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wheresarizona · 3 months ago

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Learning to Live Part 35

summary: It’s your wedding night, and you’re finally alone with your husband in the privacy of your hotel suite. Not that you care much about privacy when things get hot and heavy on the balcony.

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, explicit smut, age gap (about ten years), two extremely horny newlyweds, Husband Javier Peña, dirty talk, oral sex (f + m receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie(s), rough sex, loud balcony sex, exhibitionism, romantic bathtub sex, BREEDING KINK (so much), praise kink, marriage kink, love kink, ring kink, drinking, being buzzed, love confessions, body worship, body insecurity (and Javier making you feel better), cuteness aggression, relationship insecurity, romantic comedy, domestic bliss, Javier with kids, a new POV)

word count: 20k+

a/n: Hey! I hope you remember me. Lmao Let me just say the last six months have been literal hell, and my life is still in shambles. On a positive note, I’m no longer working 60-80 hours a week, and I now have time to write. A couple of notes about this chapter. It takes place in January of 1999. With inflation, $150 in 1999 would be $300 today. A big thanks to @devineconjuring for betaing! Also, thank you to @juletheghoul for checking out my Spanish. Thank you for reading!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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The San Agustín de Laredo Historic District, located downtown along the banks of the Rio Grande River, was where the original city of Laredo was established in 1755. The area had many buildings dating back to the 1800s, like the district’s namesake, San Agustín Cathedral—a place you were familiar with as it happened to be the church Chucho and many members of your new family attended and was where he married your mother-in-law some forty-plus years ago.

La Posada was the fanciest hotel in town since it offered room service and had valet parking. It was just down and across the old, narrow brick road from your family’s church. The tall, white bell tower could even be seen looming high in the sky from the hotel’s entrance.

The inn, opened in 1961, had its own rich history as it occupied the original high school building that was constructed back in 1916 and was surrounded by some 19th-century structures—one was a former convent, and another was the Capitol building for the short-lived Republic of the Rio Grande. Most of the buildings in the area showed Spanish and Mexican influences, including the hotel, with its rounded arches at entryways and windows, thick stucco coating the outer walls, and many balconies, courtyards, columns, and elaborately carved doors.

Javi could’ve rented you a regular room at La Posada or even something at the Motel 6 off the highway, and you would’ve been happy as a clam. Your dear, sweet, wonderful husband, however, didn’t think either of those options was good enough for you and somehow managed to book the ever-elusive Presidential Suite; this was the room that a person with any kind of notoriety stayed in when they were passing through the Rio Grande Valley—think B-list celebrities, like Matthew McConaughey, or campaigning politicians.

Most of the hotel was only two stories high, but one stretch had a third level dedicated to a few luxury suites, including where you were staying. Through the double doors of your one-bedroom accommodations was a small entryway that led to the living room featuring a built-in bar—a shelf with a variety of liquors, a countertop with different kinds of glasses, and a cocktail shaker—a sitting area with an entertainment system, and French doors that opened to a private balcony that had views of Mexico across the river. There was a kitchenette, a four-person dining table, and a half bath. Through another set of double doors, the bedroom had a massive two-postered king-size bed, an en suite containing an oversized whirlpool tub, and a shower that could easily fit two people. Every room had beamed ceilings, the wall connected to another suite was made of brick, the color scheme of everything stuck to earthy tones that complemented the exposed beams and wooden furniture, and the art on the walls depicted beautiful river scenery.

No matter how many times you asked, your husband refused to reveal how much two nights in such splendor put him back.

And here you were in the bedroom, you and Javi stripped of your formal attire on the bed that he had the forethought to put a towel down on to keep things from getting too messy. You could not stop yourself from loudly moaning at how good it was; your husband had you in heaven with how he was filling you up, and you were finally at the point of feeling stuffed.

He was beside you, so close your bodies touched. “Yeah?” Javi purred. "You like that? You want more?"

You had to swallow before you could speak, shaking your head as you replied, “God, it’s so good, but I don’t want to get sick.”

“Okay, baby.” He kissed your cheek. “Relax while I clean up.”

Your husband carefully took the paper plate that you had practically licked clean of every crumb of wedding cake and the plastic fork you’d been using. Sitting crisscross on the mattress, you were dressed the same as Javier in nothing but a big, white, fluffy, hotel-provided bathrobe. On the towel in front of you were two more sets of dirtied plates and utensils from the leftovers the two of you ate, which Javi picked up as he got off the bed, heading out of the room to the small kitchen to dispose of them.

Earlier, when your husband revealed the surprise that you’d be staying in this suite for two nights, he told you all of the places in the room he planned to fuck you. From those promises, you imagined that he would toss you onto the bed upon arriving here and have his way with you. What actually happened was you got to the door, and Javi made you laugh when he lifted you over his shoulder like a caveman and carried you across the rented room’s threshold. He did throw you onto the big bed, where the two of you made out for some minutes. It just didn’t go any further because your sweetheart of a husband was aware you were hungry, and that made his biggest priority getting you comfortable and feeding you. So, the first thing he did was strip you out of your dress, the man unable to keep himself from taking a couple of minutes to admire the lacy thong you’d been wearing before he got you naked and had you join him in the shower. Aside from some groping and a little kissing, there was hardly any fooling around since he was so focused on taking care of you, which was sweet.

