impending pilot strike.

Melissa could practically feel Santiago’s eyes on her as she walked toward the front of her house. She put a little extra sway in her hips, not hating the attention but knowing she was playing with fire.

Danny loved Melissa and tried to show her as often as he could, but his work schedule had definitely put a damper on their sex life. Gone were the days of ripping each other's clothes off at a moment's notice and having passionate sex everywhere and anywhere they could. With Danny away for work as often as he was, they'd had more phone sex than actual sex over the last couple of months and she was going a little stir-crazy. A handsome stranger certainly didn't help things either.

"Here it is, think you can handle it?" She turned to face Santiago. She resolved that she wouldn’t do anything other than flirt with him.

"Oh, I think I'd be able to manage just fine." He winked.

For his part, Santiago was conflicted too. He was never one to shy away from a beautiful woman flirting with him, but he drew the line if they were taken. He had been there, done that, and didn’t want to go down that painful road again. But he also couldn’t deny that there was something there when he looked at Melissa.

He didn’t want to say anything to the guys, especially Frankie, because he knew what their reactions would be. They’d tell him that he was just attracted to her because she was the young, hot thing on the block and remind him that she was very much unavailable.

"That's uh…a nice suit you have there," he nodded towards her. "Looks like we both like tie-dye," he chuckled.

The two stayed with their eyes locked on each other, trying to read the other’s face for what felt like minutes before they heard someone clear their throat.

"Oh hey, sorry we're late!"

They turned to see Olivia, with Diana on one hip and a baby bag slung on the other shoulder. Her husband, Chris, and their sons CJ and Max were right behind followed by Katie who was helping the family with their bags.

"It feels like we have to pack the whole house even when we just come down the street," Olivia laughed, oblivious to the awkward tension between Santiago and Melissa.

"Aw don't even worry, everyone just got here! Come, they're out back!" Melissa waved toward the backyard.

Santiago introduced himself to Chris, who helped him bring the cooler along with a couple more fold-out chairs to the back.

Frankie spotted Santiago as he came back with a man carrying a cooler and some more chairs. Seeing Olivia and her kids, he figured it was her husband. He also clocked how Santiago's eyes lingered on Melissa, who was walking in front of him.

"Hey babe, where are the burgers?" Danny yelled out to Melissa.

"They're inside, here I'll help you."

"I'll be right back," he told Frankie.

As Danny and Melissa headed inside, Santiago stopped to get a beer before walking over towards Frankie. He could feel the side eye Frankie was giving him.

"Don't."

Frankie lifted his hands up in protest. "I haven't even said anything."

"Yeah, but you're giving me that look."

"She's engaged, hermano. Besides, isn't she a little young, even for you? Ow-"

Santiago slapped Frankie in his chest. "I'm not that much older. And besides, I'm just…flirting with her. Nothing else."

"Ha, yea ok, Pope," Frankie took a swig of his beer, shaking his head.

Frankie knew his friend had a knack for fixating on the most unavailable women. He never understood why Santiago did this, he was arguably the biggest flirt of the bunch and a good-looking guy, so he could, and did, get any woman he wanted. But yet, it was as if he thrived on the drama, on the secrecy of it all.

“Don’t act all high and mighty, you were right there with me too.” Santiago snapped back.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t the one who caught feelings…that was you, remember?”

Santiago rolled his eyes and walked over to Lucille, who was arranging a plate of food for herself.

____________

After more neighbors trickled in, the party really started getting going. David and Ty were in charge of the playlist, rolling their eyes whenever Olivia glared at them for playing a song that wasn't child-appropriate.

"There's literally a summer barbecue playlist on Spotify, just pick that one!" She went over to them in a huff.

"Ok, momma bear. No more Cardi B noted!" David teased.

"Boys no running!" Olivia called after her sons as she dipped a carrot in some ranch.

"Are they twins?"

She heard a low voice, turning to see it was Frankie next to her.

"Yes, unfortunately," she sighed and then smiled. "They're great, just a lot of fucking energy."

"Ha, I can see that. And how old are you?" He bent down smiling at Diana, who was still attached to her mom's hip.

"Oh, this is Diana, she's nine months, 10 months in two weeks!"

"Well, she's beautiful," he rubbed the little girl's cheek with his thumb, which elicited a small smile, barely visible from behind her pacifier. Her eyes were fixated on Frankie.

"Ooo she likes you, she doesn't smile for just anyone."

Frankie smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Do you have any kids?"

"Ah, n-no. My sister has two, so uncle mode is where I'm at these days," he chuckled.

“Ah, well maybe someday…”

“Maybe…I’m getting a little old…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “But, I like kids, so I dunno, we’ll see.”

“I mean, I can give you one of mine if you want,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood after she unintentionally struck a nerve.

_________________________

"Havin' fun?" Benny walked up to Megan, as she loitered around the coolers, observing her son who was pacing near the back of the yard by some bushes.

"Huh, oh yeah," she looked over at Benny, giving him a smile. "Hey, do you know what's bothering him? He's seemed on edge since we got here."

"Uh…yea…at least I think so. I think he's waiting for a girl to show up."

"Aw, is it Aria?" She looked over to Benny who nodded. "Ah, I knew it! I swear that boy has had a crush on her since middle school…has he…told you anything? Does he like her?"

"Yeah he likes her, he's just too scared to ask her out."

"My sweet baby, of course, he is…did he…talk to you about it? I've tried but I'm mom you know…"

"He mentioned it, I just listened. Tried to give some advice. I was a teenage boy at one point, ya know," he chuckled.

"Well, you have one on me there. I can't believe I'm at this stage now, where he likes girls," she shook her head.

"Want me to go talk with him? I told him I'd give him a pep talk if he wanted."

Megan's heart was about to burst at how sweet Benny was being toward her son. She felt a pang in her chest that Jacob wasn't here to see how much their son had grown up.

"I'd like that," she smiled.

Benny squeezed her shoulder, before bending down to the cooler to grab a soda and a beer and head toward Connor.

"Where's your girl?" He asked as he offered the boy the can and cracked open his beer.

"She's not my girl…and I don't know…" He tried but couldn't cover his disappointment, wondering why she hadn't shown up yet.

Benny put his arm around his shoulder, "She'll show up, the party just started man. Maybe she wants to make an entrance,” he winked. “ C'mon, let’s go kick Will’s ass in cornhole," he smirked.

Megan wiped away a tear as she observed her son and Benny, thankful for the little family she had created and fostered in this neighborhood.

______________

"Ooo hard seltzers, yes!" Katie pumped her fist as she opened the cooler to see her drink of choice nestled right on top.

"Which flavor’s your favorite?" Will appeared behind her with a smirk, pleased with himself that his plan to surprise Katie with her favorite beverage worked.

"Oh, hey…um, black cherry," she held the can up to show him. "Ty hates that flavor so we usually end up doing a swap whenever one of us buys a case since I'm not a huge fan of the grapefruit one. It works out for both of us," she chuckled. "You, ah, gonna go swim?" She motioned over to the pool, whose only inhabitants so far were Olivia’s twins and her husband. As Will turned to look, Katie gave him a quick up and down, trying not to salivate at the thought of him shirtless.

“Yeah, it’s so hot out, I’ll probably go in. How about you? Did you bring your suit?” He was thankful his sunglasses were able to hide his eyes as he checked her out.

“Sure did!” She lifted up her tank top just enough to show off her one-piece, which had cutouts along her hips.

The glimpse of her suit, and bare skin, caused Will to choke a bit on his beer. “N-nice, well, we’ll have to get in soon.” He smiled, annoyed at himself for being so awkward.

Katie was amused that a guy who looked like a male model would be nervous talking to a woman, and with her no less. It definitely was a bit of an ego boost and gave her the courage to continue the conversation to try and learn a little bit about Will. After all, the only thing she really knew was that he was a hot, seemingly nice guy with equally attractive friends.

"So, tell me about yourself, Will."

"Well, what d'you wanna know?" He asked as he leaned onto a table, getting a little bit closer.

“So, you casually build fences with your friends and know how to do a bunch of other house stuff. You work in construction or something?"

“Ha, well, when it comes to the house stuff, Benny and I would be kicked out of the family if we weren't handy," he laughed. "Our grandfather was a contractor…had his own business. When he passed, our uncle took over since he and his family already lived in Austin. When I was in high school, I spent my summers there working for him, with my cousins. When Benny was old enough he came too."

"Ooo a family business, then?"

"Yeah, my cousin actually took it over a couple of years ago. He's been helping me with questions I've had for the house, so I can't claim to have done it all myself," he smirked.

"Well, you're still the one who did the work. It looks great…so, what do you do? When you're not calling your cousin for construction advice?"

"Ha. Well, I used to be in the military. Actually me and the guys. It was like…damn, almost 20 years…felt like a lifetime,” a quick wave of sadness flashed across his face. His mind was flooded with memories of all of the horrific things he had seen and done over the years, the most recent memory being the death of their leader Tom. “But…we all got out and retired. We…uh…saved well and have taken some time to just live as civilians,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, were you guys some like badass G.I. Joe’s?”

“Ha, something like that,” he tried to play it off. “We were part of a special unit called Delta Force.”

“What kind of stuff do you do as part of this special unit…if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s not that I don’t mind, it’s just I can’t really tell you a lot … it’s … uh …classified,” he scratched his head, bringing one arm to rest on the back of his neck. “We traveled all over, did a bunch of different things...”

Will and the boys had long since agreed that they would never talk about any of the details around their missions to anyone…especially Colombia. Tom’s wife and daughters didn’t even know the true reason why he was in South America. He knew Katie meant well and was just trying to make conversation, but this was a prime example of why he didn’t like talking about himself.

Katie sensed his unease, chastising herself that she made him uncomfortable. She should have known better than to start asking a bunch of questions without knowing him. Her own brothers never really wanted to talk about their time in the service. She hoped she didn't just trigger some bad memories for him.

“So uh, what do you do now then?”

“I try to do stuff for veterans. There's some speaking engagements I do from time to time, but I mostly volunteer at the VA. We have this uh…service, where we basically are like their Uber to doctor’s appointments. But I don’t just do that, I’ll drive them wherever they need to go, even if it's to the CVS to get some M&Ms,” he chuckled.

“That’s nice, I bet you meet some interesting people,” she gave an encouraging smile.

“Yea. I mean, some of them don’t really like to talk much, which is fine. But for those who do, I’m there to listen. A lot of times they don’t have anyone who can relate to them as veterans or gives a shit or wants to hear what they have to say, especially the older ones. So I am just an unbiased ear for them…I’ve met some cool people. Some of the old timers have some crazy stories.”

Katie was a bit thrown off by this thoughtful and considerate side to Will, it was so unexpected. He seemed like this quiet, hard ass, but there was a depth to him that piqued her curiosity.

“So, you’re patient and a good listener, quite the winning combo,” she teased, moving to sit against the edge of the table inches from Will.

“I’ve been told I listen and follow directions quite well,” his eyebrow twitched as he looked her up and down, now a bit more obviously, before clearing his throat. “So, now it’s my turn to uh…listen. Tell me about you.”

“Me? Oh, it’s not a very interesting story.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” He moved even closer as both of them sat perched at the edge of the table, their arms slightly touching.

“Well, let's see…I'm originally from Chicago. I moved here a few months ago. I work from home which has been pretty sweet. I get to rock sweatpants most days,” she laughed.

“What made you move to Florida?”

Katie hesitated but ultimately gave her rote answer whenever anyone asked what brought her down to Florida from the Midwest. “Well…I…I moved down here for the weather, couldn’t take another blizzard, ya know” She kept her gaze forward as she took another swig from her drink.

"You move down here alone?"

"Uh, yeah."

"For the weather?" He furrowed his brows, knowing there was more to the story.

Katie turned her face slightly to face Will, trying to put on a poker face.

"The weather was a reason."

"But not the only one?"

"Were you an interrogator in this military unit?" She countered.

"Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to pry…" He shook his head, annoyed at himself for pushing.

"It's ok. I don't like to just dump my whole life story on someone. The weather thing’s usually enough…most people who ask that question don't really care, it's just for conversation."

"Well, I'm not most people."

Katie gulped down another sip of her drink, the can almost empty.

"I'm divorced." She blurted out.

Will continued looking at her, waiting for her to elaborate, but it seemed she was waiting to gauge his reaction.

"Oh okay."

"That's it?" She furrowed her brows.

"Whaddya mean?"

"You don't want the sad backstory with all the gory details?"

"Not if you don't feel comfortable sharing it."

They sat in silence for a little bit. Will didn't mind awkward silences, hell there were some veterans he drove who had only spoken five words to him in months. But Katie, on the other hand, was not the same. She always felt the need to ramble and fill any silence.

"My husband…ex-husband…he left me. Just up and left one day.” Her nose wrinkled.

"That's shitty, I'm sorry."

"Yea…It was for his ex,” she huffed. “I shoulda known, honestly. He was never really over her. She was always kind of like a dark cloud over our relationship…'The one that got away,'” she made air quotes. “Honestly, from her perspective, it was probably the most romantic shit…the love of her life coming to his senses and getting her back. Problem is nobody ever sees it from the other side of the story.” She emptied the can and reached into the cooler for another one.

Will stayed silent, unsure how to react – he wanted to give her the space to share whatever she felt comfortable sharing.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to unload that all on you,” she shook her head, bringing her hand to her forehead.

“Hey, hey…it’s ok,” Will put his hand on her back, lightly rubbing circles with his thumb. “I’m a good listener, remember?” He winked.

The corners of Katie’s mouth curled up. Will was a good listener. Megan was the only person who knew the details of her divorce, all of the red flags ignored, and the scars left behind.

“Well, thank you. And to answer your question from earlier, no the weather wasn’t the only reason. He kept the house, which is a joke if you ask me, I was the one who actually gave a shit about that house…” she took a swig of her beer.

“How so?”

“Our house was my little project, I had a Pinterest board for pretty much every room and every occasion,” she laughed. “And Seb, my ex, he thought I was being too much, too extra about it. But it was a lot of fun for me, the creative stuff you know.” She looked over at Will who nodded.

“Is that what you’re trying to do with your house now?”

“Ha yea…”

“I was serious when I said I, er, we would be happy to help you … not saying you can’t do it yourself or anything. Just let me know. I can come over sometime to see what you have in mind, you can show me a Pinterest board or two,” he bumped his arm against hers, which elicited a small smile from Katie. “That way I can tell you if it’s somethin’ we could take care of. May be able to help you save some money too so you don’t have to hire someone,” he chuckled.

“Really? Yeah, that would be awesome. So…Mondays tend to be a little lighter for me, so would you want to come tomorrow? Is that too soon? You're probably doing your VA stuf-”

“Sure!” he interrupted. “I mean, yeah, tomorrow’s great. What time?”

“Really? Uh…I usually take lunch around noon…would that work?”

“Yea. I…uh…I can bring over lunch. If you want.”

“Hold on a second. You’re coming over to help me and you’re bringing food? I feel like that’s too good to be true,” she winked.

“Well, let’s see what kind of uh, projects you have in mind first,” he laughed. "Here, gimme your number so I can give you a heads up when I'm on my way," he handed her his phone.

Katie smiled to herself and she typed in her number.

"Nice, here let me text you so you have my number…it's a…plan, it's a plan," he smiled.

“Hey! I was looking for you,” Benny bounded over with Connor on his tail. “Hey, Katie! I was going to ask Will if he wanted to take Connor and me on in some cornhole, but do you want to join too? It’s probably more fair for it to be two on two anyway,” he chuckled.

“You mean bags? Uh…sure, let’s do it. Sorry in advance Will, you may have been better off alone,” she laughed as she walked towards the cornhole set.

“I doubt that…” Will whispered to himself.

_____________________

"Oye jefa," David squeezed Lucille's shoulder as he sat down and brought her a rum and Coke. "Extra limes, just how you like it."

"Thanks, mijito. Are you having fun?"

"Yeah, although I will be having even more when the boys decide to go into the pool," he winked as Lucille rolled her eyes and laughed at him. "So, have any good chisme for me?"

"I saw Ethan at Publix earlier today and he told me that another house is going up for sale on the block."

"Ooo, which one?" David scooted his chair closer. He didn't know how she did it, but Lucille always had the best gossip on the block.

"Melissa's neighbors, 306."

"Oh, aren't those the snowbirds?"

"Yes, apparently their son and his wife are having triplets, can you believe that? So they are going to stay up in New York to help with all of the babies."

"Woof, three babies?" David shuddered. "Ugh, I hope that we don't have some rental company come in and scoop up that house."

"I said the same thing to Ethan. He figured someone would want to scoop up that house pretty fast once it goes on the market, not like Benny and Will's house," she laughed.

"D'you think he'll give you a heads up on who the buyers may end up being…when we get to that point?"

"Oh yes, as long as I make him some empanadas I think we can find out whatever," she giggled.

"Speaking of, I need another one. Quieres algo?"

"No, mijito, I'm good."

________________

"Ari!" CJ and Max said in unison, jumping out of the pool and running over to give Aria a hug once she, her little, sister, and parents made their way into the backyard.

"Boys! I said no running! Also, give Ari some space ok? She's here to have fun, not watch you two," Olivia winked.

She hired Aria last summer to help her watch the boys once she got too pregnant to do much of anything. The boys loved her and she had been a big help over the last year as Olivia transitioned to life with three kids.

Benny and Connor had their backs to the party, so they didn't see Aria and her family walk in. But once he heard the commotion of the twins, Connor tensed up.

"Showtime, bud!" Benny slapped the back of his shoulder. "Hey, Katie, Will, I think Connor and I are gonna take you both out of your misery. Let's get some refills on drinks?"

As they turned around, Connor saw Aria taking off her coverup. The twins were begging her to get in the pool to play with them.

"C'mon, Ari let's play sharks and minnows!" CJ jumped up and down.

