A/N: Happy fall y’all! Still a little stuck on this story - trying to get where I’m at to where I want it to be is proving to be a royal jackass pain, I swear. But, here is another chapter and I hate to end it the way I did, but, oh well! Chapter 9 is in the works!
Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.
Part 8 –Fate is not the Answer, it is Merely the Key
“Welcome back, agent!” Marquetta’s voice rang across the lobby in welcome and as Pike ambled over to the welcome desk, he was awashed with the same sensation that he had the day before – a sense of coming home. For all the places he lived and worked in his career, nowhere had ever felt like this before. Strange.
“What can we do for you today?” The young woman’s voice cut through his thoughts and he felt a little chagrined to be caught daydreaming on the job. He straightened his shoulders and flashed a smile at her. It took everything in Marquetta to not swoon on the spot. Lord was he a handsome man.
“I’m sorry to come by unannounced, it’s becoming a bad habit. But I need a few things from Ms. Carter that I forgot to retrieve yesterday. Is she around?”
“She is, why don’t you go on up. She was in her office last time I called up and that was about, oh… ten minutes ago.”
“Thanks!” Marcus waved at her as he walked towards the stairs and he could feel the woman’s stare burning a hole through the seat of his pants and he couldn’t help but smile. She was not subtle at all and it did stoke his ego a bit, but all it did was amuse him rather than push him to ask her out like it would have in the past. Strange.
-*-
Rosemary never liked complete silence, something about it unnerved her and she became known for playing music wherever she was. The rest of the staff had gotten used to it, not blinking an eye if she was one day playing sea shanties while pulling items from the vaults for research or hearing AC/DC float out of her office while she pounded out grant narratives.
In the aftermath of the break-in, she chose to work in silence. It was a non-verbal way of blaming herself for what had happened - deep down she believed that if she hadn’t played music, she probably would have heard her attackers coming. Helen eventually said something in passing about the lack of music and within days, the director smiled to herself when the strains of Heart were heard coming from Rosemary’s office.
The swinging sounds of the Andrews Sisters filled the workroom as Rosemary worked on repairing the Austrian crystal damaged during the attack. Despite their destruction of the workroom, very few pieces had been outright damaged, with the crystal taking the brunt of it. She avoided the repair job over the last few weeks, not wanting to see such a visual reminder of her assault. But something Amy had mentioned in passing made her think that if she repaired the glass, then maybe something that had broken inside of her would be fixed, too.
Carefully, she wrapped a piece of painter’s tape to hold in place the piece she just glued, smoothing down the edges. As she sat back to view her handy work, a strong knock came at the door. Everything in Rosemary paused, blood suddenly roaring in her ears. She whipped around and her guest could see the barely disguised panic on her face.
Pike stopped immediately, raising his hands, and murmuring that it was just him. Not realizing she was breathing heavily, Rosemary continued to grip the workbench edge as the panic cascaded over her. The agent remained calm, using a low tone as he voiced his apologies while slowly stepping towards her. When she felt his warm palm on her shoulder and the other on her wrist, she finally took a deep breath and looked into his eyes.
How kind they are, she thought. And that feeling from yesterday – the one of safety – washed over her, leaving no room for the panic to grip her tight. Her body began to relax, and she started to breathe normally again. He could tell when she was coming back to him and he gently smiled and nodded. She let out a shaky breath and nodded back, forcing a small smile on her face. A small voice in her head said she should be embarrassed for reacting that way, but the sheer kindness and understanding she saw on his face shut out such negativity.
“Agent Pike! Back so soon?” She tried to add some lightness to her voice that she didn’t really feel. He bowed his head with a small smile, his hands still on her body while his thumbs rubbing small circles of comfort into her skin.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I really should have called ahead of time. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He sighed and shook his head as he silently berated himself. He should have known better.
“No, don’t apologize, you didn’t know.” She tried to continue, but his hand gently tightened on her wrist and she stopped.
“I do. You’ve been through enough without me stirring up painful memories for you. Hurting you is the last thing I’d want to do.” They stared at each other for a beat before she nodded, and her smile finally reached her eyes.
“Okay. What can I help you with?” He smiled in relief.
“I wanted to get copies of your files on The Cornucopia so we could flesh out our case. Would that be possible?”
“Absolutely. Follow me.” Rosemary moved to get up and Pike moved back, already missing the heat of her skin under his palms. He clutched them into a quick fist before relaxing them as the pleasure of touching her skittered through his body. He hoped she didn’t notice as he turned to follow her, his long legs keeping perfect stride with hers as they walked towards her office.
“Question Agent Pike.” She slowed down and waved him into her office. He bowed his head as he walked past her. Banana sat up on the couch, his tail wagging quickly at the sight of his new friend and both laughed. Pike bent over to give the dog a friendly scratch behind the ears as he responded.
“Go ahead.”
“Since our records are now wrong, can I get a copy of the piece’s history so I can have the most updated version? I’d like for it to be as correct as possible.”
“Sure, I understand.”
“Great!” Rosemary smiled at him again as she walked around her desk to her filing cabinet, pulling open a drawer and shifting through the files. As she thumbed through them, Pike placed his briefcase on her desk, watching her out of the corner of his eye. While most of the panic had left, he could still see tenseness in her shoulders that wasn’t there before. He internally sighed, mad at himself for being so stupid.
When she withdrew the correct file, she began pulling off paperclips so it could be fed through the copier faster. When she looked towards him, she noticed the file in his hand, and she reached out to take it. Rosemary wasn’t expecting it to be so heavy and she bungled a bit before the file folder slipped from her hands and everything spilled out onto her desk. A high pitched ‘oh shit’ left her mouth before she realized it and immediately began to clean up the mess she made.
As she fumbled with the papers, Pike leaned to help her, feeling his ears grow warm with each brush of her fingers against his. He cleared his throat as he assembled the case report back in order, shuffling the papers to hide his attraction to her. She had been focused on cleaning up the case photos when she suddenly stopped, standing stock still.
The agent noted her change and realize the tenseness he observed before was still there, but it felt different as she stared intently at a photo in her hand. He dropped his head to try and look her in the eye when he asked her if anything was wrong. When she looked at him, his breath stuttered in chest – her eyes were sparkling in excitement, something he had yet to see from her and the sheer joy of that look rendered him mute.
“Agent Pike, does that report say anything about who rescued the statue in 1946?” Her voice seemed to vibrate with excitement, and he could feel it seep into his bones as he shook his head no. “Okay, do you believe in fate, the universe, coincidences? Any of that?”
“Sometimes, I suppose. Why do you ask?”
With glee, Rosemary flipped around the photo she had been looking at, a modern scan of a black and white image. The glossiness made it hard to see, but when she angled her wrist, he realized it was a photo of the Monument Men team that had recovered The Cornucopia and the other pieces stolen from the Luxembourg ducal family. But he was confused still, the feeling clearly etched on his face and she giggled. Actually giggled.
“My dear agent,” She pointed to a tall man with a hauntingly familiar smile on his face that stood out against his shorter, more sober-faced fellow soldiers. “meet George Carter, US Army Captain and an original member of the Monument Men team during the War. That’s my grandfather holding The Cornucopia.”
Pike’s eyes shot up to look at Rosemary and she laughed again. He turned to glance at her wall, realizing he had been looking at a picture of the same man yesterday. The photo was almost similar, except George stood next to a large painting. He wondered if they were from around the same time or if one was older than the other. He turned back to Rosemary.
“I don’t know what this means exactly, but it looks like when it comes to rescuing The Cornucopia, the Carters have this handled.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“Meaning that I firmly believe you’ll find the piece and bring it home. Wherever that may be.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
—***—
Three weeks later
The chill of the blustery November day was seeping into Rosemary’s bones and she shivered as she trudged up to the backdoor of the house. Her fingers fumbled with the key to unlock the house and when the door finally swung open, she stumbled backwards as Banana rushed through the house to his bed near the heat register in the living room.
“Thank you, my ever-loving companion!” She called out to the dog as she took off her coat and scarf. The Home was toasty, but the chill of the kitchen tile still crept though her socks as she toed off her shoes. Padding over to the fridge, she pulled out some milk for her favorite hot cocoa and before she could pull out the saucepan, her phone began to ring. Noting it was Fern’s ringtone, she immediately answered it.
“Hey Ferny Fern, what’s up?”
“I got great news! The probate cleared today!”
“What?! So soon?” Rosemary set the milk jug on the counter and began to dance through the kitchen in joy.
“I know, I wasn’t expecting to be so quick, but I was told everything was in such neat order that it was quote one of the easiest probates I’ve cleared unquote.”
“So, does this mean what I think it means?”
“It means you’re free and clear just to live your life and run your new business.” Fern’s smile was evident through the phone as much as Rosemary’s heavy breath from her celebratory dance party.
“Okay, I’m going to celebrate. What are you doing tonight?”
“Winston is back in town from that conference he went to, so we’re having dinner.”
“Sure, who’s on the menu first, you or him?” There was no hiding the cheeky grin in Rosemary’s voice as she poured milk into the saucepan and turned up the heat.
“Quiet.” Fern huffed over phone. “Lunch on Saturday instead?”
“Maybe dinner, let’s see what Amy and Tina think.”
The two women chatted a little longer before hanging up and Rosemary grinned at nothing as her milk began to heat up. What a weight off her shoulders.
—***—
“Rosemary!” Amy stood in the open foyer and smiled as her friend entered the First Bank of Saugatuck and quickly walked over to give her a hug. “Are you ready to do this?”
“Yeah.” Rosemary nodded, a small lump forming in her throat and she took a deep breath. Amy squeezed her hand and after a moment, she nodded to continue.
“Let’s go to my office and get you squared away. Do you have the paperwork?”
“Do you think Fern would let me leave the house to do any of this without it?”
“Fair enough.” The two women laughed as they sat down and for the next hour, Robert Lancaster ceased to exist on paper at the place he banked at for over twenty years. As they finished up, Rosemary snapped her fingers as a thought crossed her mind.
“I brought the safety deposit box keys, too. Can I get into those today?”
“Yep, let’s head over to the vault.” Rosemary handed over the keys as she followed Amy into the vault where she stopped to match the numbers in her hand with those in front of her. After a few beats, Amy found all three boxes, none in sequential order. After inserting the keys into the locks, she turned to her friend and smile.
“There you go. Hope he left you something good!” Amy kissed Rosemary on the cheek as she left to attend another meeting. Taking another deep breath, Rosemary turned to the boxes and opened the one closest to her. Pulling out the box, she set it on the table and lifted the lid, revealing an according file folder. Propping it upright, she peeked inside and saw what looked like documents and photos, piquing her interest.
She set the folder aside as she went to pull out drawer number two, which like the first one had been the biggest size Robert could get. As she opened it, she could hear rattling inside the box and her curiosity grew bigger. Lifting the lid gently, she found a box that had deteriorated with age and what looked like several religious artifacts strewn about inside. She gently lifted them out and laid them on the table, eyeing them carefully.
In the last box, smaller than the others, was a worn book, its leather binding split and faded ribbon tied around it. Stuck under the small length of cloth was a much newer envelope with her name on it and a wave of sadness washed through Rosemary when she recognized Robert’s distinctive block writing. Pulling it out, she held it against her chest and closed her eyes a moment. Letting the wave pass, she sat the item down with the others and put the boxes back into their homes.
She turned and looked at the table, knowing they were the key to Robert’s past – the one before Saugatuck. She pulled out a chair and sat down, gently removing the letter and opening it. She noted the date he wrote it was only a few days after his diagnosis. Taking a deep breath, she began to read with her eyes growing bigger as she skimmed each line.
My dear Rosie,
I’m sorry I’ve left you behind. I thought we would have had more years together but apparently the Lord has decided that wasn’t in His plans. I am already missing you terribly even though I know you’ll be with me to the end.
I made you my heir years ago, but while I had no qualms giving you the house, the store, and my earnings. I have not been able to give you the story of me, the real me. I am a coward for keeping it from you until after I die, but I feel this is the best way to protect you from my past so you can live your future.
These boxes, now yours, contain all that is left of who I was am - Anatoli Choryni. My life in the Ukrainian mafia seems more like a dream I keep struggling to remember. Since my early childhood, I knew nothing but mafiya life – starting as a little gofer for my dyad’ko who was a muscle man and growing into my role as hitman and later underboss.
I did an amazing number of bad things to people thinking I was making my neighborhood a better place, saving it from the encroachment of whatever group was our enemy at the time. Yet when I reached such an exalted status, I knew that I was becoming jaded with my work.
You cannot just leave the mob, however. Not when it had been your whole life like it had been for me. But, when I saw one of my underlings murder a woman in cold blood, I knew I could no longer stay. You want to kill a man who cheated you? Go ahead. You want to torture your Russian enemy? That’s fine. But you never, ever hurt women and children. Never. I made that clear to my men, to Bernard when he rose to power after his father died.
But the lifeless eyes of that woman haunted me, and I knew. I knew then, Rosie, that I had to flee. I planned it so meticulously – draining my accounts slowly, hoarding money in my bed like my babyusa used to do in the old days under Stalin. I hoarded my papers, my faith, the evidence of my crimes for months on end.
Then one day, I did it. I faked my death and fled. First north to Wisconsin and then east to Michigan before landing in New York City. There I hid for a full year before I went and legally changed my name. I left the city and took up as a clerk for a bookstore in some small town in Pennsylvania. I stayed there for two years and when it looked like I had no one on my tail, I came to Saugatuck.
I started the store and the rest is history. And by now, if you’re reading this, my probate has cleared, and you probably learned I was clean and easy. Everything is legal, I made sure of it for my own safety and then for you after you came into my life. And if the person reading this isn’t Rosie, then well, I’m not as smart as I’d like to think I am.
I was not a good man, I did terrible things, but I hope I eased the red in my life book some with all the good I did after I came to Michigan. I’ll find out when my last breath leaves me, but until then, I will spend my last months embracing our friendship. You have never left me before and I know you won’t leave me now.
And because of that I owed all of this to you. My life story.
Ya tebe lyublyu, Rosie.
Robert
“What the fuck…”
—***—
Translations:
mafiya - Mafia
dyad’ko - Uncle
babyusa - Grandmother
Ya tebe lyublyu - I love you
Reblogging the most recent chapter because I have nothing new to add yet. Life is super busy at work and I’m finishing up major responsibilities for a board I’ll be leaving soon, so not as much writing time as before.
I think I liked quarantine only because I got a lot of writing done.
A/N: Happy fall y’all! Still a little stuck on this story - trying to get where I’m at to where I want it to be is proving to be a royal jackass pain, I swear. But, here is another chapter and I hate to end it the way I did, but, oh well! Chapter 9 is in the works!
Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.
Part 8 –Fate is not the Answer, it is Merely the Key
“Welcome back, agent!” Marquetta’s voice rang across the lobby in welcome and as Pike ambled over to the welcome desk, he was awashed with the same sensation that he had the day before – a sense of coming home. For all the places he lived and worked in his career, nowhere had ever felt like this before. Strange.
“What can we do for you today?” The young woman’s voice cut through his thoughts and he felt a little chagrined to be caught daydreaming on the job. He straightened his shoulders and flashed a smile at her. It took everything in Marquetta to not swoon on the spot. Lord was he a handsome man.
“I’m sorry to come by unannounced, it’s becoming a bad habit. But I need a few things from Ms. Carter that I forgot to retrieve yesterday. Is she around?”
“She is, why don’t you go on up. She was in her office last time I called up and that was about, oh… ten minutes ago.”
“Thanks!” Marcus waved at her as he walked towards the stairs and he could feel the woman’s stare burning a hole through the seat of his pants and he couldn’t help but smile. She was not subtle at all and it did stoke his ego a bit, but all it did was amuse him rather than push him to ask her out like it would have in the past. Strange.
-*-
Rosemary never liked complete silence, something about it unnerved her and she became known for playing music wherever she was. The rest of the staff had gotten used to it, not blinking an eye if she was one day playing sea shanties while pulling items from the vaults for research or hearing AC/DC float out of her office while she pounded out grant narratives.
In the aftermath of the break-in, she chose to work in silence. It was a non-verbal way of blaming herself for what had happened - deep down she believed that if she hadn’t played music, she probably would have heard her attackers coming. Helen eventually said something in passing about the lack of music and within days, the director smiled to herself when the strains of Heart were heard coming from Rosemary’s office.
The swinging sounds of the Andrews Sisters filled the workroom as Rosemary worked on repairing the Austrian crystal damaged during the attack. Despite their destruction of the workroom, very few pieces had been outright damaged, with the crystal taking the brunt of it. She avoided the repair job over the last few weeks, not wanting to see such a visual reminder of her assault. But something Amy had mentioned in passing made her think that if she repaired the glass, then maybe something that had broken inside of her would be fixed, too.
Carefully, she wrapped a piece of painter’s tape to hold in place the piece she just glued, smoothing down the edges. As she sat back to view her handy work, a strong knock came at the door. Everything in Rosemary paused, blood suddenly roaring in her ears. She whipped around and her guest could see the barely disguised panic on her face.
Pike stopped immediately, raising his hands, and murmuring that it was just him. Not realizing she was breathing heavily, Rosemary continued to grip the workbench edge as the panic cascaded over her. The agent remained calm, using a low tone as he voiced his apologies while slowly stepping towards her. When she felt his warm palm on her shoulder and the other on her wrist, she finally took a deep breath and looked into his eyes.
How kind they are, she thought. And that feeling from yesterday – the one of safety – washed over her, leaving no room for the panic to grip her tight. Her body began to relax, and she started to breathe normally again. He could tell when she was coming back to him and he gently smiled and nodded. She let out a shaky breath and nodded back, forcing a small smile on her face. A small voice in her head said she should be embarrassed for reacting that way, but the sheer kindness and understanding she saw on his face shut out such negativity.
“Agent Pike! Back so soon?” She tried to add some lightness to her voice that she didn’t really feel. He bowed his head with a small smile, his hands still on her body while his thumbs rubbing small circles of comfort into her skin.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I really should have called ahead of time. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He sighed and shook his head as he silently berated himself. He should have known better.
“No, don’t apologize, you didn’t know.” She tried to continue, but his hand gently tightened on her wrist and she stopped.
“I do. You’ve been through enough without me stirring up painful memories for you. Hurting you is the last thing I’d want to do.” They stared at each other for a beat before she nodded, and her smile finally reached her eyes.
“Okay. What can I help you with?” He smiled in relief.
“I wanted to get copies of your files on The Cornucopia so we could flesh out our case. Would that be possible?”
“Absolutely. Follow me.” Rosemary moved to get up and Pike moved back, already missing the heat of her skin under his palms. He clutched them into a quick fist before relaxing them as the pleasure of touching her skittered through his body. He hoped she didn’t notice as he turned to follow her, his long legs keeping perfect stride with hers as they walked towards her office.
“Question Agent Pike.” She slowed down and waved him into her office. He bowed his head as he walked past her. Banana sat up on the couch, his tail wagging quickly at the sight of his new friend and both laughed. Pike bent over to give the dog a friendly scratch behind the ears as he responded.
“Go ahead.”
“Since our records are now wrong, can I get a copy of the piece’s history so I can have the most updated version? I’d like for it to be as correct as possible.”
“Sure, I understand.”
“Great!” Rosemary smiled at him again as she walked around her desk to her filing cabinet, pulling open a drawer and shifting through the files. As she thumbed through them, Pike placed his briefcase on her desk, watching her out of the corner of his eye. While most of the panic had left, he could still see tenseness in her shoulders that wasn’t there before. He internally sighed, mad at himself for being so stupid.
When she withdrew the correct file, she began pulling off paperclips so it could be fed through the copier faster. When she looked towards him, she noticed the file in his hand, and she reached out to take it. Rosemary wasn’t expecting it to be so heavy and she bungled a bit before the file folder slipped from her hands and everything spilled out onto her desk. A high pitched ‘oh shit’ left her mouth before she realized it and immediately began to clean up the mess she made.
As she fumbled with the papers, Pike leaned to help her, feeling his ears grow warm with each brush of her fingers against his. He cleared his throat as he assembled the case report back in order, shuffling the papers to hide his attraction to her. She had been focused on cleaning up the case photos when she suddenly stopped, standing stock still.
The agent noted her change and realize the tenseness he observed before was still there, but it felt different as she stared intently at a photo in her hand. He dropped his head to try and look her in the eye when he asked her if anything was wrong. When she looked at him, his breath stuttered in chest – her eyes were sparkling in excitement, something he had yet to see from her and the sheer joy of that look rendered him mute.
“Agent Pike, does that report say anything about who rescued the statue in 1946?” Her voice seemed to vibrate with excitement, and he could feel it seep into his bones as he shook his head no. “Okay, do you believe in fate, the universe, coincidences? Any of that?”
“Sometimes, I suppose. Why do you ask?”
With glee, Rosemary flipped around the photo she had been looking at, a modern scan of a black and white image. The glossiness made it hard to see, but when she angled her wrist, he realized it was a photo of the Monument Men team that had recovered The Cornucopia and the other pieces stolen from the Luxembourg ducal family. But he was confused still, the feeling clearly etched on his face and she giggled. Actually giggled.
“My dear agent,” She pointed to a tall man with a hauntingly familiar smile on his face that stood out against his shorter, more sober-faced fellow soldiers. “meet George Carter, US Army Captain and an original member of the Monument Men team during the War. That’s my grandfather holding The Cornucopia.”
Pike’s eyes shot up to look at Rosemary and she laughed again. He turned to glance at her wall, realizing he had been looking at a picture of the same man yesterday. The photo was almost similar, except George stood next to a large painting. He wondered if they were from around the same time or if one was older than the other. He turned back to Rosemary.
“I don’t know what this means exactly, but it looks like when it comes to rescuing The Cornucopia, the Carters have this handled.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“Meaning that I firmly believe you’ll find the piece and bring it home. Wherever that may be.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
—***—
Three weeks later
The chill of the blustery November day was seeping into Rosemary’s bones and she shivered as she trudged up to the backdoor of the house. Her fingers fumbled with the key to unlock the house and when the door finally swung open, she stumbled backwards as Banana rushed through the house to his bed near the heat register in the living room.
“Thank you, my ever-loving companion!” She called out to the dog as she took off her coat and scarf. The Home was toasty, but the chill of the kitchen tile still crept though her socks as she toed off her shoes. Padding over to the fridge, she pulled out some milk for her favorite hot cocoa and before she could pull out the saucepan, her phone began to ring. Noting it was Fern’s ringtone, she immediately answered it.
“Hey Ferny Fern, what’s up?”
“I got great news! The probate cleared today!”
“What?! So soon?” Rosemary set the milk jug on the counter and began to dance through the kitchen in joy.
“I know, I wasn’t expecting to be so quick, but I was told everything was in such neat order that it was quote one of the easiest probates I’ve cleared unquote.”
“So, does this mean what I think it means?”
“It means you’re free and clear just to live your life and run your new business.” Fern’s smile was evident through the phone as much as Rosemary’s heavy breath from her celebratory dance party.
“Okay, I’m going to celebrate. What are you doing tonight?”
“Winston is back in town from that conference he went to, so we’re having dinner.”
“Sure, who’s on the menu first, you or him?” There was no hiding the cheeky grin in Rosemary’s voice as she poured milk into the saucepan and turned up the heat.
“Quiet.” Fern huffed over phone. “Lunch on Saturday instead?”
“Maybe dinner, let’s see what Amy and Tina think.”
The two women chatted a little longer before hanging up and Rosemary grinned at nothing as her milk began to heat up. What a weight off her shoulders.
—***—
“Rosemary!” Amy stood in the open foyer and smiled as her friend entered the First Bank of Saugatuck and quickly walked over to give her a hug. “Are you ready to do this?”
“Yeah.” Rosemary nodded, a small lump forming in her throat and she took a deep breath. Amy squeezed her hand and after a moment, she nodded to continue.
“Let’s go to my office and get you squared away. Do you have the paperwork?”
“Do you think Fern would let me leave the house to do any of this without it?”
“Fair enough.” The two women laughed as they sat down and for the next hour, Robert Lancaster ceased to exist on paper at the place he banked at for over twenty years. As they finished up, Rosemary snapped her fingers as a thought crossed her mind.
“I brought the safety deposit box keys, too. Can I get into those today?”
“Yep, let’s head over to the vault.” Rosemary handed over the keys as she followed Amy into the vault where she stopped to match the numbers in her hand with those in front of her. After a few beats, Amy found all three boxes, none in sequential order. After inserting the keys into the locks, she turned to her friend and smile.
“There you go. Hope he left you something good!” Amy kissed Rosemary on the cheek as she left to attend another meeting. Taking another deep breath, Rosemary turned to the boxes and opened the one closest to her. Pulling out the box, she set it on the table and lifted the lid, revealing an according file folder. Propping it upright, she peeked inside and saw what looked like documents and photos, piquing her interest.
She set the folder aside as she went to pull out drawer number two, which like the first one had been the biggest size Robert could get. As she opened it, she could hear rattling inside the box and her curiosity grew bigger. Lifting the lid gently, she found a box that had deteriorated with age and what looked like several religious artifacts strewn about inside. She gently lifted them out and laid them on the table, eyeing them carefully.