After that, Javi heated up some of the food from your wedding that the Murphys were kind enough to drop off prior to your arrival since they were staying at the same hotel, and the two of you had a little feast on the bed. Now you were nice and full, but not overly so that you felt sick, just enough that you were relaxed and a little sleepy—a food coma, if you will.

Many pillows were on the bed, and you moved some behind you to prop yourself up and lie back on. You grabbed your almost-empty complimentary bottle of water from the mattress beside you, unscrewed the cap, and took a drink.

“Cielito?” your husband called from the other room. “Do you want anything else to drink?”

The options included the bottle of champagne the hotel gifted you to celebrate your marriage, something from the living room bar, tap water, or the two of you could trek to the floor below to raid the vending machine in nothing but your robes and the slippers that were with them when you got there.

His question made you smile as you re-capped your water, stretching your arm to set the bottle on the bedside table. “No, babe,” you answered loud enough for him to hear. “I’m good—get back in here!”

He returned seconds later, his knees sinking into the mattress as he crawled onto it, smiling. Javi made his way over to you, and when he was at your left side, he wormed his arm behind your back, the other over your front to hold you close, his head nestled on your robe-covered chest. After getting comfortable, he sighed happily, closing his eyes with a little smile on his lips.

“Javi?”

“Yes, mi esposa (my wife)?”

The title made your spine tingle.

“God, I’ll never tire of you calling me that.”

“Good, ‘cause I’ll never tire of calling you it, my beautiful wife.” He quickly kissed over your heart, then rested his head on you again. “What were you gonna ask?”

“Oh, right. I know we should be having the dirtiest, nastiest sex known to man right now—” Javi snorted. “—but, since we just ate, are you cool with us hanging out for a little bit while the food digests?”

“Are you okay with cuddling, or am I hurting your stomach?” He lifted his arm off your belly.

“Cuddling sounds wonderful.” You lowered his arm back to where it was, resting your palm on his wrist.

“Okay.” He nuzzled you with his face. “Would you, uh, want to play with my hair…?”

“You can bet your cute little ass I do.” That made him chuckle. Your fingers pressed into his hair, playing with the soft strands and lightly scratching at his scalp, which earned you a noise from the back of his throat that came close to a purr.

“How was your day?” you asked.

“Fucking amazing. How about yours?”

“Fucking amazing, though talk about our bad sex luck—which reminds me, thank god your dad does his laundry on Saturdays. When we return the Mustang, I need you to distract him while I disinfect his laundry room.”

Javi groaned at the reminder of hearing his cousin and your best friend Robyn fucking in said room. “I don't wanna think about that.”

“And you think I do? I just don’t want our father coming across a condom wrapper, or god forbid a used condom, when he goes to do his chores. You know as well as I do that he’d tell his sisters, and it’d be the chisme (gossip) everyone is talking about Sunday at tía María’s.”

Your hand was still on his head, curling strands of his hair absentmindedly around your pointer finger.

“Los chismosos (The gossipers),” he grumbled. “Hold on, why do we care if he finds evidence someone fucked in there?”

“Um, because they’ll all assume it was us, and I do not feel like announcing to our entire family that I exclusively get rawed and creampied.”

“Why would you announce that…?”

“Do you want everyone to think we’re horny newlyweds who fucked in a laundry room because they couldn’t keep it in their pants until they got home?”

“We are horny newlyweds who couldn’t keep it in their pants until they got home. We almost did fuck in that laundry room.”

“Sure, except if we had, we wouldn’t have left behind any evidence. We’re not sloppy, thank you very much. I mean, I know a lot about Robyn’s sex life—like a lot—but I don’t know how discreet she is. So, we’ll need to make sure nothing was left behind.”

“I say, if they’re gonna be rude and leave shit behind, we just throw them under the bus…”

Your hand stopped moving in his hair.

“You mean the woman who convinced me to let you fuck my ass?” you asked. “The woman who’s held down the fort while you and I fooled around on my lunch countless times? The woman who covered while I got you off in an on-call room at the hospital? The woman who has had our backs so many times I’ve lost count? That’s the woman you wish to throw under a bus?”

There was a pause, and you heard him gulp.

“I’ll tell Pop that I think one of the Mustang’s tires is low on air,” he replied, “so he has to go with me outside while you take care of the crime scene.”

His response had you smiling. “Thank you,” you said, leaning forward to kiss his head.

You resumed playing with his hair.

“No need to thank me. You, uh, had some good points.”

“I know I did.”

“I haven’t had a chance to see your nails.” His hand moved to grab yours that’d been on his wrist, bringing it up to his face to look at your white-tipped fingernails. “Look at those, they’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Thank you. It’s a French manicure, and I thought they’d look really good with my dresses.”

“They’re perfect.” He kissed the back of your hand and continued holding it when his arm relaxed over your stomach again.

For a minute, it was quiet as you both lay there, your fingers slipping through the soft brown waves on his head in comfortable silence.

“Did I tell you what Olivia said before they left?” Javi asked.

“Um, I don’t think so?”