"Yea, c'mon let's gooooo," Max whined.

"I'm coming, gimme a sec. Do you two have sunscreen on?"

"We don't need sunscreen, a kid at school said we have more melly men so we don't need it," CJ said confidently.

"It's melanin, and that's not true. We need to wear sunscreen too, c'mere." She grabbed the spray bottle of sunscreen from her bag and doused the boys and her little sister with it before using it on herself.

She spotted Connor and gave him a nervous wave. She recognized the guy with him in the hat, he was the same guy who complimented her dog. The two were making their way across the yard toward the pool.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Davis," Connor smiled and waved at Aria's parents. "Have you all met Benny, he lives in 319?"

"Oh, so you're the one making that house look beautiful," Mrs. Davis winked.

"Yes ma'am, well it's my brother Will and I. We moved in not too long ago."

Benny stayed talking to Mr. and Mrs. Davis as Connor made his way to the pool, which brought a little smirk to Benny's face.

"Hey, Aria!"

"Hey, Connor!" She went in for a sideways hug, which caught Connor off guard. He could feel his face getting hot and his mouth went dry.

"Connor, are you going to play with us?" One of the twins said, he honestly wasn't sure which one because his brain was short-circuiting.

"Yea, wanna play? I'm going to need help trying to chase these two," Aria giggled.

Connor couldn't find words, but as if he telepathically knew, Benny was there to save him.

"What're we playing?" He said with the biggest smile on his face, wrapping his arm around Connor.

"Mr. Benny, d'you wanna play sharks and minnows with us?" Max asked, tugging on Benny's shirt.

"Hmmm…let me think about that," he bent down to get on Max and CJ's level. "We gotta set some ground rules if I'm gonna play, ok?" The boys eagerly nodded. "Ok cool. So I'm gonna be a shark and you two are minnows. Aria, you're a shark. Connor you're a minnow. And see that guy over there in the red shorts?" He pointed towards Will whose head was thrown back in laughter as he talked with Katie and Megan. "We're gonna all need to work together to get him, ok? He's a special kind of shark."

The twins were already halfway to the pool before Benny could finish.

"Will, c'mon we gotta catch some minnows, and I'm not talking about you Fish!" Benny laughed as he took off his shirt, flip-flops, and hat, and threw them down on a lounger.

He saw Connor hesitate, knowing the boy was self-conscious to take his shirt off. It didn't help he was standing next to all six foot three of Benny who had a toned stomach and a defined upper body.

"C'mon kid, she's into you, I can tell."

Once Connor got his shirt off, Benny lifted him up and threw him in the pool. He followed by doing a cannonball, which made all of the kids laugh.

By this point, the rest of the party was focused on the pool. Will and Katie headed over, getting down to their swimsuits and getting in. Will was immediately tackled by CJ and Max.

"Hey! What'd I do?" He laughed as he hoisted each of the boys out of the water to throw them, which elicited lots of laughs from both.

"Mr. Benny said you're a special kind of shark, so we had to work together to get you!" Max panted as he caught his breath from all of the excitement.

"Did he now? Well, did you know he and I are brothers? So if I'm a special kind of shark, that means Mr. Benny over there is one too!" Will winked over at Katie who was smiling at the interaction.

"Hey, Mr. Benny! You didn't tell us you guys were brothers!"

"Yeah, that means you're a special kind of shark too!"

"Oop, you caught me!" Benny flashed another brilliant smile as he started swimming away.

"We're chasing Benny? Sign me up!" Santiago jumped in and tackled Benny, followed closely by Frankie.

The four men ended up chasing after the boys, although Will spent most of the time near Katie, pretending to try and catch her a few times too.

"Got ya!" Connor had been play chasing after Aria and finally caught her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. They both froze, Aria turning her head toward Connor and they both smiled.

Splash

One of the twins splashed the pair as they were frantically trying to get away from Benny and Will who were in wild pursuit.

_________________

"Again, can we just acknowledge the fact that we are seeing this all for free?" David laughed as he, Ty, Lucille, and Melissa watched the antics of the poolgoers from a table.

“Are you losing your mind now that Frankie’s hat fell off?” Ty teased.

With all of the splashing and playfighting, both Benny and Frankie had lost their hats. Frankie’s curls stuck to his neck as Benny’s bangs kept getting into his eyes.

“Baby, that’s not the only thing making me lose my mind!”

“Ay, dios mio!” Lucille shook her head laughing at them.

“Oh come on, Lulu, you can’t tell me you’re not enjoying the view too, right?” Melissa asked as she kept her eyes on the pool. Santiago was in the midst of hoisting one of the twins up and throwing him - his biceps flexing and the water dripping down his chest as he jumped out of the water.

“It’s definitely not the worst way to spend an afternoon,” she winked, giving a sly smile.

“Katie seems to be having fun with Will, right Meg?” Ty asked.

“Yeah…best believe I am getting all of those details later,” Megan replied, noting how close Will had stayed to Katie the whole time, the two were now laughing in a corner, talking as the rest of the guys splashed with the kids.

"Ok everyone, food's ready!" Danny called out.

______________________

Megan smiled as she saw Connor and Aria sitting together on a lounger wrapped up in towels, laughing and talking.

Benny came up and handed her a beer.

"So, that's your doing?"

"Nah, that's all him. I just gave him a push, well, I guess it was more of a toss," he winked.

"He really liked hanging out with you guys yesterday, by the way. Couldn't stop talking about it," she chuckled as she took a swig of her beer. "He mentioned something about you both working out together?"

"Y-yea, we talked about it yesterday while driving. Would you be cool with that? I think it may help his confidence a little."

"I think that would be really nice Benny, thank you. But don't let him take up too much of your time, I'm sure you have a girlfriend or something, right?"

"Ah, no. I'm not dating right now," he moved his bangs out of his eyes, realizing he needed to go find his hat.

"I may have some friends if you’re interested," she laughed.

"Ha, no, I appreciate it. I'm uh…taking some time for me. I'm not really looking for anything right now."

"You know, I feel I wanna make some type of liar liar pants of fire kinda joke," she motioned to his swim trunks. "But that feels too on the nose," she laughed.

"Hey! I like these trunks, I usually get a lot of compliments about them," he smiled.

__________

The party continued well into the early part of the evening. After the raucous game of sharks and minnows followed by a big meal, the twins were starting to lose steam, so Olivia and her family left.

Aria and her family were next to leave, she went over and gave Connor a hug goodbye. He watched her walk away before turning back to see Benny smirking at him.

Connor walked over to Benny and the older man gave him a side hug and messed with his hair.

"Proud of you, bud."

"Ha, thanks. I had a good time. I think we might hang out soon."

"Hell yeah!" He gave the boy a high five.

"Well, I guess we're going to head out," Lucille said as the rest of the neighbors got their things together. "Thank you so much for hosting us all mija it was beautiful as always over here."

"Thank you, Lulu," Melissa gave the woman a kiss on the cheek.

Melissa and Danny gave hugs and handshakes to everyone. When it was her turn to say goodbye to Santiago they both hesitated on whether to go in for a hug or a handshake, but he committed and went for the hug. Whereas normally he would reach for the waist, resting his hand on the upper part of a woman's ass, he decided to hug her around her shoulders. For her part, Melissa put her hands on Santiago's midback, feeling the cords of his muscles tense.

"Have a good night," he said softly as she smiled at him

Frankie gave Lucille his arm to make the walk back to her house as Santiago wheeled the wagon. David and Ty chatted with Megan, Connor, and Benny, as Will and Katie lagged behind.

David and Ty said their goodbyes, followed by Connor and Megan. Lucille asked if Frankie and Santiago could help unload her wagon. Knowing that it probably meant they would get leftovers to take home, the two men eagerly agreed. That left Benny, Will, and Katie.

Benny looked at his brother, knowing very well that he was trying to put the moves on Katie.

"Ah, shoot!" he smacked himself in the forehead. "I forgot, Tommy called me earlier, let me go call him back, see ya Katie!" He gave his brother a wink over Katie's shoulder as he hugged her goodbye.

"So…and then there were two, huh?' Katie laughed.

"Ha, yeah. I'm…uh, looking forward to lunch tomorrow," he smiled. "Hey, speaking of, what do you want me to pick up?"

"Oh, I'm not picky. Surprise me. Whatever's your favorite. Just as long as there's no pickles."

"Got it, extra pickles," he winked as they both let out a nervous laugh. "Just kidding, I just so happen to love pickles, so if you ever get them I'll gladly take them off your plate."

"Well, aren't you my hero!" She teased.

"Here, let me walk you home."

"Will, it's like three doors down," she smirked.

"I know, but it's late and I just want to know you made it safe."

"Ok, Boy Scout let's go."

The trip to Katie's house was short, but Will didn't mind.

"Well, this is me. I had fun today."

"Yeah, I did too," he smiled, keeping her gaze for a beat before she reached into her bag for her keys.

"I'll ah see you tomorrow, then?"

"Yea."

They both looked at each other for another moment before Katie went in for a hug, which Will reciprocated.

"Good night, Will."

"Good night, Katie. See you tomorrow."

She closed the door and Will turned on his heel to head back home. He didn't realize that a smile hadn't left his face the whole walk back.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: I know this was a longer chapter, so thank you if you made it this far! Our little soap opera continues to unfold.

What didn't make the cut? I had an additional scene with Santiago and Melissa along with one with Danny and Frankie, but decided we could cover what happened in conversations later on.

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list moving forward!! Apologies if I accidentally left you off, I added it all manually and may have missed someone … just let me know!

@goodwithcheese / @gemmahale / @trulybetty / @patti7dc / @periodtsparadox / @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin / @maggiemayhemnj / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @avastrasposts / @meveispunk / @chaoticfestninja / @beholdbebravethings / @casa-boiardi / @katw474 / @linzels-blog / @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain / @primosworld / @lynnchun / @anoverwhelmingdin /@lilmizmoz / @pedrit0-pascalit0 / @titlee78 / @noisynightmarepoetry / @inept-the-magnificent / @perennialdoll247 / @for-a-longlongtime / @readingiskeepingmegoing / @harriedandharrassed / @musings-of-a-rose / @anavatazes / @sherala007 / @midnightraain

#delta landscaping #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier au

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bebemoon · 1 year

Photo

“isabel ochoa married lucho valdés on february 12, 1944 at the poblado church in medellín, colombia. this photo appeared in the magazine cromos in the social section, as one of the most elegant marriages of that year in colombia. the dress (white silk) was brought from new york.” —priscilla burcher on her maternal aunt’s bridal photograph

#40s #bridal #vintage #isabel ochoa #colombia

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kiwisbell · 5 months

Text

Las Mañanas || Chapter 6 [javier peña]

She’s a waitress in a little café. He’s a DEA agent who likes the coffee. Just the coffee. That’s all. Or, slices of life (and sometimes pie) shared between Javi and his wife, including his tireless journey to making her his wife.

series masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: javi getting the fucking love he deserves, coffee shop AU if you squint really hard, reader no longer has a shitty husband(!!), mentions of sex work, soft and sweet!javi, protective!javi, grumpy!javi, simp!javi tbh, alcohol, smoking, so much fluff, nobody fucks with javi's girl, overuse of spanish pet names, poorly-translated spanish, "she" pronoun used throughout, MARRIAGE!!, oral sex (m and f receiving), dirty dancing, back massages, unprotected piv (these two be fuckin' like bunnies), light light bondage, breeding kink!javi makes his first appearance, talks of starting a family, literally so much sweetness you'll get a toothache, wedding ring kink??? i guess??, fingering, face-sitting, dry humping

word count: ~ 8.1k

a/n: this ken's job is wife

chapter six: holding the sun in his hands

They waste no time.

It’s a nightmare for U.S. citizens to get officiated in Colombia, but since Javier works at the Embassy, he's been pulling strings since he bought the ring.

They get married without fanfare, quickly and privately, with the promise to her mother, his father, and their few friends that they'll have a proper party when times aren't so tedious, so unsteady. It's about them: Javier and his wife. His wife.

When they come home, they're both insatiable. They barely stumble through the door without him lifting her up against the wall in the hallway, but she frantically fumbles for the lock and lets him push her up against the door, never once breaking the kiss as he does it.

There’s a desperate need inside him. It tastes like blood and sweat and the sweet poison of her perfume, the languid buzz that seeps into each nerve and surrounds him with the smell, the sight, the sound of her. If he doesn’t get inside her soon, he might die. Not dramatic. Pragmatic.

They’re both louder than normal, too. She lets out every whimper and moan that tempts her lips while Javier kisses her deeply, sucking on her tongue and her mouth and groaning from the feel of her body. He can taste her through his fingers; his hands are all over her, slipping under her delicious white dress (it’s a sundress from her closet, simple, but it’s one that he always manages to get under, letting her ride him in it) and squeezing every inch of flesh he can find. He needs more than just touch; he needs to be wholly consumed by her existence.

“Just to be clear,” she mumbles somehow, although Javier is unrelenting, refusing to break away from her mouth to let her speak, “this isn’t the honeymoon.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head against her and shucks down the front of her dress. He latches onto both nipples with equal alternating fervour, swirling his tongue around them and nipping just hard enough to make her choke on her moans. When he licks his way down her body, he decides to lift up the skirt of her dress and drape it over his head, concealing himself underneath it as he takes down her panties with his teeth.

She gasps when he licks up her wet slit, writhing, one leg up on his shoulder, as he relishes the flavour of her; he goes back in for seconds without thinking, and she’s clearly not prepared for it. He has to reach up and hold onto her leg and hip to keep her from falling over.

“Let me hear you,” he says, blowing cool air over her cunt. Her groan is high-pitched and needy, loud enough to give passersby in the hallway a show. It makes him lightheaded with need. Those noises are all for him; she’s his, for the rest of their fucking lives. “Mi esposa. Mi amor. Dámelo.”

He rolls her clit between his lips. She’s a mess once he slips two fingers inside her entrance and curves them toward him, her head falling back against the door with a loud thud. “Careful, baby,” he says, lavishing his tongue over her clit. “Long night. Can’t hurt yourself.”

She can’t seem to form words as he continues to work her up to her orgasm. She makes noise, though, and fuck, it’s delicious. “Ohhhhh” is one of them, a staple of hers and a favourite of Javier’s. She’s fallen back on the classics as he licks and fingers her to completion. “Oh! Oh! Ah, I… Mmm, Jav—I’m—ah!”

She bears down mercilessly on his fingers, so tight she pushes them out, and he works her through her orgasm until he feels a surge of wetness splash all over his chin, his tie. He only pulls away because he might come in his dress pants. The problem is that he's apparently the only thing holding her up, and she doesn't catch herself in her state of complete bliss. They topple to the floor together, but he makes sure to take the brunt of the fall, letting her collapse on top of him. Her legs are still trembling and her eyes are unfocused.

“I… I'm...” She gives up on trying to speak and just kisses him, licking into his mouth and cupping his face in her hands.

“Fucking love you,” he grumbles, slanting his lips over hers, fitting them together the way they were meant to be. He finds her hand even as his eyes are closed and toys with the two bands on her ring finger. “My wife. My fucking wife. Finally.”

There are tears on her face, and they slip into his mouth. He cradles the back of her head, his other hand secure around hers. It's intimate and quiet, and he's so happy.

“Mi esposo,” she whispers, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I’m so happy, Javi. So happy with you.”

“Mmmmm,” he says, rolling it around over her tongue as they make out some more. He's crushing her face to his and fisting her hair. “Your happiness got all over me.”

She huffs. “Don’t get cute.”

Maybe it’s how beautiful she looks, flushed and sweating and panting, her dress hanging off her shoulders below her breasts. Maybe it was the way the notario said, “You are now husband and wife.” Maybe it was the way she jumped to kiss him before the notario could even finish the sentence, even though it wasn’t mandatory. He suspects it’s all of the above. He cannot hold this love in his body. It is holding the sun in his hands, trying to catch the rays before they slip out. But they always do.

He sits up with her thighs around his hips and buries his face in her chest. She holds him to her while he chokes up, tears soaking into her skin. He's the one who gets to cup the warm, bright sun in his palms for the rest of their lives.

“Javi, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her lips finding his forehead. “You’re hurting your back, honey. Gotta get up off the floor.”

He makes a noise into her breasts that sounds something like “mmph,” and lets her guide him to the bedroom. She steps out of her dress, completely naked while he strains in his pants and his too-tight tie. The sight is erotic, knocking the wind out of him, as he reaches for her hips like they’re pieces of fine porcelain. She’s here, laid bare for him, and he’s still wearing everything, but the look in her eye strips every scrap of clothing away.

“You’ve got me forever, vaquero,” she says, slowly releasing his tie from its knot. His breathing is getting deeper. When the tie slips out from around his collar, she lifts his hands and places it gingerly into his palms.

Chills, delicious and warm as honey, trickle down his spine at the realisation, the permission. Javier leans in, slanting his mouth over hers so softly, gently, that all the tension in his body becomes a memory. Here, in their bedroom, wearing silver bands that glint in the dim light, they are paired. Two souls linked. Inextricable, unyielding.

“Lie on the bed,” he whispers, a sliver of space between their mouths.

Her eyes are bright with trust and desire and she does what he says, making a show of crawling into the bed and spreading out her body in a long line. Presenting herself for him, just for him. He shifts to the side of the bed, reaching out with a thumb to caress her cheek. She moves her head to the side and slips his thumb past her lips, looking up at him owlishly. He’s so hard he leaks into his boxers, but he will not undress. “Hermosa. Lift your arms for me, baby.”

She does, letting her hands trail up her own curves before she locks her wrists together above her head. Javier ties the fabric around a pillar in the headboard and secures it around her wrists.

“Too tight?” She shakes her head. “Words, cielito.”

She gives a gentle tug. “It’s good,” she sighs. “Really good.”