In the last box, smaller than the others, was a worn book, its leather binding split and faded ribbon tied around it. Stuck under the small length of cloth was a much newer envelope with her name on it and a wave of sadness washed through Rosemary when she recognized Robert’s distinctive block writing. Pulling it out, she held it against her chest and closed her eyes a moment. Letting the wave pass, she sat the item down with the others and put the boxes back into their homes.
She turned and looked at the table, knowing they were the key to Robert’s past – the one before Saugatuck. She pulled out a chair and sat down, gently removing the letter and opening it. She noted the date he wrote it was only a few days after his diagnosis. Taking a deep breath, she began to read with her eyes growing bigger as she skimmed each line.
My dear Rosie,
I’m sorry I’ve left you behind. I thought we would have had more years together but apparently the Lord has decided that wasn’t in His plans. I am already missing you terribly even though I know you’ll be with me to the end.
I made you my heir years ago, but while I had no qualms giving you the house, the store, and my earnings. I have not been able to give you the story of me, the real me. I am a coward for keeping it from you until after I die, but I feel this is the best way to protect you from my past so you can live your future.
These boxes, now yours, contain all that is left of who I was am - Anatoli Choryni. My life in the Ukrainian mafia seems more like a dream I keep struggling to remember. Since my early childhood, I knew nothing but mafiya life – starting as a little gofer for my dyad’ko who was a muscle man and growing into my role as hitman and later underboss.
I did an amazing number of bad things to people thinking I was making my neighborhood a better place, saving it from the encroachment of whatever group was our enemy at the time. Yet when I reached such an exalted status, I knew that I was becoming jaded with my work.
You cannot just leave the mob, however. Not when it had been your whole life like it had been for me. But, when I saw one of my underlings murder a woman in cold blood, I knew I could no longer stay. You want to kill a man who cheated you? Go ahead. You want to torture your Russian enemy? That’s fine. But you never, ever hurt women and children. Never. I made that clear to my men, to Bernard when he rose to power after his father died.
But the lifeless eyes of that woman haunted me, and I knew. I knew then, Rosie, that I had to flee. I planned it so meticulously – draining my accounts slowly, hoarding money in my bed like my babyusa used to do in the old days under Stalin. I hoarded my papers, my faith, the evidence of my crimes for months on end.
Then one day, I did it. I faked my death and fled. First north to Wisconsin and then east to Michigan before landing in New York City. There I hid for a full year before I went and legally changed my name. I left the city and took up as a clerk for a bookstore in some small town in Pennsylvania. I stayed there for two years and when it looked like I had no one on my tail, I came to Saugatuck.
I started the store and the rest is history. And by now, if you’re reading this, my probate has cleared, and you probably learned I was clean and easy. Everything is legal, I made sure of it for my own safety and then for you after you came into my life. And if the person reading this isn’t Rosie, then well, I’m not as smart as I’d like to think I am.
I was not a good man, I did terrible things, but I hope I eased the red in my life book some with all the good I did after I came to Michigan. I’ll find out when my last breath leaves me, but until then, I will spend my last months embracing our friendship. You have never left me before and I know you won’t leave me now.
And because of that I owed all of this to you. My life story.
A/N:I pounded this bad boy out in 30 minutes, that’s how badly the idea needed to be written.
Reminder:I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.
“What’s that smile for, you silly man?” You cock your head towards Marcus as he lays in bed, watching you finish toweling off from your shower. He slowly shakes his head.
“Nothing.”
“Hmm, I doubt that, Mr. Pike.” He continues to smile as you toss your towel on the arm of the reading chair, your nudity on full display for him and somehow that grin of his gets impossibly larger. You slowly walk towards him, feeling his eyes rake across your body, still flush from the hot shower you took.
You reach the edge of the bed and begin to crawl across it until your right next to him. You bend your head down to pepper soft kisses along his bare shoulder and you internally grin as you felt his muscles bunch and jump beneath your touch. You remain on all fours but lower your upper half so that you rest on your elbows, nipples tightening as your breasts sway against the soft sheets.
“Hello.” You brush your lips against his, letting the velvet skin send a shiver down your spine.
“Hello.” He kisses you back, his tongue begging entrance into your mouth and the shivers grow as you open to him. With your ass and core tilted upwards, you can feel the coolness of the room more intently as you began to get wetter.
You continue to kiss for long minutes and you’re so focused on the sensation of his lips and tongue against your mouth, you fail to notice that he has snaked his arm underneath you. Suddenly his thick fingers cup your mound and you rear back, gasping in pleasure and surprise. He continues to smile, a lazy tinge to it as his eyes drop to half-mast in pleasure.
He runs two fingers between the lips of your core, rubbing gently as he passes over your clit and you moan in pleasure, thighs wanting to clasp together. You drop your face to press it into his shoulder and your hands begin to grasp the sheets beneath you to anchor yourself against the onslaught of pleasure.
Marcus slows his ministrations and your hips jerk, seeking the friction he denies you. Suddenly, his fingers return to your clit and begin to rub in agonizingly slow circles. You gasp harshly against his skin and the moan you let out seems so loud. Your body trembles as the pleasure courses through you and you finally force yourself to look up at his face.
The bastard is stillsmiling!
You growl against his skin and before you can say anything, he drags his fingers up your slit and sinks two of them into you - deeply. Your gasp is loud, and you surge forward, practically screaming into his skin. Just as before, he kept a steady, but almost maddeningly slow pace.
“Marcus!” You moan against his skin, burying your face into his warmth. “Please!”
You can’t see his smile morph into a smirk, but he was never one to deny you anything, so he obliges and increases his pace, letting the heel of his hand rub against your clit. Your hips jerk in time, fucking his hand as best you can even as your thighs shake from the raw pleasure coursing through you.
Before you know it, your pleasure crests and you come hard, almost impossibly so, screaming into his shoulder and eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your hips jerk and shake against his hand, which is stilled. When you stop, he slowly removes his hand and you drop your forehead against him.
You are in a daze, feelings of pleasure still pulsating throughout your body when you feel Marcus shift. But in the haze of your mind, you’re not quick enough to lift your head before he kneels behind you. He drags his hand up your spine and lays it on the back of your neck, fingers slowly massaging the skin there.
His light touch sends sparks of pleasure down your body, where they congregate in your now jerking hips. His smile, which has yet to leave his lips, takes on a more feral look as he rubs the head of his aching cock against you.
“Marcus!” You cry into the sheet, grasping at the fabric so hard that your knuckles have gone white. He relents and sinks into you with one shift of his hips. You cry out at the invasion, hips jerking in pleasure. His hands land on your skin, holding you tight for a moment.
He loves to feel you pulsating around his cock and he must force himself not to come just yet. When you whimper, he lets his hips draw back and then forward. Like with his fingers, he sets a maddeningly slow pace and you can barely breathe as the pleasure claws at your chest, your lungs, your heart.
You pull yourself up onto your hands, arms shaking from the pleasure that has seemed to rob you of your strength. And yet, you use the leverage to push back against his hips harder, pulling a moan from his chest. Your pants are loud, almost shrill as he begins to fuck you harder.
You never came off the high of your previous orgasm, so every move of his cock inside of you wrings every drop of want from you until your whole body is shaking in response. Soon, the tautness of your belly breaks again, and you clamp down hard on his cock and scream loudly into the pillow, throat nearly hurting from the rawness of it all.
You hear him groan behind you and with a few quick thrusts, he is coming and following you into the pleasure storm. After what seems like long minutes, he withdraws from you and you both collapse onto the bed. You turn your head and notice that his smile has been wiped off his face. And you can’t help but start smiling yourself. His eyes are closed as he struggles to capture his breath, but one of them crack open and sees you laying there with a large grin on your face.
A/N: I’ve been quiet and I’m sorry, but I’ve hit a bit of a wall. Plus work is hectic right now and I’m not in a writing mood. I’ve got at least one more chapter written in full after this one and chapter 9 is in the works, but I feel bad that I’m so quiet. I see the love you’re showing and I’m here for it. As a thank you, this chapter is over 4K words.
Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.
As Marcus Pike exited his rental vehicle, he couldn’t help but smile at the large, three story building in front of him. The Fort Jamison Historical Museum was housed in a former high school, but it’s turrets, ivy covered walls, and stained-glass windows seemed less hallowed halls of education and more akin to a fancy home. Regardless, he was charmed by what he saw.
When he entered the building, that charmed feeling continued and as he paused to get his bearings, he briefly wondered if he had enough time to visit the rest of the museum. The lobby of the FJHM was open, with large windows letting in the mid-morning sunlight, giving the burnished wood of the floor and trim a soft glow. The walls were draped in large banners featuring what he assumed were pictures from their collections and a seating area to the left of the welcome desk already had a few visitors chattering excitedly amongst themselves.
As he walked further into the space towards the desk, he noted a young woman to his left as she was filling a display case with what looked to be old calculators and to his right was an older gentleman filling a brochure stand. His steps alerted the man to his arrival and Pike watched as he quickly walked over to the desk to greet him.
After explaining what he was there for, the older man nodded and gave Pike the directions he needed to head upstairs to the office space. After being directed towards the stairs, the agent found himself taking them slowly, reading the display labels next to impressive pictures of the area. Once he stepped foot on the third floor, he realized he hadn’t been told which way to go. After a pause, Pike trusted his gut and picked a direction.
Two doors down from the stairwell was the very place he was looking for. Success.
As he entered the office of this Rosemary Carter, he felt immediately as if he had finally come home and he startled at the sensation. And not that it wasn’t a homey place to be, but that he felt as if he was meant to be there. A small part of him felt a sense of déjà vu, as if he had been here before, even though he never even heard of Ms. Carter or the museum or any of this prior to two weeks ago.
Shaking off the feeling, Pike looked around the space and smiled as he realized she was the opposite of a minimalist. Bookshelves lined at least two walls, the room was stuffed with furniture, and he was certain there wasn’t a speck of wall space left. The man at the front desk said Ms. Carter hadn’t arrived at work yet, so he took the chance look around and get to know the woman he was about to question.
His crew had completed a preliminary report on this Ms. Carter before he left DC where things like her impressive education and work history was discussed, along with reports on her volunteer activities and a few other things. But nothing really told him about her as a person and Pike always felt that getting to know someone was the best way to determine if they were a suspect or not.
Several articles lined the walls and he skimmed the stories, discovering that she had been at the museum for nearly half her career, that she was a specialist in decorative arts, and that she was passionate about her career. One article about a fundraiser was accompanied by a photo of the curator laughing while covered in whipped cream and surrounded by giggling school children. He felt himself smiling at the image, drawn in by the grin splitting her face.
He realized that was just how this Ms. Carter was and other photos lining her walls with friends and family show the same open face, the same joviality, the same laughter in all of them. There was even a photo of what looked like her receiving an award where she looked as if she was laughing gleefully.
He stepped back a moment to take a breath, as if it had been stolen from him – this was a woman who lived her life with joy and boldness at every turn. He realized that he was surrounded by it – what wasn’t brightly colored was whimsical and what wasn’t whimsical was almost cozy. Her walls were filled with children’s drawings and thank you letters were framed next to different types of textile art. He noted beautiful Ukrainian lace work framed behind her desk.
Yes, he thought, this was a woman who appreciated the beauty of life. The team’s preliminary report told him she was smart, but she was also a woman who loved fiercely and if the numerous photos were to go by, deeply loyal. He tilted his head – his original assessment had been correct; she wasn’t a suspect. Yes, she had reported it, but sometimes that didn’t mean anything as Pike had well learned in his career. However, this woman clearly feels things and probably believed that the theft was a personal afront to her.
He found himself looking intently at an old picture of several men in uniform posing with some artwork when he heard a throat clear behind him. He quickly straightened up and turned around, spotting Rosemary by the door. His face lit up at the sight of her and his smile was large, almost a grin as if he were glad to finally see her. He stepped away from the wall and held out his hand as she walked towards him.
““I’m Special Agent Marcus Pike.”
“I’m Rosemary Carter. Welcome to Fort Jamison.”
“And who’s this?” Pike bent down to hold out his hand for the dog at her side to sniff, but Banana rarely met a person he didn’t like and immediately walked between the man’s knees to beg for scratches, his stumpy tail wagging happily. Pike set his briefcase on the floor and yielded to the dog willingly with both hands.
“This is Banana.” Rosemary’s voice was tinged with a laugh and Pike thought it a beautiful sound. “He’s a good boy, but I’m sorry he’s being so rude and getting fur all over your suit. Normally he just goes to his corner of the couch and goes right to sleep.”
“No! It’s fine, I love dogs, grew up with them. What breed is he?”
“I have no idea, even the shelter didn’t know.” She laughed as the dog’s eyes dropped to half mast as Pike found his sweet spot. If the dog could have groaned in pleasure, he probably would have. “I just asked for a laid-back dog and Banana and I clicked, the rest is history.”
“So, can I ask where the name came from?” He looked up at Rosemary as she stood there, leaning on one leg and arms crossed. Her face was contorted into a smile-grimace, her embarrassment easy to read in her eyes. He thought it adorable and he couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot.
“In truth? I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think I was joking around and then it just stuck. But it fits for some weird reason. Baba, leave the man alone.” She waved at the dog who deftly ignored her in favor of his new friend. She sighed, her head hanging down in defeat and he chuckled. “Anyway, agent, please have a seat. If I had known someone was coming, I’d have at least cleaned my office and had a few things prepared for you.”
“No need to apologize. You didn’t know and I realize now I should have said something prior to arriving. So, this is all my fault. Please, take your time.”
She heaved a sigh of relief and waved him over to an overstuffed chair in front of her desk. She walked around the heavy oak piece, hanging her shoulder bag on a wall hook that was designed to look like the ass end of a dog with the tail as the hook. He could see a small plaque that said ‘Clyde’ attached to the base of it. Those little whimsical touches in her office just made him want to stay longer, get to know her more. He unbuttoned the last one on his jacket and sat down, settling into the surprisingly comfortable chair.
Just as she sat down herself, Banana suddenly jumped into Pike’s lap, wiggling around until he was comfortable, his head resting on the crook of his new seat’s elbow. The agent’s face took on a look of surprise before he started to laugh, but Rosemary made a horrified sound, standing back up.
“Banana! Get down!” She moved to come around the desk, but Pike held up his free hand to stop her and she paused, looking at the dog before looking back at him. She was hyper-aware that people don’t always like dogs sitting on them and she was sure the heat in her cheeks made her as red as a tomato. He must think of her as a bad dog owner.
“He’s fine, he’s fine. Let him be.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” His flashed a smile at her and she stop, hesitating a moment before she nodded and went to sit back down. He continued to pet the dog as she got settled, watching her as subtly as he could. He knew what she looked like, of course, but to see someone in person is different than seeing them in photos. He noted that the brown of her hair had a tinge of red to it and that she was grayer in person than she had been in the images that he saw.
Her face was smooth, but he could see the laugh lines around her eyes, remembering the way they crinkled as she smiled at him. And again, with that smile of hers! He felt as if he could live in it and never find a more comfortable home. What surprised him was her height - she was tall, something the report didn’t tell him, and he was glad he could look directly into her hazel eyes with little physical effort on his part. She gnawed on her lips as she fumbled around gathering everything up for this unscheduled meeting and he noted they were red from her ministration.
A thought of how those lips would look after he kissed them flittered through his brain before disappearing. He cleared his throat and stood up as straight as he could with the dog in his lap as those eyes, magnified by her glasses, glanced up at him in question.
“I read the theft report from the police and of course what you submitted, but if you could, just tell me the whole story.” Pike glanced over at her and she nodded.
“I was working late…” Pike held up his hand, stopping her.
“No, start from the very beginning – you never mentioned how you acquired the piece. I’d like to know everything that led to it being stolen.” She nodded and sat back, telling the story from the very beginning. At one point, she swiveled her chair towards her filing cabinet to pull out The Cornucopia’s file, passing it over to him. He interjected with questions periodically, but mostly he sat and listened to her in such an intense way that Rosemary felt almost shy under his gaze.
“Do you know much about the piece before Robert purchased it?”
“Other than what’s written in the history, no. I didn’t even know he had it until he gave to us in June.”
“It says here that it’s restricted, what does that mean.”
“That tells us the donor gave it to us with limitations. Normally we don’t take those, but we make a few exceptions, obviously Robert being one of them.” She indicated for him to flip over the page he was looking at. “There is the list. It comes down to that we store it and that’s it. No advertising, no mentioning it, nothing.”
“So, publicly no one knew you had this piece?”
“Correct. Until the report of the theft came out in the papers, the only ones who knew we had it were me, Helen since she’s the director, and of course Robert.”
“None of the rest of the staff?”
“No, there was no need to, while he gave such harsh restrictions, I treated his donation like any other. So, most of the items that went into the vault weren’t talked about with staff. Usually if I do bring them into the loop it’s because it’ll be going on display and our front line needs to be able to ask questions.”
“In full honesty, we investigated your institution before I came out here and if I recall you announced the donation of seven quilts from Mr. Lancaster in late June. Why?”
“You didn’t read too far into the article then; we made the announcement as part of our general statement on our quilt exhibit downstairs.”
“Exhibit?” Rosemary smiled and pulled a file from the holder on her desk, handing it over. As he opened it, he saw an ad for a quilt exhibit. He looked back up at her.
“We only had two physical quilts in our collection that we could officially say were Michigan made. Robert’s donation gave us seven more that we knew were locally made, giving us more artifacts for the exhibit and a boost in publicity. Robert was well known around here and well liked. Announcing those quilts brought in twelve more temporary loans.”
Pike nodded as he glanced through the file and went back to the first folder he was holding. He reached down on the side of the chair and patted at the thin air, realizing his briefcase was on the other side of the office. He tried to figure out how to reach it while not disturbing the dog, but he didn’t have to think long as Rosemary sensed his dilemma and quickly got up.
As she moved, he noted how graceful she was, even with her long limbs, and she bent over, he admired the sleek lines of her body. She stood up and he quickly looked away, lest he was caught ogling. She nodded when he smiled in thanks and his breath nearly hitched in his chest when she bent over to scratch Banana’s ears on her way back to her desk. She smelled of fresh linens and summer breezes and his mind made him think of billowing sheets, soft sighs, and dappled sunlight.
“Can I ask how you stored the piece? It says it was kept in a cabinet?” He had pulled out a notepad, scribbling a few things down to add to the report later.
“Yes, while my work room is locked when not in use, I have a specific cabinet that I can lock, with only me having access to the key.” She sat back, tapping her chin. “I had it installed about four years ago and had three spare keys made at the time. I damaged one about two years ago and a second one about this time last year. So, there is my main key and then the spare under my workbench.”
“Is that normal?”
“The lock and key routine? Not really, the idea had been to create a place where valuable or unstable items could be stored out of people’s reach. Outside of the statue, I can only think of three other times I kept artifacts locked up and those were highly dangerous items I couldn’t let others touch until they were disposed of properly.”
“Is that a problem here? Touching items when asked not to?” Rosemary snorted and Pike couldn’t help but chuckle at her response.
“Agent Pike, I don’t know how well you know people, but I can assure that the little monkey brain in all of us will do the opposite of what they are told. I had a special behind-the-scenes tour last spring and found one of our members attempting to take apart a three hundred-year-old clock on my bench. And the worst part? The item was on loan for an exhibit from another museum!”
“I see.” Pike laughed. “So, from what you’re saying, this was a quiet transaction and there is no reason anyone should have known you had the piece at all.”
“Pretty much.”
“Which means, they must have known about the statue beforehand.”
“I’m not sure how anyone could have. I was his best friend for ten years and I was in both his store and home often, even staying the night on occasion. Never once did I see the statue in either location, which if you knew Robert, that was something. That man lived his life on his walls – pictures, art, you name it, unless it was seasonal, it was out decorating some surface or another. And the one thing he couldn’t abide by was ugly anything, especially art.”
“Do you think The Cornucopia to be ugly?”
“In the spirit of honesty? Yes. And I know Robert would have, too. It looks like a bad drawing and I can just hear him making fun of it.” Rosemary laughed a bit and Pike smiled at the sound of her voice, an even tone with a hint of huskiness. Did that huskiness deepen when she was aroused, he wondered, before ignoring it.
“I see. However, it looks like he clearly owned it since he gave it to you and based on what is in this file. But it doesn’t say how he acquired it.”
“Hmm, I believe he said it was in Chicago, sometime before he moved to Saugatuck in the 1990s, but I don’t know if he said where it was purchased. Why? Do you think they’d have more history on the piece that what I have?”
“Well that’s the thing. Your entry on the NSAF alerted us because The Cornucopia was stolen from a museum in Wisconsin in 1993.”
“WHAT?” Rosemary’s feet, which had been propped up on the desk, landed hard on the floor as she shot up out of her seat. Her cry startled Banana, who jerked his head up and huffed, wondering what was going on. Without thinking, Pike began to comfort the dog with a gentle pat on the head but wasn’t entirely sure how he could calm the shocked woman before him.
“What do you mean stolen?” Her voice was steadily rising, the anxiety that she thought she pushed away after the attack, started to creep along the edges of her mind. What was going on? This agent must be wrong. “You’re wrong.”
“That’s why I’m here in person rather than conducting this interview over the phone.” He bent back down and shuffled through the files to pull out the one he was looking for. “Glancing at the background that was given to you, whoever wrote it knew the general history of the piece but modified the story to throw off anyone who was looking for it.”
“Wait. They changed the background but not the title of the piece?” He nodded. “Well that’s stupid.”
“In the spirit of honesty Ms. Carter,” Pike mimicked her words from earlier, “we rely way more on the stupidity of criminals to solve a crime than people would be comfortable with.”
With that, Pike handed over the history of the statue to Rosemary, who read through it, jaw dropping more and more as she read further into the history. He watched as her brows furrowed before shooting up at certain parts. Her sigh of resignation when she stopped reading was tinged with sadness – the whole situation was worse than she had originally thought.
“So, it’s true, then?”
“It is, we have video evidence of the theft – or as best we can have given the team that stole it spliced the video to make it seem otherwise. We have both the original statements and new ones taken just a few months ago about the situation and I’ve had people ID your photo correctly as the missing statue.”
“What does this mean for me? And for the museum?”
“It means whoever originally stole it in Wisconsin may have come back for it. And that once its recovered, it will likely go back to the ducal family.”
“Were the other curators and people attacked, too?” Pike shook his head at her question, her not realizing that the attack is what caused concern for him and his crew, giving him another reason to come in person.
“No. You were the first.”
“The first? How many times has this thing been stolen?” He bowed his head slightly at her question.
“This technically would be the third time, but this case is one of thirty over the last forty years that we believe is the work of the same team. All art pieces, all from museums and private collections. All cold cases until recently.” Her shoulders slumped at his words.
“That means whoever this was, you may not be able to catch them.”
“There is always that possibility. But I’d like to think we’re going to close this case once and for all. And bring your attackers to justice.”
“You think so, Agent Pike?”
“I do.”
—***—
“Okay and then what happened?” Tina’s voice sounded excited, her eyes sparkling as Rosemary paused her story. She, Amy, and Fern leaned in, eager to hear what the rest of the tale was. They had stopped by for dinner and trick or treating but were far more interested in the story of this Agent Pike.
“Um, we talked for a while longer before he went to meet with Helen. I think they were in her office for like two hours or something. I don’t know, I was too busy doing something else. And then he had me walk him through the attack as best I could, asking a lot of questions that even the police didn’t.”
“Like what?” Asked Amy.
“Like how they talked or if they use weapons. I think he even asked me about language.” The other women cocked their heads and nodded. “I think he talked to Bob and Marquetta. Scratch that, I know he talked to them because Marquetta was giggling like an idiot when she came up stairs to tell me he was staying to visit the museum.”
“He stayed?” Tina took another sip of her cocoa, eyes twinkling in the darkness. “Did you see him before he left?”
“Yeah, I went down to say good-bye and to thank him for taking this seriously and ended up giving him a tour. I even took him into the vaults. He asked a lot of great questions and even identified three paintings we had in the collection but no information on. I made him stay a bit longer to help me update their database entries.”
“Oooooh the vaults!” Amy’s voice was teasing. Rosemary was finicky about who went into her domain, so her taking a strange man in there had the girls buzzing amongst themselves. Sly grins were hidden by mug rims as they waited for her to continue. While she was being very vague with the story, she had talked about the agent all night, mentioning things like his smile or how he treated Banana.
“Shut up!” Rosemary cried, looking down into her hot cocoa, her face feeling flush suddenly.
“What does the agent think?” Fern patted Rosemary’s forearm in an encouraging way, knowing her friend was a little embarrassed by their teasing. Unlike her friends, Rosemary was single and rarely talked about her many failed dates. For her to be so chatty about this Agent Pike had them all on alert.