“She confused the fuck out of me—she thinks I play baseball.”

“What?”

“She gave me a pep talk…?” he said it like a question.

“A pep talk? About what?”

“Something about how she knows I secretly play baseball and that I shouldn’t be embarrassed I’m bad at it because I’ll get better the more I practice. To be honest, it was adorable, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I don’t play.”

“That is extremely random. Why would she think you play baseball?”

“I have no fucking clue. I’ve been thinking back on my conversations with her, and I don’t think we’ve ever talked about baseball.”

“Maybe she misremembered something or misunderstood something her parents said? No clue why Steve and Connie would be talking about you and baseball, though.”

“I don’t know, either. They’re both aware I’m a swimmer and played some soccer.”

“True. Who knows where Olivia got the idea.” You shrugged a shoulder.

“Yeah…”

“It’s gonna bother the fuck out of you until you figure it out, isn’t it?”

“A little.”

“We’ll ask Steve and Connie tomorrow at dinner, Detective Peña.” The Murphys were flying home the following evening, and the plan was to have an early dinner at the hotel restaurant before they left.

“Okay, Mrs. Detective Peña.”

“Oh my god!” you gasped. “I am Mrs. Detective Peña now!” you replied excitedly.

“Yes, you are.” The smile was evident in his voice. “You’re my wife.”

“Yes, I am, and you are my husband.”

“The best fucking thing anyone has called me.”

His response had you smiling.

It sometimes caught you off guard how much Javier loved you since the love you felt for him ran so deep that it consumed every fiber of your being. It didn’t seem possible that anyone could love you the same, not when your heart was more his than yours, yet Javi did. His devotion knew no bounds, and he saw you for everything you were and loved you despite it all—to him, you were perfection. No one would ever love you more, and you would never love anyone else more because he was yours, and you were his; fate, destiny, the writing in the stars led you to each other, and now your lives were so intertwined that his heart was your heart, his hands were your hands, his smile was your smile, he belonged to you as you belonged to him.

Enough time had passed for the food in your stomach to settle, and now you could acknowledge the want burning low in your belly, making your pussy drip with arousal. Something about how happy Javi was that he vowed to spend the rest of his existence with you was such a big turn-on that it was time for things to heat up so you could give him the sloppiest blow job to show your appreciation—except, you wanted it to be spicier than usual.

“My wonderful, perfect husband?”

“Yes, my wonderful, perfect wife?”

“You know what we should do right now?”

“Depends—has your food digested?”

“Yep.”

Javi jostled you as he moved his arm from under your back, rising up on it in order to meet your eyes, his plush lips smirking under his perfectly trimmed mustache. “In that case, have the dirtiest, nastiest sex known to man?” And it became evident you’d been together a while when he wiggled his eyebrows at you as you’d done to him many times before.

“You’re such a dork,” you giggled, playfully pushing his shoulder.

“That isn’t a no,” he pointed out.

“No, it’s not.” You shook your head. “But I was thinking we could get some fresh air out on the balcony.” It was your turn to wag your brows at him. Javi chuckled, giving you a big smile.

“Champagne?” he asked. “Or should I get out the salt and limes for tequila?”

“The room came with salt and limes…?”

“No—I brought the salt, limes, and our bottle of tequila from the apartment.”

He also brought you both overnight bags and somehow smuggled your toiletries out of his dad’s house–you’d taken them to Chucho’s the prior night when you stayed over, and you were pretty sure it was Connie who did the smuggling. She probably had Steve deliver your little bag with the food before he returned to their room, which Javi assured you was on the other side of the hotel and out of hearing range to your suite.

Your eyes rounded. “Because you knew I’d need liquid courage to fuck around outside?”

He gave you a look like the answer was obvious. “Yeah?”

“That is so unbelievably romantic. Horny, but romantic.” Grabbing a handful of his robe, you pulled him forward as you leaned toward him, slotting your lips with his, kissing him; he smelled like the floral rose petal-scented shampoo he used in the shower, and he tasted sweet from the bites of wedding cake you shared with him.

When you broke apart, you were both smiling.

“You get the goods,” you told him, “and I’ll meet you outside—I gotta pee really quick.”

“Okay,” he replied and pecked you on the nose.

The bathroom was on the other side of the room, which meant you had to go around the bed after you got off of it, Javi following you and smacking your ass. There wasn’t much of a smack with the thick robe in the way, but it still made you giggle. He headed for the bedroom door, and as you continued your journey to the en suite, something shiny on his bedside table caught your attention and made you frown.

“Babe?”

He hadn’t left the room yet, standing at the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Does the gun have to hang out on your table, or can we put it in a drawer or something?” It was Chucho’s small revolver that he kept in the Mustang. Your husband didn’t want to risk it being stolen, so he brought it up to the room.

“Put it in the drawer.”

“Is it safe to touch…?” Unlike Javi, you did not have a lot of experience with firearms aside from treating many gunshot wounds when you worked in a big city emergency room.

“Would I ask you to touch it if it wasn’t safe?”

“No…”

“Exactly. The safety’s on.”

“That’s good,” you replied and moved closer. “I was worried about you shooting your cute little butt off when you shoved it in the back of your pants.” It was bewildering when he got out of the car and casually tucked the gun into the waistband of his slacks.