Her pupils swallow her irises. Javier lets himself shed his suit jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. She watches every move, and he watches her chest heave. He crawls on top of her and spreads his fingers over her sternum. “See this?” His wedding band glints on her chest. She looks down and nods vehemently, a little whimper slipping past her lips. “Means I’m yours. Means I’ll make you happy, make you feel good. Lemme see it.”

She twists her wrists around so he can see the shimmer of the diamond on her ring finger. “Javi,” she says with a keening curve of her body up against him. “I’m yours. Your wife. Yours, yours…”

He leans down and swallows every yours down greedily as he kisses her like a starved man. It's not true, of course: he's got everything he needs. But hearing the word wife has a uniquely aphrodisiacal effect on him.

It does for her, too. It makes her gasp and writhe underneath him, with her hands tied to the headboard and her husband pinning down her hips. She's so wet she's making a mess of herself, the sheets, his pants. When he reaches between them and slides two fingers between her folds, her legs tremble and her face pushes into her arm, concealing her sensitive cry.

“No, no, amor,” comes his voice in her ears, low and gently demanding. “Let me hear you. Let everyone know who’s got you tied up. C’mon, baby.”

The erotic scene before him must be doing the same to him as it is to her; he's not usually this talkative. His hands are ironclad on her body, unrelenting, steering her the way he likes. It's the hottest thing she's ever seen. His pupils eclipse his eyes and his fingers play upon her skin like she's a violin. He dips his fingers inside her and pulls them out again just to place them at the threshold of her mouth. She parts her lips and tastes her wetness on her tongue, swirling around his digits and not once breaking eye contact.

“Shit.” Javier slips his fingers from her mouth and works at unbuckling his belt. She whines, wiggling her hips and begging for him to take out his cock and fuck me already. “I’m trying, honey,” he huffs, fingers trembling with anticipation, tossing the belt aside and pulling himself out. The vermillion head, angry and bobbing, leaks prespend onto her belly where he bucks against her, desperate for the contact. She lifts herself up to meet him with equal tenacity, but he presses his hand down onto her lower belly and it's enough to make her eyes roll back.

“Gonna fuck my wife,” he says under his breath, as though it's only for him, like he hardly believes it himself. “Okay, amor? Gonna give it to you. Make you feel me forever.”

“Please,” she whispers, tugging on her restraints even though she has no desire to remove them. “Please, fuck, please, Javi. Te amo, te amo. Please take me. Mi esposo.”

Her desperate babbling has his hands gripping her body tighter, his legs shifting to let one of hers free, keeping it flush to his hip as he guides his cock to her entrance. He moves until only the head is inside, and her whine pitches up. “Pacienca,” he says, watching himself slowly disappear inside of her until the tight seal of her cunt swallows him. “Oh, fuck."

Her whine slips into a groan as he begins to move. It's an aching buildup, the way he slides out only to push back in, the obscene slickness of their joined bodies making it easy and noisy. He leans over her when he's established his rhythm (deep, grinding motions that don't rush, don't falter; he fucks like a god, always has) and places his hand next to her head, the other cradling the back of her head. He tilts her chin up and kisses her, a soothing kiss that melts her, makes her pliable and content, as surges of pleasure numb her body like a sedative. She feels apart from herself, inside another world entirely, where it's only the two of them and the little matching bands around their fingers.

It's soft and it's never rushed. He takes her apart at the seams and stitches each old wound until there are no scars left. They take their time, fucking late into the night, forgetting about dinner and forgetting about everything outside the door. It's a husband and wife, alone with one another outside of time and space.

When they're finished, he unties her and asks if he hurt her. She says no. Never. They lie on their sides, facing one another, as the moon pulls the stars up into the sky. He caresses her side and her back; her fingers brush through his damp hair and trace the lines of his face. They talk about their past and their now and their future. They talk about the new episode of her favourite telenovela (he's been unwillingly drawn in, at first watching only because he could rest his head in her lap, and now actively asking her about the episodes he misses while he's at work late). They talk about being married. They admire their rings some more.

In the morning, her manoeuvres her to sit on his face and licks at her until she's coming. She rides him until they both feel like they'll break. And still, they never rush.

They have all the time in the world.

When Jorge sees the wedding rings, the first day she strides into the café holding Javier’s hand, he grunts, places a pot of coffee on the counter, and says, “Your dad would be happy for you, mijita.”

She flushes, pulling Jorge in for a hug even as the man grumbles about it. But Javier spots the shiny film over his eyes. “If you hurt her,” he says to Javier, “there's nowhere you can hide, cabrón. I’ll kill you myself.”

Javier doesn't doubt it. “Jorge,” she scolds gently. “I’ll kill him myself.”

He kisses her forehead before she goes to get her apron. “On the house,” says Jorge, pouring coffee into a mug. “Don't think I’m making a habit.”

“Never,” says Javier.

“She's been burned,” says the grumpy owner. “That hijo de puta—”

“Is never seeing the outside of a prison cell,” says Javier, relishing the taste of the words on his tongue. “I’m not trying to be her owner. I’m trying to be her husband.”

Jorge is silent for a moment. “Cigarette?”

Javier accepts one. “Trying to quit,” he mumbles around it.

“Yeah. You and everyone else.” Jorge flicks on the lighter for him. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Not tomorrow,” he replies. “Got plans.”

They've been dancing a couple times, out of the city, where there's no chance of him running into colleagues. Their date nights typically range from homemade dinner over wine and then sex to going out for a night on the town and then home to have sex. It works for them. Tonight, he brings her to a local club in Bogotá, one that shimmers with sweaty bodies and glitter and is exactly the sort of place he despises. But the changing lights reflect in her eyes and the music pounds in their throats, and it's not about him.

It's the way she dances, their silver-banded fingers intertwined as she grinds against him, her back flush to his front, the delicious sway of her hips enough to make him grip her hip a little tighter, bite down on his cigarette a little harder. He feels proud and hot and dazed with the air of smoke and sweat, holding onto his girl, transfixed by the way she dances on him in that little black scrap of a dress. He's wearing jeans and a polo and looks not at all good enough to be the one on her arm. Fuck, he's got it good.

The song playing is indistinguishable from the next, all the music blending into a symphonic cacophony with throaty bass and no melody. Still, it settles deep in his chest and pumps him full of adrenaline and desire, unable to look away from the sight in front of him.

Sexy and radiant, drenched in neon light and wrapped in sweat like cling film. Glossy, dark red lips parted as she pants, heaving against him when she turns around in his arms and presses her breasts up against him. He doesn't have to do much, just holding onto her and wedging a leg in between her thighs as she dances for him. They don't talk much. It's loud and abrasive in here, and they're drunk enough on the smell and the energy not to bother lining up at the bar. He watches the way her ring glimmers when it catches the blue-red light when the strobes begin to flash. He slides his fingers up and down her arm and laces his together with hers again. Her eyes are black in the darkness, pupils swallowing her irises. Sometimes, he can't believe he’s hers.

“Hey,” shouts a woman in a wine-red dress, a dangerous smile on her lips. “Can I borrow you, handsome?”

Javier’s wife just lifts their intertwined hands and flashes their rings at the intruder. She leaves with a vague pout, but apologises for misunderstanding.

They aren't so lucky the second time. “Mind if I cut in?” comes a voice from behind her, a man holding a beer and staring right at his wife. He doesn't even glance at Javier.

“Fuck off.”

It comes from Javier, a low warning that sounds damn close to a growl: utterly and unapologetically territorial. She doesn't bother to turn around to eye up the intruder, sliding her hand up into Javier’s hair and letting the diamond glint brightly in the light.

“C’mon, hermosa, one dance,” urges the man. Shameless.

“You're embarrassing yourself, man,” says Javier.

“Please find someone else,” she says. “I’m married.”

The man begins to walk away. “Jesucristo. No seas una puta.”

He says it in a grumble, barely loud enough to hear, but oh, Javier hears it. And so does she.

“Cabrón,” she mumbles dismissively, even as he watches her face fall a bit. He holds onto her hips and tries to control his breathing so he doesn't get real fucking mad. “It's okay, Javi,” she says into his ear. “It's okay. He's gone.”

Her voice settles into him and cools him a bit, even though he won't relinquish his hold on her body. “Come on, baby,” he says, “dance on me.”

“Javi—”

“He's not gonna ruin your fuckin’ night,” he says, fixing her up against him and splaying his fingers over the small of her back. “C’mere.”

She lifts up onto her toes and kisses him, neither of them mentioning or caring about the lipstick on her mouth. He crushes their bodies together, licking into her mouth and devouring her the way he's wanted to all night. She tastes like salt and the smoke he's been inhaling. He can't possibly get closer to her, but he tries. She melts into him, malleable in his hands, sweetness and curves as she begins to grind into his hips. He sucks down all of her sighs and gasps and lets out some deep groans of his own as they kiss one another breathless in the middle of the dance floor. He's hard enough in his jeans it could become a predicament if the lights turn on, but he doesn't give a shit. She's close to getting herself off as she circles and slides her pussy along his upper thigh.

“That's it,” he rasps into her mouth, tightening a fist in her hair. “That's fucking it. Take what you want, baby. My fucking girl. Mi esposa. Mine.”

She whimpers at his words, the way he spouts off without thinking, covered in her and chest simmering to boil at the thought of another man’s hands on her body. He keeps on growling low past her lips, nonsense that gets mostly lost in the noise around them. She's close—her movements get sloppy and desperate, and he has to guide her. “Come just like this,” he urges, kissing his way to her ear and nibbling her lobe above the dangling diamond earrings (his last anniversary present to her). “Keep going, baby, you can come. I make you feel good? Just like this?”

“Mmmhmm,” she whines, her brows lifting in the middle as she begins to quiver against him. “Ohhh, Jav—i!”

“Fuck,” he groans, watching her face screw up in pleasure, her hips still on his thigh as a dark spot spreads over the denim of his jeans. Wet enough to soak through her panties. He keeps her close, hidden from view as she rests her flushed face on his chest, and keeps his mouth pressed to her temple. “Good girl,” he says, holding her up while her thighs tremble. “Fucking mine.”

“Gruñón,” she giggles into his collar, hysterical. She just came on his jeans in the middle of a crowded club. “He never would've won, Javi.”

“I know,” he says, pouting. “But he pissed me off.”

“I’m yours,” she says, chest still heaving, glittering with sweat, as she pulls him down by the back of the neck and kisses him deeply. “Yours.”

They conduct a small wedding party in Bogotá with Connie and Steve, a cosy restaurant where they share dinner and stories and celebrate marriage. Connie’s back in Bogotá for a week, so they make use of the time as best they can. Murphy’s happier than ever when he's with his wife, which is why Javier makes a point that he's not allowed to poke at him for being the same way.

The first night after he finds out he's getting sent back to the United States, they sit in the bathtub, sombrely sharing a glass of wine.

Marriages are made of tough decisions. Where will they stay? Will they find new work? Will they ever get to come back? It's a little easier for them, just because there's no question about leaving together. She just accepts it: she's going back with him.

“I’ll go anywhere with you,” she said, brushing her knuckle across his chin. “That's all there is to it, mi amor.”

Now, she's swirling the wine around the glass and scowling. “Fucking asshole,” she hisses. “He's a complete fucking asshole.”

“Honey—”

“Of all the people who deserve to see this to the end,” she continues, “of all the people who've gone so far to catch that malparido… I can’t believe—the fucking audacity… How can he—?”

She's sloshing the water around in her ruddy anger, unable to complete a full sentence. Javier leans forward and tugs on her ankle, draping it over his hip and squeezing. He feels flustered by the way she wants to fight for him, the fury on his behalf. “Honey,” he says. “There's nothing I can do.”

She sets down the wine glass and pinches the bridge of her nose, a small sniffle leaving her. Javier gently pries her hand away from her face. “Hey. None of that. I love you, baby, and your rage, but this job has taken so much shit from me. It’s made us both look over our shoulders all the time, and that's not the kind of life I want for our family. Stechner’s an asshole. Stechner’s always gonna be an asshole. But I’m tired, mi amor.” He tucks her damp hair behind her ear and pulls her close by the small of her back. “Just want to be with you. No more going off the end of the Earth and killing myself just to get shit half-done. Yeah?”

She looks up at him with teary eyes. “You'd really want to start a family?”

It's so quiet, so meek, so unlike her, but it strikes his bones like hammers upon nails. The implication has his cock tapping, interested, at her ass as she straddles his hips in the water. “Of fuckin’ course I wanna start a family with you,” he says, kissing the spot beneath her earlobes that makes her whine. “Give you a baby. Keep you both safe and happy. Hm?”

“Mmm,” she sighs as a reply, her mouth slanting over his and locking him to her with her arms around his neck. “You'd be an amazing daddy.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, you'd be a good mamá.”

“We will,” she says, nosing her way along his cheek until she finds his ear and bites gently on the lobe. It makes him shudder against her, a gritty moan escaping through his clenched teeth as his cock presses insistently against her. “We’ll be a family someday, Javi. Make a little baby.”

Hearing that makes him snap. He lifts her up until the head of his aching cock twitches against her entrance. She shifts her hold to grip his shoulders, her breasts pushing out enough that he can lurch forward and take one into his mouth, sucking and biting down on her nipple to make her wriggle about.

“Practice,” he says. “This’ll be practice. Want that?” Her head falls back when his cock opens her up, just the head wrenching past the seal of her pussy. She nods frantically, but lets him take the lead, lets him decide when he gives her the rest of him. “Want me to give you a baby, hermosa? Want to be a mamá?”

She gasps when he thrusts upward, leaving half of himself still waiting eagerly to get inside her wet warmth. He's teasing himself as much as her, not wanting to come too quickly, not wanting to let any of himself leak out. He wants to be fully inside her. Usually, he likes to make a mess of her, watching himself paint her, mark her, letting his cum dribble out and stain her pussy and thighs. She likes the way he claims her. But this is different.

They've talked about babies. Starting a family. But it hasn't been safe. Sure, Connie and Steve took in Olivia, but she's back in America with her mom. Colombia’s too dangerous. Going back home to Texas will give them a place to grow, to be safe and to be together. Maybe it's the perfect place to start the family he's always wanted with her.

The thought of stuffing her with his cum, giving her a baby, making her belly grow round and her skin glow, sends him spiralling into brain-dead, primal ferocity. He wants to be there with her every step. He wants to parade her around and make sure every pair of eyes that fall on her knows it's he who put that life there. It's him who gets to fuck her like this.

It doesn't hurt that the idea of a little kid running rampant in their home makes his chest ache pleasantly. He never thought of kids before he met her. Now, half of him wishes she wasn't on birth control.

No. It can wait. They have time. Tonight is stress relief. It's practice, a moment they can share and keep tucked in their pockets for later. They've got the rest of their lives to build together. Now, he's going to give her all of him.

The water is getting colder, but they're both sweating by the time they get into a grinding rhythm. Her arms are locked around his neck to keep herself from slipping around in the tub, even though his hands are tight on her hips. She does most of the work, working herself down on his cock while he latches onto her tits with his mouth and sucks on her throat until blood blossoms under her skin. She huffs out, “Oh, Javi, yes,” her eyes rolling back in her head. He grits his teeth and grips the nape of her neck, his thumb caressing her jaw.

“That's it,” he coaxes, taking the lead, keeping her head balanced and her eyes on him while he takes a handful of her ass as leverage to bounce her up and down on him. Her thighs strain, her brow pinching in pleasure as he makes her take all of him with each thrust.

“Jav—nnnh, Javi, agh!” She’s keening up against him, struggling to hold onto him the way he does her. “Wanna—wanna be under you. On the bed. Wanna give you a baby,” she pants.

Her eyes never leave his, their pupils dark as the nebulous gaps between the stars, and he might break from the love in her eyes. The way she trusts him wholly, the way she never strays, never wavers from her faith in him. Never thinks twice about defending him. He's holding the world in his hands, keeping her tucked neatly against him, cupping her like she's the galaxy and he can let none of the stars slip away. It feels like that. He doesn't want to ever let her go.

He slips out of her and helps her out of the bath after him, but they're both too impatient to dry completely. So he takes her hand and guides her safely to the bedroom. She crawls onto the mattress. Javier stands at the foot of the bed and says, “Spread your legs for me.”

She brings a hand down to her thigh and pushes it away from the other, making a real show of presenting her glistening pussy to him. It's wet, ready for him to use, to fill up. All for him. His cock taps his stomach and he restrains himself from tackling her when she dips a finger between her legs and swipes up her wetness. “Come and taste,” she says softly.

“Shit. Shit.” He crawls on top of her, a panther, and takes her finger into his mouth, tasting the fresh tang of her. “Gonna fill you up, baby.” His nose makes a path along her cheek until it finds hers and he can kiss her fully, thoroughly. “Want it?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, nearly a whimper, her face strained with need. Beneath him, she's radiant: flushed with excitement and bearing the marks he left on her. He wants to put her onto a stone pedestal and worship at her feet. “Want you to come in me. Want your cum. Please.” Her foot trails up and down his hip, and he leans back on his haunches, catches it in his hand. “Fuck me like you wanna knock me up.”

He groans when he guides his cock back to her cunt and notches the head inside. “I really fuckin’ do, sweetheart.”

“You will,” she says, repeating it over and over, promising him. They will. They’ll be a family one day. They already are.

He slides the rest of himself inside her and watches her swallow him. It's so good his mouth dries up like the damned desert. He begins to move, slowly, at the expense of his ability to last. Her body is fine-tuned to him, a map of history, of their life together, and she knows exactly how to move and writhe and moan in a way that makes him puff with the effort not to release too soon.

“So fucking tight,” he says through his teeth, thrusting inside her and staying there, cooking himself down while making her boil over. She cries out, grasping for his hip to no avail as he nudges her cervix. “Gonna come right here.” He jerks his hips a little and she shudders until she's boneless on the mattress, her eyes glazing over.