“That this was a piece that was stolen before and somehow Robert ended up with it, so they came to take it back. But he’s worried because they never attacked anyone until me.” She sighed, leaning her head back. “He thinks they can find the piece, but now there is a chance that we can’t keep it because it belongs to the royal family in Luxembourg still.”
“Do you think Robert knew that? All the stuff that the agent told you?” Amy asked as she went to get more cocoa to fill their mugs. The last of the trick or treaters had left hours ago, but the quartet remained on the porch. “That the statue was stolen?”
“I don’t know, I’ve asked him, and he just stares at me all stony faced.” Rosemary took another sip as her friends paused for a moment. When they started laughing, so did Rosemary, the group’s voices echoing off the nearby houses. They finally hushed themselves as best they could through all the giggles and snorts.
“That is a stupid ass joke, Rose!” Tina was blotting at a wet spot on the knee of her jeans where she spit out her drink, her giggles not stopping no matter how hard she tried. “We’re being serious!”
“So am I! You don’t say anything, but you know I go to the cemetery to talk to him. I’ve asked a thousand times, trying to rack my brain about this stupid statue. But honest to god it never came up until he gave it to the museum in June.” Rosemary sighed, her ribs hurting her again, an ache that didn’t seem to go away no matter what she did. “He had a whole life before Saugatuck we know nothing about. And it’s not like I’ll ever get answers to what it was like.”
—***—
“Pike! You’re blushing!” Carmichael’s voice was filled with giddiness as she watched her partner’s face on the video conference call. He ducked his head and looked away, fighting a smile that wanted to play on his lips. He refused to give his partner the satisfaction even though all he talked about for the last hour was Ms. Carter and not the case itself, which gave him away. “Oooooh, you like this Ms. Carter, don’t you?”
“No!”
“Hehehehe!” There was that rare giggle from Carmichael again, she clapped her hands together in delight. “You totally do! Look how red you are!”
“You’re imagining things, it’s probably just your camera all messed up. This is serious. Rosemary was hurt badly by all this!” Pike huffed, mad at himself that he couldn’t hide his emotions better. Stupid face.
“Rosemary? Are you two on first name basis now? How adorable!”
“Brenda! Stop it!”
“No. This is the best thing to happen in months.” She laughed with delight; her seriousness was a front she put on at work. In her private life, Brenda Carmichael was an avowed romantic and loved everything about love. She watched every cheesy romance movie on Hallmark, cried buckets of happy tears over the romance novels she read, and did whatever she could to nurture love in her world.
It’s probably why all of Pike’s romantic failures have hurt her more than him because she knows deep in her heart that Marcus Pike was a real-life romance novel hero and he just needed his heroine. She had tried for several months to play matchmaker to no avail. But to watch him get doe-eyed over this curator? She was downright gleeful.
Din was thrilled from the moment you announced your pregnancy, he would sit down with Grogu explaining the responsibilities of a big brother.
When you give birth, he helps you. It was his fault that you were on a deserted planet after all. He feared the worst, but you were strong and so was your child.
When he first held his daughter, she was still covered in blood, but in his eyes, she was the definition of perfection.
Jack Daniels
This wasn’t the first time he was about to become a father, but this was the time he was super cautious. Making sure you were safe at every second, he doesn’t want to go through the same pain as before.
When you gave birth, he was on a mission. He was called by Ginger and he immediately dropped everything. But he was late.
By the time he arrived to the hospital, you were sleeping and so, he let you sleep while he walked over to the glass so he could see his child. And surely enough Jack found him. The only baby with just a last name, meaning you wanted to wait until he was there to name him.
He felt a tear fall from his eyes as he looked at him, he knew he would do anything to keep his family safe.
Marcus Moreno
It was a quiet night, everyone was sleeping when you woke up. Marcus didn’t even move an inch when you got out of bed. You were in desperate need to pee.
But on your way back to the bed, you felt a terrible pain.
Of course, when you woke Marcus up, he was running around like a chicken without a head, thank God for Missy who was able to help you out.
This wasn’t the first time Marcus her his own baby and standing there he wouldn’t want this to be the last either. He cried. Tears rolling down his face while he held his youngest daughter.
Of course, Missy took multiple pictures of him which she planned on blackmailing her father later on in his life.
Oberyn Martell
Childbirth was something he was used to. He had many daughters before you even came into the picture.
But this was the very first time he held a son and not a daughter. It felt special, and as much as he loved his daughters, his heart still felt a different way to see the youngest addition to his ever-growing family.
He swore his entire life to protect him as he would be his rightful heir. You even caught a glimpse of a tear running down his cheek before he whiped it.
Javier Pena
Panic wouldn’t even begin to describe what he went through that day. He thought he would rather go after another Escobar guy instead of going through this hell, and he didn’t even had to do anything. He held your hand and that’s all. You did all the work.
His mind often went to that dark place, that dark place which told him to just run, leave and never come back, but he stayed.
And that dark voice in the back of his head disappeared when he held his daughter for the first time. And how glad he was that he didn’t leave.
Tiny little girl with his eyes. Perfection. He just stood there, frozen as he looked at her. Not even giving her to the nurses when they asked.
Pero Tovar
After your third child you thought Pero would have enough. You thought he would have enough and not want more children. But you were wrong. Two girls and a boy weren’t enough. He wanted more. And you were happy to give him more.
Each birth was more terrifying to him than the last. He loved his children all the same and he just loved you a little more as he held his second son. Each time he was reminded just how amazing you were and it made his heart explode.
Him, a rough swordsman, such a soft and kind father and husband. He never saw himself in that position. As you finally fell asleep, he watched the kids, showing them his youngest, like the proud father he was.
Summary:When asking for zoomies is just too much for you.
You didn’t like the new ship. Not one bit.
It made you sit back, not on your man’s lap.
You travelled while sitting at the back, not while he held you. You held Grogu close to you, but you needed his arms around you, you needed to feel the cool Beskar and his heat radiating off of him, making you fall asleep as he flew. Now, all you had was your kid. Who constantly kept on banging the window, asking Din to go faster. Honestly it was adorable, but you started to feel sick after the tenth time. So, when Grogu wanted Din to go again, you grabbed his little arms.
“Please, no more, I feel sick.” the Kid understood you, of course he stopped, not wanting to see his mommy sick he decided to cuddle against your chest.
Then you heard Din’s voice through the comunication system.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, just no more jumps please, my head hurts.”
“Should we stop? There is a planet fairly close.”
And he already stirred the ship to go that way, the last thing he wanted is for you to be sick and some fresh air will really help you.
After landing, you quickly got out of the ship, with the Kid still in your hands, you started walking around the foresty planet.
“I feel better…but, I’m a bit dizzy.” you said as you leaned against a tree. Din rushed over to your side, helping you to a nearby rock to sit on.
“Meshla? What can I do?”
You handed him Grogu and held your head, “I don’t know. Do you have any meds?”
“I do,” he rushed to his ship, finding the emergency bag and taking out a painkiller, he handed it to you with some water.
“Thank you.” you took the pill.
“I will only use that when we are chased or something, if you get a headache every time.”
“I don’t think it’s that, it's the amount. You did it like 12 times because he asked you. But we learned from it.” Grogu made a noise and reached out to you, Din held him closer to you as he grabbed your hand. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to heal me, I’m good.” you said as you started to feel the force he used. As you said that, he stopped. “I just need an hour or so, then we an go.” you said to Din as you took Grogu from him once more. He nodded and decided to go relax with you under the huge tree.
You leaned against him, he moved his arms around you, finally, finally he was holding you, just as you wanted.
Now, not even the annoying headache could ruin your mood.
Summary:You come across a badly injured man in the woods and decide to help him.
Living alone in a small wooden house, you were in a constant battle against all elements.
You were proud of what you achieved. A house, a nice farm with animals, crops and you took care of everything on your own.
But if you were honest with yourself, you were lonely.
Even if there was a village a couple of hours from your home, your house remained lonely.
You always thought you would have a husband and children by now. That’s what your parents wanted for you, that’s what you wanted. But then you moved out and you were so focused on your farm, you forgot the years passing by.
And before you realized it, you were all alone.
Even if you were happy with the life that you had you knew that it could be better but you didn’t want to get greedy, you are thankful for what you had because you worked hard for it.
One morning you woke up early, collected all of your eggs, put everything on your carriage and left to go to the village to sell your goods and hopefully buy a couple more plants that you could grow and also you hoped to get some fabrics so you could make a new dress for yourself.
At least that was the plan, however, you never made it to the village.
On your way over there you saw a black horse with a saddle on it, but there was no rider, the horse was wandering around all alone, you hopped off of your carriage and headed to the horse, you slowly approached it making sure that it wouldn’t hurt you or get scared as you grabbed the leash. You tried your best to calm the horse down, and once you have succeeded you tried to look around to see if there was someone there.
“Hello?” You called out but there was no answer, you know there had to be someone out there because a horse like this would not be roaming the woods alone. So, you tied the leash to your carriage before moving into the forest a little bit more trying to find the owner of the horse. Constantly calling out to see if someone would answer but there was no answer and no one there.
You turned back around, decided to just get back to your carriage and get on with your day when you heard a deep groan.
You followed the muffled voice and found a man, obviously injured, as he was leaning against a tree on the ground.
Carefully you approached the man looking around to see if that was just a trap but then you found no one there, you decided to help him. First, you made sure that he was still breathing and when you found him still alive, you knew you needed to do something.
You couldn’t just leave a half-dead man and steal his horse.
He had some kind of armour on him, that’s how you knew that he was a swordsman, he was obviously injured from a battle or maybe from a fight you weren’t sure but you wanted to help him. He had long hair and a thick beard. It was obvious that he was the owner of the horse since the sword by his side looked exactly the same as the one you found on the horse.
So, you did what every helpful person would do, got him back to your carriage and back to your home.
He was a very heavy man, it was hard for you to move him around, but somehow you managed to get him to your bed. You laid him back and found his wound. It was on his abdomen.
You didn’t want to invade his privacy but you knew that you needed to clean up the wound, or he would bleed to death. You gathered all of your courage and slowly took off his top along with his armor.
You had to admit that he was a very well built man, possibly due to his profession. You needed to stop yourself, you know better than to drool over a man that you just found in the woods covered in his own blood, he could be violent for all you knew. But somehow you still had a feeling he wouldn’t hurt you.
—
You had been taking care of the injured soldier for two days now, he never once woke up. You cleaned and closed his wound, bandaged him up but now you were worried. He needed to wake up so he could eat and drink, maybe even bathe since he smelled terrible.
You went into the room later that afternoon, only to find the man awake.
“Finally.” you said that you were very relieved that he was finally awake.
“Who are you? What have you done to me?” he asked with a panicked voice, something you had definitely prepared for, since you know this will happen. from his accent, you could tell that he was not from around here.
“I helped you, found you covered in your own blood with your horse running around, I took you to my home and took care of you, you’re welcome.”
He looked confused, but then when he tried to sit up he let out a groan reminding himself of his wound. When he looked at it he saw that it was all cleaned and bandaged, he realized that you were not lying.
“Gracias.” And there it was again, but then he said that word his accent was not present, you wondered what language that was. You looked at him, offering him a small smile before you placed the tray of food in front of him so he can finally eat.
“Eat and drink, I’ll warm up some water so you can take a bath.” you said before you left the room, deciding that he needed some time for himself.
Pero was confused. He was sure he was a dead man. His injury was way too deep for him to survive. He ran after he was ambushed. He needed to get out, he knew a village was nearby so he headed there, but he didn’t make it. He fell off his horse and managed to drag himself to a tree before he completely zoned out.
And now, he woke up to, what he thought, was an angel, his angel welcoming him in Heaven.
And yet he found himself very much alive and hungry.
He ate and drank everything that was on the tray like an animal that hasn’t eaten in a very long time. He even took a bath, cut his own hair and beard. He looked at himself in the water before he pulled his bandages back to see the wound on his abdomen. It was deep, but it was also healing. It wasn’t infected which meant you took care of him better than anyone else.
“Don’t do that. It needs to be covered for a couple of days before we can take off the bandage.” Pero’s head moved in your direction. “I came to change it.” You showed him the fresh one in your hands.
He only nodded as he let you work on him.
“You looked like an old man. You are actually quite handsome.” you weren’t sure why you were so bold. You were usually more reserved and shy.
There was something about him that made you confident.
“Senorita, I caused you enough trouble already. I should get going.”
“Don’t be silly. If you leave you might get an infection and die. You are welcome to stay until you are fully healed. I could use the company.”
“What will your husband say? Having a stranger in your home. Not something a man would want to see.”
You laughed. "I’m not married.“ you watched as his frown turned into shock.
"How is that possible?” you shrugged your shoulders. “But if you want to help, I am making some potatoes for dinner, you could help me peel some.” you offered him a smile before you finished up with the fresh bandages before you left the dirty ones to soak in some soap and water.
You could easily tell Pero was not used to staying in one place for a long time. You often caught him staring around the house, not understanding what some things were. You could only imagine how he missed fights and war.
But then, a couple days later you heard him say something. Something that made you realize just how wrong you were.
“I always wanted to just sit on a porch and enjoy the day.” is what he said. You looked at him but he was just looking at the farm with warm and kind eyes. You understood he didn’t miss war, war was all he knew. And now that you showed him another side of the world, he didn’t want to let go.
You could only smile. Partially, you were thankful he didn’t turn out to be a savage man.
Pero was very gentle and kind. Calling you all those names you can’t even pronounce. Yet, they all sounded so sweet and sexy coming from him.
You slowly began to realize that you have managed to develop romantic feelings towards the swordsman.
And he had only been at your home for about two weeks.
His wound nearly healed, you feared he might leave soon, but Pero was in no hurry.
Little did you know that your feelings for him were not one sided.
Pero felt just the same.
Seeing you every day, smiling at him, eating with him, asking him to help you with small things around the farm, you looked like the most perfect human being in his eyes.
You were determined, independent and oh so kind.
So kind, it made his heart skip a beat whenever he saw you feed the animals around your home and not only your farm animals, you also took care of the forest animals. The way you watched the deer from your window as they are the carrots you left outside for them, warmed his heart.
He didn’t want to leave. He was done with fighting. He wanted to stay with you, be with you and for you to be his.
Pero was not a man of words, he rather showed his feelings than talk about them, but you made him nervous. He felt like he was just a young man, looking at the most beautiful woman.
If it wasn’t for that fortunate unfortunate night. He was sure he wouldn’t have the life he has now.
It was raining outside. A storm was coming, thunder and strong wind. You made sure all your animals were safe before you headed back to the warmth of your home.
“It’s extremely cold outside.” you said as you took off your jacket. You put the coat back to its place before you joined Pero on the couch, there were many candles lit and the fire place kept the house warm, but the strong wind managed to get through the cracks of the windows and it made you shiver.
At least your animals were safe.
The two of you have already eaten, so you pulled out your book and started to read. Usually, around this time Pero just relaxed or decided to go to bed early.
But from the corner of your eye, you saw him looking at you.
You found him doing this many times before. Him, just staring at you. You wondered if he just forgot that he was looking and he was just deep in thought, or why was he like that?
And lately, you found him doing it more and more.
“You are staring again.” You said as you looked at him and he quickly looked away. “Is there something on my face?” you asked as you touched your skin.
“No, Mi Amour.” there it was. That word you had no idea what it meant.
“What does that mean? You keep saying those words, I might think they are insults but you always say them with a light voice.”
If you didn’t know any better you’d say that Pero was blushing, but you knew better, so you blamed the candlelight.
“They are no insults.”
“I know that now. But I wonder, what do they mean? The only thing I figured out so far is the ‘Princess’ because you said it in a similar way. But… what was it? Mi Amour?”
“Your pronunciation is really good.” was all he commented. Maybe it was an insult that’s why he didn’t want to tell you, so you just turned back to your book.
Then, he took a deep breath as if he was preparing for some big speech.
“I’m grateful. You saved my life, gave me shelter. I’m only a swordsman, I kill people, but still, you were able to look past that and let me into your home. And for that, I’m forever in your debt.”
“You want leave, don’t you? You are saying things like this is goodbye.”
“I don’t want it to be, Mi Amour, but…” he trailed off, you weren’t sure if he even knew what he was going to say, he was a man of few words. “Mi Amour means, My Love. And I love you, took me a while to realize but I do. You make me happy, and I would love to have you as my wife, if you agree.”
The love confession was one thing, but now the proposal as well. It might have been too much if you didn’t feel the same towards him.
At first, he annoyed you. He spoke in his own language, not caring if you understood or not, but slowly and surely, he found his way into your heart.
You put your book down and moved closer to him, you placed your hand on his chest as you looked into his eyes.
“Are you sure? Wouldn’t you miss the action? The fights? Are you sure you’ll be fine with this simple life?”
“Of course. I won’t miss it, not when it left me with so many scars. You have no idea how long I thought about it.” he grabbed the hand that was on his chest, kissing your palm.
If only it wasn’t for the sudden loud thunder to ruin the mood. The loud noise made you jump and curse. It only made him laugh a little.
But finally, he pulled you in for a kiss. A sweet kiss that immediately felt like you were on cloud nine.
He held you like no one before. He kissed you and made love to you like you were the most precious gem. And to him, you were.
And this was only the beginning of your life with him.
A/N: I might add later on more chapters to this. I do have a couple of ideas planned. (Like the wedding, kids, angst!) Let me know if anyone is interested, I’m open for ideas!
Warnings: rpf, language, gun mention, food mention, smut, fingering, choking, unprotected p in v, handjob, let me know if I missed anything[if this is not your cup of tea just scroll past]
A/N:It’s been 4 months, I apologize for the time it took for me to be able to get my head back where I needed for this series. To everyone who has stuck by me, thank you, I hope this chapter gives you all I left you hanging with and more xo
Thank you to @danniburgh we talked about this forever ago and it helped me get through this and @purplepascal042 thank you for looking over this for me
——-
You wake up to the sun shining in your face, a weak groan escaping your lips, eyelids too heavy to open. Your body felt sore in a way you hadn’t felt in so long and it made you want to curse the sun for intruding on your sleep. The grogginess in your brain is begging you for more sleep, wondering if you had forgotten to shut your curtains properly. You never let this much light come through. God why is it so bright in here.
You open your eyes, trying to focus on the room around you, something felt off, the golden light flooding in too bright. It made your eyes hurt and you tried to turn away from it. An arm around your waist prevents you from moving and you freeze for a moment, before your half asleep brain reminds you of where you were. You relax into Pedro’s grip, blinking a few times, vision still sleep blurred, trying to become more alert, a soft yawn escaping your lips. You try turning your head away from the light pouring in through his thin curtains as your eyes adjust to the lighting.
summary : no plot, straight to the good stuff, just riding whiskeys big ol’ dick into the sunset which we’d all like to do. enjoy!
•
the warmth of his large hand on your back and his kisses on your cheek help you to relax and open up as you slide down onto his throbbing length.
“almost there. there you go, atta girl.” he whispers in your ear as you successfully take every thick inch of him inside you.
he’s brushing against your cervix and g spot causing the most deep, intense pleasure you’ve ever felt.
“fuck! daddy! it’s so deep!” you gasp out, choking on breaths as he hits the most exquisite spots inside you, just from you moving around slowly in his lap.
“yeah? you feelin’ good?” he says in the most mocking tone which makes you clench around him. you can’t even form the words to answer him. “yeah you’re feelin’ good. i can fuckin’ feel it.”
he starts to fuck into you ever so slowly, softly grunting with each thrust. your eyes roll back involuntarily and the whiniest whimper escapes your lips. he hears this and grabs your hair from the crown of your head so you’re face to face with him, the other hand gently wrapping around your throat.
“keep those fuckin’ eyes on me. keep lookin’ at daddy while he pounds this fuckin’ cunt.” his words cause a sharp cry to leave you, followed by another gasp. you can’t help but let your head drop to his chest and he pulls you right back up. “i fuckin’ told you to look at me. don’t you dare take those eyes off me, i wanna see your face when i make this little pussy cream on my fuckin’ dick.”
“fuckkk daddy it feels so good!” you cry out.
“ohhh fuck daddy.” he fucking mocks you, the smug prick. he knows just what he does to you. you start to clench around him uncontrollably and he knows you’re close.
“i can feel that pussy creamin’ around my cock. you’re just about ready to cum, aren’t ya?” he whispers. all you can do is nod as he continues his assault on your poor pussy. “don’t you fuckin’ dare just yet. you be a good girl and wait for daddy. huh? you gonna be my good girl?”
“yes! yes! daddy i’ll be your good girl!” you’re fucking sobbing and he’s not letting you cum and it’s all getting to be too much and finally he spurs you on.
“come on, honey, i know you’re ready. cum on daddy’s big cock. do it. now. i wanna feel it.” he’s growling in your fucking ear.
your coil snaps so suddenly and you find yourself whimpering out for him. “fuck daddy i’m cumming! i’m cumming, i’m cumming!” you repeat over and over and he chuckles darkly before his balls tighten and he spills inside you with a choked groan.
“mmm fuck yes daddy gimme your cum! i can feel it! it’s so warm in my pussy!” you’re still coming down from your high and you just fall into his lap, completely spent from how hard you’ve cum.
i think we can all agree jack definitely cums a LOT so his huge load is dripping out of your hole already. “oh would you look at that. look down at it, honey. you see that? you see daddy’s cum leaking outta you?”
it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. you feel your ego stroked knowing you made him cum that much.
summary:three hundred and sixty eight days—one standard year—that’s all he agrees to. then you’re gone.
word count: ~4.5k+
warnings:canon typical violence and weaponry, mean!mando for now hehe, hand around neck once (no choking), language, x fem!reader
a/n:this takes place post s2, meaning there’s no grogu (and we are ignoring the darksaber), but there will be plenty of ~other things~ to fill that void. the title comes from a painting of the same name by edward hopper. many thanks to @djarinsbeskar for being some extra eyeballs on this one! gif by @djarsdin.
let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the following chapters. xoxo!
DAY ZERO
A girl—you’re just a girl. Barely a woman.
You stand beside Karga, tendrils of hair framing your face, and Din sees the haughty strength in your shoulders, the iron viciousness in your stare. He sees you—green and gung-ho and itching for a fight—and he bites his tongue to keep from groaning.
His hands clench to fists at his sides. Fuck, he doesn’t have time for this.
AN | Was this inevitable? Probably. Am I sorry? Nope. Enjoy this foray into Dieter-land. More to come? Maybe. Dieter isn’t an actor in this bad boy, only a very eclectic artist!
Summary | In which you’ve been best friends with eccentric artist Dieter Bravo for years and years. In which you’ve been in love with your best friend for years and years. All it took was one little comment for the truth to come out - but it might have ruined everything.
Pairing | Dieter Bravo x Fem!Reader
Warnings | Language, Sex [discussed/done although nothing explicit], Bi!Dieter and Bi!Reader, 18+ solamente
You almost choked on the sip of coffee you’d just taken as you read through the comments on some random influencer’s Instagram post. People just continued to be the worst; you knew that comments more often than not were a cesspool, but you still found yourself drawn to them. Tossing your phone back onto the table you were currently occupying in the small café, you caught Dieter’s eye and groaned dramatically.
“Alright, bonita?” he twiddled the stylus between his fingers as he paused from the sketch he was working on, “please don’t choke and die in the middle of a café. Not cute and you need to find a more dramatic way to die, especially so young.”
“You’re the worst,” you couldn’t help but laugh as you turned back to your laptop, going through too many work emails. He blew you a kiss before winking and turning back to his own work. The two of you worked in silence for some time, only the noise from the other patrons reaching your ears.
“You know what the worst thing about being bi is?” you sighed after some time, still annoyed by what you’d read, coffee halfway to your mouth before you shook your head, “well, not about being bi. About people and their perceptions.”
“They think we’re confused?”
“If I dated you, or any man, they’d just say I was straight, same as if you dated a woman,” you huffed, “but if I date a woman, I’m lesbian and just didn’t want to fully come out, if you date a man you’ve been secretly gay this whole time. People are just so…narrow-minded. I’m not confused, you’re not confused, what’s wrong with just liking people?”
“Don’t let the fuckers get to you,” Dieter shrugged nonchalantly, “w-wait - if you dated me? So you’re saying there’s a chance?”
You almost snorted into your coffee before looking across the table at the time. He looked up from his pad, eyebrows raised so high they disappeared into his mop of curls. You’d often wondered how soft they were, how your fingers would feel running through them, how it would - stop. Rolling your eyes, you quickly flipped him off, “not a chance, baby. Not a fuckin’ chance.”
“You’re telling me you haven’t thought about having sex with me even once?”
“I didn’t say that,” you turned your attention back to the work you were doing on your laptop, “don’t put words in my mouth.”
“So you have thought about it?”
“Yes,” you did your best to keep your face as neutral as possible, wanting to get a rise out of him, “I’ve touched myself to you many times. Wishing it was you touching me instead.”
“You have not.”
“I have,” you really had.
“So if I asked you to have sex with me right now you’d say no?”
“Yup,” you popped the p and glanced up to find him watching you incredulously, “again, there’s a difference between me wishing it was you and not my hand and it actually being you. I’m not having sex with you, Dee.”