A huff of air left his nose. “Fifteen years with the DEA, and I never shot myself in the ass.”

Opening the drawer, the only thing in it was a bible. You carefully picked up the revolver by its grip with two fingers like an old, smelly sock and set it atop the book. “Yeah,” you replied, “‘cause you had the sexy tac-vest-thingy with the holster on the front.”

“I didn’t always wear a tac-vest...”

“What?” you replied, shutting the drawer and spinning around to face him. His fluffy, white robe reached down to mid-thigh on him, and it was tied closed, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. “So, you’d wear a holster on your hip?” you asked.

You thought back to the pictures you’d seen of your husband in Colombia, trying to remember if he was wearing a holster in any of them.

His expression turned guilty. “No…”

The realization hit you. “A butt gun, Javier? You’d just walk around with a gun at your ass? That is not safe.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “The safety was on?”

“Okay? But even with the safety on, it’s still dangerous. I had so many people come through my ER because they didn’t properly holster their weapons. One dude had it in the front of his waistband, and when he went to pull it out, it accidentally discharged into his thigh and hit his femoral artery—dead on arrival.” Javi grimaced. “And don’t get me started on all of the butts I had to look at and treat because they carried like you and weren’t as lucky. Do you think I enjoy looking at strangers' butts?”

“I mean…”

“Us checking out bootylicious babes in San Antonio and Miami does not count, Javier. These butts I had to look at for work were mostly men’s butts, and I can tell you right now, they were not anywhere close to how cute yours is, and dear god, were a lot of them hairy—which, I am so thankful you are not a super hairy guy, and I really do appreciate that you trim your pubes.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He shrugged.

Your eyes lowered to his crotch, picturing what the white garment covered, your mouth watering at the thought of blowing him. Javi cleared his throat to get your attention, your eyes snapping up to his that sparkled in adoration.

“What were we talking about?” you asked.

Javi snorted. “You were getting on my ass about how I carry a gun.”

“Oh, yes—stop being dumb and protect what little ass you have.”

Javier was not going to reveal that there was a gun in the back of his waistband most of the time they went horseback riding.

“I’ll start using a holster,” he said. “But, if we’re going out on Pop’s land, you can’t complain if you see me carrying; I know guns make you uncomfortable, but our safety is more important.”

“Okay.” Her shoulders shrugged.

His eyebrows pulled together—he was expecting more resistance. “Really?”

“Yeah? You told me about all of the dangerous animals out there, and I’ll feel safer if you’re packing—that’s packing as in a gun on your person, not the big dick in your pants.” She winked at him, and Javier huffed in amusement.

“Thank you for the clarification. You’re taking this a lot better than I expected…”

She walked up to him with a grin and threw her arms around his neck, Javier immediately pulling her into him. “It’s marriage, baby,” she said. “We gotta compromise sometimes.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, his head moving forward to rub the tip of her nose with his. He whispered, “Does that mean you’ll let me teach you how to shoot?” Something she’s always refused.

“I don’t know—will it make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then fine, you can teach me.”

He pulled back to look at her. “Really?”

“Yes, because I am an amazing wife who loves my husband dearly.”

He grinned. “You’re a fucking incredible wife whose husband loves you more than anything.”

Javier didn’t give her a chance to respond; his lips crushed into hers, kissing her tenderly, hoping she could feel how happy she made him.

She really was a fucking incredible wife.

When they parted, he gave her another smack on the ass and told her to hurry, his wife giggling as they went their separate ways.

The balcony was covered, with a beamed ceiling overhead and walls on either end to offer some semblance of privacy—the railing was made of wrought iron, the vertical bars twisting like vines into delicate loops and swirls. The only furniture out there was a wooden bistro table situated against the stucco-coated wall with two armless chairs on both sides facing the river. The outdoor light was too bright, and Javier thought it would bring too much attention to them, so he settled on what light filtered out from the living room through the French doors’ windows and the brightness of the moon in the clear sky, illuminating the space in a gentle glow.

He was sitting back in one of the chairs, his legs slightly spread and his arm resting on the table beside him. On the tabletop was the half-drunk bottle of tequila, ziplock bag of cut-up lime wedges, and salt shaker he brought from their apartment, along with a shot glass he grabbed from their rented room’s bar that he washed himself to ensure it was clean.

The night air was cool and a little crisp as he looked out toward the Rio Grande, where, in the distance, he could see the lights of Nuevo Laredo across the way in Mexico. For some unknown reason—maybe being outside or how emotional the day was—Javier was craving a cigarette; even after quitting almost two years ago, he still felt the itch for nicotine here and there, and he’d done pretty well not giving in to the temptation, mainly because there was someone in his life now who distracted him from it. The French doors opened, and immediately, his head was turning in their direction to see his wife coming out.

His beautiful distraction.

He couldn’t keep himself from smiling even if he tried. She looked so comfortable in her robe that matched his, her face lighting up when her eyes landed on him. Her expression took him back to the first time he saw that beaming smile after she handed him the perfect tomato: that was the moment she pulled him in and made him want to know more about the sweet woman who was easily excitable over fresh produce. It was like meeting the sun—bright, warm, happy, and he wanted to bask in her rays and see that smile every day for the rest of his life. Better yet, he wanted to be the reason for that smile, and now he was proud to say he was.