“Yes, yes, yes.” She arches her back when he brushes up against a spot inside her that makes her thighs tremble around his hips. She's loud in bed, something he loves and craves about her, and she lets the moans, whimpers, and cries flow freely. His name mingles with unintelligible noises, and every one urges him closer to that precipice. She grabs at his hands, which bruise her hips as he pumps her. “C’mere,” she begs.

He leans down and braces himself on his forearm while he brings her thigh up his hip and continues to pound into her. Her tits bounce with every thrust, her lips parting in an effort to ease her breathing. He takes it as an invitation to slot his mouth over hers. “Gonna come,” she gasps. He swallows it on his tongue.

“I know, baby, I feel it.” She's squeezing him in pulses, like a heartbeat, keeping him locked inside her. He's close, too, burning with the need to pump her full, and snakes his hand from her thigh to rub her clit in small circles. “Come for me, amor.”

She snaps, her body buckling. He tries to soothe her into it but it crashes over her like a wave. His groan is loud, unrestrained. “Fuck,” he grits out. “So fuckin’ wet. So good. Good for me.”

She grasps for him as her head falls back, her eyes unfocused and teary. He takes her hands and pins them above her head, their fingers intertwining as he thrusts deep, joined as close as they can possibly be. Javier steals the rest of her breath as she comes down from her high, right when he hits his own.

“You're gonna—fuck—take it. Tómalo,” he says, losing his ability to kiss her properly when he comes, his mouth dragging down her face until he has to bite down on her chin to keep him grounded. He thrusts lightly to get deeper inside her, but his strength wanes as he falls under the thrall of the strongest orgasm he's had in a long time.

He can barely hold himself up to refrain from crushing her. His entire body shudders with pleasure and doesn't relent, waves of ecstasy threading through each vein. Her warmth is squeezing every drop of cum from him once he starts to spill it, and there's so much there's nothing to keep it from leaking out of her. But he growls, pushing impossibly deeper, deeper. She moans at the feeling, her thighs bracketing his hips, forcing him to stay inside her. And he doesn't complain. He spurts his cum inside her for what feels like a lifetime, his lower back pinching with the effort of staying upright. He won't pull out until everything is safely tucked inside her, but he can't just seem to stop spilling inside her warm, welcoming cunt.

“Jesus,” he groans against her, brows furrowing as he shuts his eyes. She just whimpers, rolling her hips gently against him to work him through it. “Mierda, amor. Con calma.”

“Dámelo,” she begs, sliding her hands down his arms to his shoulders, her touch soothing him, finding his hair and scratching with her nails. He purrs when he finally lets himself collapse on top of her, face buried between her tits.

He finally finishes filling her with everything he has, but he stays inside her for a moment as he catches his breath. “Tan buena. Tan buena para mi. Me tomas tan bien.”

“Didn’t think I could fuck you good enough to wipe all your English,” she giggles, though it's breathy, struggling. “Feels good.”

“Gonna kill me,” he grumbles into her soft skin, licking a bead of sweat off her chest. They're silent for a moment as their ears gradually stop ringing. He pictures his spend taking hold inside her: giving her a baby, a little life in her womb that he gets to keep safe and happy. He pictures her round and swollen, that ring on her finger, and holds her tighter to him in a possessive grip.

“Sweetheart.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean it,” he says, his hand sliding downward to rest on her stomach. “You’ll be a good fuckin’ mom.”

“I mean it, too,” she whispers, stroking his hair. “Gonna be a great daddy. Gonna give you a baby someday. It’ll be just as beautiful as you.”

“Poor thing,” he says playfully, tilting his head up to meet her eyes. They're shining with tears and brimming with joy. He gently coasts his hand over her stomach. “Keep that there for me. Practice.”

She hums, content to let her head rest on the pillows. “Practice.”

It's date night, and Javier’s back is killing him.

She notices right away, of course. He’s wearing the pink polo she loves, and it's a sunny Sunday afternoon, beautiful and tranquil. It should be the perfect night for restaurant-hopping and driving out to the country for some stargazing. The last night in Colombia before they're shipped home to Laredo. The problem is that he must have wrenched his already-fucked spine in the night, and now he winces every time he twists or bends.

Her head shoots up when he opens the fridge for the orange juice and groans. He tries to suppress the noise, hating to worry her or aggrandize his problems, but she hurries out of her chair, abandoning her sandwich to step up behind him. Her hands slide around to his chest and she rests her head between his shoulder blades. “Mmm, vaquero,” she coos, her voice dripping with concern and sympathy. “You're so tense. Can feel it.”

He huffs, resting his hand on the refrigerator handle. “I’m okay.”

“Don't be stubborn,” she says softly. “You can't go out like this, Jav. C’mere.”

He grumbles all the way to the bedroom even though he gets to hold her hand. “Lift your arms,” she urges, and he does, letting her pull his shirt off.

He reaches for her when it's on the floor. “Take yours off, too.”

She gives him a pointed look. “You can't fuck me with a back like that, my love. Pants off. Lie down.”

Pouting, he shuffles toward the bed. His lower back aches something terrible by the time she guides him onto his stomach on the mattress, naked. He feels the pinching pain in each knob of his spine, every twinge that brushes up against his nerves. “This fuckin’ job,” he says, muffled against the pillow. “Almost killed me.”

“I know,” she says, voice like honey as she straddles him, leaning down to press kisses to his shoulder, his neck. “Gonna make it better. Relax, honey.”

“It's date night,” he tries feebly. His stupid goddamn back just has to act up tonight, when he's supposed to be taking his wife out for a good time.

She just presses more kisses against him, tracing her hands up and down his arms. “We're together, aren't we?” she says soothingly. “Can't have you going out like this. I need to make sure my man is good and strong for me.” She knows her words are the precise combination to work him into total submission. “So strong.” She squeezes his biceps. “Relax for me, okay?”

He is in no state to deny her when she touches him and talks to him like this. “Mmmph,” he manages.

“Good,” she whispers, her lips leaving his skin. He's about to complain, but her mouth is replaced by her hands. Her deft fingers trail downward until she playfully squeezes his ass. “Javi, you're so handsome. I really mean it.”

His cock is certainly interested in her catlike purring and her purposeful touch, but his mind descends into an easy buzz once she gets working on the tension in his ass. She squirts some lotion from the bedside table into her hands and kneads the muscles above his cheeks. “Your ass takes a beating, baby,” she muses. “That from your tight little jeans or from fucking me? Because I’d feel real bad if it was me.”

“Mmm-mmm,” he manages. She seems satisfied with his response and digs her index knuckles into the knots of muscle right above his ass. He jolts, groaning with the painful pinch of the uncoiling tension. It feels like a pressure valve releasing and it feels fucking good. It's nothing like the pleasure of sex; it's slow and sensual. It’s the altruistic act of caring for him, the soothing yet intensive motions of her hands and fingers, that make his brain shut completely off.

“You still with me, honey?” she asks sweetly. He can't move, can't nod, and just mumbles out a noise that barely makes it past his lips.

She moves to his lower back, taking extra care with the dimple there, treating it with soft touches and slow caresses of her thumbs. His spine begins to decompress as she trails upward, reaching his shoulder blades. She hums about his birthmarks and his smooth skin and his strength, and he drinks down her praise with slow-minded eagerness. He's completely pliant for her.

His shoulders are the worst. But she digs into them and works out the knots until the tension dissipates the way clouds part for the sun. He sighs when she begins to plant kisses on every square inch of him. “Love you,” she whispers, like a prayer against his skin. “Feel better?”

“Mmmmyeah,” he replies, though his mouth barely opens and it sounds like a muffled rumble as his face rests in the pillow. He feels her settle in next to him, slotting one leg over his back, an arm across his shoulders, and burying her face in his neck. He falls asleep before he knows it. She stays awake.

When his eyes open again, blinking to adjust his eyes to the dim light, he finds her still curled up against him, and the bedsheets drawn up over their bodies. One. Together.

Her eyes are open but drooping, her pretty lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. Javier traces the shape of her jaw with his thumb. “Early flight,” he grumbles.

“Hmm.” She smiles sleepily. “Too busy looking at you. Didn't get any sleep.”

“Pervert.”

She bites her bottom lip and pulls him into her by the back of his neck. His own teeth replace hers and nibble at her mouth until he's ready to slip his tongue past her lips. “Can't help it,” she says when he lets her breathe. “You're so good to look at.”

He feels himself flush, but it's dark in their bedroom. “Tell me more.”

“I can show you more,” she says, that wicked smile on her face, the smile that appears when she's up to something. Usually a sexual up-to-something. She lowers herself down his body until she's concealed under the covers. And then he feels her hot, wet tongue lick a languid stripe up the underside of his hard cock.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck.”

“You dream about something nice?” she asks, her voice dripping, soft and hot, a gentle guiding hand with butter-smooth fingers.

“Can't help it, shit,” he says. Her tongue is enjoying the taste of him, circling around his tip in a way that makes him choke. “Always hard when you're in bed with me. Christ, baby.”

“Smooth talker,” she says, jerking him off so slowly, too slowly.

“If you want my cock, just say so,” he grits out. “Don't tease, cielito.”

“Bossy,” comes her voice from beneath the sheets. He grabs the edge of the linen with perhaps a bit too much aggression and throws it back so he can see her face, blissed-out as she licks him so that drops of precum spurt out onto her tongue.

He goes blind for a moment. “So fucking—fuck, so beautiful,” he says raggedly. “Take me so well.”

She makes a happy sort of sound and finally takes him into the hot seal of her mouth, swallowing around him. Javier groans, long and low, struggling to keep his head upright so he can watch her take him. She keeps her eyes on his, watery and blinking hard, free hand braced on his thigh to ground herself. He can barely think clearly enough to string words together, but he does manage to spit out, “Good fuckin’ girl,” watching her suck him down to the base, fondling and squeezing his sack. That's when he can't hold up his head anymore, shoving it into the pillows and shutting his eyes. He doesn't want to see anything if he can't see her.

She bobs her head up and down, swirling her head around the head of his cock whenever she reaches it, inching him closer and closer to the edge until his balls tighten and his cock twitches inside her mouth. He pushes out a weak grunt to warn her, but she just shoves him all the way down her throat, choking as he comes. He spills endlessly into her mouth, twitching and pumping his cum onto her tongue as she squeezes his thigh greedily and her eyes go slightly crossed from the amount of hot spend pouring into her. “Fuck, fuck,” he hisses.

He's pretty sure he whines—a real goddamned high-pitched whine, borne from his orgasmic bliss and primal, space-filled brain—when she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue to await his orders. He admires the sight of his cum coating her mouth in white, some of it dribbling down her lips to her chin. “Swallow it, baby,” he says. “Be a good girl for me. That's it.”

She shows him her empty mouth when she's done and crawls all the way back up his body to kiss him. He groans into her mouth. “I love you,” he says. “If you don't get up now, you're sitting on my face, and we need to catch our flight.”

She gets up and sways her hips on her way to the bathroom to pack her toiletries. They end up on the floor in there anyway, her hips rocking over his mouth and he greedily licks and sucks at her until she's positively trembling, unable to hold herself up atop him. She falls back and nearly hits her head on the edge of the bathtub. Her hand shoots out in time, and Javier lifts himself off the floor to check on her, only to find her eyes glazed over and hazy with the remnants of her orgasm.

“You okay, baby?” he asks her, pulling her into him once they're both back on their feet.

“Good—” Her knees promptly buckle. He holds her up and pins her against the counter. “My hero,” she mumbles, resting her forehead against his.

“I mean it,” he says. “We're gonna be so fuckin’ late.”

“Fuck them,” she says. “They're forcing you out of the country. They can wait for you as long as we want them to. Pendejos.”

His chest swells with pride for the woman in his arms. He’ll miss this place and the memories they've made inside it. But more than anything, he's glad to go somewhere safer, somewhere they can live a quiet life and not have to peek around corners. He's going home, with his wife, and that's all he can think about. He barely leaves her side as they pack the last of their carry-ons, feeling somewhat like a puppy at its owner’s ankles. He craves the warmth of her skin more than he craves a smoke most days. He's going to try and quit when they land. She believes in him, so he tries to believe in himself.

Murphy meets them at the airport.

He kisses her cheek when he pulls away from their hug. “Don't take any of his shit,” he tells her.

Javier rolls his eyes and she grins. “Never do. See you around?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” says Steve. He slaps his hand into Javier’s, a brief handshake, before they both decide to go for a hug instead. “See you around, man. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Keep fighting the shitty fight, Murphy.” Javier claps him on the back. “I want to see that fucker in handcuffs or dead in the next month.”

“Do what I can.” He nods tightly.

The good-bye is feeble and none of them really knows how to do it. There are things left undone, unsaid. There are things he won't be there to see, things he can't be a part of. But it was his mistakes that got him here, on this airplane. It's his best decisions that got him here with her, asleep on his shoulder, curled up into him as they leave Colombia.

He thinks about the café. Feels a bit sad as he watches the country disappear out the window. Remembers that he has the rest of his life to flirt with the beautiful girl who worked behind the counter. And he feels a hell of a lot better.

He doesn't quite understand it, but he's joyful nonetheless. A life like this means you can't question the good things. It's the wins that crack open the impenetrable door and shed little rays of light on a bleak, dark existence. She's the sun.

He has all he needs.

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#kiwisbell's fics #las mañanas #javier peña #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #narcos

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wardenparker · 1 year

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Small Towns and Second Chances

Steve Murphy x female reader Steel Magnolias AU Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16.9k Warnings: Mentions of divorce and incarceration, small town gossip dynamics, ‘exotic’ eats, generalized trash talking of Connecticut, reference to reader borrowing clothes from another character, alcohol consumption, references to drug use/addiction, references to previous unhappy/abusive marriage. Steve Murphy is packing I will not accept criticism, public nudity, skinny dipping, oral sex (f receiving), hair pulling, outdoor sex, water sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, public sex. Summary: Newly retired DEA Agent Steve Murphy returns to his hometown after being served with divorce papers upon his return from Colombia. Unfortunately, his first day back is also the day of his next door neighbor’s wedding. But fortunately - you are there, too. (Loosely follows the plot of the beginning of the film Steel Magnolias. But if you’ve never seen it, don’t worry!) Notes: Utter and total self-indulgence. I watched Steel Magnolias for the first time a while ago and Keri is a criminal enabler when it comes to all things fantasy related - so here we are! 😁❤

Nothing seems to have changed in Evangeline Parish. At least not that Steve can tell. Same storefronts as there had always been in Ville Platte when he had driven through, the windows rolled down and the sweet, slightly sickly scent of blooming flowers flowing through the cab along with the humidity. Same heavy sun beating down on the few that hadn't retreated to the shade while they tried to cool themselves down with whatever could be turned into a fan. Maybe it was insane to want to come back to Louisiana in spring, but after the past six years that he had – all he wanted to do was go home.

Home wasn't in Miami anymore. Maybe it would have been if there hadn't been a manilla envelope of divorce papers sitting on the coffee table when he had shown up at the apartment of his wife and daughter when he had been allowed to come back to the States. Maybe it would have been if the past two years in Colombia hadn't left an indelible mark on his very soul. But there had been, and it had, so he had taken the papers and the keys to the truck that Connie had been good enough to crank up once a week for him and shoved his bags into the passenger seat before he set out for home. Back to Chinquapin, Louisiana.

The screams, chaos, and gunshots coming out of the Eatenton house next door were the kind of cacophony that only a backyard Southern wedding could produce, and the army of different company trucks and employees racing around the property proved it. But the only scream he was looking out for – the best one of the whole batch – came from the twentysomething girl hanging out of the top floor bedroom right in the corner of the big, familiar, clean white house on the corner.

“Steve!” His little sister was hanging out so far that she was practically on the roof, waving frantically at the truck as she watched it pull into the driveway. By the time he parked, he wagered she would be downstairs ready to hug the life out of him. “Mama! Daddy! Steve’s home!”

"Tater!" He grins out the window of his truck as the exuberant expression on her face falls into a scowl that promises an elbow to the gut, and she throws him a rude gesture that would have Mama scolding her. Chuckling when she disappears out the window and he can hear the thundering of her feet down the steps. Another thing that hasn't changed.

“Three brothers and you’re the only one I like except for that dumb ass nickname.” His sister grumps, throwing herself off the stairs to ring her arms around his neck and hug him anyway.

“Tabitha Leigh Murphy, we do not swear in this house.” Their mother frowns in the mud room doorway, but only for effect. She’s overjoyed to have her sweetest tempered child home again, even if the circumstances are a little less than ideal. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” she murmurs, extending open arms to her son. “We missed you.”

"Thanks Ma." Steve wraps his mother up in his arms and sighs. She's shorter than he is, he has to bend down to press his face into her neck like he used to when he was little, but the scent of Revlon Charlie was a staple memory of his childhood. As much as he hates why he is here, he's happy to be home. He's missed the craziness. Flinching when another gunshot blast rings out. "Jesus fucking Christ!" He hisses, pulling away from his mama.

"What did I just say to your sister?" His mother scowls dramatically, smacking his arm before shaking her head. "You barely made it before Shelby Eatenton's wedding, Steven. Go shower and pull out one of those nice suits I know you have packed away. Your sister's got to get over to Miss Truvy's before Shelby and M'Lynn have their appointments. The way Drum Eatenton had been shooting away at the birds all morning it was a wonder that there were even any trees left.”

The way Tater is grinning at him makes him roll his eyes, reaching out and tugging on his sister's hair. "You can go get my bags out of the truck since I have to shower, Tater." He teases, turning and taking the stairs four at a time to get away from her swat.

"Hank!" No amount of scowls from their mother ever keeps the youngest Murphy sibling from hollering through the house, and it wouldn't right now, either. "Tyler! Mama says to come help unload Steve's shit from the truck!" There's work to be done and it can get done a hell of a lot faster if her brothers get involved. No way would she try to get Hank Murphy's precious, dainty wife to do anything helpful, but at least their sister-in-law was behaving herself today. There hadn't been any mean comments about Steve's divorce all morning.