“But-”
“We’re best friends,” you sighed lightly as he made a small noise of annoyance, “I want to always be your best friend. I don’t want us to have sex and ruin our relationship. If we had sex there would be feelings involved and I can’t risk that with you. I don’t think I could live with a broken heart because of you.”
“You’re just assuming that things would go wrong,” was that a note of…hurtin this voice? You swallowed thickly before shifting your gaze from his, “why…you really think I’d hurt you?”
“I don’t inherently assume you’re going to hurt me,” you promised, “you never have. You’ve always been there for me. You know you’re the most important person to me. But I can’t risk losing you.”
“Then give me a chance.”
“I…no, Dee,” you closed your laptop before stuffing into your bag, “I should get going…I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay?”
“Sure,” his voice was flat as you flitted by him. He expected that you’d kiss his cheek or top of his head as was your custom, but this time you just walked by. He tried to ignore the pang that settled in his heart at the obvious distance you suddenly felt the need to create. He should have just kept his damn mouth shut but no…he just had to go and mess it up, “fuck.”
── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──
It turns out you did not see him the next night, making up a lame excuse about having to work late that evening. While your work at the museum did occasionally offer up odd hours, perks of being a curator, he knew you were lying. It had hurt your heart too, lying to the best friend you’d ever had, but you just needed some space from him to think. Maybe then you’d be able to get your mind straightened out.
One canceled movie night had led to several missed brunches and lunches and everything in between. It hurt every time just as much as the first. You knew he knew you were lying. He’d texted you countless times asking what was wrong, what he did wrong, how he could fix everything. He just wanted his best friend back. So did you.
You really did love him. You really did want him, but you didn’t want to just be another fuck for him or end up as friends with benefits or start a relationship with him and then have everything ruined. Where you really willing to give up over fifteen years of friendship for sex? No.
He’d remain your best friend and you’d find another way to satisfy your other needs. Which is precisely how you’d found yourself at a bar that was too loud and too crowded and totally not what you wanted to be doing on a Friday night. You should have been at home with him in your pajamas, eating pizza, drinking cheap wine, and watching shitty movies.
But your date was nice; he’d checked off all the boxes. Handsome, smart, decently funny…but also completely not what you wanted. You wanted the zany craziness of your best friend.
“Fuck,” you groaned quietly at yourself before downing the rest of your drink. Your date had gone to the bathroom so you had a moment to breathe by yourself. The peace, however, did not last long because before you knew it, you felt someone behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist, “what the-”
“Hola bonita,” oh no. There was no way he had managed to find you here. He rested his head on your shoulder before pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “I see while you’re busy ignoring me you’ve got plenty of time to come here.”
“I haven’t been…” he smelled so good and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. You were going to blame that on the alcohol, “avoiding you.”
“Of course,” he whispered in your ear, “I’ve only known you for how long? You don’t think I know every time you lie to me?”
“Dee-”
“I’m not going to push you,” he promised and by gods were you tempted to turn your head and kiss him, “if you don’t even want to be friends anymore, that’s on you. It’s all up to you, bonita. But I’ll leave you so you can get back to your little date. He’s cute, maybe a little too preppy, but he’s got looks. I hope you think of me when you’re with him. I could be a better boyfriend than him.”
“Dee-” but just before you turned around, he was off of you and disappearing back into the thick throng of the crowd. A small sound of frustration escaped your lips as you motioned for the bartender to bring you another drink. Part of you was furious with him for pulling this little stunt and part of you couldn’t blame him. You were after all the reason for the shift in your relationship with him. You were the one that had told him you’d fantasized about having sex with him, not the other way around. Now you were left to wonder how long he’d felt the same. How long had your best friend thought about you as more than a friend? If it was anywhere near as long as you had, then it had been years. Fools, silly, dumb fools.
“Everything alright?” Ethan - wait was his name Ethan? Aaron? James? No - it was definitely Julián. Either way, he’d made his way back to you and hopped back into the stool next to you, his leg brushing against yours. He was handsome - and now that you really studied him, you could see why you thought so. A mop of dark curls and warm brown eyes with a golden complexion and a strong jaw. Not completely unlike - fuck. You quickly thought back to the previous men you’d dated and yeah…there was a startling trend when you realized they all bore some resemblance to your best friend, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Yeah, it’s all…everything’s fine,” you lied, taking the drink that had just been placed in front of you and downing it all in one go. Julián said nothing but chucked slightly before finishing his own drink. It wasn’t that…there was nothing wrong with him. He was nice, kind, and charming but he wasn’t him. He wasn’t your eccentric, wild artist best friend that often made you wonder if he’d huffed too much paint. You leaned in and let your lips brush against his ear, “do you want to get out of here?”
He turned to you with wide eyes as a flush worked its way into his cheeks. He hadn’t been expecting your question considering your ambivalence towards him, “yes.”
── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──
He went through the motions of sex methodically; there’d been a lot of making out beforehand, he’d fingered you and then ate you like it was his job and hadn’t expected you to go down on him. You’d let him do the work, finding your heart wasn’t in it but you needed something - anything - to keep your mind occupied. Despite reassuring him you were on the pill and clean he opted to use a condom just to be extra careful (what a rarity but appreciated nonetheless), and opted for missionary. You weren’t able to look him in the eyes as he fucked you, pretending it was all too much and squeezed your eyes shut.
He was determined to make sure you came again, focused on your pleasure as much as his, but when you finally felt yourself reaching a second high, it all went downhill.
“Fuck yes, Dee, right there,” the words were out of your mouth before you even realized what had happened. Julián stilled, buried inside of you, as both realized what had happened. He let out a huff of bitter laughter before pulling out of you and rolling to the side, “Julián, I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened-”
“I think I should go,” he was already up, disposing of the used condom before grabbing his clothes and hastily pulling them on.
“Julián-”
“I think you need to figure out your own feelings before we see each other again,” he sighed as you hung your head, pulling the sheet around your frame, “look, I really like you. You’re great, but I’m not going to be a replacement for whoever Dee is.”
“You’re not a replacement…”
“You don’t have to lie to me or yourself,” he was already headed out of your bedroom, “like I said, figure it out and if you still want to give this a try, call me. Chao cariño.”
“Julián,” but he was already gone and you were frustrated in every sense of the word, “fuck. Fuck.”
── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──
Dieter almost jumped when he heard the loud, rapid knocking on his door. He’d been in the middle of working his way through another bag of kit-kats (hey, they were minis, don’t judge) and watching a random show on Netflix when he was startled out of his thoughts. He glanced down at his phone and realized it was much later than he had thought. Who could be at his door at this time of night?
He stood up, grumbling at the cracking of his stiff joints before walking to the door, not even bothering to check who it was.
“Dee,” you were standing there, in your pajamas, soaking wet from the sudden downpour. His expression went through a mixture of emotions as he stood there, silently watching you, “do you love me?”
“I…what?” he was so stunned by your question, “of course I do. You’re my best friend.”
“No - I…are you in love with me?” you were still trying to catch your breath from having practically run to his apartment from your own, not trusting yourself enough to drive. Your heart was pounding in your chest from both the run and your nerves, so loud that you were sure he could hear it, “please, I have to know.”
Dieter paused for a moment, staring down at his croc covered feet - despite how hard you tried to get him to ditch them he never did - and let out a long, heavy breath. His silence had you worried; what if you’d read this all wrong and he just loved you as a friend that he wanted to have sex with. He wet his plush lips before letting himself meet your eyes, “yes.”
“Yeah?” you were ready to burst into tears as he just nodded in stunned silence.
“Yeah.”
“Me too,” there it was - out and in the open finally after all these years, “I’m in love with you too.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he pulled you inside, into the warmth and comfort of the home you knew as well as yours. He allowed himself a small, tentative smile before brushing some of the wet hair out of your face, “mi bonita.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why would I ever think someone like you would love me?” he asked softly as you just laughed, “I’m a weird, immature, odd artist. And you’re…”
“Shut up,” you laughed, gently swatting his chest, “you’re the perfect compliment to me. We’re good apart but together we’re…even better. I’ll curate all your art as long as you want, I don’t care that you’re weird or odd or that you still wear those dumb crocs and those baggy t-shirts that you should have gotten rid of years ago and sometimes you forget to shower for too long when you’re working on a new piece and that your diet is that of a frat boy’s, and that sometimes you mess up ‘your’ and ‘you’re’…. I just…I want you. I’ve always wanted you. But please…promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t break my heart,” you whispered, a few tears running down your cheeks from the sheer emotion of it all. Dieter reached up and gently wiped them away before resting his hand on your face, “please don’t ever break it. I don’t think I could bear life without you, you big, dumb, gentle fool.”
“I won’t,” he promised, “never.”
“Okay,” you felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders now that it was all off your chest. All these words, all these feelings that had been pent up for so long were finally out there. It was like you could fully breathe again, “I promise too.”
“W-what about that guy you were with earlier?”
“Julián,” you couldn’t help but laugh, “yeah, things ended pretty quickly when we were having sex and I called him by your name. It’s you, it’s always been you.”
“Aye, bonita,” he laughed but stepped closer so there was almost no space in between your bodies, “you’re soaking wet. Let’s get you into some clean, dry clothes.”
“Okay,” you nodded, butterflies swarming throughout your belly, “I…”
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gave that smile that you loved so much; the one that made his eyes crinkle and that single dimple appear, “if you want.”
“Please,” you whispered and he wasted not even a moment of time before he crashed his lips onto yours. You’d kissed him before, of course those were platonic kisses, left on a cheek or forehead, or hair. His lips had always been elusive and you’d found yourself wondering what he tasted like more than you cared to admit. He tasted of sweet chocolate from those silly KitKats he loved and kissed you with a hunger that was a delicious mix of needy desire and tender softness.
He didn’t let you go, didn’t pull back until you were both breathing dizzily out of breath and beaming at each other like fools. You took his face in your hands, gently stroking his cheek and admiring the silly patchy stubble of facial hair that you adored so much. He couldn’t help himself but steal a few more quick kisses.
“Ask me what you asked that afternoon,” you whispered against his lips, feeling as the corners of his mouth twitched up in a smile.
“What afternoon-”
“That afternoon.”
“Oh.Oh,” his cheeks flushed and he made a small sound that was nothing short of exuberance, “do you want to have sex with me?”
“Yes,” you grinned, and both of you quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles. His hands found purchase on your waist as he pulled as close to him as possible, “I really want to have sex with you.”
“Finally,” he sounded triumphant as you both laughed, “I’ve…been thinking about this for a long time.”
“Me too,” you whispered, “now get me out of these wet clothes and into bed. We have a lot of time to make up for.”
Your marriage to him had been impulsive, you were well aware of that. You would have been the first person, besides him, to admit that. But that didn’t mean you regretted a moment of it. Your time with him had been fun, wild, and he made you feel like no one else ever had before. You’d been deeply, madly, crazily in love with him and you still harbored a lot of love for him now. He’d given you so much, including the single best thing in your life - Diego. The son you shared with him and you both loved more than anything else in the world. If he was anything, he was an amazing father and while the two of you were no longer together, you wouldn’t have picked anyone else to have a child with.
But just because you were divorced didn’t mean those old feelings were all gone…
In the beginning
“We should really stop meeting like this,” you rolled your eyes at Javier, watching as he locked the storeroom’s door behind him. He leaned against the door, arms crossed over his broad chest as before you gave in and flitted over to him, “mi chiquita bonita.”
“If you want to stop meeting like this, why don’t you come over later?” his hands had found your waist as you leaned in, brushing your nose against his, “because we’re not having sex in here again. You almost knocked over half the cabinets last time, cielito.”
“Come on,” he kissed you before you could argue, the taste of the sweet pastry he’d had in place of a proper lunch clinging to his lips. He easily swallowed your moan as you tried not to give into him and let him have the upper hand, “we’ll be quick, baby. I can take my time with you later…”
“Javier,”yeah. You were ready to give in already. He had an effortless effect over you. You could feel him smirking against your lips and when you pulled back, there was nothing but mischief in those big, brown eyes, “fine, pendejo. But be quick and quiet.”
“I don’t think it’s going to take much to make you cum,” he’d already started kissing along your jaw as you just sighed. He deftly unbuttoned your trousers and was pulling them down along with the lace panties you’d worn. A small gasp escaped your lips as he dragged a thick finger through your folds, “so wet already. All for me?”
“You’re the worst,” there was a huge smile on your face as kissed him, “but I love you.”
“Te amo,” he whispered, “now let me make you cum.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“I have a crazy idea,” Javi walked back into your bedroom, clad in only his boxers as he brought water and some pastries for the two of you. He always denied that he had a sweet tooth, but this was a prime example. Maybe it didn’t help that you kept his favorite sweets on hand, but it was just a little something you liked to do for him.
“Oh?” you asked as he laid back down next to you, taking a moment to press a kiss to your forehead, “pray tell, mi cielito.”
“Let’s get married.”
“I…what?” The laughter you burst into caught you so off guard that you choked on your own saliva and ended up wheezing through your tears. Javier just shoved his mouth full of the sweet dessert as he pouted at you, clearly not on board with your amusement. Once you calmed down, you realized that he…he might have been making a serious comment, “qué pasa, Javi? En serio?”
“I’m glad to see you take me seriously,” he huffed, a light flush of color creeping into his cheeks.
“Javier,” you grabbed the plate and set it on the nightstand before shifting so you were sitting in his lap. You put your hand on his face, gently stroking his cheek, “what are you talking about? Are you being completely serious?”
“Yes,” the corners of his mouth twitched up into a small smile as he relaxed, “I am.”
“I never thought…you said you didn’t want marriage, you wouldn’t ever want it,” you raised an eyebrow at him before he leaned in and gently kissed you. It was so soft and tender compared to the sex you’d had just shortly before, “what’s gotten into you?”
“I’ve never had you before,” he whispered so softly, almost to the point where you weren’t sure it was meant for you to hear, “I guess I just needed you to change my mind.”
“Oh Javier,” you took his face delicately in your hands, studying him intently, “I love you, silly man. But I don’t want to hear you ask me that unless you mean it and fully intend on committing to it.”
“Well then,” he smiled gently, that ridiculously adorable crinkly-eyed, dimple displaying smile that managed to sweep you off your feet, “will you marry me?”
“Yes,” he leaned in and kissed you, his lips lingering against yours, “I’ll marry you, Javier. Nothing would make me happier.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───v
“Oh fuck,” you held the small plastic stick in front of you, angling it in different ways to see if maybe you were reading it incorrectly. Maybe it was a trick of the light? Maybe this one was wrong.
Huffing lightly, you grabbed the other test out of the box and sat down the toilet, thankful you’d consumed plenty of water so you didn’t have to wait to have to go again. You quickly finished and set it on the counter, stepping out of the bathroom to pace around the apartment nervously. Javier was still at work and you’d left early when you weren’t feeling well. Little did you know that it all suddenly made sense - maybe. Hopefully not, you sighed.
Once the short wait was finally up, you jammed it back into the bathroom, and picked up the test. Not to your surprise at all, this one came back as positive just like the first.
“Oh no,” suddenly a million thoughts were racing through your mind as you tried to make sense of it all. Pregnant. You were pregnant. While you were surprised, shocked, and worried, a part of you was…excited. The idea that you and Javier were going to have a child was amazing.
But then you remembered your situation. Colombia in the middle of a drug war with your husband working for the DEA. While you worked at the embassy, your job was much more clerical and you were safe compared to him but it still wasn’t ideal. Had it been any other time and place, this would have been the most wonderful moment of your life. Instead, a pit of worry settled into your stomach. What were you going to even do?
By the time Javier made it home, it was late and he’d expected you to be fast asleep. He found you sitting on the floor next to the fridge with tears running down your face. He quickly came over and got down on the floor next to you, looking you over to make sure everything was okay, “Javi.”
“What’s wrong, baby?” his eyes were wide with concern as he wiped some of your tears away, “what happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m pregnant,” you blurted it out without any hesitation, more tears running down your cheeks, “I’m sorry, so sorry.”
“Whatever are you sorry for?” you weren’t sure what his reaction was going to be, but calmness was not what you had been expecting, “first of all, it takes two to do this. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“I’m scared,” you admitted, letting him pull you into lap, “but I’m happy too. I know we hadn’t planned on this, at least not for a long time, but I’m so happy.”
“Want to know what’s even crazier?” he joked as you looked at him, all nervous smiles and doe eyes, “I think this might be one of the happiest moments of my life.”
“Do you want this too?” you whispered as he nodded excitedly before kissing you, not caring in the slightest about the salty taste, “oh, Javi. We’re having a baby. A whole, real human being.”
“You’re amazing,” he nudged his nose against yours, “I know you’re scared and fuck. Me too, baby. The idea of having to deal with countless sicarios scares me less than the thought of having a baby. But, I’m so happy. And there’s no one else I’d want to do this with. We’ll figure it out, I promise. We’ll make it work and give this baby nothing but the best.”
“Okay,” you nodded before wrapping your arms around him and burrowing your face into his chest, “I love you, Javi.”
“I love you more, cariño.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“I’m going to miss you so much,” Javier’s grip on you was like a vice as you hugged him tightly, “you’re going to be okay, baby.”
“I’m going to miss you more,” you pouted before pulling away from him. He brushed a few stray locks of hair out of your face before gently touching your barely there bump, “I want to stay. Please let me stay here with you.”
“It’s not safe,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to control the stinging behind his eyes, “I don’t want anything to happen or even leave a fraction of a chance that you could get hurt. You’ll be safe and taken care of with Pops. He’s already got my old room all ready for you, and I’m sure he’s got the embarrassing childhood photos on display. Believe it or not, I wasn’t always this handsome.”
“Shut up,” you laughed through your tears, “I’m sure you’ve been a heartbreaker since childhood, Javier. I can’t wait to get there but I wish you were coming with me. So much is going to happen in the next couple of months and I don’t want you to miss it.”
“I wish I was coming too,” he promised. The idea that he was going to miss out on the majority of your pregnancy was heartbreaking, but he would rather have you someone safe where you’d be with family than be selfish and keep you with him, “I’ll be back for the birth. I swear it. Until then, you’ll just have to keep me updated, send lots of pictures and I’ll call you as often as I can. We’ll be okay.”
“I will,” here you were crying again, wishing he would change his mind and come with you or keep you there. But you knew that going back to the States was the best thing for your family right now, “you better be back, pendejo. I’m not pushing out your baby without you in the room.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” the last call for boarding for your flight was announced over the speakers as your heart clenched, “you better get going.”
“Javi-”
“I know,” his voice cracked slightly, “call me when you get home. I love you, okay?”
“I love you more,” you grabbed your carry on before he kissed you one last time, “come home soon, Javi.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Javier’s blood was pounding in his ears as he ran into the hospital, quickly finding the signs for the labor and delivery ward. He’d just come from the airport; an early arrival of the baby and a delayed flight had caused him to almost lose it. He’d promised you that he would be there for the birth and he was going to stick to that promise.
“Sir! You can’t run in the hospital,” a nurse called after him as he ran in the direction of the room Chucho had told him you were in.
“My wife’s having our first child!” he shouted in response, dodging an incoming gurney, “I can’t miss it!”
By the time he made it to your room, he’d been able to hear the pain you were in from down the hall. He popped in and looked around, getting chided for just bursting in. He quickly explained who he was in and before he knew it, a surgical gown and hair net were shoved into his hands.
“Javi?” your voice sounded so small as you looked around for him. As soon as you spotted him, tears ran down your cheeks, “you made it.”
“I promised I’d be here,” he grinned as he came and leaned down to kiss you, “this baby didn’t make it easy.”
“Just like you,” you laughed before squeezing your eyes shut as another contraction came, “making life that much harder. But I still love you. But this hurts so bad.”
“I love you more,” he whispered, “you’re so strong, baby. You’re almost there and we almost have our baby. Just a little bit more. Look how much you’ve already accomplished.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” you took the hand he held out for you, “and I’m excited to meet our baby. But you’re never touching me again after this.”
“Whatever you want, cariño,” he promised, “whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”
“Okay,” you whimpered as another wave of pain overwhelmed you and the doctor told you it was time to start pushing, “okay.”
A few hours later, you were exhausted and experiencing a million different emotions all at once. Giving birth was officially the hardest thing you had ever done - but it was all worth it as soon as you saw Javier holding your newborn son, all swaddled up in a pretty pastel blanket that one of the tías had made. You weren’t sure which one of you was more emotional.
“He’s perfect,” Javi whispered as he sat down next to you, carefully holding the baby so he wouldn’t wake him up, “I can’t believe we made him.”
“Making him was the fun part,” you managed to joke in between yawns, “now the hardest part starts. We’re parents, Javi. That’s our son.”
“I love you,” he whispered softly, “thank you for…everything.”
“Nothing to thank me for. Those are half your genes,” you grinned, “did you pick a name yet?”
“Diego,” he gently touched his son’s chubby little cheek, “what about you?”
“Francisco,” you gave him a sleepy smile, “Diego Francisco. It’s perfect.”
“It is,” he agreed, swallowing the lump that had welled up in his throat, “just like him. Just rest, baby. You’ve done so much.”
“Okay,” your eyes were already fluttering shut, “just for a little bit. If he cries, just wake me up.”
“Of course,” he leaned over and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. You were out like a light within seconds. He was amazed by everything that had happened today; it had been a wild ride from start to finish. His entire life changed in a matter of a few short hours, “te amo, mi sol.”
That morning he had still been in Colombia, frantically trying to catch a flight back to Texas at the drop of a hat. Your son had decided to make an early appearance, coming a few weeks earlier than either of you had planned. But he was going to make it; a delayed flight wasn’t going to stop him. And now, here he was, holding his newborn son, a life that the two of you had created. In such a short period he had become a father and you a mother.
“The world can be such a cruel, horrible place mijito,” he whispered softly, “but I’ll do everything to make sure you never have to experience even a bit of that. I’ll always keep you and your mamá safe. I’ll always love you.”
The baby made a few small sounds, but didn’t wake up as Javier held him against his chest. Maybe this was all terrifying and scary, but at the same time, this was the best day of his life.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“Are you serious?” between your emotions, the crying baby, and Javier’s nonchalant attitude, you were ready to completely lose it. Little did you know he was trying to keep it together just as much as you. The idea of being away from you was enough to break his whole heart, “you’re going to leave just like that?”
“Baby,” Javier sighed as he wiped a hand over his tired face, “we always knew I was going to have to go back. I won’t be gone for long, I promise.”
“You have no way of knowing that,” you frowned deeply, trying to keep it together as you picked Diego out of his crib, “we both know that. It could be weeks, months, years, Javier. Are you really going to walk out on your son like that? I don’t give a shit about what you do to me, Javier, I’m too run down and tired. But Diego’s just a baby.”
“You think I just want to leave!?” he hadn’t meant to shout; but he was just so angry. Not at you, not at your son, but at the fact that he had to leave and he knew he didn’t really have an option, “I’m going to end this all and then come back home. And don’t even bother to suggest that the two of you come with me. Over my dead body. You’re staying here where you’re safe.”
“You can’t walk away,” you were crying now as the baby quieted down, “please don’t leave, Javi. I can’t do this alone. I-I’m scared. What if something happens to you? I can’t bear the thought that something could happen.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” his shoulders slumped as he came over and wrapped an arm around you. He was crying now too, “I’ll be home soon, I promise. But you’ll be much better off here, and Pop will help you with whatever you need.”
“I know, but it’s not the same,” you whispered softly, “Javier. Promise me that you’ll be safe and come back home to us soon.”
“I swear it,” he whispered, “nothing could keep me from the two of you.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“I want a divorce,” as the words crashed around him, he felt his knees go weak. He quickly grabbed onto the counter to keep himself from collapsing on the floor. Those were words he’d never expected to hear. Never. The silence on the line was tangible; he could hear your stuttered breathing on the other end of the line, “Javi? Did you hear me?”
“Why?”
“Why?” you repeated, your voice cracking and choked up with sobs, “are you seriously asking me that? Because you’re not here! You said you’d be back soon and it’s been a year. I’ve seen you twice in that time. It’s not fair to me, or Diego…or you. Who knows when you’re going to be back for good?”
“I promise it’ll be soon,” he was sure his heart was going to stop, “please don’t do this. I’ll do whatever it takes. I love you.”
“I know,” you sniffled before exhaling slowly. This was harder than you had ever anticipated. That was probably because you were still as madly in love with him now as you were back then, “that’s what makes this even harder. I know you love me, and I know you love our son. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t put all of our lives on hold while you’re gone for who knows how long. What you’re doing is dangerous and I worry about you every day, Javi. I don’t want our son to grow up without you. Even if you hate me for this, please come home soon for him.”
“I will,” his throat felt like it was constricting as he tried to process your words. All he knew was that this was the last thing he ever wanted, “for both of you. Please just be a little more patient…please.”