Only a couple of minutes had passed since the last time he saw her, and when she made it over to him, she asked, “Is this seat taken?” She nodded at his knee closest to her, and without waiting for his answer, she sat down on his thigh with her legs between his and her arms around his neck, Javier pulling her closer.

His head was tilted up to look at her, his hand reaching to cradle her face in his palm, staring her in the eyes, smiling.

“I’ve got something else you can sit on,” he said.

“Javier,” she gasped. Her fingers went to his forehead, brushing stray strands of his hair off of it. “I’m gonna need a shot first, maybe two—actually, two for sure, no more than three because, as we know, one shot, two shot, three shot, four-the-love-of-god-stop-crying.”

He chuckled. “Two shots then, pero, quiero que mi esposa me bese primero (but, I want my wife to kiss me first).”

“Cualquier cosa por mi esposo (Anything for my husband).”

Javier couldn’t get enough of her calling him that.

He pulled her down until their lips were a hair's breadth apart. “Dilo otra vez (Say it again),” he rasped.

“Cualquier cosa por mi esposo (Anything for my husband),” she whispered.

“¿Quién soy yo (Who am I)?”

“Mi esposo (My husband).”

“Sí, chingados que soy (Yes, I fucking am),” he growled, pressing his mouth to hers.

The kiss was anything but chaste with how Javier plunged his tongue between her perfect lips to tangle with hers. His heartbeat sped up, the blood pumping through his heated body and traveling to his hardening cock. He moved his hand from her face down to her bare knee, tracing his fingertips up under her robe over the soft skin of her thigh to her ass to squeeze a handful of it.

There wasn’t the same pent-up need like their kiss in the Mustang when he parked them in the field. This one was instead full of promise for their night ahead, making the anticipation swell that they could now take their time and truly enjoy each other since they already dealt with the sexual frustration of being cockblocked multiple times when they were frantic in the car.

Javier savored the feeling of her mouth on his, how their tongues intertwined, and the sweet taste of her lips. He savored her moans and her fingers combing up through the hair from the nape of his neck to the back of his head, where she clutched it tight in her fists; sparks danced along his spine and collected at the base of it, feeding the fire of his arousal that had him half-hard already and wanting to touch more of his wife’s body.

His wife. His beautiful, smart, sexy, amazing wife.

They kissed until they were breathless, both panting when they separated. He nibbled on her chin, his mouth blazing a path along the underside of her jaw until he was at the taut skin of her neck, nipping and kissing down the column of it.

“Oh, god,” she gasped when he sucked at her pulse point, and it made him smile. She lightly tugged his head back by the hair to make him look at her. “Shots.”

“Yeah?” He squeezed her ass.

“Fuck yes.”

“Okay, baby. Ladies first.”

He got his arm out from behind her back, his other hand leaving her ass as his upper body twisted slightly toward the table to grab the bottle of tequila, unscrewing the cap and pouring the liquor into the clear shot glass. Then he opened the bag of limes and picked up the salt shaker, his attention returning to her.

“Where do you want the salt?” Usually, a pinch was licked off the hand between the thumb and forefinger, but he had other ideas for his turn.

She worked open the tie on his robe and pushed it away to reveal his chest, his arm going back behind her again to give her room. “Here,” she said, bending her head to lave at his nipple with her tongue.

“Fuck,” Javier breathed, swallowing hard—it looked like she had the same idea.

While she sprinkled the salt on him, he took a lime wedge out of the bag and gently bit the rind, holding it between his teeth.

Cielito set the shaker down to grab the shot glass and raised it. “Fuck the leather, fuck the lace, here’s to the one who sits on your face!”

The only reason he didn’t laugh was because immediately after she spoke, her face dipped down to suck the salt off his nipple—the shock of pleasure had the muscles in his thighs tensing. She quickly drank the tequila, her face pinching at the burn before she bit the lime out of his mouth.

The glass was back on the table, his wife setting the remnants of the fruit she sucked the juice from next to it.

“Woo!” she exclaimed. “One down, one to go.” She untied her robe and opened it, Javier’s eyes lowering to her bare tits.

His hand moved on its own accord, skating his large palm up her stomach to fondle her breast. He could hear her say something but didn’t make out the words. Her smaller hand came into view, and the snapping of her fingers ended his trance—he looked up at her. “Sorry?” he said.

She smiled. “I asked where you want the salt.”

“I think you know where I want the salt.” His tongue swiped along his bottom lip at the thought of getting his mouth on her tits.

“That’s why the robe is open.” She winked. “My guess was boobies or neck, and I see you’ve chosen the boobies, a tit for tit.”

“Don’t you mean a ‘tit for tat’?”

“No.” She shook her head. “A tit for tit works better in this situation.”

“I am so in love with you.”

“Good, ‘cause I am so in love with you.”

He took her breast into his palm and leaned his head forward, sucking her stiff nipple into his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat, the fingers on one of her hands going into his hair. Javier came off of her with a wet pop, her skin shining with his saliva. He shook some salt onto her, then poured himself a shot as she got a lime wedge.