Steve hears a shout from Hank but he doesn't pay much attention, walking down the hall and into the bedroom that hadn't changed since he had gone off to college. Through the door on the side to the Jack-and-Jill he had shared with his oldest brother until he had left for school three years before Steve had.

Piles of boxes are what are left for Steve around his room, and the unmistakable whiff of one of Tyler Murphy's stink bombs left behind as a welcome for his older brother. All four of the Murphy kids had grown up as close as they could, but that meant being as much each other's friendly adversaries as they were confidantes. It was a good way to grow up, even if the brothers had grown apart a little as they got older.

Sighing softly, Steve starts to strip down, knowing that his brothers will bring his bags in by the time he gets out of the shower. They might go through them to make fun of his clothes, but he doesn't give a shit about that.

******

Truvy's Beauty Spot has been a town institution for Tabitha Leigh's entire life, and Miss Truvy Jones herself was probably privy to every single up and down of the Murphy family's life the same way she was privy to everybody else's in town. She'd even dated Miss Truvy's son Louie in high school, for all the good in the world that that did her. Today she's excited, though. Shelby Eatenton was a sort of loose friend all through school just based on the fact that they were next door neighbors, and news of Steve’s arrival would surely be good gossip for Miss Truvy and the other ladies.

"Miss Truvy?" Tabitha Leigh sticks her head in the open door of the Jones house/salon. "I know I'm a little early, but I had to get away from all the chaos. Mr. Eatenton is trying to poke holes in every cloud over Louisiana."

Truvy turns and gives the younger woman a bright smile, her large blonde hair not swaying a bit under her eager nod of agreement. “Come on in honey, I’ll be happy to have the company.” She says.

"Steve's home!" She reports gleefully, galloping in the front door and dropping comfortably into the first styling chair she sees. "Mama's gonna make him come to Shelby's wedding whether he likes it or not and I finally have my favourite brother back again."

"Really?" Truvy’s brow arches and she pauses from tearing some foils for coloring to turn and look at the youngest Murphy child and only girl. "Just last week you were saying Tyler was your favorite because he brought you home a pint of rocky road ice cream."

"No, I said he saved himself from being my least favourite," Tabitha Leigh corrects matter-of-factly. "Now that's Hank, because his wife is a hateful little princess and I—" The only thing that could possibly cut off her diatribe about how much she dislikes her sister-in-law is the appearance of an unknown woman in the doorway, and Tabitha Leigh sits up in the chair with curiosity. "Well, hello. You're new."

"I...yeah. I'm new." Carrying the armful of towels that Miss Truvy asked you to fetch and fold from the dryer, you inch into the doorway and look to your new boss with what you're sure is the same expression that lost puppy dogs have. It is literally your first day of work at Truvy's Beauty Spot and you stumbled into the biggest wedding the town has seen all year. "Miss Truvy, where should I put these?"

"Right over here, honey." Truvy had known you were a timid thing, but she had hoped you would be comfortable around a bunch of women. "Open up that cabinet and just set them right inside. Show her, Tabitha Leigh."

"In here." Tabitha Leigh doesn't even look, just reaches behind her to open the cabinet above her head. "You Judy's replacement?" She asks, wondering how Miss Truvy could have gotten anyone in so fast. "Hell of a day for you to start."

"I'm starting to get that," you laugh quietly, more of a nervous titter that anything else. The other ladies who had started to materialize this morning were older than this young woman, but all of them seemed to be on the same level as far as gossip is concerned. That should make it pretty easy to learn about your new home, thank goodness.

"She'll get the hang of it." Truvy declares with confidence before she turns back to Tabitha Leigh. "So, tell me how Steve's doing?" She demands, turning to check that the curlers are plugged in for when Shelby gets here. "I saw his picture in the paper when the story broke."

"Mama and Daddy are just about as pleased as anything." Tabitha Leigh kicks her feet up on the nearest bit of empty table and leans back comfortably. "He went to Washington and got all kinds of congratulations and even met the president. But..." she glances around, conspiracy written all over her face as the other ladies lean in like moths being beckoned to a flame. "Connie served him with divorce papers as soon as he got back to Miami. So now he's home again, and good riddance to her." Tabitha Leigh may not have exactly disliked Steve's wife, but she and Connie were both strong minded women who didn't quite get along. Now it seemed like the woman had never appreciated her fantastic brother for everything he was worth in the first place, so why bother?

Truvy tuts and shakes her head. "Don't know why she would want to do a fool thing like that." She huffs. "That boy is as handsome as homemade sin."

"Which is much better than store bought sin," Clairee chimes in, shaking a little as she laughs. "I guess we'll all have to dote on Agent Steven Murphy a little at the wedding so he doesn't get glum about things."

"Agent Steven Murphy...like the man in the papers and on tv?" Your head tilts as it pops up from where you were starting to set Miss Clairee's hair in curlers. "The man that caught Pablo Escobar is your brother?"

Tabitha Leigh beams proudly. "Sure is." She hasn't had anyone new in town to tell about her fantastic big brother in ages. "He has some stories to tell and honestly? I couldn't be more proud of him."

"Shit." The mild curse is out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, but a second later your eyes are wide and you're grimacing in your new boss's direction. "I mean shoot. Sorry, Miss Truvy. I just...that's so cool!" You would much rather hear other people's stories than tell your own – having nothing but rough or boring tales to tell of your own life until now. And no one likes to be sad on a wedding day. Any wedding day.

Tabitha Leigh nods in agreement and opens her mouth to talk about her darling big brother some more but Shelby walks in and the women start to crowd around her, asking her questions for a few minutes before Truvy shoos them away and settles the bride into her own chair. "Now, you aren't getting cold feet now, are you honey?" She asks Shelby teasingly, the woman being a few minutes late for her appointment.

"My brothers hid my shoes." Shelby groans, shooting a grin at Tabitha Leigh. No one knows the trials and tribulations of too many brothers the way they do. "So Mama walloped them, which was the highlight of my morning besides the bubble bath."

Truvy laughs and shakes her head. "Boys will be boys." She hums. "And mama's will whoop them." She thinks about her own son. "I walloped mine plenty of times for pulling pranks."

"And who is this?" M'Lynn Eatenton asks in between laughing with the rest of them, gesturing much more gently to you than the other women had.

"The new Judy." Clairee offers you a smile as you set the last curler in her hair. "Although our new friend has a much gentler touch, thank goodness. We've just been acquainting her with all our town news while we get ready for Shelby's big day."

Tabitha Leigh grins and gives you a small shrug. "We aren't always this crazy." She promises with a chuckle.

"Oh, don't lie to the girl," Truvy jokes, picking up a brush and setting to work on Shelby's fantastical updo. "We most certainly are always like this. It's part of our charm to be gossips and secret sharers."

"Well, I'm a veritable vault," you promise, offering the ladies a smile. "All the people I've met so far are the people in this room, so there's no one for me to hear gossip from but you all."

"You should come." Shelby says suddenly, turning to her mama to make sure that she approves. She's not the one who has dealt with the caterer, M'Lynn has. "To my wedding. It'll be a perfect time to meet people."

"Oh, I don't want to impose." The suggestion makes you recoil slightly, looking down at the bride's mother as if she might flinch or roll her eyes or something equally disapproving. "I—I mean that's very kind of you, of course. But I'm not sure I would have anything to wear." It's the best excuse you can come up with at such short notice, not wanting to tell the kind ladies the actual reason that you have no desire to go anywhere near a wedding right now. That would make you the object of plenty of gossip yourself, and the reason you picked up and moved somewhere entirely different was to stop being gossiped about.

"No, you should!" Truvy eyes you up and down and shakes her head. "I'm sure I have a dress that you can borrow."

Shit. Holding in the fact that you feel like a deer caught in the headlights of these ladies' massive car, you plaster a sweet smile on your face and nod. "Well...alright then. If you're sure." You'll go for just a little while, say hello, and then disappear. That will be the best way, you decide. "I'm sure it will be beautiful."

"Of course it will be." Shelby giggles happily as only a blushing bride can. "I'm marrying the perfect man." Her happy grin is soft and every woman sighs slightly, remembering their own weddings.

"It'll be beautiful, darlin," Truvy coos as she works on Shelby's hair. "You're gonna be just the most beautiful bride in the whole world, and you'll never, ever forget your day." She grins salaciously. "Or tonight, if Jackson does his job right."

The hoots and catcalls ring out in the room and Tabitha Leigh grins at the slightly uncomfortable look on M'Lynn's face at the idea of her baby doing that. "Who says he's not already done that job?" She asks, winking at Shelby.

"Did a little bit of it down at the lake after the rehearsal supper last night," Shelby grins, cheeks pink with the admission as the other ladies hoot and holler. For your part, you keep your head down and focus on your task, leaving them to their chatter. Weddings aren't exactly your favourite thing in the world, but Shelby Eatenton seems sweet, and she seems genuinely happy. For her sake, you just hope things stay that way.

“Shelby!” M’Lynn shakes her head at her daughter and gives a small laugh. She can’t blame her; she was the same way the night before her own wedding. “You just wait until you get to the hotel in New Orleans tonight, ya hear?” She warns her playfully. “No coat closets.”

"Alright, mama." Shelby grins, making dubious eye contact with Truvy in the mirror that makes both women snicker playfully. "Cross my heart."

******

Steve was used to being in a suit, he spent plenty of time in them at the Embassy. Stiff, he shuffles slightly in place and looks around, trying to ignore the looks of pity he’s receiving.

You've stayed on the outskirts of things, not getting in the way and simply waving hello to Shelby after you and Miss Truvy arrived to the Eatenton house from the church for the reception. Your boss had found something deep in her closet that you could actually manage to wear and kept you at her side in the church, but now that it's time for a party Miss Truvy seems to be in her element. Since you are much less at ease today, you've tucked yourself under a tree in the backyard to observe from afar, wondering how long you need to stay to be considered polite. There hasn't been a single wedding day that you've enjoyed including your own, so this one was no exception.

Out of everyone here, there seems to be two people who aren’t enjoying the festivities. Steve and the woman that he spots over at another table across the back yard. He doesn’t recognize her and wonders if she’s from Jackson’s side of the family. There’s some of them that he doesn’t recognize. His bottle of beer is nearly warm, sweating, and he could use a conversation that doesn’t involve explaining his divorce, so he decides to abandon his table and start making his way across the grass towards her.

If you had claimed not to notice him, it would have been a dirty lie. Not only did the tall blond man stand head and shoulders above the other guests with his natural height, but he was easily the best looking out of every man here as well. Then there was the fact that you’d seen his face all over the news – but hell, the tv didn’t do him justice. You don’t get to see just how blue those eyes are on a tiny little TV set. It makes it doubly shocking, for you at least, that you didn’t see him approach you. Maybe you were just too caught up in your own memories. Maybe you were too caught up in a daydream. You’re not sure, but either way, you didn’t notice DEA Agent Steve Murphy walking across the yard at you until he was nearly by your side.

The new beers that he had grabbed were in his hand and he sets one on the tall table covered with a snow-white cloth and decorated with some little flower thing in the middle. "You look like me." He observes with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Like you'd rather be at the dentist than this wedding."

“Oh, I—um—” The protest is on the top of your tongue. How weddings are such lovely things. How you feel lucky to be able to celebrate with new acquaintances. But just like the tv didn’t do his looks any justice, it also never got across how warm and magnetic his presence is. He’s got a voice like butter with only the barest trace of an accent left, speaking of years and years away from this place. “I don’t know anyone,” you admit, glancing up at him.

Eager to have a friend in misery, Steve perks up slightly and transfers the beer to his left hand. Wiping the wetness away on his suit trousers, he offers his hand for you to take. "Steve Murphy." He flashes you a grin. "Now you know someone."

Your hand is small in his when you take it, and you give him your name after only a second of flustering. “I know who you are,” you admit, sheepish expression painted over your face even though you won’t tell him that it’s from the news. “I met your sister this morning. Over at Truvy’s.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes. "Whatever Tater told you, it's a lie, okay?" He promises, sure that his baby sister is already causing him trouble. "I did not do half the things she says I did, including cutting off all the heads of her dolls. That was Tyler." He grins and takes a sip of his beer because he had technically kidnapped them for his brother to decapitate but his excuse was that he had been twelve at the time.

The pure and unadulterated sibling-hood is strong, and it makes you grin as you pick up the beer that he set down in front of you. “She did nothing but sing your praises, actually. Favourite brother and so happy you’re home and all that.” You throw him a slightly shady look and smirk. “But Tater is an awful nickname so maybe she was wrong after all.”

"Short for Tater Tot." He gives a small shrug and grins, knowing it's horrible but it does have some bit of reasoning behind it. "When she was a little thing, she loved tater tots and would beg me for mine." He tells you, looking across the yard and spotting his younger sister laughing with Shelby and cooing over her wedding dress. "She would climb up in my lap and eat them off my plate, just singing 'tater tots' over and over."

“And my guess is that she’ll kill you for telling a complete stranger that story.” The first sip of cold beer goes down like cool rain, making you hum happily. “It’s very sweet, though.”

“Probably, but you aren’t a complete stranger now, are you?” He asks, with a grin. It’s nice to commiserate with someone who wasn’t overjoyed at young love. Fuck, he needs to call Peña again.

“I guess not.” He has an easy charm that you’re sure he wielded like a weapon when he was younger, and you could swear that the warmth in your cheeks isn’t from the oppressive heat this time. “Everybody’s been real nice. I’m grateful.”

“Oh, they’re friendly.” He watches as everyone socializes. “Crazy as hell, but friendly. So it’s good to be home.”

“Crazy can be good. Crazy makes life interesting.” You sip your beer again, glancing at his face out of the corner of your eye. God he’s so much more handsome in person…

“So where are you from?” He asks, looking over at you. “Few people choose to move to Chinquapin, Louisiana.

“Last place before this was Alabama.” There had been plenty of places before that, but the last three years wasted in Mobile, Alabama really were wasted, as far as you’re concerned. “Originally? Connecticut.”

Steve nods and wonders what else you’re hiding. You twitched and your response was paused, as if you were making sure you had your story straight. He didn’t think you were some criminal, but the agent in him took notice. “A Yankee huh?” He flashes you a grin. “So how you like it here?”

“It’s a good thing I like summer so much,” you joke, wondering how he can possibly survive the Louisiana humidity in a suit. “And the grub is good. So I figure I’ll stay a while longer.”

“Food is good.” He had missed some homemade Cajun food while he had been in Colombia. “Well, we like to be welcoming, so you stay as long as you like. We’ll end up calling you family.”

That tightens your smile slightly – not having the best associations with family in general can make the idea of even brand-new ties very intimidating. “Thanks,” you murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice.

Steve turns and takes another sip of his beer, wondering again what makes that smile tighten like that. Instead of asking he nods towards the table. “Mrs. Maisy’s catering has the best gator tail and shrimp this side of New Orleans,” he offers.

You laugh before you can stop yourself, obviously thinking he’s joking, but he the expression on his face reads amusement-laced-seriousness. “I’ve never had gator,” you admit, finding his eyes are completely set on you. “Guess I’m gonna have to try it.”

He sends you a wink, happy to have someone not giving him the ‘poor Steve’ speech. Nodding towards the table, he chuckles. “How about now? She’ll run out if we aren’t careful.”

“Sure. Let’s give it a go.” Though you don’t have the faintest idea why he chose to talk to you or why he’s being so nice, you have to admit that you enjoy being around him. It’s probably relieving to have someone who isn’t hounding him for gossip about his divorce or trying to set him up like you’re sure the older ladies are doing, and that makes you the perfect person to be around. You’re brand new – no need for gossip and definitely no desire to talk about marriages. And besides which…something as silly as a wink should not be that sexy. So you’re not about to turn down his company.

Having you with him keeps people from come up and giving him sympathetic speeches about keeping his chin up or he will find someone new, so he keeps you close. Selfish? Maybe. But he likes the way you laugh and he honestly thinks you could use a friend too. “But I have to warn you, watch out for the punch, the menfolk always spike it.” He leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Menfolk, huh?” His breath on your neck makes you shiver a little, as ridiculous as it is, and you find that the way he grins at you when you tease him makes you giddy the way you haven’t felt in years. It’s unnerving and exciting and you don’t know whether to run or beg for more. “Yankee girls don’t grow up on moonshine so maybe I should stay away.”

“All depends on how good of a time you wanna have.” He jokes and his hand rests on your back as he guides you to the tables laden with food.

You really did promise yourself you weren’t going to get involved with another man. Not so soon after everything. This new beginning was supposed to be about you and you alone. Now here you are swooning at the slightest touch like a schoolgirl. “Don’t tempt me.” Is the teasing reply you decide on, half-hoping he’ll leave it at that and half-wondering if he might not.

Steve chuckles and for a moment, he wishes he had a fraction of the charm his old partner had. Javi would have had no problem flirting, but it’s been a long time since he’s done this, he feels a bit wooden. He’s not exactly looking for a relationship, but flirting with a pretty woman always makes a man feel good. “Don’t you know the devil’s in the bayou?” He asks with another wink.

“I’ve heard.” Why does he have to be so fuckin cute? It’s not what you asked for, or what you were looking for, and it’s definitely not what you said you wanted, but here you are practically melting into his side as he stands a touch closer to you waiting for two bowls to be filled with food than he had been standing just a second before. “Guess I must secretly like it, or I wouldn’t have stayed.”

“There’s a magic here.” Steve admits as he looks around at the overgrown oaks that hang heavy with moss. “My mama always said that Chinquapin soothed the soul.”