“Javier,” both of you were crying now. You hated yourself for doing this but you weren’t sure what else to do. You’d tried calling, writing, and asking for him to come for at least a visit or offered to go to him. But every time he would tell you to keep holding on just a little bit longer. You just couldn’t do it anymore, “I know what you’re doing is important. I understand that, but this is hard for me too. I went through almost my entire pregnancy without you here, you were here for a month after he was born, and ever since then it’s been two visits. Maybe I’m the worst person in the world, but I just…I can’t do this.”
“Baby…”
“I know, Javier,” you whispered softly, “I love you. I do, and I always will. But I don’t think this is going to work for us. But I want you to know that I will never, ever keep your son from you. He will always know how much you love him, and when you finally come back home, we’ll figure out the co-parenting thing.”
“I’m sorry,” he closed his eyes, wishing that this would all turn out to be some horrible nightmare, “I love you.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you sighed, “in an ideal world things would be so different. But this isn’t an ideal world, is it? You will always have my love, cielito. Will you promise me one thing?”
“Anything.”
“Take care of yourself. Stay safe and come home for Diego soon, okay?”
“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he let out a shaky breath, “I promise.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“Hey,” you grinned when he picked up your call, “sorry for calling so late, but I’ve got good news!”
“And just what would this good news happen to be?” you could practically hear the smile on his face.
“I - we - sold the house today,” you grinned, “one less thing we have to worry about. Everything Is in escrow right now, but I’ll make sure the broker puts half of the profits into both of our accounts. Let me know if that doesn’t work for whatever reason, but yeah…this is good.”
“Keep it,” he insisted as you groaned at him, “keep the money. Really, you deserve it and I know you’ll make good use of it for Diego. I want to make sure the two of you are taken care of.”
“Javier,” you huffed lightly, “it’s a decent chunk of money and I don’t feel right taking it all. I’ve got more than enough with work and then my half. What about when you move back? That’s a good chunk for retirement, you can build the house you want…”
“I should know better than to argue with you, shouldn’t I?” he teased as you grinned victoriously.
“You should absolutely know that by now,” you insisted, “you should have known that well before we got married…anyways, I’ll let you go, I’m sure you’re busy. Take care and be safe, cielito. Diego and I both want you to come home soon and in one piece.”
“Oh? The baby told you that?” he chuckled warmly as you told to shut up.
“He’s not a baby baby anymore! He’s two and yes, he told me he misses his daddy and he will kick your ass if you don’t come home to see him soon,” you grinned, “straight from his mouth!”
“Aye, cállate,” a wash of longing came over him as he realized just how much he missed his son, and you, “talk to you soon, cariño.”
“Bye Javi,” you paused for a moment, listening to the sound of his soft breathing before hanging up. You sighed lightly as you leaned against the kitchen counter, looking around your new apartment. It was nice, small but still ample space for you and Diego. It wasn’t home yet, no that was still the house that you and Javi had just sold in the wake of your divorce. But one day it would be, you’d move on just like everything else did.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“Are you ready to see your papá, mi amor?” you were running around and finishing packing an overnight bag for him to take to Javier’s house. It would have to do for now until Javier was more settled in and was able to put a room together for him at his new house.
“Yes,” he grinned excitedly as he handed you one of his favorite toys to add to the bag, “I get to see daddy all the time now!”
“It’s very exciting,” you agreed before sitting down at the edge of his small bed, pulling him onto your lap, “your papá loves you very much. But you have to remember he’s still settling back into normal life.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means…he’s been working really hard for a long time chasing bad guys and trying to make the world a better place. It’s a big change from doing that for years and then coming home to family and having a safe, quiet job. Some days might be harder and he might be a little different. But just remember, it doesn’t have a thing to do with you - you are the most important thing in the world to him,” how were you supposed to explain just exactly what he spent so long doing to a five year old? You figured this very simplified version would suffice for now; you’d tell him the rest when he was mucholder.
“Oh,” he nodded deeply in what you assumed was semi-understanding, “do you think he’d like a stuffed animal? He can have my giraffe! Or maybe the elephant?”
“I think he’d love the elephant,” you cuddled him tightly before kissing the top of his head, “you’re a good boy, Diego. We’re so lucky you picked us to be your parents.”
“Does that mean we can stop and get candy when we go?” he slid off your lap before making sure to grab the plushie, handing it to you to pack away in his bag.
“You’ll have to ask your papá,” you grinned, knowing Javi would never let you hear the end of it, “alright, kiddo, vamos.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
By the time you’d arrived at Javier’s house, a short drive across town, Diego was already half asleep, and you decided to take pity on him and carry him in. You gently knocked on the door, listening for Javier’s familiar gate as you hummed quietly to your son. It wasn’t long before he opened the door, a huge smile on his face at the sight of the two of you.
“Hi cielito,” you whispered, “the kid’s mostly asleep, which means he’ll be up in about an hour or so ready for dinner and whatever shenanigans the two of you get up to. Can you be a love and grab his bag from the car and I’ll get him inside?”
“Of course,” he gave your arm a gentle squeeze as he brushed past you. His familiar smell, something you’d always liked, overwhelmed you for a moment as you stepped inside and walked into the living room to put on the couch. He made a small sound but didn’t wake up as you gently touched his cheek, “got everything.”
“Thanks,” you smiled at him, causing his heart to skip for a moment, “he put a little surprise in there for you. I’m sure he’ll be excited to give it to you later.”
“I can’t believe we’re finally at this point,” he sighed as he shook his head, almost not believing his own fortune, “I can’t believe I can finally be a real dad and see my kid on a regular basis.”
“You’ve always been a real dad,” you promised softly, “he knows that too. I’ve always explained to him that you work hard and if you could have been with him every day you would have. Now you can have that. We’re almost like a normal family now.”
“Besides the fact that we’re divorced you mean,” he kept his tone pointedly neutral as you shrugged lightly, “thank you for bringing him over.”
“As if that was ever a question,” you laughed lightly, “I think there’s enough stuff in his bag for now until you can get everything else settled and get all the stuff for him to have here. If you need anything, just let me know. I’m just…a short drive away.”
“Great, yeah, that’s…great,” he walked you to the door and you lingered for a moment, part of you wishing you didn’t have to walk out and leave, “I’ll see you soon then. We’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Perfect,” you offered him a small smile before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “welcome home, Javier. I’m so happy you’re finally here…you’re safe and sound.”
“Thanks, cariño,” he opened the door for you, half tempted to ask you to stay. But what reason would he even offer? I just want you to stay? Stay and don’t ever leave? He was sure neither of those would exactly go over well with you, “I’m glad to be home too. For good this time.”
“I’m counting on it, Peña,” you turned back to wave at him before getting into your car, “I’m not raising the monster alone!”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
In the Now
“Do you want to dance?” you turned to your date with curious eyes as you finished the rest of your drink. His hand was on your knee and he gave it a gentle squeeze as a shiver of excitement ran through your entire body, “or should we get another round of drinks first? I can’t say I’m exactly the best dancer but maybe with some liquid courage…”
“Yes and yes,” you agreed, leaning in so your faces were only a few inches apart, “I don’t want to brag but I’m a pretty good dancer. Perks of living in Colombia for a few years!”
“I guess you’ll have to take the lead then, querida,” you nodded before giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “I’ll get us another round and then we’ll dance.”
“Perfect,” he leaned in and kissed your cheek before making his way over to the bar. You watched him go, a wistful little sigh escaping your lips as his retreating back. He was handsome; tall, dark haired with friendly eyes and a clean-shaven face that gave him an almost boyish appearance.
You’d been set up with him through a mutual friend and you’d like him instantly. He was easy to get along with and you had enjoyed the time you’d spent with him. Julián was definitely someone you could have seen yourself with in the future, and will you really enjoyed seeing but there was just something that didn’t quite sit right within yourself. It wasn’t even him…it was definitely you.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he’d returned while you were lost in your thoughts. You took the drink he placed in front of you and took a long drink. He was amused, raising an eyebrow in question as you couldn’t help but giggle.
“Nothing at all,” you promised, trying to keep all of the deep, internal thoughts to the very back of your head, “come on, Julián. Hurry up so we can dance!”
Dancing with him was easy; the two of you flowed well with one another and it was easy to forget all the doubts and worries you had for a little while. What you hadn’t realized was that Javier had decided to go to the same spot for a drink after a long week. Diego was spending some time with Chucho and he figured it was better to go out for a bit rather than just sit around at home. But then he spotted you and it felt like he had made the entirely wrong decision.
His heart constricted at the sight of you, laughing and having fun, with a man that wasn’t him. A sense of jealousy ran through him when he realized that he had no right to be jealous. You were his ex-wife after all. But that didn’t help how he felt, how it made his blood boil with annoyance, and his heart yearn for your touch. But he couldn’t blame you; he’d been gone, in and out basically, for several years. It would have been selfish of him to just expect you to wait around for him when you still had so much life to live.
That didn’t mean it made him love any less than he did in the beginning.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"Do you still love mamá?” His son’s question caught him off guard as he took him out of his car seat to drop him back off at your apartment. He set him down on the sidewalk before kneeling down so he was at eye level with him.
“Of course I do,” he insisted, ruffling his dark curls, “she’s very important to me. Just like you, mijo.”
“I know that,” he rolled his eyes dramatically. Where did this kid get all the sass from? Definitely his father, you had always insisted with a laugh. Diego reminded him so much of you in little ways, just as he reminded you of Javier, “but are you inlove with her?”
“I…why do you ask?” Javier’s heart suddenly felt like it was pounding in his chest. Why was his five-year-old son suddenly interrogating him?
“She’s still in love with you, daddy,” he insisted as Javier tried to keep a neutral expression on his face.
“Did she tell you that?”
“No,” he shook his head as Javier raised an eyebrow at him, “I can just tell. She was going out with Julián but she broke up with him. I heard her on the phone…she said she wasn’t in love with him and didn’t want to lead him on.”
"And just how do you know that means she’s in love with me? She’s still my best friend, Diego. She gave me the most important thing in my life - you. And we both love you.”
“I know, daddy,” he put his little hand on Javier’s shoulder and attempted to give him a serious look, “I’m telling you - she broke up with Julián because she’s still in love with you. If she wasn’t she’d still be with him because she liked him a lot and said he was funny and handsome and nice.”
“Aye, mijito,” he couldn’t help but laugh at the serious look on the young boy’s face. He scooped him up in his arms before heading into the apartment building, “you’re a good boy. You don’t have anything to worry about, even if we don’t live together or we date other people in the future, it doesn’t mean we’ll love you or each other less. You’ll always have your mamá and me in your life.”
Diego made a small sound but otherwise remained quiet as Javier brought him up to your apartment. He knocked the door and it was only a few moments before you opened it, a big smile on your face.
“My boys,” you grinned as Javier set Diego down, the young boy immediately moving to hug you. You leaned and pressed a kiss to the top of his dark curls, “hi baby! Were you good for daddy this weekend?”
“Yeah,” he nodded as you looked to Javier for confirmation. He playfully rolled his eyes before nodding as well.
“Good boy,” you stroked his cheek, “there’s some fresh baked cookies in the kitchen. You can go and have one, okay? Only one!”
“Bye daddy! See you soon,” and with a hug to his father’s legs, he ran into the kitchen as you both laughed.
“Did you two have fun?” you leaned against the doorframe, tempted to invite him in but not wanting to make things weird or awkward. How would you have asked anyway? Stay for dinner because I want my little family to be complete. Don’t ever leave me. Stay. Instead you pushed all your feelings to the side, “I know he’s been having some trouble sleeping lately so I hope it wasn’t too bad.”
“No,” he promised softly, “he did good. We had lots of fun - went to the zoo so he could see his favorite lemur, this kid is obsessed I swear. We made pizza for dinner and went real crazy on Saturday and stayed up late to watch a movie. He was out like a light in less than thirty minutes. Right on top of me - I didn’t have the heart to move him so I just let him sleep until he had to go to the bathroom.”
“Sounds like fun,” you grinned, “maybe we’ll have to have a family pizza night soon? I-if that sounds okay to you, that is. I don’t just want to assume you want to spend time with me.”
“I think that sounds perfect,” he promised softly before ever so gently reaching over to push a lock of hair out of your face, “I love spending time with him and you.”
"Javi…”
"Hmm?” he was so close; close to where you could smell his delicious cologne and feel his body heat. Your mind went haywire as you tried to figure out what to say. What to say without fucking anything up that is.
“It’s…ugh. Nothing,” you lied as you shook your head, “have a good night. I’ll have Diego call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Of course,” he smiled lightly, almost as if he was expecting you to say what was really on your mind, “good night cariño.”
“Good night, Javi.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“Mamá?”
“Yes, my love?”
“Are you still in love with daddy?” The question caught you so off guard you almost choked on the bite of cereal you’d just shoved into your mouth, “‘cause he’s still in love with you.”
“Diego,” you laughed affectionately at him as he looked at you with wide eyes, “I still love your dad, but I’m not in love with him. That’s why we’re not married anymore.”
“So? You can still be in love and not married,” this kid was almost too smart for his own good. He really did manage to get the best of both Javier and yourself, “but you broke up with Julián, I heard you tell him. And daddy only went only like three dates with that lady before he told her he wasn’t interested. It’s because you’re both still in love with each other.”
“Too smart for your own, Diego Francisco Peña,” you reached over and touched his cheek gently, “but that means nothing. I’ll always love him, I promise you that. How does that sound?”
“Lame,” he huffed before sliding off his chair, “abuelo was right, you both are fools.”
“He…he said that?”
“Duh,” he insisted as he went to grab his backpack for school, “he said you both still love each other but won’t say anything else 'cause you both are too stubborn and think being apart is the right thing to do.”
“Well,” you couldn’t lie, your curiosity was piqued. You wondered if he had this same conversation with Javier, “the Peña men are both too smart and stubborn and I see you are no exception. But, mi amor, don’t think too much into this and get your hopes up, okay? Come on, let’s get you to school.”
“Fine,” he reached for his lunch box on the counter, “I wish we could all live together so I could be with both of you all the time.”
You froze when you processed what he had said. You didn’t want him to have yearn and wish for that; you wanted to give it to him. But at this point, you weren’t sure if there was any more possibility of making that happen.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“Chucho,” you were immediately enveloped in a hug as soon as the door was opened, causing you to make a small sound of surprise, “thank you so much for taking Diego today. He’s really excited to go to the movies.”
“I love every moment with my grandson,” he turned to give him a hug, “besides this is perfect movie-watching weather.”
“Can we go get snacks first, abuelo?”
“Of course,” he promised, “we’ll sneak all the good stuff in under our jackets! Let’s get going so we’re not late.”
“Yay!”
“I’ll see you both later tonight,” you pulled up the hood on Diego’s rain jacket but not before kissing the top of his head, “have fun and be good. Both of you!”
“They’re going to get into trouble. I don’t know which one is worse,” Javier’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts as he appeared in the door. You laughed before giving him a quick hug, “hi cariño.”
“Mi cielito,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek before awkwardly standing there for a few moments, “good to see you.”
“It’s only been like…two days,” he snorted in amusement before putting an arm around you and pulling you inside, “come on. Let’s have some coffee.”
“Sounds perfect,” you agreed excitedly, “and just so you know, I always like seeing you, Javier. Even if it’s just been two days.”
“Aye, cállate,” he laughed lightly, “but me too.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
You almost hated how easy it was to spend time with Javier. Sometimes you wished you would have disliked him; it would have made pushing down your feelings easier. But then again, you wouldn’t want that for your son; the fact that got along so well definitely was better for him. You couldn’t imagine him having parents that despised each other.
“Hey,” Javier waved his hand in front of your face as you blinked a few times. You hadn’t realized you were that zoned out, “everything alright?”
“Of course,” you swallowed thickly. You glanced at your watch before realizing that over an hour had passed in easy, comfortable conversation, “I…I should get going.”
“Y-yeah…if you’re sure,” he seemed crestfallen by your sudden need to leave as you practically jumped off the couch and headed towards the door, “I guess I’ll see you when I drop Diego off tonight.”
“You don’t have to,” you stammered as he followed closely behind you, “you can just keep him tonight. It’ll be late when they get back and after dinner and all that. Yeah…so. I’ll talk to you later. Tell him I love him, okay? Chucho too.”
“What’s going on?” Of course he wasn’t going to let it go. He could read you without even a bit of effort. He could immediately sense that something had shifted and he had to know what it was. He had to know if…if you felt the same, “you know you can tell me anything.”
You paused for a moment, standing on the porch as you worried your bottom lip. Javier closed the door behind him so the two of you were facing each other with only mere inches between your bodies.
You couldn’t lie to him - or yourself - anymore. He had to know the truth, and if nothing else, it would at least be off your chest.
“Javi,” the sound of his name from your lips still sounded as sweet now as it always it had, making his heart practically constrict in his chest, “I - fuck…I’m still in love with you. I never stopped. I thought…I thought splitting up was better but I was wrong. God, you still frustrate me so much like you always did, you still make me so happy, you…I’m so in love with you. And I think I always will be.”
He was stunned into silence as he stood there, his chest rising and falling heavily, dark eyes twinkling with curiosity. When he didn’t say anything, your heart broke. A sense of regret settled into your bones as you realized you might have just made the biggest mistake of your life. Taking a step back, you cleared your throat before getting ready to run to your car and leave.
“I…I’m sorry,” you stammered nervously, “I shouldn’t have said anything. I just…I had to tell you.”
You almost ran off the porch and back towards your car, wishing the rain would just dissolve right into the ground.
“Wait!” he had to shout over the sound of the downpour but he caught up easily, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, “did you mean it?”
His touch felt electric, raising gooseflesh in its wake as you turned back to face him. A million emotions were written on his face as his heart hammered nervously in his chest. It was so loud within himself that he was surprised you couldn’t hear.
“Yes,” you were already soaked to the bone as face warmth flushed your face, “every word of it.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“What?” Surely the rain must have been playing with your ears. He laughed - that brilliant, warm laugh that made his eyes crinkle in the corners and that singular dimple appear. That in itself was one of the first things you had fallen in love with, “Javi?”
“Can I kiss you?!” there was a smile on his face which led you to thinking that maybe you hadn’t heard him incorrectly after all.
“Why!?”
“Porque te amo,” he was shouting above the rain, which seemed to have decided to come down tenfold, “because I’m in love with you!”
“Really?” where those tears mixed in with the rain that was running down your face?
“Yes,” he was closer now, to where he no longer had to yell, “I always have been. Always will be.”
This time you took the initiative of kissing him, gently taking his face in your hands before you crashed your lips onto his. Your heart was practically bursting with joy as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. He’d been wanting this for so long; it felt like he could breathe again, like everything was as right as the rain. He could feel you smiling against his lips and he wondered just long how your heart ached for him in return.
“I should have done that a long time ago,” he whispered against your lips when you finally pulled away to catch your breath, “I should have come home a long time ago and we shouldn’t have-”
“It’s okay, Javier,” you promised softly, “what matters is that we’re here now.”
“Mamá! Daddy!” Neither of you had heard the sound of Chucho and Diego returning, but you had just enough time to see the small blur run across the yard before he almost knocked you both over.
“Diego, slow down! You’re going to get all wet,” Javier quickly pulled him into his arms, doing his best to shield him from the rain even though it was pointless by now.
“I don’t care,” he grinned, displaying his gap-toothed little smile. He had that same little dimple that his father did, “I told you! You’re both still in love with each other!”
“I guess you were right all along mijito,” you brushed some of his wet curls off his face, “we love you too.”
“I know!” he insisted, “now can you stop kissing and come inside? Abuelo said we can have hot chocolate! Can you…will you both come?”
“Yes,” Javier promised him, “we’re both right here and that’s how it’s going to always be.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Resolution
“Hey honey,” Javier’s arms wrapped around your waist as he stood behind you while you finished the dishes. You immediately stopped what you were doing, grabbing the clean dish towel to dry your hands before leaning back into him. He pushed your hair to the side, exposing your neck and some of your shoulder before pressing his lips over the delicate skin, “I think the dishes can wait.”
“I don’t think you’ve left me much of a choice,” you sighed softly as you turned your head to kiss him properly. When you couldn’t wait anymore, you turned around so you were facing him, taking his face in your hands and pulling him back against your lips. He kissed you back just as enthusiastically, deepening the kiss as his hands found purchase on your waist, “do you think we have enough time for a quickie before-”
“Mamá!” Before you could even get the sentence out, Diego came into the kitchen, face covered in dirt from playing outside. Javier pulled back from you before letting out an almost inaudible sigh, “can I go over to Max’s house for dinner? He said they’re getting pizza for dinner!”
“Did Max ask his mom?” you raised an eyebrow as he nodded eagerly. You exchanged a look with Javier who just shrugged in response. You liked the neighbors, you liked that Diego had a yard again and friends in the neighborhood you’d moved into. Plus, you wagered to yourself, if he was gone for a few hours that gave you some alone with Javier, “alright mister. You can go over for dinner, but tell his mom and dad thank you. Then you invite them over for dinner this weekend, si?”
“Yay!” he cheered before giving you a quick hug.
“Go clean up first,” Javier insisted, “don’t want them thinking we’re uncivilized and raising a renegade.”
“Okay,” he huffed, already halfway out of the kitchen, “you can go back to kissing. Max says that’s what parents do when they love each other. And sometimes they can get a baby from it.”
“Diego,” your face flushed with warmth as you looked at Javier nervously. He was nothing short of amused, “don’t go around saying anything like that.”
“Why?” he pouted, his expression reminding you so much of Javier, “Max is getting a brother now. That sounds cool! I want a brother too.”
“Go clean up mijo,” Javier insisted as he tried to keep himself from dissolving into laughter, “let me know when you’re ready and I’ll walk you over.”
He ran to his bathroom without another word as you waved your hands in exasperation. Javier kissed your forehead as you groaned, “you’re having the talk with him when he’s older. I guess at least he doesn’t know what sex is yet.”
“But we do-”
“Javier!”
“Come on cariño,” he teased as he nudged your hip with his, “he wants a brother. Can’t disappoint him, can we?”
“Javier,” your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at with curious eyes, “I…umm…do you want another kid?”
“I’m not opposed to the idea,” he grinned as your heart swelled with excitement. He was a wonderful father after all, “but it’s up to you. I like the one we’ve got regardless of what happens.”
“You gonna marry me first?”
“I’ve already married you,” he reminded you, “you’re the one that divorced me.”
“Biggest mistake of my life,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, “will you marry me again?”
“I suppose so,” he made an amused sound, “I guess the rings would be better put to use if we wore them instead of keeping them in a box.”
“You…kept them? I thought you were going to sell them?”
“Didn’t feel right,” he put his hand to your face before gently stroking your cheek, “so I kept them. Maybe it’s a good thing I did.”
“Sap,” you kissed his palm, “I love you.”
“I love you more,” he promised, “what do you say? Do you want to get married again?”
“Yes,” you beamed at him, “yes, I want to be your wife again. But forever this time.”
“Forever sounds good, mi sol.”
“Daddy! I’m ready,” interrupted once again, you patted his chest before gently pushing him away, “bye mamá!”
“Bye baby, be good,” you waggled a finger at him before whispering in Javier’s ear, “hurry back, cielito. Then we kiss some more and maybe we’ll get a baby from it.”
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he almost groaned before stealing a kiss, “I’ll be right back.”
You watched as they left, Diego eagerly taking his father’s hand before pulling him towards the door. You’d turned back to quickly finish the dishes when you heard him ask, “are you really going to marry mamá again?”
“Yes,” was Javier’s soft response, “I’d marry her again and again and again.”
Maybe your first marriage to him had been impulsive and wild. But it had gotten you the two best things in your life; your son and your husband.
This time around you were going to make it count. This time was forever.
A/N: God, I just love these two. And Meana-beana. I dunno where the strength to finish this came from - I was just minding my business eating a mandarin so… yeah. Apologies for any mistakes, it’s late lmao.
Taglist note: I’ve used my MTW taglist but if you are no longer interested, just let me know and I’ll remove you from any future fics as this is an old list, some names have changed/don’t work, and new tag requests are not added so I’m sorry for that!
Summary: Mena and Frankie have an important question for you.
Word count: just over 1.8k
Warnings: swearing, MY FAVE BESTIES BENNY + ANGEL, fluff & domesticity galore, Frankie DILF™️ Morales. It’s just fluff. Fluff everywhere. I’m soft as fuck.
Something in the back of your mind flagged certain interactions, focusing on some things said in passing or the way people just simply acted around you. It was bugging you like crazy.
It started when Frankie started acting differently.
frankie x female reader (slightly no use of y/n or she/her pronouns just the word sister)
warnings: angst, language, tension, alcohol mention, mention of claustrophobia and slight description of anxiety, and language
summary: you moved away from your family and boyfriend at eighteen. when you come back home for your parents 50th anniversary you weren’t expecting a rekindling moment with a certain pilot.
authors note: THE ENDING IS EVERYTHING AND IM SO PROUD OF THIS FIC! PLEASE LMK WHAT YALL THINK XOXO
They say you’ll never forget your first. First crush, kiss, date, love and heartbreak. However for you, you could never seem to get rid of him. But you weren’t complaining. Francisco Morales was more than your first for everything, he was someone who held more than one could handle- he was your rock. Well that was until the day that “you” ruined everything.