“I expect a good toast,” she said. “No, ‘salud.’ Give me something raunchy that you and your guy friends would say in college, or you and Steve in Colombia.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Something raunchy Steve would say? The guy who doesn’t like us kissing in front of his kids?”

“Okay, you know what. The moment I said Steve, I realized the raunchiest thing he’d say before you guys drank would be cheers or bottoms up if he was feeling a bit scandalous. There’s gotta be shit you and your friends in college would say, though.”

He picked up the tiny glass that looked even smaller in his hand compared to hers and took a moment to think about what he could say. He’d never been much into toasting, and in college, they usually drank to getting laid or winning a swim meet. There was something he overheard years ago, down in Colombia, that an American tourist said that stuck with him. He just had to remember the wording…

She had the lime ready for him between her teeth, and he lifted the shot. “Here’s to love, here’s to honor; if you can’t come in her, come on her!”

Cielito was doing her best not to laugh. He sucked the salt off of her breast and shot back the tequila, the mineral lessening the initial burn—it was smooth with a sweetness of flavors, picking up vanilla and caramel and a hint of something oaky that was washed away by the sourness of the lime when he bit into it. The glass went back onto the table, along with used rind.

He looked at his wife. “How was that?” he asked, his hand around her back, squeezing her hip.

“Very good. I loved the play on words.”

“How are you feeling?”

She smiled at him. “Fucking amazing. Ready for round two?”

Javier mirrored her expression. “Where do you want the salt?”

This time, she salted his neck, and when she raised the glass, she said, “To us: may all of our ups and downs be in bed!”

Once again, he didn’t have a chance to chuckle before her tongue was licking up the sensitive skin of his neck, his eyes closing at how good it felt. The alcohol was warm in his belly, and he knew it’d take one more shot before he felt any of its effects—his wife would be feeling it any minute now.

For his turn, he chose her neck as well—a ‘tit for tit.’ He lifted the shot glass, keeping his gaze on hers, another lime wedge in her mouth for him. “To my wife, who I love more than anything. You are my forever and have made me the happiest man in the entire fucking world. This isn’t the best day of my life—it’s only one of them because I know there are many more ahead of us. Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito).”

Her eyes were misty, and he went through the steps—lick, drink, suck—she leaned his way, and he closed the distance, his tongue licking up the salty trail on her throat before he drank the tequila, then sucked the lime from between her lips. The moment her mouth was empty, she said, “Javier, how dare you say something so sweet when my toasts were gross.”

He spit the rind out onto the table with the others, the glass going bottom-up beside them. His hand went to the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. “I meant it all,” he replied, smashing his lips to hers.

His mouth muffled her moan—taking advantage of her parted lips, he licked inside, tasting the lime and sweet hints of tequila, their tongues dancing together as they had countless times before. His free hand gravitated to her tits, roughly palming one, then the other, pinching and rolling each of her pebbled nipples with his fingers.

Javier loved her breathy sounds.

The alcohol’s warmth was spreading through his body, his dick hard and throbbing, barely covered by his robe. His wife gave as good as she got, and she made him groan when she freed his length and wrapped her fingers around him, slowly pumping him up and down.

It was starting to heat up, and there was a list of things he wanted to do, but first, he needed to ensure she was comfortable. He detached his lips from hers, kissing the edge of her mouth, his nose bumping into hers.

“You good?” he asked. “Or another shot?”

“I’m good,” you answered and kissed his plush lips.

The booze had you feeling warm and tamped down your nerves. You were good, you were more than good, your cunt weeping with your need for him.

With the way your husband had been obsessing about eating your pussy all night, you knew that was the first thing he’d want to do, and you were curious to find out what he planned—was he going to sit you in the chair and get on his knees for you? Bend you over the railing and eat you out from the back? Or put you in the position he had you in earlier when you were interrupted, with your back against the wall and him kneeling at your feet? It was honestly a toss-up on what he would choose. Luckily, he didn’t make you wait long.

Javi’s mouth broke away from yours, grabbing your hand that was on him, ordering you, “Up.” You didn’t waste any time, rising to stand in front of him. He grunted as he got up with you, the seat creaking from his movements; he was so close to you that your bodies touched, your palm still in his—he tugged it to make you face him and have you chest to chest.

His eyes were dark with lust when they met yours. “I fucking need you,” he rasped, and suddenly those big mitts of his were framing your face, his lips finding yours. This kiss was fervent, urgent, his need evident as he turned you away from the table and backed you up into the wall beside the chair.

From how passionately he claimed your lips, it seemed his words had a double meaning: he needed you physically at this moment and needed you always in his life. He needed you in every way there was, and wasn’t it the same for you with him? You needed him in every way there was, too. Not only that, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to breathe without him; would your heartbeat cease without him? These were questions you never wanted to learn the answers to.

With your robed back pressed to the stucco wall, it was apparent he wanted to finish what he started earlier, and you were happy to oblige. The glow from the lights in the living room trickling out through the French doors’s windows, along with the moonlight, softly lit the balcony. Thankfully, it wasn’t bright enough for anyone to make out what was going on if they happened to look, and that, added with the tequila, eased any worries you had.