“Your mama might be right.” You both thank the girl handing out plates and bowls, taking your food away from the chaos just as soon as you get it. There’s a different white-cloth covered table under a different tree open, and this time there are even chairs to sit in. “Connecticut doesn’t really have magic. I think that’s why I left.” Though why you’re talking about it is beyond you. He’s lived a fuller life in the last two years than you have in all of your own, there’s no way you could be interesting enough to keep his attention.

“Maybe it’s just different.” He counters, titling his head as he watches you get set up to eat. He wants to see your reaction to that first bite.

“Maybe.” Very, very different. So different that it stopped affecting you right around the time you hit double digits. When the shiny lens of wonder started to rub off of how you saw the world. Realizing that he’s watching you makes you more than a tiny bit self-conscious, but you know why. The food. So you give him as genuine a smile as you can and fill up a fork full of heavily spiced stewed alligator and shrimp smothered in equally spicy gravy. Cajun food in a nutshell, and actually you’ve found that you love it. “Cheers,” You grin, holding up your fork before taking that big bite all at once – spice and vinegar and something deeply smoky mixed with garlic and onion and…tomato, maybe? Whatever it is, your eyes have practically rolled back in your head as you hum your approval. The alligator tastes more like pork that you would have expected and it’s surprisingly tasty. “Holy shit,” you groan when you’re done with that first bite. “That’s fucking amazing, you weren’t kidding.”

Steve feels his stomach twist at your groan, it’s innocently sexy and that is something he hasn’t thought in a long time. The truth was that Connie left him long before those divorce papers. It was his fault, he changed in Colombia, and now he was trying to find the man he was. He chuckles and takes his own bite. “Isn’t it?” He shakes his head. “When I was eating the best fucking arepas you could ever imagine, I was dreaming of this.”

"Growing up the closest we got to gourmet was a really good hot dog," you joke, leaning to the side a little in your seat instinctively to be closer to him. The chair shifts under you as a matter of course, closing some of the polite distance without you really realizing it. It's just – it's comfortable and giving you a feeling of being warm all the way through that the bayou weather never could. "I mean, Connecticut is a place where they give you pizza with clams on it or a steamed hamburger and call it comfort food. Give me barbecue and real soul food over that any day of the week."

“Steamed hamburgers?” Steve’s eyes widen in horror. “That’s a fuckin’ crime. Has to be.” He’s offended by the mere thought of something like that existing, much less being something people eat.

"It should be, but they exist. And people are even proud of 'em." And right now, eating something as flavorful as you are in the middle of a gorgeous afternoon, that just seems silly. Mystic may have been pretty, but the only thing your little hometown had that Louisiana doesn't is autumn leaves – while Louisiana has so very much more. It's like a whole new world for you to explore, which was part of the reason that you came here in the first place. "This is so much better," you hum, motioning to your almost empty bowl.

“Ate more than you thought you would, didntcha?” He teases, his own spoon eagerly scrapping the bowl for the last mouthful. “Now we gotta talk about the beignets.”

"You're gonna have to roll me back to Mrs. Robeline's Boarding House if you keep feeding me." The soft groan you aim at him is half-hearted though, because you already know you love beignets. They were the very first thing you sought out to eat when you got to New Orleans and they're a happy memory because of it.

“You’re livin’ there?” He lifts a brow in surprise. “She still make everyone be in by eight o’clock and no male visitors beyond the parlor?”

"It was what I could find on short notice." You shrug a little, sitting back in your chair now that your bowl is all but licked clean. "It's not so bad. At least the place is clean, and I have my own bathroom. That's more than some of the other places could offer."

“I’ll keep an eye out for places that you can have to yourself.” Steve promises and looks around the yard again. The dance floor that’s been set up and there are couples starting to drift onto it. He doesn’t want to watch cutting the cake or try to catch that damn garter. “You wanna get out of here?” He asks suddenly. “Get away from all this?”

If you knew what reason he had for being so nice to you - what possible motivation he could have or what he wants from you - you might be wary of the question. As it stands, it’s seems like you’re just the two loneliest people at the wedding and neither of you wants to be here. The idea of escape rolls through you like freedom and relief, and you set your now empty beer bottle back on the table and nod. “I—yeah. Everybody’s really nice, but weddings aren’t my thing.”

“Good.” Steve immediately sets his bottle down and stands. “My truck shouldn’t be blocked in. We can sneak over there and get out of here. Did you drive?”

“I don’t have a car,” you admit quietly, knowing that walking the length of the town every day to get from the boarding house to Miss Truvy’s salon was going to get old very fast. You didn’t exactly have a choice, though.

He doesn’t comment on it, knowing that you wouldn’t appreciate it. He can tell you are here ‘starting over’. The only difference between the two of you is that his family is here to help and you are apparently alone. Instead of making you feel bad, he shoots you a grin. “How about I show you all the best spots in Chinquapin?”

“Do you think Miss Truvy will be upset if I sneak off with saying goodbye?” The last thing you want to do is upset your boss - especially when she drove the two of you here and you’re wearing her borrowed dress. But good god you are dying to be anywhere but here. Especially with him.

“Nah.” He shakes his head with certainty. “Miss Truvy won’t mind at all. But I’ll leave a note on her car if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Today was my first day,” you explain, shrugging apologetically. “She’s so nice, and I don’t want to upset her at all.”

“Note it is.” Steve agrees easily. He would agree to near about anything right now to get away from that wedding party. All he can think about is his own now botched marriage and he’s tired of it all.

It’s like a stealth escape out of a caper movie, and you’re not entirely sure if he’s exaggerating any of it to amuse you or if he’s just gone into impressive government agent mode. Either way he’s sweeping up across two yards within seconds of setting the note under Miss Truvy’s husband’s truck windshield wiper, leading to the two of you snickering wildly when you can hear his mother start to look for him right before you reach his truck.

"Shit." Steve's eyes widen and he hurriedly opens your door to let you hop up into the passenger seat. "We need to leave now or I'll be roped into talking about God knows what with Great Aunt Sally."

"Go, go, go!" The whispered hiss comes with giggles, and you're throwing on your seatbelt as he hustles around the hood of the truck to hop behind the wheel as quickly as possible.

The engine roars to life with a quick turn of the key and Steve quickly throws it into reverse, acting like he's about to start chasing sicarios as he screeches out of the driveway. Your laughter is worth the bit of silly and his own heart is lighter for it.

"So where to?" You ask, as he peels off down the road in the opposite direction of the wedding. The area doesn't exactly have a lot of tourist attractions, but he grew up here. He'll know the hidden gems for what they're really worth.

"How 'bout I show you exactly where to go to get good food, good liquor and the best damn swimming hole in all of Evangaline Parish?" Steve asks, lifting a brow in your direction. He hadn't really thought this through beyond leaving the wedding, but you are new to the area, so he figures giving you the tour is the proper thing to do.

"Sounds good to me." The streets pass by easily, and with your windows rolled down the mid-afternoon hubbub of downtown is a dim soundtrack for the occasional joke or tease in the cab of his truck. You get along easily - effortlessly - and something about it makes you both annoyed with yourself for the obvious way your guard is starting to come down and infinitely more relaxed than you have felt in years because of it.

"So, besides your normal desserts, Ida's makes the best damn milkshake you've ever tasted in your life. And her pecan pie is to die for." He nods as he sees the shop in the distance. "Wanna get some for the tour?"

"If we were just wandering, I'd say we should pick up a flask of bourbon and have grown up milkshakes." Alcoholic milkshakes were a treat that an old landlady has introduced you to years and years ago, and you absolutely loved the combination of creamy sweetness with the cut of smoky liquor running through it.

"That sounds like a plan." He quickly agrees and slows the truck down so he pull into an empty parking spot in front of the small shop. "The bourbon will be better coming from 'ol Jackson's near the river."

“Ol Jackson’s it is.” You agree easily. Downtown is exactly the kind of quaint you have come to expect from the Deep South, with old store fronts and almost-as-old men sitting out front of some of them smoking and cavorting. Ida’s is a neat little building painted white and decorated with a pretty blue-and-yellow painted sign above the entrance. Everything about it is tidy, even the trade of laughing old me with a pair of ladies still in their Sunday best sipping sweet tea and happily chattering over slices of Cajun cake.

Steve waits until you join him on the sidewalk for you before he guides you into the store. "Now are you a chocolate kind of girl or vanilla?" He asks, as if its the most important question in the world.

"Depends on what it is." The pastry cases are full of every goodie you can possibly think of, and the big machines behind the counters that spin milkshakes are happily buzzing. With only a small ice cream case in one corner, you figure this is definitely a quality over quantity situation and that sounds like heaven. "Usually vanilla. Nothing is quite as good as vanilla and cinnamon together, though."

"So you should choose number four." He tells you seriously, pointing to the menu hanging above the milkshake station. "It's vanilla with a slice of cinnamon crumb cake mixed in. Everything is homemade, by the way."

"This place is heaven," you grin, breathing in the smell of fresh cakes and pastries. If the fact that you have smiled more this afternoon than you have in the last nine months is a factor, your cheeks will be sore for hours, but you can't bring yourself to care. It's a miracle to feel this free again.

"That what you want?" He asks, waiting for your nod before he walks up to the counter. "See me? I'm gonna go with the chocolate with the devil’s food cake mixed in." He tells with a grin. "It's sinful."

"So much for pecan pie." Amused that you both abandoned the classic in favor of comfort choices, you nudge him a little with your arm. "But I have a feeling I'm gonna be coming here any time I have a few dollars to spare."

"It's addictive." He agrees as Ida comes out of the back, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Steven Murphy!" She grins, giving him a motherly scold. "I'd heard you were coming back. When did you get in?"

"Today." That makes her chuckle, no doubt amused with the fact that he had been in town for less than twenty-four hours and he was already darkening her doorway.

"Well, what can I get for you hun?" She asks, turning to smile at you with a curious gleam to her eyes. You aren't the former Mrs. Steve Murphy, she had recognized her from the few visits they had made to Chinquapin as a couple years ago, but you were obviously with Steve for this visit and she doesn't recall seeing you around town.

Steve orders for both of you and makes a face when you try to offer him a few dollars from your purse, and you roll your eyes good naturedly. You didn't figure he would let you pay, but offering is the least you could do. If you closed your eyes and dreamed, you could pretend this was a date. Casual and comfortable, two people who have found each other and grown fond of each other and kept each other company through the ups and downs of life. Which would be a hell of a lot more romantic than your last relationship. Your marriage.

The sounds of the milkshake being made are comforting, a sound of his childhood. He looks around and tries to see what it would look like through a newcomer’s eyes. "The sandwiches are good here too." He promises you. "Especially the Thanksgiving special."

"You are gonna have to roll me back home." You laugh, looking up at him beside you. "I guess we'll have to come back another time." The we is slightly presumptuous, but you want him to be enjoying this as much as you are.

Steve grins and wonders if it was a slip of the tongue or a soft hint that you would like that. The idea that it was a hint makes him shift to stand a little straighter. "We can do that." He turns when Ida sets the milkshakes on the counter and reaches out for them. "Thank you ma'am." He nods towards the woman who has seen him in her shop since he was in diapers.

"Anything for my new favourite deputy." She grins, nodding at the much taller, much younger man. Gossip moves fast in their little town and everybody who knew Steve Murphy was coming home also knew what he would be up to when he got here. There were whispers about his wife, and it seemed like they were true after all. Shame.

Steve can feel the question in your eyes as the two of you exit the shop. He sighs and gives a small shrug of his shoulders as he hands you the vanilla milkshake. "I was working for the feds for awhile, but that's done so I came home." He explains. "Being a sheriff's deputy will keep me from going insane with boredom."

"I—" You hesitate again, but decide to just shrug it off. You would rather not start this friendship - or whatever it is - out on a lie. "I know who you are," you tell him finally, as you both climb back into his truck. "I've seen you; I mean. On TV and in the papers. I just...didn't know you were from here until I met your sister this morning."

"Oh." He chuckles and shakes his head. "I guess there's no escaping it when it was in the papers, huh?" He asks with a roll of his eyes. "At least it was just my career on display."

"What you did made a lot of people's lives safer again. Better. It's nothing to shrug off, Steve." He turns over the engine and pulls out into the empty street again, going through the automatic motions like he could drive the entire town in his sleep. He probably could. "People all over the world are better off now than they were when that monster was alive. And that is thanks to you."

He could tell you that the number of kilos of cocaine entering the U.S. hasn't slowed down. In fact, more cocaine is coming in than before. He doesn't though. The tone of your voice makes him think that it's something personal for you. "Who was it?" He asks softly, expecting that you lost someone to drugs.

"Um..." You swallow, eyes drifting away from him to stare out the windshield. "My husband. Ex-husband. He's in prison, thank god. Just...please...Miss Truvy doesn't know. I didn't know if she would hire someone with a past."

His brow wings up, both surprised that you have a husband in prison and that you think that he would tell someone else's story. He shakes his head. "Not my place to say a word." He hums. "Besides, your ex-husband isn't you."

“He was a bastard, and I never should have married him.” That, at least, is the dead honest truth. But at least you’re free of him now, which is more than you thought you would ever live to say. Huffing slightly at yourself, you watch the road go by out the front window for a moment. “Anyway. Liquor store and swimming hole, right?”

"Right." He can tell you want to change the subject, so he does just that. Making a left at the only stoplight in town and humming at the sight of the magnolia tree blooming in front of the small city hall.

The drive is now transformed to an awkward silence, and you wish you had never said a fucking thing. It’s too late for that, obviously, but it has been so nice until now. The sight of the liquor store is almost a blessing at this point, as you severely hope that a little relaxation will make things less weird again.

Putting the truck in park, Steve turns to you. "Don't worry about it." He comments softly. "Hell, everyone in town is talking about how my wife divorced me on the heels of catching Escobar, so your issues won't even be a blip on the radar."

“We were just the two worst people to invite to a wedding, weren’t we?” It’s almost comical in a way. Or it would be if you both weren’t so obviously hurt by your former spouses.

Steve barks out a laugh, throwing his head back in relief that you aren't upset and nods quickly. "Yes, we were." He agrees easily and jerks his head towards the liquor store. "Come on, let's go get that bourbon you want."

Hopping out of the car right after him, you snort and shake your head. “You can’t tell me you don’t want a stiff drink after blush and bashful.” You roll your eyes, thinking of the huge deal Shelby had made over her wedding colours being two barely distinguishable shades of pink.

"I don't know what the fuck those colors are." He admits with another laugh and strides to the door to open it for you. "The colors for my wedding were...." He chuckles. "Fuck, I don't even know. Some kind of green and blue."

“Pink and pink, Steve. They were pink and pink.” It’s good to laugh with him, the feeling of comfort rolling back through you. “I barely even had a wedding. Just the courthouse with some flowers from the grocery store and a low country boil for dinner.” Unbelievably, though, that last bit does make you smile. “At least the food was good.”

"Only reason we did a wedding was because my mama would have killed us." Steve admits with a chuckle. "Wouldn't have minded the courthouse."

“I don’t think I would have minded if he had just asked.” Inside the liquor store is cram-jam full from floor to ceiling with every kind of bottle you can imagine and two men playing cards who pay you and Steve no mind. “I should have seen the warning sign from miles away.”

"Easy to ignore." Steve admits, knowing that he had ignored the warning signs that Connie was unhappy.

“It’s done with now.” And good riddance. Cocaine had turned a careless man into a monster, and you survived it. That’s all that matters now. “I just— I’m sorry you had to go through your own. You seem like a very sweet guy.”

"I'm not." He promises, his jaw clenching slightly in self-reflection. "I've got my own demons, but I'm trying." He had witnessed the darkness in him, it almost threatened to ruin his career until Javi went to bat for him. He just needed to make sure that darkness was caged.

“That’s all you can do, really.” The back wall is covered in whiskey and bourbon bottles, all different labels and few that you recognize. “We don’t have to…” you hesitate, glancing over at him. “If it’s not going to be good for you, we can skip it.” Whatever his demons are, they’re his and he doesn’t owe you an explanation. But you also don’t want to push him toward them accidentally.

"Nahhhhh." He shoots you a smirk and shrugs. "You aren't snorting coke in front of a DEA agent." He jokes.

“Former DEA agent.” Trying for a cheery smile, you shrug again. “I’ll never touch that shit. It turns people into shadows and monsters. Booze just makes me giggly and a little cuddly. And I can rein that in, ya know? Cocaine just…it’s unstoppable.”

"It's good to steer clear of that shit." He shakes his head. "Never understand why people want to snort shit up their noses that's made with gasoline."

“I guess it just depends on how badly you’re hurting, and how badly you want to stop hurting.” Plucking a small bottle of Statesman Reserve from the shelf, you hold it up for him to inspect. “It’s on me, but it will have to go home with you if we don’t finish it. No male guests past the parlor and no liquor of premises,” you recite the boarding house rules mockingly.

Steve snorts and shoots you a grin. "I'll save it for the next time, how about that? That way we can always have boozy milkshakes."

“You’re teasing me, but you’re going to love it.” That grin is going to make you more flustered than you’ve been in a long time, you can’t help it.

"Oh, I don't doubt it." He takes the bottle from you and turns it around to look at the label. "Statesman, huh? Don't think I've heard of this."

“Bourbon of choice for ‘Bama sorority girls.” You laugh, entirely at your own expense, and nod at the bottle - and maybe the memories, too. “It’s good, I promise.”

"Well hell, gotta try it." He draws and looks around. "Anything else you want a nip of?"

“I’m easy.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them and you chuckle. “I mean— you know what I mean.”

"Suuuuuuure." His wink is pure teasing and he loves the way you fluster slightly and look around the shop again. "That's exactly what you meant." He doesn't know why it seems so easy with you, but it does.

Rolling your eyes heavily is purely for dramatic effect, and you pluck the bottle out of his hands with a laugh. “C’mon, Steve, the milkshakes are waiting.”