Your parents were known as the sweethearts of your hometown. Marrying right after graduation, they settled in the same town and brought up you and your sister Em. Your parents were involved in everything, your mom being a teacher and your dad being a sheriff. It was hard to blend in to say the least. But there was an ongoing loop. Everyone graduated and stayed home. Your older sister, Em, even became a part of that treacherous loop. And you hated that loop. You always dreamed of big cities, fashion, traveling the world, but mostly just getting out of town. And you had promised yourself that nothing would hold you back from pursuing that. Sadly Frankie thought he could have kept you a little bit longer. But things change- actually a lot has changed since you’ve been back home for more than a weekend stay. Now you were traveling back home for your parent’s 50th anniversary extravaganza. And nothing could help prepare you for the next few days.
Your plane had landed around one in the afternoon. Grabbing your luggage you made your way over to the area where Em said she would pick you up. Looking around you didn;t see her red car. Dialing her number you were ready to direct her to your terminal.
“Hello?” Em said on the other line. She sounded groggy and as if she wasn’t in the car.
“Terminal 47 remember.” You said angrily, Knowing she forgot.
“Shit.” She said, then another voice was heard.
“Babe what time is it?” You gasped at the sound of Pope’s voice.
“Hold on, you first forgot your little sister’s arrival at the airport, and you have Pope in your bed Em! When did he come back? What happened to independency?” You said rather loudly into the mic.
“Shut up. You’re too damn loud.”
“It’s literally tourist season, getting a cab into town will cost me tripple Em.”
“Well don’t call the Millers, they went fishing this morning. You could call-” She said even more groggily. But you hung up the phone before she could finish her sentence.
You couldn’t take your sister right now. You love her most times but she would’ve killed you if you did this to her. You were gonna call the Millers but if they were busy there was only one person you could call. Hearing the phone ring you were ready to hang up. But then he answered.
Omg that’s was… absolutely stunning… it gave me a little Italy Kinda vibe at the beginning though . This was just so cute… I just adore this so so much . That last line though Uggh I felt my heart melt… you melted my heart how mean (and by mean I mean nice… ) of you. How dare you make my heart melt. This is 100% going on Frankie’s FA when I update next. Hopefully it’s soonish…
@reblogingqueen thank you sm for your kind words☺️☺️little italy is one of my favorite movies and i can now see the parallels hahahaha. much love mwah
The feeling of soft, warm covers wrapped around your body
An arm around your waist,
keeping you close to a warm and soft naked chest, heaving silently in the soundless space that’s your shared room
Your eyes look up to the man who’s holding you to the infinite peace that’s this moment
The weak light of the early morning’s sun, bathing the shades of golden skin that surrounds you
So deep in your admiration for Pedro, you fail noticing his warm, brown sleepy eyes looking at you, with an adoration inside that makes your heart beat a little faster, just like the first time
It never fails to make you feel like a little girl in love
That warm feeling of home, of belonging
Like the feeling of a warm hug in a cold day, a biscuit fresh out of the oven, the smell of a flower, the sound of the wind in the peace of the woods
All enclosed in a pair of chocolate eyes, in big but soft hands caressing your delicate skin, in a mustached bright smile that could light up an entire room, a planet, a galaxy even, with its purity, warmness, sincerity
Your hand goes to his cheek, scruffy remains of short beard pinches your palm, until the feeling of curls fills your hand
They’re a little longer than usual, but the feeling is the same as caressing a cloud, a soft teddy, that watches you carefully while scratching lightly the skin of your back under the pajama’s shirt, making you shiver in delight
Lowering back your head in the crook of his neck, you smell him
The smell of love, the smell of family, the smell of home, of Pedro
His heartbeat lulling you slowly into the calmness and peacefulness of sleep, making this moment last forever
No words are needed
Can you imagine?
What a different life it would be
(I’m not a writer,so if this sounds stupid or makes absolutely no sense,that’s why,sorry people I just love him and miss him a lot)
Imagine finding out that your boyfriend Deny is La Quica from the Medellin cartel.
requested by: anon warnings: ?? swearing ?? this ones pretty tame for a narcos one imo also, i kinda gave it an underlying possible javi x reader vibe because my love is just too strong, hope that’s chill.
You threw your coat over the back of a chair and swept up a coffee from the desk. Two glugs of it assaulting your tastebuds and you knew it wasn’t yours.
“Hey, don’t pull that face. This is good stuff, your taste is off.” Javi swiped it from your hand and held out another for you, and you took a sip.
“No no, my taste is brilliant - this is good stuff.”
He scoffed, “You wanna talk about your taste in men again?”
Your brows set with his teasing tone. You knew what he was getting at - he wanted you to spill the gossip on your latest boyfriend so he could terrorise him, like he always does. “Um, no. I’m not having you chase off another perfectly good man.”
“Why did they dart on you if they were perfectly good, sweetie?”
You frowned at him and his shit-eating grin. You had nothing to say to that. You loved Javi, you really did, but he and his cynicism were a detrimental force on your lovelife. At this rate, you’d be 50 years old and still sat in a bar every other night with these two assholes.
“Can’t help it if every guy in Colombia is a loser.”
He opened his arms, “I’m in Colombia.”
“And so my point stands.” You shook your head and took a slurp of coffee, turning your back on him and going to stand beside a focused Steve staring at a wall, hands on his hips.
Your brows raised when you followed his gaze. “Oh, this is new.”
Faces and faces. So many faces dotted the board, with names tacked up, many of which you recognised, some crossed through with red. At the top, one Pablo Escobar. “So this is our cartel.”
“This is our cartel, but only as far as we know.” Steve gestured to the lowest row on the board, many of which were names without pictures. “We don’t know these guys. And we don’t know who they got working for them, either.”
“It’s a huge fuckin’ spider’s web,” called Javi from behind you.
“Anything we do to anyone on this web, the spider will know,” you nodded grimly. Your eyes raked through the profiles, some strangers and some familiar. One, just a little too familiar.
Your brows creased, your feet instinctively took a step closer. You craned your neck to see a little better and your heart lurched when you saw what you wished wasn’t true. His name escaped your lips in a gasp. “Deny?”
“What’s that?” Steve asked.
“Oh, what? Nothing, just-”
“Just?”
“I think it’s too early for my eyes,” you laughed and waved a hand dismissively, then raising your coffee. “Gonna need a little more of this.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed and constricted your stomach with nerves. But he nodded with a “Uh huh,” and went to shuffle through some papers. “What’s our next move, then?”
“Fill in the blanks? We need a full board to get the full web.” You scoured the rest of the board for anyone else you recognised, but there were no others. Just your boyfriend.
Your eyes settled on the picture of him, trying to tell yourself that anyone could have his curly hair, his scruff. Even the wildness in his eyes wasn’t hard to come by these days.
But then, you filled your brain with the faces of sicarios. It would make sense that he had that look too. Fuck, it suddenly made too much sense. His sneaking, his reluctance to be seen with you, how he never told you about his friends or family, or even work.
Your fingers found their way to the necklace he’d bought you, a dainty gold chain.
How could he be part of this? Your sweet, hilarious, ride-or-die Deny.
But then, you had to assume he had no idea you were with the DEA.
You’d been playing a more dangerous game than you knew, and now it was time to win.
Summary: Signs!AU. It started off in the most bizarre of ways. Crop circles. You mean the bother of cleaning up someone’s stupid prank? But then the lights come—hundreds, thousands—floating menacingly above the cities. The panic starts to settle in. Full summary here…
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
Warnings: angst GALORE - like i’m not even kidding i cried sm, swearing, supernatural themes, thriller/horror, violence, guns, talk of death & suicide, a death i cried over, violence/injury towards an animal i also cried over, blood
Word count: just over 5.5k
A/N: Hi howdy hey. ok i was delayed and i have no excuse - i just got distracted watching suits baha. ANYWAY, here we go. Sadness everywhere. Enjoy. Also, the song playing (you’ll know when you get to the part) is Billie Holiday’s “I’ll Be Seeing You” because that’s a damn beautiful song.
It’s another fucking splinter in your fingers keeping your mind from spiralling, the pain of it just enough to help contain the budding hysteria building in your chest.
You ignore addressing the persistent sting of it, instead holding firm against the thick plank of wood as Frankie hammers harshly against it, nailing it into the window frame. The length of timber stretches across the glass window and stops the sun shining through the pane, blocking your view of the outside.
Only when he steps away with a carved frown of vigilance, gaze critically observing the other windows that you finally move to pinch at the small splinter, a brief wince flickering across your features before your thumb rubs along your skin. The hammer picks up again, and your attention is pulled to him, eyes following the sweat that beads along the back of his neck and soaks into the collar of his shirt.
The drill had died a few windows ago, and Frankie hadn’t bothered to waste time charging the battery. He’d moved so quickly, so ruthlessly. You’d never seen this kind of expression before.
He’d torn his shed to pieces—your half restored dining table now rested legless and nailed over the back door. Chip’s kennel had been ripped apart, the various shades of red that used to be his vibrant roof now secured across the kitchen windows.
Nothing survived his mission: the coffee table Chip had chewed when he was a puppy, the old fence panelling, the scraps of tin from a long torn down workshop—it all came into the house, each memory filled item relentlessly nailed and screwed over any flicker of the outside world. Your home quickly lost its warmth with each boarded shut window, stripped of its feel of familiarity and comfort—security. Now it was the only thing in the way, one last layer of protection, of whatever was to come.
The echoes of Benny and Will moving about upstairs fill the silence beyond Frankie’s hammer, along with the light jingle of Chip’s contact tag rattling against his collar as he moves about the house in vague interest, his ears rising and dropping with each new scuffle of movement.
He soon retires from his curiosity, and instead comes to flop beside you with a long sigh, tail lightly slapping the hardwood when you bend to run a soothing hand through his fur.
“Upstairs is set. Although we ran out of wood in your bedroom, so that’s the weakest point. We’ve moved your bed in front of it.” Will says as he comes down the stairs with Benny following closely behind.
Frankie shoots them an appreciative smile. “Thank you… for helping us. You didn’t have to stay—”
The brothers reply in unison.
“Shut your stupid mouth—”
“Of course we did—”
It’s a small moment of normality, with smiles being shared so easily, and you cling to it even as they grab their bags and walk to their truck. Frankie appears from the remnants of his shed, carefully dumping a duffle bag in Will’s backseat and flipping it open to show the older Miller brother the few rifles Frankie had kept locked away.
Will immediately frowns at him. “The hell are you doing? We’re not taking those, you—”
“We’ll be locked up—you still need to get a four hour drive in. Chances are you’ll run into trouble before me, and I’d feel better knowing you’ve got the shit you need to make it safely.”
Will goes to argue, but sighs deeply knowing Frankie’s distinct stubbornness, and merely nods in thanks, stepping forward to embrace his friend tightly.
The sun starts to burn the back of your neck as you stand in the driveway and watch them, the gravel stabbing through the thin bottoms of your slippers as a distinct dryness claws at your throat, a bubble of a cry threatening to break free as the final few items are tossed in the bed of the truck.
Benny’s all smiles when he turns to you, but you see the stirrings of worry crease the edges of his expression. He swallows, bright eyes falling to the ground before his strong arms wind around you and tighten to the point you struggle to breathe. The thought hits you as soon as his face presses into your shoulder—
Is this the last time you’ll see them?
It has you returning the strength of his hug as much as you could, pressing as much love and gratitude for everything he’s done for both you and Frankie into the embrace.
Will soon takes his place as they swap over, his large hand cupping the back of your head affectionately and you can’t help the quiet sniff when he finally steps away a few moments later.
Benny’s eyes shine with the threat of tears but he stays firm, his jaw rolling to hold them in as he gazes at you both.
“I’m not sayin’ goodbye,” he mutters firmly after a moment of silence.
Will shares his sentiment with a quiet nod, cheeks straining with the effort of keeping the small smile curled on his lips.
“So…yeah.” Benny turns and gets into the truck, keeping his gaze stubbornly locked on the dashboard.
“Take care.” Will says, delivering one final affectionate slap to Frankie’s shoulder before walking around the truck and sliding into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life and soon they’re pulling away.
“Are they going to make it to her in time?” You ask quietly, watching the dust swirl as the brothers disappear down the driveway, the squeal of their tyres hitting the asphalt of the highway only just reaching your ears as they speed away.
Frankie’s arm curls around your shoulders and you cuddle into him, pressing a warm kiss to his throat. His voice is strained when he answers, thick with emotion and your hold tightens.
“I hope so. Come on, let’s go and get the old man.”
——
You flutter through the door, barely taking a second to acknowledge Harry before you’re up the stairs, calling out questions about his prescriptions and where he keeps his overnight bag. Chip bounds up the stairs after you, Harry watching on with a fond, barely there little smile. Frankie crosses the threshold, stopping in his tracks when his eyes roll over the man.
Harry looks… polished.
There hadn’t been a single day Frankie had seen him out of dirty stained overalls, smeared with earth and sweat and paint and whatever else the man had busied himself with that day. His skin is clean of oil and dirt, his clothes are pressed and neat, he’s even wearing cologne.
“Nice suit, old man.” Frankie mutters finally, voice catching in his throat as Harry shuffles over to his recliner.
He smiles, his aged face wrinkling with the stretch of it, and something about the way it sits so naturally in his expression has a budding unease building in the pit of Frankie’s stomach. Something’s off. He pushes the feeling away, instead moving for the old jacket hanging on the coat hook and stepping towards him.
“They’re saying we’ve still got a bit of time, so I think we should get comfortable at our place now. We’ve barricaded the windows and the back door, I’ll nail up the front once we’re in.”
“You think it’ll hold?”
Frankie feels the twitch of a muscle by his mouth and Harry nods, sensing the wave of dread from across the room.
No he doesn’t think it’ll hold, but it was worth a try. Maybe if they saw the house all boarded up, they wouldn’t bother. It’s wishful thinking—if they’re as hell bent on invading as the so-called ‘experts’ said, a bit of wood wouldn’t stop them, but he didn’t dare say a word when you quietly suggested it.
“I’m not leaving, Frank.”
Frankie exhales sharply, fingers tightening around the coat. “Harry, don’t do this right now, alright? Just get up.”
He wasn’t hearing it—not today, not right now.
Harry had always been stubborn, and ninety nine point nine percent of the time Frankie found it endearing—often playing along with Harry’s sharp attitude with an easy smile and humour which seemingly melted the ice king into somewhat of a paternal figure over the years… but not today, with tensions running high and his nerves shot to the fucking roof. He just needed his family safe.
“No.” Harry says simply, resting his elbows on the arms of the recliner and overlapping his hands over his stomach. “I’ve made my decision, and I’d like you to respect it.”
Frankie snorts, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “And what decision is that, huh? You gonna stay here all by yourself and let whatever’s coming get to you? You gonna go down that easy, old man?”
“No. I’ll do it myself.”
“Dowhat?”
Harry’s gaze moves to the stairs, where echoes of you sound from where you move about, no doubt rifling through his medicine cabinet and packing away his usual medications. He didn’t want you around to hear this. Frankie watches him silently, teeth picking at the soft inner skin of his lower lip.
“I have no interest in living through this, Frank.”
Frankie frowns, a wave of shock rolling through his body. What does that even mean? He wantsto die? Where the hell is this coming from?
“Harry—”
“I’ve lived a damn good life, Frank.”
God no… no, please—
“Harry—”
“It’s alright, son.”
“No. She won’t leave you here. I won’t leave you here. Come on, this is stupid. We won’t let you do this.”
Harry heaves a soft sigh, lips curling softly. “This is what I want, Frank.”
“No. No, it’s not. You’re coming with us, and we’re gonna stay together, alright? You can give up—it’s fine. You can give up, but we’re not letting you die alone, okay? We’re not. Damn it, Harry, you can’t do this to me, to her—”
His knees hit the floor, and he pushes through the sudden feeling choking his throat. His fingers curl into the rough fabric of the chair, and he’s no longer fighting for himself, or Harry. It’s you. You’d spent more time with your neighbour, helping with appointments and medication and laundry and anything he ever needed—Harry was the world to you. You’d be devastatedleaving him behind.
He can’t let you go through this. He won’t. Not when everything already seems so bleak.
“Harry, please—please just…”
“Thisiswhat I want, Frank. I want to die on my own terms. Let me have my dignity. Please.”
“You shouldn’t be alone for this—”
Harry chuckles quietly, face so open and warm it creates such a sudden sense of home. A hand, rough and calloused and comforting, rests on Frankie’s hand and gives it a light, affectionate tap.
“I’m not alone, son.”
Frankie’s eyes fall to the vintage gold frame next to the recliner, taking in the aged black and white photograph and the young faces of Harry and Gloria huddled together under a shower of confetti. She had passed before you and Frankie had moved in, but there was no shortage of the stories Harry would tell you on the warm evenings on his porch.
“So this is it, huh?” Frankie swallows the thickness building in his throat, heaving a long, low sigh before moving his gaze back to meet Harry’s. “This is what you want?”
The man nods, and Frankie feels defeat creep along his shoulders.
“You’re gonna break her fucking heart, Harry.”
“I know.”
You appear then, Harry’s small overnight bag in hand. Frankie stands, and he can’t bear to look at you just yet. He keeps his eyes fixed on the old rug, taking a few deep breaths to calm the flood of anguish filling his system. Would you hate him after this?
“Are you ready?” You ask, a smile tugging at the edges of your lips. Harry stands, taking your outstretched hand and returning your small smile.
“I am, love.”
You smile at his words, but only Frankie understands what they truly mean. He tries to prepare; tries to get his thoughts and emotions in order before it happens and you’re left heartbroken and reeling. Would you even understand?
Harry pauses on the porch and you gently come to a stop when you feel the tug at your hand. You watch his eyes roll over the fields, thinking he just needed a few minutes to take it in before hiding away in your home.
“She would’ve loved you.” Harry says quietly after a few moments, and your eyes roll to meet his.
Gloria?Your brows twitch a little in confusion at his words, but you shoot him a little smile. “I’m sure I would’ve loved her, too.”
Harry hums, taking another moment of silence before speaking again. “Take care of my girl, Frank.”
Frankie appears at your side, jaw tight and dark eyes shining. “Yes, sir.”
Harry turns his attention to you, squeezing your hand softly. “And you take care of my boy.”
Your confusion grows. “Harry, I don’t understand—”
“It’s gonna be alright, love. You’ve got each other. Now off you go.”
“What? No, y—you’re coming with us.”
It’s obvious. Isn’t it obvious? Your frown deepens, your eyes darting to Frankie but he refuses to meet your gaze. What did he know that you didn’t? Your gaze flies back to Harry, anxiety starting to creep along your nerves.
“Youarecoming with us… right?”
“Not today, love. I’m staying here.”
“The hell you are—”
You don’t mean to raise your voice at him, but it’s just all so stupid. It’s fucking stupid. He should want to be safe. He should want to be with his loved ones. What was left? The invasion… it was happening, whether he wanted to address it or not. He couldn’t stay here, it was certain death—
Harry’s unwavering gaze hits you square in the chest. You feel like you’ve just taken a fist to the stomach. Your mouth opens, but you can’t seem to form a coherent sentence. You couldn’t just leave him here. Not to endure whatever was coming alone.
“Well… we’ll stay here then—”
He’s shaking his head before you even finish your sentence. “It’s my time, love. I’ve decided what I want to do. It’s alright.”
What he wants to do? What does that even mean?
“It’s not—”
“I’ve made my choice. I’m going to be with my sweetheart, you need to be with yours.”
“But I—”
You stop, finding yourself with nothing to say to change his mind. You look to Frankie for some help, silently begging him to say something, but deep down you know it wouldn’t matter. You couldn’t, and wouldn’t, force him. You didn’t want the last moments between you to be full of anger and resentment because you made him do something he didn’t want to do, because you ignored his wishes and made him die the way he didn’t want to.
A tremble overtakes your bottom lip, and you inhale to calm the threat of sobs building in your chest, carefully putting his bag down by his feet.
“Okay,” you whisper weakly, “okay. If this is really what you want.”
Harry nods, his rough hand squeezing yours one final time before he releases his grip. You let Frankie help you down the steps, your eyes unable to move from Harry where he stands watching you go with a small comforting smile.
You’re almost to the truck when you can’t help but break free from Frankie’s hold and run towards the house, quickly advancing up the steps and wrapping your arms tightly around your neighbour.
He returns it just as strongly, murmuring a quiet reassurance before he sends you on your way, waving one last time to Frankie. You don’t dare to look away from him as Frankie drives away, turning you head and watching him fade from view through the back window, and when you get home, you strain your eyes to look in the distance and find he’s no longer standing on his porch.
——
You refuse to call it a last meal.
Even while cooking, you refused to acknowledge the strange finality hanging in the air as you moved about the kitchen, preparing whatever dishes you could from ingredients found in the cupboards. Maybe it was just something your mind tried to distract you with, to keep your thoughts from running and focusing on the losses you had already suffered today.
Frankie sits opposite you, soft eyes rolling over each dish before speaking quietly, “I want to pray.”
Your eyes fly to his face in surprise. He’d never been into religion, apart from the Sundays his mother would take him to church when he was younger, so his quiet declaration was unexpected, but you quickly school your features before his gaze moves to yours, and you smile softly.
“Whatever you want, baby.”
He swallows, almost nervously, his tongue running along his lips before he reaches forward to take your hands. He feels so out of depth. He hadn’t prayed in years. Did this make him a hypocrite? To only turn to God when it’s too late?
He stays silent, lips pursing in thought.
“I’ve forgotten how these fucking things go.” He mutters, cheeks finally creasing with a grin when you giggle tiredly at his words.
“Well I don’t think that’sright.”
He’s quiet for another moment longer before his voice starts a quiet prayer, and you take a quick second to admire his face in the low candlelight while his eyes are closed. You follow the curve of his nose, trace the patches of dark facial hair running along his jaw, watch the way his soft lips move with each word and your heart grows heavy in your chest.
So beautiful.
You feel emotion bubble up in your throat as his words melt in your ears, asking whoever could possibly be looking down on humanity—if any—to ensure you were kept safe and unharmed, to spare you from any pain and suffering and to find peace no matter what happens.
Your fingers tighten around his. “What about you?”
One eye snaps open and focuses on you, “What about me?”
“I don’t want Heaven if you’re not there. Make sure He knows we’re a package deal. Chip, too.”
He snorts, eye closing and grin widening. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
Your eyes finally close, and you sigh lightly. “Well it does with us.”
The food’s cold by the time you get around to eating it, but neither of you mind. Frankie keeps up most of the conversation as you pick at the food, keeping you present and focused on the now and not what’s coming. It feels almost normal. It feels like the world isn’t ending, even if only for a little while. You both ignore the dishes and the mess leftover, instead moving to the lounge room where the radio plays soft melodies.
The radio stations had long been abandoned, with everyone running to be with their loved ones, but they had set up playlists until it could no longer play. Loss of service would be the beginning, they had said. A part of you hopes the music will never stop.
“Can we… can we dance?”
It’s your watery eyes that have him nodding, his hand immediately reaching out to curl around yours. He tugs until you’re pressed against him, your face buried in his shirt and he breathes you in, eyes scrunching shut and devoting every sense to remembering the smell of you, the feelof you.
His lips trace whatever skin he can reach, his hands cradle and cup and roam. Long moments pass before he even remembers your request, and so he starts to sway, the muscles in his jaw straining as he fights the building lump in his throat.
“I should’ve danced with you more.” He whispers regretfully, cheek resting against the side of your head.
You shake your head, pulling gently away to gaze at him. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“I would.”
“No,” you shake your head again, smiling despite the tears that build along your lash line. “Everything was so perfect. I’m so—I’m so happy to have found you, Frankie. What we have… I’m so thankful.”
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He murmurs, sincerity ringing through his statement as a warm hand cradles your cheek softly.
A gentle heat washes along under your skin, and you turn into his touch with a soft chuckle, eyes fluttering closed as his rough thumb brushes softly over the skin under your eye, swiping away the lone tear you didn’t even know had fallen. Lips press against yours and you melt into his kiss, smiling against his lips.
“Ditto, Mr Morales.”
Static cuts through the air.
It’s an abrupt end to the soothing music that had just been filling the room, and he feels the way you shift, the way your breathing starts to accelerate and how you start to tremble in his hold. He hates that there’s nothing he can do.
“I’m here,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
“God, I love you so fucking muchFrankie—”
“I know, baby. I know. I love you.”
A creak sounds from the front of the house, the usual quiet groan of the timber porch adjusting under body weight filling your ears like the thunder of a jet plane engine. Frankie’s head turns to the boarded up front door, his crushing hold keeping you tight up against him.
Your voice is shaky, and muffled against his shirt as your fingers dig into his chest. “They’re here.”
Chip confirms your words, the heckles along his back rising as takes a protective stance in front of you both, a series of sharp fierce barks tearing from his throat as a shadow passes by the slither of daylight peaking through the cracks in the barricaded window.