Your robe was untied, Javi shoving it open to reveal your entire naked front, the cool air causing goosebumps to prickle on your warm skin, your nipples to tighten. He kissed you hard one last time and then began his journey down your body. Earlier, when you arrived at the room, your husband was so focused on taking care of you that he didn’t get a chance to take his time to admire your bare figure—something you could tell he wanted to do badly when he was undressing you. Now, he could, the man worshiping you with his lips and hands, kissing and touching every bit of flesh he came into contact with; his palms mapped out your belly and hips, his mouth trailing down your neck to your chest, Javier whispering into your skin as he went, “You’re beautiful… you’re so fucking beautiful… I’m so lucky… fuck, I love you.”

He took your breasts into his hands, his head lowering to suck one of your pebbled buds into his mouth. The pleasure had you gasping and needing to touch him, your palms sliding under his robe to hold onto his waist. His teeth grazed over your stiff peak before he lightly bit it and tugged, making you loudly moan his name; he let it go and moved to the other, enveloping it in the warmth of his mouth, giving it the same attention.

Arousal was coating your inner thighs, the anticipation welling up inside of you—you wanted Javi’s face buried in your pussy as much as he wanted to do it.

Once he gave your tits an ample amount of attention, leaving your nipples and the skin around them glossy with spit, he continued making his way down the front of your body. As he lowered, so did his lips, his kisses all over your stomach imbued with his words of love. “So beautiful… I can’t wait to see you pregnant… you’re gonna look so good with my baby inside you… I love you so fucking much… you make me so happy.”

Even after all this time you’ve been together with Javi, it was still hard to accept that he truly found you beautiful. You knew he meant everything he said, but there were parts of your body you hated, parts that you could still recall word-for-word the negative comments your mother made about them, parts that were far from perfect that you couldn’t believe anyone would ever love. Except, there was someone who did love them—Javi. He genuinely loved every part of you, and he loved them all so reverently and with such conviction—like if he loved them enough, you would, too.

Maybe that would happen; maybe he’d help you break through the years of insecurity, and you would learn to love your imperfections—only time would tell. For now, you were finally to a point where you believed your husband when he told you how beautiful you were, and with his excitement over eventually seeing you pregnant, he’d helped calm your fears about the changes your body would go through.

He kneeled in front of you, grabbing handfuls of your ass while he placed a kiss on your mound. He put your leg over his shoulder to open you up, his fingers spreading apart your lower lips where you knew he could see how wet you were for him.

“Finally,” he whispered, and that was all the warning you got before Javi dove in face first, the flat of his tongue licking up your slit. He had you biting your lip and curling your fingers into the soft strands of his hair, making you keen when he started lapping at your perky little clit.

“Oh, god,” you breathed.

No one ate pussy like Javier—it was like he was starving for it, the rumbling groans he made as he dragged his mouth all over your cunt, wanting to taste every bit of your essence while inhaling your musk. His words vibrated against your cunt, “You taste so fucking good.”

“You’re too good at this,” you panted. The back of your head hit the wall, your eyes closing, moans falling unbidden from your lips as the first signs of your orgasm took shape low in your belly. “I’m so lucky,” you continued. “I can’t fucking believe I get this for the rest of my life.”

For only a second, he paused. “Any time you want it,” he roughly replied. “Fucking love this pussy.” He then sucked on his ring and middle fingers to soak them in saliva. You whined his name when he pushed them into your sopping cunt. There was a slight stretch, Javi putting his mouth back to work, licking and sucking at your sensitive skin. His come—still inside you from earlier in the Mustang—and your arousal had his thick digits moving easily in and out of you, your hips grinding against his face and hand.

“Just like that,” you said. “Oh, god, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Your limbs were beginning to tremble as the pleasure built inside of you, and you cried out as his fingertips rubbed that one spot only he could find—that only seemed to encourage him. He growled into your pussy and doubled down, hitting nirvana every time he pumped his fingers, his mouth focusing on your clit, alternating between sucking it between his lips and flicking his tongue along it side to side, over and over again.

“Oh my fucking god, I love you,” you told him in your blissful haze. “I fucking love you, Javier Peña.”

He hummed something that sounded a lot like, “I love you, too.”

The muscles in your stomach started tightening, the liquor in your system keeping you relaxed as you stood there on the balcony with your tits out, getting your pussy eaten by your new husband. It didn’t take much more to have you cresting, euphoria exploding out from your core as you came, gasping Javi’s name. He loudly groaned, saying, with his face in your cunt, “Good girl.” He replaced his fingers with his tongue, licking up your come and what remained of his inside you while you rode out your high.

Your body went lax, and you slumped; your heart was pounding in your chest, your breaths panting from your lungs. When Javi got his fill, he carefully removed your leg from his shoulder and rose back up onto his feet with a pained sound from his achy knees. He gently kissed your chin, then one side of your mouth, and the other—his lips were wet, and you could smell yourself on him. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his hard cock pressing into your belly. This was when his mouth met yours to properly kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue, hugging him in return, the skin on his back warm under your palms.