"Yeah, yeah." He doesn't protest when you pay for the bourbon, even though he wants to. It's just ingrained in him that the man pays but he knows a lot of women don't think that way anymore.

******

The swimming hole, apparently, is barely two more minutes away. Steve steers the truck down to the bottom of a hill and around a vacant lot until the road runs out, and then the two of you get out and walk until a thin wall of trees gives way to a sizeable little pond hidden away from prying eyes. It's stunning - an absolutely gorgeous sight that literally takes your breath away when he steps aside to show you the view. "It's beautiful..."

"Good news is that there're rarely gators in here." He informs you. "It's something about the mineral content in the water or some such thing." He gives a small shrug. "Never really paid attention to the way, just happy I wasn't going to get rolled when I went swimmin'."

"Their loss." It's a gorgeous spot and you feel just a little spoiled that he chose to share it with you. "And more fun for us."

Steve sits down on a pile of rocks near the water and pulls the lid off his milkshake. "Ready to booze it up?" He asks playfully as he tilts it back to drink some to make room for the bourbon.

"Yes, please." Kicking off your heels lets you drop down onto the rocks beside him much more easily, and you're careful not to spill a single drop on your borrowed dress as you take the first sips of your milkshake. The creamy, spicy, floral, sticky sweet drink is as cooling as it is delicious, and you giggle happily at the first taste. "Oh god, Ida's never gonna get me out of that place. This is amazing."

"Swear if I didn't leave for college and the DEA I would have lived in that shop." He agrees as he takes another sip and then sets it down to open the bottle of bourbon to add to it.

"I don't blame you." He pours indiscriminately, filling each drink to the tip top of their cups while you dip your toes in the water. "If I had grown up here, I might never have left."

He snorts, chuckling softly. "Maybe, but I needed to leave." He tells you as he mixes the alcohol into the milkshake.

"Everyone has a different journey." The smoky richness of Statesmen Reserve has flavour tones that compliment your vanilla and cinnamon milkshake perfectly, and once again you're moaning softly over your food. "Sorry," you laugh, shooting him a grin. "I'm not one of those salad-and-water-only girls living on fad diets. I love food."

"I don't mind that a bit." He promises. "I don't think I've ever really paid attention, but my ex would easily out eat me on a good day." He laughs.

Your eyes widen for a second, obviously mishearing him and catching 'eat me out' instead of 'out eat me'. "Oh...uh..." You clear your throat, finally figuring out that you heard him wrong and feeling like a flustered moron with a one-track mind. "Cool. That's...that's good."

He doesn't know why your voice changes for a moment, making him turn to look at you curiously for a second before he shrugs it off. "Do you want to try mine?" He asks, offering you the chocolate extravaganza he had chosen.

"Sure." Yeah...because wrapping your lips around anything of his right now isn't setting your brain off into wildly inappropriate places. You trade him for your drink because sharing is caring, and hum happily at the deeply unctuous chocolatey flavour. "You can't go wrong with ice cream and booze."

"I'm learning." Steve licks his lips are a bit of your milkshake gets into his mustache. "It might change the way I get drunk." He jokes, watching your eyes close in pleasure while you tip back his cup.

"Drinking should be fun." You contend, handing him back his cup a second later. "Doing it on your own and moping when the bottle is empty is not fun."

"Done plenty of that." He lifts the milkshake up in toast. "Especially when...well, there was plenty of reasons to drink alone towards the end."

"To new beginnings, then." Holding your cup up to his, you offer him what you hope is a smile as warm and encouraging as you feel in this moment. "For both of us."

"To new beginnings." Steve grins and touches his paper cup to yours as if it’s the finest china and takes a sip of his milkshake.

As the sun starts to go down, lightning bugs and chirping crickets become the backdrop for your little getaway. It's a Saturday night in a usually quiet town where you have intentionally abandoned the place where all of your neighbors are congregating, and the temperature is slowly dropping along with the sun. It leaves the sky streaked with pinks and oranges and purples in a way that could easily be characterized as romantic if you let yourself think about it that way.

He might have poured too much bourbon in the cups, his entire body warming up pleasantly and he relaxes for the first time since he arrived in the States. His divorce is literally days old, the ink barely dry on the judge's signature and yet, right now, he feels like he's on a date. He looks out at the water and grins, standing up and stripping off his suit jacket. "Wanna go for a swim?" He asks as he kicks off his shoes.

Your eyes flick up to him from where they had been focused on your drink, sucking every last bit of delicious alcoholic creaminess up through the wide straw. He has already tossed his jacket and tie down and is toeing off his shoes, starting to unbutton the sleeves of his shirt at the same time. Pure mischief is painted across his handsome face and the familiar buzzing of Statesman in your system makes you bold. Sure it’s the same kind of boldness that got you into a bit of trouble back in college, but it was always fun trouble. “You wanna skinny dip?” The question makes you giggle a little, and even without an answer you already know you’re going to do it. When was the last time you felt so fucking free? Years, at least.

He had meant to keep his briefs on, allowing you to stay in your bra and panties for modesty, but since you are bringing it up? Hell yeah. He chuckles and unzips his pants. "If you want I'll close my eyes and turn around." He teases.

What he doesn't realize is that the underwear you have on will be so sheer if you jump in wearing it that you might as well be naked, and that skinny dipping was a favourite bit of mischief back when you used to get into mischief more often. "Just gotta be careful with Miss Truvy's dress," you mumble, not finding the clasp or zipper buried deep in the dusty pink coloured velvet.

"Do you need some help?" He wouldn't be a gentleman if he didn't offer, turning towards you while he's in just the white briefs he had worn under his suit. This was the wildest thing he had done in a while that didn't involve guns or criminals and he was actually enjoying it.

"I found the tie." There was a decorative cord at the back of your neck that had confused your tipsy brain because you didn't wear a necklace!, and you had to giggle at yourself. "Can't find the zipper."

Steve approaches gently, knowing that he doesn't want to seem too eager to get you out of your clothes. That wouldn't be very proper. Instead, he studies the dress from the back, an expect from helping Connie with hers. "It's on the side, sweetheart." He hums, reaching for the tiny little zipper for the dress.

"Oh." That earns a more animated giggle and you huff at yourself playfully, even as you raise your arm automatically for him to help. "That explains it."

"Never understood why they would put the zippers in the most inconvenient places." He murmurs, his breath washing over the back of your neck. "Then I realized it was to make taking off the dress more fun."

"You having fun, Steve?" You are. You definitely are. There's something giddy in the air tonight that you can't deny and it's only half to do with the man whose large hands are carefully peeling you out of a borrowed dress.

"Bourbon, a pretty girl and my favorite swimming hole?" He hums, his voice teasing and playful. "I'm having a lot of fun." Especially if you are. He's not a dummy. He knows you are attracted to him. He's not big headed about it, but plenty of women hit on him while he was with Connie, but he hadn't done anything about it. Now, that wedding band was just a suntan mark on his hand.

"I am, too." A shy smile creeps across your face as the dress comes down your shoulders, fairly confident that Steve is getting an eyeful of the lace bra you have on underneath. Now he sees why it wouldn't be worth it to keep anything on in the water. It isn't arrogance to think that he might reciprocate your attraction, but you're also not expecting him to act on it in any way. Not when he's so recently divorced and everything. "Go on and jump in," you encourage, nudging him slightly. "I'll be in, in a second."

He takes that as a hint that you want a touch of privacy while you strip down and he's going to oblige you. Doesn't mean he has to be shy. Instead, Steve pulls his briefs down right there, stepping around you and striding towards the swimming hole while he gains momentum and does exactly what you tell him to, he jumps in with a loud 'Wahooo' before he hits the water.

"Fuck..." Barely audible under your breath, you shake your head a little in amusement at the way your heartrate spiked at him passing - completely naked - in front of you for just a split second on his way to the water. At least he doesn't have the world's biggest dick or anything. You think to yourself, dropping your bra and panties beside your dress and anchoring them with a small rock so the wind doesn't take them away as you turn to slip into the water. That would just make the ache slowly building between your legs even worse.

Steve sputters slightly as he comes back to the surface, laughing and swiping his hair back as he flicks the water out of his eyes but he doesn't open them. "You in?" He calls out, turning towards the shore and kicking his legs to stay afloat.

"Yeah, I'm in." You had opted to climb down the rocks and jump from a much lower height, not making as much of a ruckus when you did. Now you're only a few feet away. The water is warm and laps at your skin gently, making the whole idea as relaxing as it is fun.

He grins and opens his eyes, looking around before he spots you. "Fun, isn't it?" He chuckles.

"Thanks for showing me." With the sun fully set the water is nearly opaque, but that doesn't keep you from feeling the water churn as he lazily kicks next to you or finding his bright blue eyes in the moonlight.

His grin makes only half his mouth move, nodding slightly as he treads a little closer to you. "My pleasure." He hums. "It’s not every day you get to go skinny dipping with a pretty girl."

"I'll have to try it sometime." Teasing him is too easy, and the warmth of having him come closer in the water is overwhelming in the very best way. "Find myself a pretty girl and bring her out here to see what it feels like.”

Steve chuckles, lifting at brow at the thought. "Can I come too?" He asks, teasing you right back.

"I mean, I guess." You huff dramatically, as though he has made a life-or-death request. He's closer to you without feeling like he's prowling and you swear your skin will light on fire if he ever reaches out and touches you like this. "It's gonna be harder to find a girl who likes both of us, but we could do it."

"Hmmm." He snickers softly and edges slightly closer. The entire conversation has made something decide that it wants to make an appearance. Steve Murphy is a grower. "I could always just watch." He concedes, circling around you slowly to where he is behind you, just in case he bumps into you. Better to have his erection press against your ass or thigh than your belly since he doesn't know how you are feeling right now.

The second he can't see your face, your eyes close and your face screws up in momentary concentration as you try to will your body to calm the fuck down. The man is barely divorced - he doesn't need the new girl in town jumping him hours after meeting. Although, he wouldn't be flirting or skinny dipping with you unless he wanted to be, the voice in the back of your head reasons. "But that's not as much—" Your eyes pop open a second later when you're certain you felt him touch your hip - but his hands are both on the surface of the water and he can't be that close to you and – Oh shit...that was definitely...apparently he does have the world's biggest dick after all. "Not as much fun," you finish, swallowing thickly.

"No, it wouldn't be." He can agree to that, in this hypothetical fantasy of yours. "So guess we better start looking huh?" He is enjoying the way that you seem to be breathing harder, obviously turned on as well.

Looking over your shoulder brings you eye level with him in the water, and you would be clenching your fists at your sides if you weren't using them to stay afloat right now. "I guess so." You murmur, finding him watching you with a pleased smile tucked up in the corner of his mouth.

"Ooooorrrr." Steve draws out, deciding to breach the chasm between the two of you and use one arm to grab your hip and steer you back into his chest. "I can keep the pretty girl I have right here to myself." He huffs into your ear. "I'm liking that option."

"Shit." You practically whimper at the strength of the act, not dominating in any way but somehow still making you feel as light as a feather in his arms. With your back to his chest and his hand spanning more of your hip and belly that you thought one hand ever possibly could, you tip your head back to rest on his shoulder. "I—I didn't, I mean—" Breathe, you idiot. "This wasn't a scheme or anything. Just so you know."

"Hmmmm, I know." He brushes his lips against your ear before he kisses your neck. "I was the one who suggested this." He reminds you with a grin. "Although there was a little scheming on my part. Or maybe hoping's a better word."

"Hoping, huh?" Squirming slightly against him just ends up - unintentionally, you swear - grinding your ass against his hard length. That feeling right there is the last crack in your resolve, and you twist around to wrap both arms around his shoulders as you face him. "Jesus, Steve. You're gonna kill me."

He huffs, even as he grins. "What does that mean?" He asks teasingly. He doesn't think you are talking about him literally killing you, but he wasn’t boastful.

"It means I thought you were hot seeing you on TV, but apparently the real you is even sexier," you admit, right before crushing your lips to his without any further hesitation.

It's been a long time since Steve has kissed anyone else, but in the ranking of kisses - it’s up there. Your lips are soft and yet your kiss is determined. You kiss him like you want him and that is something that turns him on. His tongue slides into your mouth quickly when you open for him, and he loves the way you moan into his mouth.

He tastes like chocolate and whiskey and something you can't put your finger on, and the way he drags you against him with one arm only encourages you to wrap one leg around his waist in an effort to get as close as possible while still staying afloat. There is no way in the world that you could have predicted how good this moment would feel, but now that it's here you would happily live in it forever.

Steve hums into your kiss, enjoying how easily the two of you seem to slide together so naturally. Deepening the kiss and closing his eyes, he feels his body respond to the feeling of your heated core pressed against his cock.

"Fuck." At a certain point you just have to come up for air, as much as you wish you didn't. The way your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest is better than anything you've felt in years and even better is the feeling of his hard length slipping against your folds.

"If we need to stop—" Steve stops to kiss along your jaw. "Let me know." He doesn't want to push; this is the first day you've met after all. You might not be ready or willing to go any farther than this, and he's okay with that.

"Do you want to stop?" The sincerity in his voice is genuine, you can tell that much, but it brings out the concern in your own as you find his eyes in the dark again. You didn't exactly talk about this possibility, or anything near it, and you don't want to push him. But you will be honest. "'Cause I don't, but we both have to want...whatever this is."

He laughs at the ridiculousness of you believing he wants to stop. “Does this feel like I want to stop?” He asks, grinding against you slowly.

It earns him a whimper from your lips and your eyes flutter shut of their own accord. "Just trying to be considerate," you mumble, clinging to him a little tighter. Your hips are already rolling slow circles along with his. "I-I'm safe. On the pill, I mean."

“I— it’s been a long time.” Steven admits breathlessly, thinking about the last time he was with Connie. “I—I’ve been tested. I’m clean.”

“Then…” Nipping at his neck, you grin at the glancing thought that it wouldn’t take much effort at all to leave a mark in his skin. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t have some fun.”

“Yeah?” He grins as he pulls back to search your eyes, making sure there’s no hesitation on your part.

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, nodding and reveling in the way he looks both delighted and maybe a little surprised. Like he can’t believe you want him. “Absolutely.”

He starts to guide you towards the rocks, wanting to have you close to them. It’s hard to fuck in open water and he wants to make sure that you enjoy yourself.

With the moon out and the lightning bugs and the soft noises of the valley at night, it almost feels like a fairy tale. A very adult one, obviously, as the two of you return to hungrily kissing the life out of each other as quickly as possible, but there’s no mistaking the element of romance even as your back presses against the edge of the watering hole. Rocks will keep you steady, giving him something to hold on to, and you lift your other leg up around his hip easily now that you have a little leverage, too.

His hands move into less appropriate places and he squeezes your ass. “You gonna let me fuck you?” He asks, pulling away from your mouth to start kissing down your chest.

“Was thinkin’ I might.” You groan softly, chuckling interrupted by a gasp when the tip of his tongue flicks one of your nipples experimentally. “As long as you actually know how to use that cock and don’t just parade it around.”

He chuckles and looks up at you, a hank of his wet hair falling over one eye. “Only one way for you to find out.” He coos before he wraps his lips around the nipple and tugs on it.

Thankfully you manage to remember that there are rocks behind you about half a second before you throw your head back in pleasure, the keening sound that escapes your lips being plenty loud enough to make up for it as you thread your fingers through his wet hair and encourage him to explore. If you could manage it you would have your eager fingers wrapped around his cock to find out exactly what kind of pressure and how fast or slow he likes it stroked, but like this it’s much more fun to grind your hips down and listen to him moan against your tits like he’s trying to suck your wildly beating heart out directly through your chest.

It’s been a long time since he’s made out with anyone in this swimming hole, not that you’re exactly ‘making out’. It’s gone beyond that as he suckles and bites on your breast while he pulls your hips down on his cock. He’s fucking aching already and it’s not like you’ve been teasing him for long, maybe it’s because he knows how reserved you had been just hours ago.

If the thought of doing something so intimate in such a public place ever would have bothered you, it isn’t even crossing your mind now. Messing around - fully naked - on town property is probably something he would be arresting teens for when he puts that deputy’s uniform on, but right now it’s glorious. Right now it’s only the whine of his name from your lips and the rolling insistence of your hips in the moonlight, and you can’t remember the last time anything felt so good.

Steve chuckles and switches over to your other breast. “Impatient.” He chides, grinning at the enthusiasm you are displaying for him. “So you don’t want to wait anymore?” He asks after he flicks his tongue over your nipple. “You want it now?”

The idea that there could be anything besides sex makes you pause, and there’s a flash of confusion on your face that you can’t hide. A three-year marriage to a man who saw you first and foremost as a means to provide pleasure for himself has clearly warped your expectations. “Want to make you feel good,” is what you go with when you get your mind back, hoping desperately that he didn’t notice anything.

He grunts, picking up on the momentary confusion and he doesn't want to make it a big deal - but he does want to make sure that you know that he operates different from whoever the selfish asshole you were married to was. "You know what I want?" He asks, moving you closer to the rocks. "I want to lick your pussy." He groans. "It's been a long time since I've been able to eat a woman out, will you let me?"

“You want to—?” The way desire has made his eyes nearly black is obvious even in the moonlight, and you can think of a single reason in the world he would lie about wanting it, so you nod and shift back against the rocks, hoping you can lift yourself up on them reasonably easily. “Whatever you want, handsome.”

He wonders when the last time a man had you like this. That he knelt down before you and buried his face in your glistening sex just for the pleasure of knowing that he made you cry out. You seem surprised that he would want to taste you. Connie had loved his penchant for oral, and his eagerness had made it to where her own want for reciprocation hadn't waned until things had gotten beyond salvaging between them. Shaking that thought off, his ex didn't belong in this moment, he hums and watching you lift your pussy above the waterline, and he slides between your legs as they spread wide.