You jolt with a cry at the sudden gunfire.
Harry.
Bile builds in your throat but you swallow it down, chest heaving with the effort of fighting the sobs threatening to break free. Was that it? Was that him taking his decision into his own hands? You hate to think of your elderly neighbour ending his life, but maybe that’s better than waiting for whatever will happen…
It’s okay.
He’s gone. He won’t suffer anything now. He won’t suffer, he won’t—
Another shot.
Only this time, you can hearhim after it. He’s yelling, his hoarse aged voice filled with fury and melting through the walls and then you’re fighting for Frankie to release you, rushing to the door and resting your hands against the wood in desperation.
He’s out there.
Did he change his mind? Did he want to be with you both?
“Harry?!”
You know he can’t hear you, and yet you can’t help but call for him. Your hands bang against the wood, your fingers curl around the edge of the timber and pull, but the nails beaten into the edges hold firm. You’re incoherent, words falling in a mixture of confusing pleas as your head spins, your gaze anxiously flittering over anything you could use to pry the panel away.
“Frankie, we have to open the door!”
Another shot, and you can’t help the pained cry that joins it.
“Harry!”
You listen to him shout, tears slipping free from your eyes and sliding down your cheeks as his demands of whatever’s lurking around your house to leave you alone sound through the door.
“Frankie,come on—!”
He’s staring at the door when you quickly turn to him, to beg him to find the hammer and rip this stupid fucking barricade away so you could get to Harry and pull him in to safety, but he stays motionless. A single tear falls, followed by another, and then another, and yet he still doesn’t fucking move.
His gaze flickers to meet yours, and you see the swirling quiet apology filling his eyes behind the hard determined edge to his expression.
No he won’t open the door.
As much as something in him screams at him to run to Harry’s aid, he refuses to gamble with your life; refuses to have you potentially torn away from him with no hope of return. He didn’t know how many… thingswere waiting outside the walls.
He runs it all through his mind, calculating every hypothetical situation with trained efficiency.
He knows where Harry is from where he had heard his voice, he knows how quickly he could get to him without anything in his way… but then what would happen to you? To Chip? Chip would undoubtedly follow him right into the thick of it. You would too, even if he begged you to stay behind… and then where would that leave you all? Out there, in the open with no cover or safety, for them to pick off as they pleased.
No.
It’s not happening.
You barely even realise how deathly silent it’s gotten. You still pound at the timber, still scream for Harry and beg for Frankie to open the door. Why won’t he open the door? Harry’s out there. Harry’s out there, and he’s alone, probably terrified—
A warm body presses into your back, Frankie’s rough hands winding around your wrists to gently bring your hands to a stop. Lips press softly against your temple, his voice quiet against your skin.
“He’s gone.”
“No—”
“He’s gone.” He repeats firmly, softly moving your hands away from the door until they’re cradled against your chest.
You don’t get a chance to mourn, to grieve. They come back. They scratch against the door and it’s almost taunting. They circle the house, they bang against the windows, and Chip doesn’t know which way to face, where to direct his attention. Frankie moves you back away from the door, his eyes hard and jaw set as the banging gets louder.
“They’re… they’re just making noise.” You whisper shakily. Why aren’t they trying to break in? Where’s the force?
He doesn’t reply, but he knows what they’re doing. He’s played these games before, worked these strategies. One team to distract, one team to infiltrate. He turns his attention to any noises behind the random banging, catching the faint hint of scratching of something above.
“They’re on the roof.”
You nod, seemingly in a daze, and turn in his arms. “Okay. It’s okay. I love you. Frankie, please look at me.”
He does immediately.
“I love you.”
He swallows, staring into your watery eyes and tracing your cheek tenderly with the back of his hand. “I love you.”
“At least we’re together.” You murmur, tears finally falling. He doesn’t have the strength to talk, but he nods in agreement. He’s happy you’re here, happy that you both came back together in time and that you weren’t somewhere alone for this.
Glass smashes on the upper floor, followed by the sudden weight of something hitting the floor and Frankie whips around to face the stairs, keeping you shielded behind him. They’re in the house. They’re in the fucking house—
Chip loses his nerve and starts to whine, backing up uneasily from the stairs. He hears your quiet whimper, feels the way your fingers grasp and tighten at the back of his shirt. He works his jaw as he strains his ears to listen to the muted thuds above you, eyes watching the stairwell and waiting, waiting for whoever—or whatever—will come down.
Was this really how he goes?
Was this really how he lets yougo?
No.
He whirls away from the stairs and grabs your hand, whistling sharply for Chip to follow, pulling and shoving you through the kitchen until you’re in the pitch-black stairwell of the basement. He urges you down the steps, waiting until Chip slips through behind him before slamming the door shut and bracing himself against it.
“Baby, what—”
“I’m not dying. Not today. We’re not—” he’s muttering and you can barely hear him over the sound of your heart thundering away in your chest, “no. I’m not ready. I’m not—I’m not ready. I don’t want to go.”
He’s trembling as he holds onto the door handle, and you move forward until your face presses into his back. You wind your arms around him and shush him gently, “It’s okay. It’s okay,baby.”
“No, no it’s not. I’m not ready. I haven’t asked you to marry me. I haven’t… god, there’s still so much I want to—fuck!”
And then the door’s shaking and Frankie’s bearing down on the ground, holding tightly onto the door handle and pushing against it to keep it closed with everything he has. The abnormal clicking sounds through the only thing keeping you separated from them and you run your hands desperately over the dusty shelving trying to find something to help as Frankie grunts behind you.
Chair. There’s a busted chair down here somewhere—
Your ankles hit something laying on the ground and you quickly grab it, dragging it over to the door and letting Frankie jam the back of it hard up under the door handle. The door rattles, the force behind it increasing with their urge to get through, but it stays firmly shut and you both exhale in relief. You find the torch that you had just passed over, flicking it on and giving it a little shake when the old battery struggles to light the bulb.
“Are you okay?” Frankie asks after a moment, dark eyes locked on the door as the banging lessons until it’s just a random thud every now and then. They’re doing it again.
“Yeah. Are you?”
He ignores your question. “When we moved in, did the realtor say anything about external access to the basement?”
“Uh, I think—”
“Where?”
You swallow as his hard eyes fix on you. “There’s a coal chute. The previous owners blocked it up, though.”
“Where?”
You lead him around the shelving and shine the torch towards the far wall, the bright beam running along the aged brick until it suddenly bathes Chip in light. His tongue lolls out of his mouth when he sees he’s got both Frankie and yours attention, his tail picking up an excited little wag. The chute was right behind him, a soft breeze playing through the grate and gently rustling his fur.
“Frankie—”
Chip‘s startled yelp fills the basement as a hand materialises out of nowhere and wraps around him tightly.
You scream for him, dropping the torch to the floor as both you and Frankie rush forward. You wrap your hands around Chip’s body, pulling against the hold around his neck with a sob. You dig your nails into the unnatural leathery feel of it, the pained hiss from behind the grate your only warning before it moves wildly for you.
You fall back just out of reach and quickly drag the solid weight of Chip with you, the soles of your shoes slipping with your hasty shuffles backwards in an effort to move away from the chute.
Frankie appears from the side and aims a harsh foot at the flailing arm, his grunt and the distinct sound of breaking bones filling the barely lit basement before the heavy slide of metal grating along the ground claws at your ears.
You don’t stop moving until you’re bathed in torchlight, not quite ready to stand and retrieve it as your heart beats wildly in your chest. You inhale and exhale deeply, burying your face in Chip’s fur and cradling him tightly as Frankie works away in the darkness, ensuring whatever he had slid in front of the chute held up.
It’s when you smooth a tender hand down the underside of Chip’s jaw, running along the softness of his throat do you notice it. Your hand feels wet, warm, and you shakily bring it into view, face falling at the bright red that coats your skin.
“Oh god, Frankie—h-he’s bleeding.”
Your words bring him to you immediately.
“Hey bud, you did so good.” Frankie coos hoarsely, dropping to his knees in front of you with a sharp exhale and moving to kiss the space between Chip’s eyes. “Good boy, it’s alright, let me see—”
His fingers pry between his fur, sweat beading and sliding down his temples while his chest heaves from the sudden burst of exertion. His blood rushes through his system, adrenaline firing along his nerves and he takes another deep breath to steady the slight shake in his hands. He finds the injury, his fingertips quickly soaking from the blood as it flows freely from the wound. It’s deep.
“Fuck. It’s—it’s okay. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.”
He tugs at the hem of his shirt, tearing a strip of cotton from it and pushing it to the wound, quietly encouraging you to put pressure against it. Chip whines softly, shifting in your arms but settling when you press kisses above his ears.
“I’ve got you, baby boy. It’s gonna be okay—we’re here.”
Frankie cups your jaw, Chip’s blood smearing along your skin, and he tilts your face until his forehead presses lightly against yours. “I love you.”
You breathe a gentle sigh of relief, eyes falling closed as his warm breath blows across your face. “I love you.”
——
I know I said June 1st I’ll stop using old lists but I prematurely deleted them so yoloo. New lists now in use lmao. Fill out this form if you want to join new lists xo
As a few of you may remember, I recently spoke about getting a job as a feature writer for Screen Rant. This is my third article, but first I’m sharing on here. It would mean so much to me if you checked it out! You can head to my author page too if you wanted to read my other articles. :)
I wrote this one about my beloved Maxwell Lord (& the ugly reality of American consumerism). It’s one of the more analytical pieces I’ve done and I’m really proud of it! You can read it here:
Anyways I hope everyone is having a great day! I’m currently on vacation in Scotland — and I’m off to a concert tomorrow night which I’m super excited for.
Warnings:Fluff, mutual pining, Din being clueless, Established sexual relationship, live sick idiots, mild reference to smut.
A/N:req by @sturkillerbase for idiots in love. “You’re so cute. What did you just say? I said you look like a boot.”
Comments and reblogs really appreciated
Din couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t think, he couldn’t focus. He felt hot under all that beskar and he was vaguely aware that Cara was talking to him - rambling on about staying here, settling down. Why is that when she said that, all he could think about was you.
You, the mechanic he had taken on almost a year ago. You, who had broken down all his walls and pierced him straight in the heart. You, whose hands knew exactly where to touch to comfort him. You, who came along and filled that missing piece of his puzzle. You, who was currently playing with Grogu and the other children - putting thoughts of you holding a baby of your own in his head, his baby.
“If you stare longer, you’ll burn a hole into the side of her head.” He fell forward slightly, startled by what Cara had said before quickly recovering.
“What are you talking about?”
She smiled up at him - that sly smirk she always has around him - her eyebrow quirked. “The only person you’re fooling is yourself, Mando. Plain as day that you love her.” He’s just as bad as she is. She stood then, coming to stand beside him - her gaze drifting over to you.
“You better tell her before someone else snaps her up,” she says with a tilt of her head in your direction. Din follows her line of sight to find one of the local men talking to you. His hand reaches out for you and touches your arm and you laugh at whatever he’s said. It’s like a knife has been thrust into his gut - twisting around for extra effect.
You turn then - as if you can feel the heat of his gaze - and catch him staring. A sweet smile spreads across your face and you wave at him. Din clenches his fist as a wave of anger or jealousy - he’s not quite sure - washes over him. I can’t watch this. He moves away from Cara and storms off, leaving you staring after him with a confused look on your face. Your eyes meet Cara’s and she just shrugs before walking off. Maker, these two love sick idiots.
***
Sometime later, Din arrives back at the hut - having spent most of the day avoiding you - to find you dressed in a skimpy dress. He’s frozen in the doorway at the sight of you - dress clinging to the curve of your breast, flowing out at the waist. You look ethereal.
There’s a slit in the dress that he hadn’t noticed until you move. He can see the skin of your leg all the way up to your thigh and it’s making it impossible to breathe. Suddenly, the beskar armour weighs heavy on his shoulders - all he wants to do is reach out and touch you. Really touch you. Without the armour, without the gloves - without the barrier between you both.
“Din! Are you ok? You’ve been gone all day, Grogu was upset he couldn’t find you.” You’re standing directly in front of him now and he lets his eyes roam over you - hidden behind the safety of the visor. He can feel the heat coming off you - searing into his skin. Your scent - apples, cinnamon and something indescribably you - fills his nose from under the helmet and his brain short circuits.
“You’re cute!” He freezes. Did I say that out loud?
“What did you say?” You say with a soft smile on your face. You know exactly what he said.
“I said you look like a boot.” Trying not to laugh, you reach out to touch his arm but before you can - he pushes past you making his way behind the curtain separating your shared space. You stare at the space he occupied seconds ago, mind reeling. Does he feel the same way? Turning to follow him you’re interrupted by Omera and Cara entering the hut.
“Ready to dance and get drunk on spotcha?” Cara says as she wiggles her hips. They both stand staring at you, waiting for a response. “Eh..can you give us a minute?”
They share a look before turning back to you and nodding. “Can you take Grogu?”
“Sure”, Omera says as she bends down to pick him up. Once they leave you turn towards the curtain, heart racing. I need to know.
***
Din paced the length of the small space he occupied - embarrassment flooding his veins. Dank ferrek!
He’s ruined things now, he knows he has. You’ll think he’s an idiot and leave. Everyone leaves. The only one consistent thing in his life is Grogu and he doesn’t have much of a choice. I need to get out of this. Din begins pulling off his armour - piece by piece - throwing it on the ground haphazardly. He hears Cara and Omera talking and he figures you left for the celebration. It’s safe!
With both hands on either side of his helmet; he lifts it off. Holding it in his hands, he stands there and stares into the visor - his face reflected back at him. The mandalorians are his family, took him in when he was most alone in the world - he owes them his life. They are also his curse. Living by a strict creed that allows no one to see his face, not even the ones he loves.
You can never get too close. How could you when there is a barrier of beskar between you both. In the last couple of months he’s longed to find a peaceful planet somewhere in the galaxy - quite like Sorgan - and settle down with you and Grogu. Maybe you’ll agree to marry him and you can have a child of your own. She’ll never love you.
“Oh Din I’m…I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean…”
Din turns towards your voice to find you w or h your back turned away from him and your hand covering your eyes. She saw my face! You have two options here, kill or marry.
Din tosses his helmet. The loud thud as it hits the floor echoes throughout the hut. He moves toward you now, slow and steady - like any quick movements will spook you. He reaches out to touch you and his heart races upon contact. He loves the feel of your warmth under his touch. Searing into his skin.
“Mesh’la, it’s ok.”
“No! No, I made you break your creed. I’ve ruined everything Din. I’m sorry…so sorry,” you say with a sob. He turns you around and places his hands gently on your cheeks.
“Mesh’la please, look at me.”
“No. I can’t. I…I won’t. I can leave…I won’t tell anyone what I saw…please don’t kill me.”
His heart clenches tight. I could never kill you. “I won’t kill you. I can’t, even if I wanted to. I…I love you Y/N and I want you to see my face properly, so please look. He pulls your hands away but your eyes are shut tight. “You can’t be a Mandalorian anymore Din, I made you….I’ve ruined it all…”
“I can still be a Mandalorian. I love you and I want you to see my face. I want to give you that. Give you all of me. Marry me?” He whispers beside your ear.
Slowly you open your eyes and you’re met with the most beautiful brown eyes you’ve ever seen. You take him in. His hazel eyes, his brown hair that’s slightly dishevelled from the helmet and the light facial hair he has along his jaw. He was beautiful.
“Will you marry me?” Your eyes search his, and you see the sincerity in his gaze. A smile spreads over your face.
“I love you too Din. I have for a long time. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Din reaches down and his lips touch yours in a soft kiss. A moan slips past your lips and he devours it with his. Pulling back he leans his head against yours - his eyes gazing into yours. “Just repeat after me. Mhi solus tome, Mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde”
You repeat what he says word for word and then he reaches into his back pocket and places a ring of beskar into your finger. “What did we say?” Din smiles - his eyes glued to the ring, his ring, adorning your finger before looking straight at you.
“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors. They are mandalorian vows.”
“So we’re married now? That was easy.” He chuckles before his lips meet yours again in a heated kiss. His hands begin to roam a little and you can feel him harden against you. “Maybe we should start working on those warriors?”
A growl emanates from deep within his chest as he grabs your ass tight, pulling you close. “How long do you think we have?”
“Hmm, I’d say maybe an hour before Cara comes to find us.”
Just a few quick questions to find out what the reader wants from me and my writing.
Everyoneeee! I mean everyone needs to check this amazing kickass gorgeous writer’s work out!! You will not be disappointed at all, I promise youuu! And she gots new ones to come, so come along on the beautiful breathtaking ride!
Ps.
Ekkkk! I’m so excited and can’t wait to see what you’ll create with the other fandoms! I already know they’ll be amazingly breathtakingly badass! ( but always, never rush or push yourself to get stuff done.. Do what makes you happy and such. )
Aahhh stop you are amazing and I appreciate you so much. I swear you get a kick out of making me emotional
I’m excited to write for other fandoms (and a little nervous) but I will still mainly be a pedro girl
Warnings:Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), angst, mentions of drinking blood, cursing, enemies to lovers.
Summary:You and Max have been working together for the last year and there is only one thing you have in common - you both hate each other! Now you are both in competition with each other for Ted’s job. Who will win? Who will lose? Will you both realise that’s there’s a fine line between love and hate?
Warnings:Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), PinV sex, sub/dom relationship, orgasm denial, Zach has a temper (not towards you), cursing, fluff.
A/N:first req from my darling @scorpio-marionette for the smut prompt “mmm, I want you to look at me when I’m inside you.” I went with Zach on this one - there just isn’t enough of him.
Warnings:Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), angst, mentions of drinking blood, cursing, enemies to lovers.
Summary:You and Max have been working together for the last year and there is only one thing you have in common - you both hate each other! Now you are both in competition with each other for Ted’s job. Who will win? Who will lose? Will you both realise that’s there’s a fine line between love and hate?
Warnings:Fluff, public shows of affection, mentions of pregnancy., little bit of anger, mention of death and prison, mention of drugs.
A/N:req by @browneyes-issac from the prompts. “Let’s go home. I am home.” I just changed this around a little. Hope you enjoy ☺️ also I will be using my old Taglist until Sunday and then it will be the new one sign up here
Warnings:Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), angst, mentions of drinking blood, cursing, enemies to lovers.
Summary:You and Max have been working together for the last year and there is only one thing you have in common - you both hate each other! Now you are both in competition with each other for Ted’s job. Who will win? Who will lose? Will you both realise that’s there’s a fine line between love and hate?
Warnings:Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), angst, mentions of drinking blood, cursing, enemies to lovers.
Summary:You and Max have been working together for the last year and there is only one thing you have in common - you both hate each other! Now you are both in competition with each other for Ted’s job. Who will win? Who will lose? Will you both realise that’s there’s a fine line between love and hate?
Max insisted on driving and honestly, you were grateful - your anxiety was becoming overwhelming and you would not have had the focus to drive safely.
Fidgeting with your fingers - something you did to try to calm yourself when you were like this, you closed your eyes briefly and took a deep breath inwards, trying to calm your racing heart. Please let this day go off without an incident from Dad.
Max threw a sideways glance at you, a worrisome feeling settling in the pit of his stomach with what he had just heard in your mind - he’s never seen you like this - and it wasn’t something he wanted to get used to either.
“Everything ok, toots? You seem a little on edge.” Opening your eyes and looking in his direction, you gave him your best fake smile. “I’m fine, promise.”
“Hmm, and if I believed that, I’d believe anything.” Max narrowed his eyes on the road and insisted that you share what’s on your mind without trying to pry it out of you. “Come on, you can talk to me, Toots. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye but I care about you and I want to help if I can.”
“I appreciate it, Max, I do, but you can’t help me. My family - more specifically my father - is a fucking pain in my ass and he hates me.”
“Come on he doesn’t hate you, parents don’t hate their kids - they can get angry, sure, disappointed, but not hate.”
“Ha, you don’t know my father. I’ve never been able to do anything right, not in his eyes anyway.” The words spilled from your mouth like it was normal, it was normal and it shouldn’t be, but it’s something that you’re used to now.
“Then why don’t we just say fuck it and not go. I’ll drive us anywhere?” Max countered with a different idea, a much better idea than attending this wedding that you’ve dreaded for months. If only it were that easy.
“I can’t. The irony of it all is that I’m constantly seeking his approval and if I don’t show up - I’ll be disowned.” Shooting down the suggestion, Max reaches over and places his hand on your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. “I could just kill him?”
Erupting into a fit of giggles, it really shouldn’t have been funny but your emotions were all over the place. You’re laughing so hard that you could barely see Max through your watery eyes. God, I love you.
The laughter died off with that thought, amusement had been replaced with another worry. You were so caught up in the moment that you forgot that he can listen in if he wants to, so the question was, did he hear it?
Max is frozen. He definitely heard it and he kept his eyes straight ahead with doubt circling his mind. Did she just say what I think she said?
***
Arriving at the venue - an overpriced hotel with too many sparkly chandeliers - you take a deep breath before exiting the car. Max appears at your side, wrapping an arm around your waist as you both make your way inside.
Fake smiles and formal greetings are made as you pass distant relatives and family friends; people that you only ever see at events like this. Max can already hear your heart begin to beat fast again and he leans down to whisper in your ear, “it’s ok, breath, I’ve got you.”
Fuck!If you didn’t already love the man, you certainly would after that. A simple yet meaningful gesture of reassurance in a time that you really needed it made you feel weak in the knees. You smile up at him with appreciative eyes. “Thanks, for coming with me. I’m glad you’re here, Max.”
There’s that flutter in his chest again and he battles with himself silently. Say it! Say it now before you lose your nerve. “There you are, you’re late.” Max’s thoughts of saying what’s on his mind were halted as he followed your gaze to see an older man approaching - small, slightly rounded stomach and the only resemblance you have to him are your eyes. Those gorgeous eyes that Max loves so much.
“We’re not late, half the guests haven’t even arrived yet by the looks of it.” You defended yourself and Max to your Dad, but he fired back. “Don’t take that tone with me-” Your father stopped mid sentence, looking at Max with scrutiny, “-and who is this?”
Immediately taking action, the vampire moves his hand from around you and goes to shake his hand, making sure to squeeze tight. Your fathers face scrunches in pain a little before you nudge his side. “I’m Max Phillips, Y/N’s boyfriend. It’s a pleasure to meet your sir.” He doesn’t say anything as he turns his gaze back to you. “Your boyfriend can’t sit up front with us.”
“Why not?” You realtialted, to which your father retorted. “He isn’t family.” Your blood boiled with the audacity of this man and you fought back, again. “Max is my boyfriend, he’s my family.”
“He still can’t sit with us,” your father states before getting distracted by some guests, turning away from you and ending this discussion. I’m going to fucking kill him. You try to storm after him but Max wraps his arms around your waist, stopping you. “He isn’t worth it baby. How about you go sit with them and I’ll find a seat at the back.”
“Hell no! I’m sitting with you, come on.” You wrap your hand in his and pull him along to the back where you take your seats. Max can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. I am so fucking proud of you.
***
The ceremony is beautiful. Your sister is a stunning bride and her husband Gerry absolutely adores her. Even though you’ve always been the shadow in her light, constantly compared against each other, you’re happy for her. “Ever thought about it?” Max whispers in your ear as you make your way to the reception hall.
“Though about what?” You asked. Turning to face him as he jerked his chin outwards with his answer, “This. Marriage?”
“Hasn’t every girl at some point.” He gives you an incredulous look and you roll your eyes with a half smile on your face. “Ok yes, I’ve thought about my wedding. Happy?”
“Yup.” He turns his attention away from you to the sign displaying the seating arrangements. What the hell, why is he asking that? “Have you thought about it, Max?”
The man laughs, sounding shy. “Not until recently.” What?He grabs your hand and leads the way to your table. Even though Max doesn’t need food to survive - for obvious reasons - he still has a few mouthfuls. I need to blend in sometimes toots he’d said, and you couldn’t help but smile at the concentration on his face as tried to act like a regular sociable human.
I could get used to this, you thought and ducked your head, forgetting once again that he can hear you. Though, Max looked at you, as if he were about to say something but a voice cut him off. “Y/N! There you are, I’m so happy you came. I know this was hard for you so I appreciate it.” Your sister - the bride was the voice that cut him off.
Pulling you in for a tight hug with a bright smile, she’s breath-taking, always has been. “Claire, this is Max my..”
“Her boyfriend,” he speaks for himself with a wink before pulling Claire in for a hug too.
“It’s lovely to meet you Max,” She beams, then pulls back to look at you, “my sister failed to tell her little sister she was dating. Don’t pay any attention to our father, he can be…well difficult. Anyway, better go mingle. Don’t leave without saying goodbye, ok?”
“I won’t.” Max nodded as the bride walked away. “She seems nice.” You glared at him then. “Well she’s married now, so hard luck.” Max looks at you with a confused expression. Without questioning it, he simply listens to your inner monologue instead. Everyone always thinks she is better than me - funnier, smarter, prettier. Of course Max would think the same.
“Yeah she’s pretty, I’d be lying if I said otherwise but in a cute way.” Acting quickly, Max tells you what you need to hear, “Definitely not my type. You are my type. You’re not cute, you’re gorgeous, you don’t put up with my shit and put me in my place, and you are amazing in bed. You do this thing with your…”
“Ok enough.” You say putting your hand over his mouth, a blush on your face. “Thank you.”
As the day progressed, your nerves slowly easing off with Max’s soothing presence and reassuring gestures, you started to actually enjoy the celebratory atmosphere and put your own worries aside, to be there for your sister.
Occasionally she and Gerry would lock eyes with you, raising their glasses with a nod and almost every time, your father would scowl. When dinner was served, you and Max just enjoyed your own company, giggling at his remarks about your dad. The champagne helped a bunch too, loosening up the tension in your body and mind.
“I need to take a leak, toots,” Max kissed your cheek and pushed his chair back to stand, “I’ll be back shortly.” Sitting alone with just your thoughts, you concluded that this day wasn’t all too bad and you were thankful that Max accompanied you, he made it better in every way possible.
However, with a quick glance over to the head table and noticing that your dad was not there, you instantly sighed with a plea under your breath, “Please Max, if my dad is in the restroom, don’t cause a scene.” Using his absence as an opportunity, you stood from your chair also and walked over to chat with your sister and brother in law.
“Hey, you. Getting lonely over there?” She leaned up from her seat, opening her arms wide for another hug. “Yeah, you could say that. Max is in the restroom,” you smiled and leaned in, kissing her cheek. “Please tell me Dad is at the bar?”
Pulling back and greeting Gerry, the look on your sister’s face confirmed your worries and you immediately started fidgeting with your fingers again. “Stop that,” Clair noticed your anxiety straight away, she always does, “and don’t worry. I’m sure Dad won’t cause a scene on my wedding day.”
It’s not Dad that I’m worried about. Nodding to her, you put on yet another fake smile and kept looking to the gents restroom, dreading for Max to reappear with blood dripping down from his fangs, but to your absolute surprise, the men walked out together - laughing?
Both you and Claire shared a look of concern, and even Gerry voiced his opinion on the sight, “Huh. That’s weird, a minute ago he wouldn’t shut up about Max now they’re best buddies.”
“Oh that’s good old Max. He has a way with… charming people,” Laughing to the couple nervously, you made an excuse to leave and go back to your own table while Max and your father stood at the bar, ordering a round of drinks and being rowdy about it. This can’t be good. What have you done Max?
The man turned to look at you with your thoughts, winking with a cheeky smile before turning his attention back to your dad. Clearly he has glamoured him, put him under some sort of compulsion. Though, you can’t complain considering how happy and laid back he looked, so Max must have said something right.
A couple moments later, Max came to join you at the table again, your father walking past with a waving smile and a glass of whiskey in his hand. No, you certainly can’t complain about the compulsion, he’s in a better mood.
“You’re not going to ask about your dad?” Max sat down and leaned into your side, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “No.” keening at his touch, your hands roamed the expanse of his thigh beneath the table cloth. “Don’t need to know, just really grateful for the result, Max.”
“Oh yeah? How grateful?” He smirked. Tensing with the touch of your deft fingers trailing up his thigh, Max hummed deeply and whispered sweet nothings against the shell of your ear, drawing out a soft sigh to escape past your lips. “I’ll show you later in the bedroom,” you say, biting your lip. “I’ll do that thing that you love.”
Max groaned eagerly, his gaze was intense with impatience for the night to hurry up and come to an end. You gave his thigh a quick squeeze before retracting your hand at the sounds of a microphone being tapped excessively, followed by someone speaking into the thing. “Can everybody hear me ok?”
Marc, the best man, prepared his speech. You and Max paid little attention as his hand kept sneaking up your thigh now, payback for your actions mere moments ago. Marc went on to talk about his younger days with Gerry, specifically of the time where he first met your sister and how he knew that his buddy was in love at first sight.
You did finally pay attention when your father made snide remarks here and there, fueled by alcohol no less. Or was it? As Max nipped a path of kisses along your neck, without a care for who sees, your eyes narrowed in on Gerry, on his red angry facial expression.
When he snapped his head to the side to reprimand your dad quietly, you knew something else was going on. It wasn’t just the alcohol. “Um, Max?” Tilting your head with a quiet whisper, you now want to know exactly what the vampire had done. “What did you say to my dad in the restroom?”
“Told him to relax, have a good time…” Placing a wet kiss to the back of your ear, your eyes threatened to roll shut as his hand inched closer to your heat. “…Told him to squash whatever quarrels he has with you and let bygones be bygones.”
“Uh-huh.” That didn’t sound too bad. However, it didn’t explain why your dad was being a bit of a dick about the best man’s speech, so you persisted with Max. “Anything else you might’ve said to him that you’re not telling me?”
“Hmm,” Max smirked against your skin. “Let’s say it’s my gift for you. A little payback.”
Just as you were opening your mouth to protest, you stopped to gasp when the man had made contact with your core, finding your panties hot and damp. Max’s touch had a much more prominent effect on you, far more than you yourself anticipated it would.
A broken whisper of his name bubbled up from your throat as he started to pull your panties to one side. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he slid a digit through your slick folds with ease. “Look at you, toots. So wet for me and I barely touched you.” Max degraded with a dark chuckle, pulling his hand back, you whimpered with the loss as he brought his finger to his lips and sucked the evidence of your desire.
At the sound of music filling your ears, you tore your eyes away from Max’s dark taunting smile and looked to the dancefloor. Claire and Gerry were rising from their seats and walking out hand in hand. It was the first dance and it couldn’t have come at a better time, Max was becoming feral. You’ve seen that look in his eyes before.
Max wrapped an arm around your waist, resting his hand to your hip with a grabbing squeeze and you leaned into his touch with a question. “Are you finished teasing me now?”
“Not even close, baby.” The man laughed. Looking at the dancefloor as cool as a cucumber, like he hasn’t just had his hand between your legs then tasted a sample of your juices off his finger, Max jerked his chin outwards, “But first we have a show to watch.”
“Don’t you mean the first dance? It isn’t a show Max,” You corrected him, jabbing a finger into his ribs playfully as your own little payback for him playing games with you. Giggling to yourself when he jolted with the action, he repaid the favour by tickling your sides, causing your hands to reach out onto his chest with a plea, “Ok-ok. I yield. Please stop that.”
Granting your wishes, Max resorted to just resting his hand on your hip again, but he brought his other hand up from under the table to look at his watch, sparking your intrigue, “What’s up?”
“I told you, we have a show to watch,” Max replied nonchalantly, “Patience, babe. Your gift is coming any minute now.” Instantly turning your head to face the head table, your father was not there and your stomach dropped with dread. Oh God, Max what have you done?
***
The sound of a mic tap draws your attention and you look up to see your father on stage looking around nervously. “Stop! Stop right now.”
Everyone gasps at your fathers interruption. Gerry is being pulled back by Claire who whispers something to him. “That’s it Claire, tame that beast of a husband. Bloody sham of a wedding. Cost me a fortune, ungrateful bitch. I need everyone to quieten down, I have something I want to say to my daughter, Y/N.”
You can feel people’s eyes drift to you and a worrisome feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. Max’s hand - the one resting on your thigh - squeezes gently in reassurance and you meet his gaze for the briefest moment before turning back to your father. Max hopes he’s done the right thing. That you won’t hate him after this.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way I’ve always treated you. For making you feel like you were never good enough and always comparing you to your sister Claire. You are far better than her in every way. You’re beautiful, strong willed, independent and amazing at your job and any man would be lucky to have you.”
“John!” You hear your mother gasp out in outrage. The only thing you can focus on though is Max. How these are his words coming from your fathers mouth and how you want nothing more than to grab his face and kiss him hard. I love you. You let the words linger in your mind, knowing full well he can hear but you don’t look at him, you don’t want to see the rejection on his face.
Suddenly your father drops to his knees and starts barking. Barking!He begins to move around on all fours, licking himself and sniffing some of the guests’ asses. He throws himself onto his back and waggles his arms and legs in the air - looking for a belly rub?
Your hand shoots to your mouth and Max looks to you now, worried he’s gone too far but then he feels you shake beside him. Is she laughing? You can’t control it anymore, the laughter falling from your mouth as you hold your stomach. Max feels a sense of relief. “Did I do good?”
“That was amazing. I love you…” You gasp, having realised you said it out loud. It’s out there now and you can feel him stiffen beside you. Tears form behind your eyes threatening to fall at any moment. Well done, you’ve ruined it all now. Max’s hand grabs your chin and suddenly his lips are on yours, kissing you passionately. “I need you, now.”
“Let’s get out of here.” Max stands and reaches for your hand, leading you out to reception. “I need a room for the night.” What is he doing? Max leans into you - his breath hot on your skin. “I want you to fuck you so hard, everyone in that reception hall knows who you belong to.” A shiver runs through you and your cunt is aching with anticipation. Oh yes please.
Rating:Explicit (18+ ONLY, minors this is not the fic for you)
Warnings: unprotected sex (this is fictional wrap it up irl), cum eating, Mando’s manspread is its own warning tbh, attempted assault (grabbing your arm until Mando intervenes), f! masturbation until interrupted how dare, the helmet doesn’t come off until it does, cursing, I think that’s it but as always let me know.
Summary: You realize Mando has a feature in his helmet that lets him see how hot you are at a really inconvenient time. That’s it. That’s the plot.
A/N: Some of you may recognize this as a sneak peek I posted months ago and never posted. So yes, it’s finally here.
Rating:Explicit (18+ ONLY, minors this is not the fic for you)
Warnings: unprotected sex (this is fictional wrap it up irl), cum eating, Mando’s manspread is its own warning tbh, attempted assault (grabbing your arm until Mando intervenes), f! masturbation until interrupted how dare, the helmet doesn’t come off until it does, cursing, I think that’s it but as always let me know.
Summary: You realize Mando has a feature in his helmet that lets him see how hot you are at a really inconvenient time. That’s it. That’s the plot.
A/N: Some of you may recognize this as a sneak peek I posted months ago and never posted. So yes, it’s finally here.
Summary: After years of hiding, Din finds his girlfriend on a planet with a child.
Warning: Fluff, Angst
Word Count: 1.8k
a/n:. Requests are open.
Three suns ruled over the land and the clouds in the hues of murky waters had travelled away. Tall trees protected the inconspicuous cottage of light stone. Smoke rose from the chimney, letting the inhabitants of the village know that someone lived in the nondescript building on the outskirts in the far south by the lake of hundreds of waterlilies.
Flowers of various colours grew out of the dark soil, bordered by a holey fence in light tones. The woman, dressed in the long dress in light shades, looked through the tinted window flanked by long curtains and witnessed her daughter sitting under the lonely tree playing with her dolls of straw next to the sandpit. The cake Y/N had baked was on a plate on the round table with two identically looking chairs of wood.
Smiling, the young mother strolled through the kitchen towards the open door leading into the house and leaned against the frame, unable to take her eyes off of her daughter playing in the shade of the tree. Her heart ached, realising her little sunflower had grown fast. She didn’t have to count, had placed six candles on the cake of fresh strawberries and slices of apples. Y/N pushed herself off the wood and stepped into the light of the fading suns.
“Hey my little sunflower.” Y/N breathed.
Laughing, she halted in front of her daughter, playing with the three dolls. The dark brown eyes immediately settled on Y/N and again a dagger pierced through her aching heart, felt how it broke each year a little more. Guilt dripped from her parted lips, but Y/N knew she had done the right thing. No child should be raised in a spaceship, and Y/N knew they would have taken her daughter away the moment she was born. A veil of sadness rested over her features. Tears tried to block her view of her child, but Y/N was proud she had escaped before anyone could find out she was carrying the creation of deep love.
The memories of the early morning when she had disappeared returned and Y/N remembered the moment as if it had happened yesterday. In great haste she had fled, was heading for a planet far away from war, from ships, destruction and hunters trying to kill them all. Sometimes when darkness ruled with iron fist over the fields, Y/N wondered if she had made the right decision, but whenever Y/N looked out the window and saw her daughter playing in the garden with an unmistakable smile on her face, Y/N knew she had done the right thing.
“Mama, don’t cry,” Eloise breathed, thought she understood the sadness in her mother’s gaze.
Gently, the young girl placed her hands on her mother’s cheeks and brushed the hot tears away.
“I don’t mind that you gave me a doll as a present and the cake you baked and the dress you made is wonderful, I’ll show it to my friends’, they’ll surely want you to make them one too.” laughed the girl, wanting to cheer her mother up, thinking she knew the reason for the falling tears.
“I’m not crying because of you, my sunflower. I’m fine. The suns are blinding.” Y/N tried to talk herself out of it, but she couldn’t, couldn’t fool her daughter.
“Come here mum, I don’t mind and I want to eat the cake tonight and later I will read the book and I heard the stars will be out today so we can stay out here in the garden.”, “That’s a beautiful idea and I’m already looking forward to it.” replied Y/N.
The girl with the long dark brown hair rose from the meadow and let go of the dolls reflecting a small perfect family, Y/N couldn’t give her. Spreading her arms, Y/N immediately understood what her daughter desired and embraced the dark-eyed girl, hugging her tightly and pressing her firmly to her chest.
“Mummy?” the girl breathed into her mother’s ear.
Fear was evident in her troubled voice.
“Is everything alright?”, “I’m scared, mum, there’s a strange-looking man. He is looking at me and you.” Eloise stammered.
Suddenly Y/N´s eyes widened. Swiftly she turned and then gulped. The suns were no longer blinding, clouded by a dense layer of wandering clouds yet she shielded her eyes with her right hand, thought her eyes were fooling her. Y/N would recognise him clad in heavy armour among billions. Her heart stopped beating. The cloak was long, swayed back and forth in the rising breeze. Y/N’s fingers clawed into the flowing material of the dress of her daughter, forcing her to stay behind her, trying to protect her with her body, would protect her with her life.
“Don’t be afraid my sunflower, stay behind me.” Y/N demanded in a stern tone.
Y/N knew there was no point in leaving, to run away.
“Who is that man?” “You don’t have to fear; I will protect you and if he gets too close, then hide in the house. Run away and don’t come out.” Y/N instructed calmly.
“And what about you?”, “Didn’t you hear me?” she said sternly, and Eloise nodded.
His breathing was heavy, recognised the woman he still loved from the depths of his heart. How many years he had spent with searching for Y/N, Din no longer remembered but knew it had to be many, more than five. Anger spread through his chest. Under his mask, he grimaced, had noticed the girl, knew the woman, his wife had found a lover, a new man.
“How can I help you?” Y/N asked unsure what to say.
Y/N tried to be emotionless, didn’t want to show fear and agony, knew she had to be strong but her lower lip betrayed her.
“Why did you leave me?” it escaped him.
Warmth spread through her heart. The last time she had heard his was a long time ago, so long, seeming for forever. The words were harsh and dripping with venom yet there was love lurking in the shadows. Din didn’t want to waste a second with asking useless questions, needed answers as fast as possible.
“I’m sorry.”, “You’re sorry?” he cried.
Y/N flinched, feeling her daughter’s fingers digging harder into the flowing dress.
“I had to Din, I couldn’t stay. I had to leave everything behind.” Y/N tried to reassure him.
“Because of who? How could you do this to me? I love you.”, “You betrayed me!” he screamed from the deepest recesses of his soul.
Sadness was evident in his breaking voice. Threateningly he approached her but Y/N did not flinch, making herself taller, knowing Din had noticed the girl. His senses were clouded and eyes dilated. Darkness rooted in them, dark and dooming. Words dripping with hate, an enchanted potion escaped, but Y/N felt no hate nor fear, had fallen in love with the dark eye’s moons ago, knew he would never hurt her.
“I have wasted years of my life looking for you! I’ve destroyed ships and planets just for you, to find out that you live on a lonely planet and you’ve found a new man. I thought you died.” hatred oozed from his voice.
“I didn’t cheat on you Din. I would never do something like that. Please believe me, I love you, I have always loved you.” Y/N said.
She felt fingers digging into the long dress but suddenly the touch disappeared. Eyes met on a battlefield, he made it impossible to look away. Tears tried to cloud her vision.
“Get away from my mama!” echoed a shaking yet firm voice.
Fists collided with the steel of the armour in dark hues. Small hands tried to push him away, and the man allowed it, looked down and suddenly he saw clearly. The story became clearer.
“Eloise.” she breathed her daughter’s name.
A mask covered his face, but Y/N thought she could see the confusion in the eyes settling on the girl who stood protectively before her mother, arms wide, forbidding him to come closer. Tears adorned her face and her cheeks were painted in a light red tone. Firmly Y/N pressed her daughter tightly against her, hugging and breathing loving words into her ear.
“Everything is all right. You don’t have to be afraid of him. He’s actually a nice man.” Y/N whispered in her ear, reaping the words over and over again.
Dirt covered his dark trousers. His hands slid to the helmet and dropped it to the ground. He couldn’t believe his eyes, thought his helmet made him see other things, but he saw the colour of his eyes, saw the tone of his hair and his tan skin. Closely Din studied the crying girl in the arms of the woman he loved. The next breeze carried away the veil of hate and anger. Din recognised the eyes and noticed Eloise had his nose and hair. A soft smile spread on his lips, found the answer why Y/N had disappeared and realised he was a fool for believing she had left him for another man. His thoughts humoured him. Hesitantly, Din took one step and gathered courage. Pride filled his chest. With long steps, he slowly went towards them, not wanting to frighten the little girl, and dropped to his knees three steps away from them.
“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, lifting her gaze.
She knew there was no point in hiding the truth behind a layer of twisted tales.
“No, I’m sorry,” Din spoke out.
Love was the only emotion Y/N could see in his eyes. He took off the gloves covering his fingers and let them fall to the ground next to him. The sand was rising with the dust. Slowly Din crawled and halted again as the gazes met and smelled the faint smell of spring lingering in the air. Carefully, his right hand approached her face, wanting to remove the tears he had summoned.
“No, Eloise, you don’t have to be afraid of him. He won’t hurt me.” Y/N said in a loving yet stern.
The little girl listened and nodded, wanted to rise and protect her mother from the touch of the stranger.
“I had to go. I had to leave. Please forgive me.”, “I understand, but I would never have left you alone. The two of you. You should have told me. I would have fled with you if you had told me or I would have made sure they wouldn’t take our child away.” the Mandalorian breathed.
The question didn’t need to escape, had found the answer in her eyes. Smiling, Din faced the young girl, reached out and his heart quickened as his daughter placed her small hand, miniature compared to his, in his palm and Din knew he had found his home.
(It’s more like a short..story? I don’t know, don’t mind me)
No warnings, just maybe know that English is not my first language
He looked at you, catching your gaze on his still sleepy and scruffy appearance.
A shy smile made its way on your lips, knowing that once again, he caught you.
“What?” He chuckled, at what it seemed to lately become a habit of yours to look at him while he peacefully slept.
“Nothing” you smiled back, while a hand went to his cheek, caressing the short stinging scruff growing there
“I just..” a short pause, in which didn’t get lost to him how your smile dropped just a little.
“I’m just scared that every time I wake up, you won’t be there with me. That it was all just a dream..”
You gulped, trying to keep the tears in the back of your eyes and the burning in your throat at bay.
A big, yet delicate hand put some hair behind your ear.
His thumb slowly caressed your bottom lip, hand tracing your cheekbone, and ending its travel on the exposed skin of your shoulder.
He said nothing, two warm chocolate eyes staring back at you. You could see a hint of something in them, maybe sadness, maybe understanding.
You continued
“They always told me that the right person would arrive, to be patient, to not lose hope.
That he was out there, slowly walking his path to me,
But I thought..how can they be so sure about it? It’s not like that for everyone, there are so many lonely people in this world..why shouldn’t I be one of them?”
A shaky breath left your lungs, while he lightly drew calming patterns on your skin, listening
“..they said that you would appear when I less expected it”.
A warm tear escaped, running down your cheek, a sob following.
“Every day, I hoped it was the day you would finally come to me.
I kept expecting you, for so long
And maybe..
that’s why you never arrived.”
The bed sheets suddenly felt colder than usual, while your hand moved to softly caress the empty cool spot near you.
With all of that being said, I do have an idea for Dieter that I want to get down somewhere so I don’t forget.
It’s your classic assistant!reader and she is in love with Dieter, but he doesn’t realize it because he’s just kind of ditzy. Maybe he doesn’t realize he feels the same until it’s too late and then they have a chance meeting a couple of years later or something.
It definitely wouldn’t take place during a pandemic and I’m not sure if there would be drugs in the story because they can be pretty triggering for me. But I wanted to put this out there and see if anyone would be interested in something like it.
Colombia. It was new, scary. And despite spending all day unpacking, my nerves had not calmed. I decided that there was only one thing to do: get myself some pizza, new yarn, my trusted knitting needles, and some new records. It was time for me to relax the only way I knew, knitting while upbeat music plays from the record player, I had placed in my new living room. Sadly, I couldn’t jump into my relaxation as I did need to go out to get said pizza, yarn, and records. I didn’t mind that much though because I did want to explore Bogota.
I grabbed my purse and hopped into my car. The used car I had gotten wasn’t the nicest, but I could afford it and it was better than trying to get public transportation in a foreign country. My first stop was the record store. I picked up one of my favorite records, Rumors by Fleetwood Mac. It wasn’t always my favorite but years of listening to it at home had made me adore it. With my record safely away in the trunk, I drove over to the craft store. There was only a handful in the city, so I was planning on taking full advantage of its proximity to my new apartment.
The store was relatively small, clearly a family run business. The sign above the door read in large cursive letters “Palacio de Artesania”. I entered and found that it was larger than I expected, although still small. The bell above the door rang and I saw what looked like the owner of the store come up to greet me.
“Buenos dias! Puedo alludarte?” The sweet old lady who approached me asked.
“Soy bien ahora,” I responded, hoping my Spanish was okay. It had been a while since I spoke. She nodded and walked over to the other side of the room, where the register was. I spotted a younger looking woman at the register. She was reading a tabloid magazine as she chewed some gum, clearly uninterested in the job she was supposed to be doing. Although in her defense, the place was pretty empty. I spotted two other people, a woman carrying a baby and a man wearing a leather jacket. I paid little attention to either, although my eyes did linger a little too long on the man. He quickly looked towards me and I smiled awkwardly before wandering down another aisle.
I could feel my cheeks flush as I realized I had been caught staring. I couldn’t control it, he just felt out of place. He was dashingly handsome and intimidating, not the type you would expect to be looking at embroidery threads. I shook my head to get myself back to the goal of this mission. New yarn. I wandered the store for a moment before finding the knitting and crochet section. While the selection was small, they did have high quality materials and after a mental check of what colors I needed, I grabbed a couple of skeins and went to check out.
I must have not been looking where I was going because I bumped into the man from before as I turned a corner. The yarn I had been carrying in my arms fell to the ground and I quickly rushed to pick up the mess. He bent down to help me collect the yarn, handing a few to me.
“Gracias señor.” I said, giving him a nod.
“Your accent is terrible.” He said in response.
“Oof, well I’m a little rusty.”
“It’s okay, you’re still cute.” I felt my face heat up at the unexpected complement.
“Javier Peña.” He held out his hand.
“Y/N L/N.” I said shaking his hand. “What brings you here? Not to be rude but I don’t expect an American wearing a leather jacket and tight ass jeans to be in a craft store in Columbia.”
“You like my jeans?”
“Never said that.”
“It was implied.”
“Answer the question.”
“I just like crafting. Embroidery is my favorite, but I’m running out of things to embroider on. As for the Columbia thing, I work at the embassy.”
“Really? I just got a job there! I’m the new receptionist for someone named Messina. What was her first name… Claudia!”
Javier looked like a deer in headlights. He stared at me for a moment before his posture changed and he seemed more closed off.
“Look, whatever you do, you can’t tell people that you saw me here. Or anything I told you for that matter. I have a… reputation to uphold.” He spit out.
“Oh, you are one of those types. No worries, I won’t say a thing. Can’t let them know you’re a big softie.”
“I am not a softie.”
“Sure…” I started walking towards the register. “I’ll see you at work, I guess. I start tomorrow.”
“Good luck. You’ll need it.”
With that he seemed to sneak away to another aisle and left me alone. I quickly paid for my yarn and made my way out, nodding at him as I left. I drove to the nearest pizza place, grabbed a cheese pizza, and made my way back home. It was dark by the time I arrived, the day had gone by quickly between the unpacking and the shopping. I grabbed a piece of pizza, started playing my new record, and began preparing to knit. An hour later the pizza was gone, a new record was playing, and the beginnings of a sweater had been knit.
Now it was around midnight, so I put away the record and headed to bed. My mind kept wandering back to Javier. He seemed like an interesting man. And he was even more handsome up close. But he clearly had some problems with expressing himself and I didn’t want to get put into that mess. Still, he made the prospect of my first day a lot more interesting. I would have a friend.