You almost lose your balance as soon as you find it, but his broad shoulders and strong grip keep you steady, holding you up on the edge of the rock that you have perched yourself on just above the water line. There is nothing tentative in the way Steve moves and yet none of it is demanding, and it's an intoxicating combination that all comes down to want. He wants you, and he's going to have you, and you know without a doubt that you're going to enjoy every second of it.

He’s not as quick to just dive right in, there’s something in your surprise that makes him go slower. Not that he isn’t determined, instead he starts at your knees, kissing both and working higher, brushing your sensitive inner flesh with his mustache as he scatters kisses over your skin. Giving you time to anticipate and to cry off if you want.

He's slow and almost reverent, taking his time mapping every inch of your skin in the warmth and moonlight. The impulse to thread your fingers through that mass of wet hair is definitely there but you resist, balancing yourself carefully and letting him do whatever it is he's going to do since you're already sure that it will have you in a whimpering state of pure indulgence in no time. At least, everything else has so far, so why not this too?

He hovers over you when he reaches the juncture of your thighs. Looking up at you as if waiting for some kind of challenge, he flashes you a wink before he lowers his mouth to your cunt.

"Holy shit!" Your head drops back almost instantly, eyes shutting as you grip the rock beneath you even more desperately. There is no question about it, once he's started - Steve Murphy eats pussy with passion. There is no hesitation in his movements, only hunger, and you swear he must have a tongue as long as his cock for the incredible way he's devouring you as you try not to cry out in the warm night.

God, it’s been so long since he’s had this. His hands grip your thighs, urging you to use his shoulders as a prop and allow him more access. Groaning as he licks through your folds and discovers your flavor, the way you like to be eaten.

Even if you could lay back like this - give him all the access to every inch of you that you could - you wouldn't. Maybe it's selfish, but you want to be able to watch. When your eyes flutter open again he is completely absorbed in you and it might be the most intoxicating thing you have ever experienced in your entire life.

Steve's eyes flutter closed in pleasure as he pushes his tongue inside you. Moaning at how your walls seems to curl around his tongue and pulse with your excitement. His fingers dig into your flesh and he tugs you closer as he leans in, eager for more, inhaling your scent as he tries to drown himself in your sex.

The movement is inelegant, as dragging you closer to him makes you jolt and shriek slightly in halted pleasure and one of your hands digs into his hair to keep you steady. When he groans at the sudden, sharp sensation of having his hair pulled you echo the noise almost immediately, giving the strands another light tug of encouragement and angling your hips forward to fully surrender to anything and everything he has to give you.

He feels the moment your entire body sags and he chuckles into your folds. Flicking his tongue over your clit and swirling it around before he pulls it into his mouth to suck on as you start to grind down against him. Wondering if you even realize you are doing it.

It's heaven. Absolute bliss like you haven't experienced in years. Maybe longer, although that thought is so far off in your head that you can barely grasp it. The only thing in your mind right now is pleasure and how he is working you up until your thighs are shaking on either side of his head and you wonder if he has any clue what kind of wanton, desperate noises you're making because your legs must be clamped down so hard on his ears that the world around him is muffled.

There is something exquisite about a woman clenching her legs closed around his head. It makes his cock throb and his mouth even more eager as the pressure against his skull increases as every second ticks by. He is living right here, in this moment and it's most he has felt like himself in years.

The balance of too much, not enough, and just perfect tips when he nips at your soaking wet lips and gently drags his teeth along your throbbing clit making nearly scream his name as you fly apart from every possible seam. This orgasm is having you, not the other way around, and you are just hanging on for dear life and trying not to moan too loudly so you don't get caught.

It's like a damn bursting and he is caught in the onslaught. Groaning as he tries to keep up with the rush of your pleasure that floods his mouth, filling it and making him pull you even closer. Eager to drink you down and have you push at his head in an attempt to get him to stop.

Feeling completely boneless makes it slightly difficult to gain that all-essential control over your own movements again and you swear that it takes you a solid thirty seconds to remember to breathe after your body has stopped shaking above him. Only after that do you giggle softly, deep and throaty, and groan his name into the humid air. “Fuck, Steve…” You smooth his hair back from where your fingers were digging into his scalp. “Oh my god.”

He chuckles as he pulls away and looks up at your face, hazy and soft with pleasure. "Good?" He asks, wanting to hear the praise. He's not above asking for it, especially with a new partner.

“Amazing.” Hell, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he’s easily the best pussy eater you’ve ever been with. It’s not a hard competition against the two other men that came before. The others had refused, saying it was gross or they disliked the taste.

"Mmmmh." Steve smirks and yet he slides his fingers over your hips so he can seek out your wetness. Wanting to feel it another way. "Now you want to see how we fit together?" He asks, biting his lip as he slowly circles your entrance and almost presses into you, stopping just shy of breeching your walls.

“Hell yes.” You can’t help but giggle at your own enthusiasm, all self-consciousness washed away in the sea of cum he eagerly lapped from your cunt. “Help me back in the water, handsome.”

He chuckles and lets your brace your hands on his shoulders while you slide into the water. Not missing the chance to capture your nipple in his mouth again as you wrap your legs around his waist. Sex in water is amazing and he loves how easily he can manipulate and move you as he wants.

“Goddamn.” Even with just the tip of his cock nudging your entrance - like an echo of his fingers a moment ago - you can already feel how much he’s going to stretch you. “Feels like you’re going to split me in half.”

"Bet you say that to everyone." He teases, pulling away from your breast and reaching to capture your chin between his fingers and pressing a kiss to your lips. "You ready?"

“Wouldn’t say it unless it was true,” you promise him, squirming a little as you try to roll your hips down to take him a little deeper. The men before him had been nowhere near as well endowed, so you’re both excited and a little nervous. “Ready, baby.”

The moment the head of his cock slips inside you, he's glad he's got his feet planted on the rocks underneath the water. Groaning against your lips while he slowly starts to pull you down onto his length, impaling you inch by tortuously fabulous inch as you steal his breath.

It was an exaggeration when you said it. A minor one, you thought, but an exaggeration nonetheless. But with every second that ticks by as you sink down on his cock, you're starting to believe that you might feel him in your throat by the time he bottoms out. Wrapping both of your arms around his shoulders lets you hold him as close as possible as he starts to move, whimpering against his lips with every forward stroke. If he does split you in half, it will be the most amazing way to go in the whole world.

The water sloshes around both of you and Steve reaches out to hold onto the rock at your back. Keeping himself steady as he works himself in and out of you. “Fuck.” He pants, ducking his head down to nip at your throat and kiss it after.

"Fuck – oh fuck – you feel so fucking good." The words just tumble from your lips between kisses, desperate to feel as much of him all at once as you possibly can.

Steve has to agree, you feel amazing around him. He grunts and his teeth find your bottom lip and bites down on it while he gives a particularly rough thrust after he feels your walls relax around him.

The rocks biting into your back could leave permanent scars and you would wear them of badges of honour to memorialize tonight. As unbelievable as it is, he seems to fit you perfectly - stretching and filling you but never pushing past pure pleasure or approaching pain. Even the rougher strokes, that energetic and needy rhythm he finds that has you crying out and moaning with every thrust, seems to be the perfect balance for the two of you. You nip him back, lower lip and neck and earlobe all perfect places for your teeth to sink into and he seems to love it.

“Fuck.” He hisses, closing his eyes and his mouth going slack at the way you are biting and nipping him. He loves it. Arm tightening around you, he moans your name quietly, right into your ear, feeling his cock twitch deep inside your snug walls.

It's music. The best song in the world. And right in this moment you know that you'll do whatever you can to hear your name from his lips over and over again. The revelation that he likes to be a little rougher spurs you on entirely, though, and without even thinking about it you find yourself sucking a deep mark at the base of his neck that will be there at least a few days - hidden under his deputy's uniform like a dirty little secret. Which, you suppose, it is.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” Steve moans into the air, not giving a flying fuck who might be around and hear. He wouldn’t stop if the sheriff himself rolls up right now. His stomach clenches at the suction of your mouth on his skin and he turns the two of you around, bracing himself against the rock and starts moving you onto top of him, gritting his teeth as he manages to slip a little deeper.

"Oh my god." Clinging to him that much more securely as you move on him, it becomes an unrecognizable rhythm that matters only to your bodies. The whole world has dissolved around you, but you are climbing nearer to your peak with every passing moment.

“You gonna cum?” Steve asks, hissing slightly when your walls start to flutter around him. Nearly stunting his thrusts, but he just pulls you down harder and rucks his hips up more to work through it.

“S-so fucking close.” And when was the last time you actually came with a lover at all, let alone twice?

“Good.” Steve grunts, the water slapping in the small space between you and his head falls forward to rest on your collar bone while he barrels you both towards an orgasm. “Need to feel it baby.” Moving together, it doesn't take long for the two of you to find yourselves on the precipice. Your walls bear down on him with so much force that you swear you nearly black out near the end, sobbing his name into the night as the floodgates open once more. “Shit.” Steve hisses, body tensing and he’s powerless to hold out when you are coming apart in his arms. Dragging you closer and crashing his lips to yours while he gives into his own need. Pouring himself into you in molten waves that make him gasp and pray to the heavens that he’s not dreaming this.

"Fuck." Your head falls forward, forehead resting on his shoulder as you giggle softly in his arms and plant a chaste kiss on top of the mark you left in his skin that is already starting to bruise. "That was— fuck."

“Much better than the wedding reception.” He pants in agreement and chuckles. His own eyes close and he sighs softly, relaxing against the rock and just letting the moment linger between the two of you.

"Hell yes." There isn't a moment's doubt about it in your mind, and you let yourself rest against his chest comfortably without untangling your legs from his waist. You have no desire to leave his arms yet.

The sounds of the surrounding land starts to bleed through. The sounds of cicadas and frogs start to make a music that had soothed Steve throughout his childhood. It's like reality intrudes on both of you all at once, and your head pops up with dismay painted across your features. "Aw shit," you groan, not at all in the same way you were just groaning for him a few minutes ago. "It's...it's dark. There's no way I didn't miss curfew at the boarding house."

Steve snorts and chuckles at the fact that you did just miss curfew, for reasons that would make the old lady’s hair go even whiter than it already is. “Sounds like you’re disappointed to have stayed.” He teases, enjoying the fact that you are still on his cock.

"No." You shake your head and nuzzle into his neck a little bit more. "Just worried Mrs. Robeline will have my things out in the yard when I get back tomorrow. I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

“She won’t.” Steve assures you, reaching up and stroking your back above the water line. “I’ll give her call when we get back to the house. Tell her it was my fault for letting the time get away from me.”

"Do you have every lady in town wrapped around your little finger?" It wouldn't surprise you in the least if he did, considering you definitely see yourself there right about now.

“Nah.” He drawls, giving you an only slightly cocky smirk. “But considerin’ she knows I’m gonna be a sheriff’s deputy, I think she’ll let you slide.”

"It will be a lecture over breakfast instead." The thought makes you giggle, that post coital bliss coursing through your veins making it seem silly rather than the serious misstep it might otherwise be. "And I'll be hounded with questions about our intentions that she has no right to demand answers to." A deep, and deeply satisfied, sigh passes your lips as you pull back to look at him again. "Small towns are all the same."

“I’ll tell her that you’re sleepin’ in Tater’s room.” He chuckles and leans in to kiss you again as his softening cock slips out of you. “She’ll be quiet as a church mouse then.”

"Genius." You hum against his lips and groan slightly in protest when the two of you come untangled from each other. "But you're gonna have to button that uniform all the way up...I left you a little souvenir that I hope you'll like."

“I felt it.” He reaches up and rubs his neck with a grin. “It seems like a fair trade to me.”

"I'll climb out the window in the morning so your parents don't catch us," you tease. Separating in the cooling water makes you pout, but you'll have to climb out and dry off to get dressed eventually.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. “I think my parents have figured out I’m not a virgin anymore.” That ship sailed long ago, but he has never brought a woman home beyond Connie.

“I was thinking of preserving us from prying question,” you tell him honestly as the two of you lift yourselves out of the water. “But if you think they won’t mind?” You shrug. “Well, you know your folks better than me.”

"After tonight?" He tosses you a grin and hands you the panties you were wearing as he scoops up some clothes. "I'm sure everyone is going to be sleeping in come the morning." He predicts, knowing how sometimes the after parties last longer than the real receptions. Especially if they break out the 'shine.

Thanks for making the day more fun.” It’s a silly sentiment, but you fluster slightly trying to dry off before you can put on your borrowed dress again.

“I think I should be thanking you.” Steve chuckles and pulls his briefs on. “Not sure if this was quite the town welcome you were expecting.”

“Not at all.” The very idea of it makes you grin as you finally pull your dress over your head. “But I doubt it’s what you expected for a homecoming, too.”

“So much better.” He huffs, rolling his eyes as he imagines all the questions he dodged.

“We should get out of here.” Nodding toward where his truck is parked, you easily lean into his side when he lifts his arm to offer you a spot. “Somebody’s sure to have heard us.”

“Half the parish.” He teases, feeling lighter and happier than he has in a long time. It’s not just the sex, it’s getting out of his own head, and he appreciates it. Turning his head, he kisses your temple affectionately as if you had received thousands of kisses from him. “We’ll go crawl in a bed and I know I’ll sleep good tonight.”

“I will, too.” With your heels dangling from your fingers, you keep in line with his strides and climb into his truck when he opens the door for you. It’s comforting to know this was more than just a quick fuck for him - even if it doesn’t turn out to be more than one night, he is still kind enough to give you a place to sleep instead of just dropping you off at the boarding house and telling you good luck. Or worse, stranding you at the swimming hole.

******

The ride back from the swimming hole is quiet, but not in an awkward sense. The radio hums, turned down to a low volume, and provides a backdrop for the occasional creak of the truck over pot holes and ruts as Steve drives slowly with the windows down. The summer night cools down, air blowing across his damp skin and through his hair, making him relax even more.

His house is quiet when you arrive but the party is still raging next door. The only sign of life at the Murphy home is his father asleep in the La-Z-Boy in the living room, and you stifle a laugh at the sight. Your own father would be exactly the same way.

Noticing your grin, Steve leans in close. “Don’t knock it until you try it. Those chairs are comfortable.”

“I was just thinking that my dad would be in exactly the same position,” you whisper, letting him lead you through the house. His overlarge hand around yours is warm and comforting and you don’t want to let go for anything.

"I think once you have kids, it becomes a universal right of passage to fall asleep in a chair at any point, any time.” He jokes, remembering how Connie would come home and Olivia would be passed out on his shoulder, and he was right there with her.

That makes you pause, and you look back at him curiously. “D—do you? Have kids? I…never thought to ask.”

"I did – do, I guess." He sighs. "We adopted a little girl in Colombia. Escobar's sicarios had killed her mother." He explains, not willing to talk about Connie's struggle with fertility. "My ex demanded sole custody and I wasn't in a place to fight it."

“I’m so sorry.” Squeezing his hand gently, you end up pulling him into a hug after a moment that he returns easily. “I’m sorry you don’t get to see your daughter. That can’t be easy.”

Steve sighs and tucks his head into your neck for a moment, savoring the feeling of someone caring. Someone who was not obligated to. "It's for the best. I wasn't— it was rough in Colombia." He knows he made mistakes as well; it wasn't just Connie deciding she wanted a divorce. He had changed and some of those changes weren't pretty. "I will wait until she's older and see if Connie will change her mind."

“If you ever want to talk about it…” you let the sentence trail off, softly stroking his back as he holds onto you. “No pressure. But I’m a pretty good listener.”

"Thanks." He pulls back and gives you a small smile. "Let’s get upstairs before Dad wakes himself up snoring."

******

His old double bed looks like it will barely fit the two of you when you gently shut his bedroom door behind you, but you offer him a grin. “I guess we’ll have to cuddle.”

"It'll be a tight fit, but we don't have to worry about falling off." He jokes, one side of the bed shoved up against the wall. "Hopefully you don't roll?"

"I'm pretty much a rock." Taking off the dress once more is much easier, and you hang it carefully on the back of his desk chair to keep it from wrinkling too badly. "Once I'm out, I don't move again until morning."

He chuckles quietly and strips out of his own clothes, more careless with them than you are. Although he does have the luxury of having something else to wear tomorrow. "Do you mind taking the inside of the bed?" He doesn't want to make it a thing, but he would prefer to sleep next to the door.

"Don't want to be stuck between a rock and a hard place?" You can't resist the joke, and grin at him as you climb under the covers to shimmy across the mattress.

He snorts and shakes his head. "Habit." He admits, blushing slightly. "Closest to the door..." Closest to the danger is the unspoken part.

"Doesn't make a bit of difference to me." Settled in with your head on one of his pillows, you pat the space next to you softly. "Just as long as you're joining me."

He snorts and nods. "Of course." He huffs playfully. "It's my bed after all." He lifts the covers and slides in beside you, settling on his side and wondering if he can put his arms around you.

Noting his obvious hesitation, you nestle yourself right into his chest and put one arm around his waist to draw him close. After what happened an hour ago? You're not inclined to be shy about something as innocent as sleeping. "It's gonna be a long night if you don't want to cuddle."

With that invitation, Steve melts into you and presses himself up against you with his leg sliding between yours.

"Hmmm," you sigh in utter contentment and lay your head on his chest, letting him draw you in as closely as he pleases. "G'night, Steve."

"G'night gorgeous." He breathes out softly, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep peacefully. There's no mistaking it, as the two of you snuggle tightly into each others' arms: this really might be the best second chance you ever could have gotten.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom

Steve Tags: @pedropascalsx @ithinkwehitametaphor @justafleshwoundbaby @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook

#Boyd Holbrook #Boyd Holbrook fanfic #Steve Murphy #Steve Murphy x reader #Steve Murphy x you #Steve Murphy x female reader #Narcos #Steel Magnolias Au #tw divorce #I just love Steve a lot #And want to give him all the nice things

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