Between the tequila and orgasm, you felt amazing, and you wanted your husband to feel the same. You ended the kiss, your hands moving to hold his face as you looked at him—his eyes were closed, his mustache and lower half of his face glistening with your juices, a happy little smile on his lips. He looked so unbelievably adorable that you gave in to the impulse and squished his cheeks to the point his shiny lips pursed—it made you grin.

“You are so fucking cute,” you said. “Even when you look like a goldfish, you’re a capital C, Ca-Utie. Ugh, it’s illegal how goddamn adorable you are.”

His eyes opened. “You done?” he asked, sounding a little funny.

“Obsessing about how cute you are? Never. Like, you’re so cute.” A thought caught you off guard that had your eyes widening, the alcohol in your system amplifying the doubts. “You’re too cute,” you whispered. Letting go of his face, you continued, “Why would you want to be with someone like me? Do you like me?” you asked. “As more than a friend? Like, romantically?” You chewed on your lip.

His eyebrows pulled together, and he squinted, clearly confused. “I married you…” he said slowly.

“Yeah, but did you marry me because you love me or because we’re best friends?”

“Am I married to Steve…?”

“No, but he was already married when you met, and polygamy is illegal.”

“Cielito, mi amor, I married you because I love you, and you’re wearing the proof of that on your finger.”

“Friendship rings exist.”

“I sure as fuck didn’t give Steve my mother’s ring because we’re friends. I love you as more than a friend—wait.” His eyes rounded. Quietly, he asked, “Do you love me as just a friend or more than a friend?”

“How can you ask me that? I definitely love you as more than a friend!”

“You asked me first, and it fucked with my head!”

“I’m sorry, I needed to double-check.”

“I needed to double-check, too.”

“Well, I love you so much that I want to have your babies—” You poked him in the chest. “—and I can tell you right now, I don’t want to have Robyn’s babies. I mean, unless it was like a surrogate situation.”

That made him smile, his hands rubbing up and down your covered arms. “I want you to have my babies, too.”

“Then that settles it. We love each other as more than friends, but you’re still my best friend.”

“You’re still my best friend.”

“I won’t tell Steve.”

“I won’t tell Robyn.”

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly, the two of you smiling when you broke apart.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“We’re a couple of dumbasses.”

An amused breath left him. “It’s a good thing we married each other, then.”

“True. Dumbasses need to stick together. Now,” you gripped the open edges of his robe and turned you both, pressing him back into the wall hard enough that he grunted. “It’s time for me to blow your popsicle, Mr. Peña.” Something you said you wanted to do earlier, but he told you could happen later.

“Mi cuerpo es tu cuerpo, Mrs. Peña (My body is your body, Mrs. Peña). You can do any-fucking-thing you want to me.”

You grinned. “I love when you tell me that.” You leaned in to give him one last lingering kiss.

It was your turn to make him feel good, and you began by kissing down his body, starting at his jaw and moving lower and lower, down his gorgeous neck, his chest, his soft belly, crouching when you made it to the happy trail of hair below his belly button that you followed until you were face to face with his hard cock. It looked even better than you imagined earlier–long, thick, and with that slight curve that felt so fucking good when he was inside you, the tip flushed and shiny with precum. The tile beneath you was unforgiving when you kneeled on it, raising your arms above your head to drag your fingernails down his stomach and through the curls, Javi’s head falling back against the wall with a soft moan.

You spat in the palm of your dominant hand, wrapping your fingers around his shaft—it was hot and hard, Javi twitching in your grip as you started languidly pumping him.

Looking up at your husband through your lashes, you said, “Hey, babe?”

His face tilted down at you.

“Yes, mi amor?”

“What do you call a nurse with dirty knees?”

His eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

“A head nurse.”

He went from chuckling to groaning loudly when the flat of your tongue licked up his length from root to tip, swirling it around the sensitive edges at the head. You reveled in how his eyes squeezed shut, and his mouth fell open, loving the salty tang of his precum as you took him into your mouth, continuing to stroke what didn’t fit. His big hands found their home in your hair, moving with your bobbing head as you hollowed your cheeks, taking more and more of him until he was hitting the back of your throat.

His rough voice came from above, “That’s it, baby—it feels so fucking good.”

That only egged you on. It could be said that you were an expert at blowing your husband. You knew all the things that made him tick and what would really get him going, like when your head rose off of him, gathering a wad of saliva on your tongue that you let drip onto the tip of him.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Spit on it.”

More saliva fell, slicking up the movements of your hand stroking him. You ducked your head, sucking one of his balls into your mouth.

His fingers tightened in your hair. “Fuck,” he groaned, and the way he said that word had your cunt clenching. You tongued at the thin skin of his sack, then gently sucked his other ball, your palm on his dick twisting on every upstroke to slide along the underside of the head.

The muscles in his thighs were tensed as you licked up his shaft to take him back into your mouth. His hips just barely rocked as his dick slid further and further along your palate until you were swallowing around him, his cock sliding into the tight space of your throat. Your nose pressed into the neatly trimmed curls at the base of him, smelling the soap he washed with in the shower.

“Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasped. Tears collected in the corners of your eyes as saliva dripped down his length, your hands clutching his thighs. You looked up, meeting his dark gaze, seeing the clear love and desire he had for you. “So pretty with my dick down your throat.” His palm caressed your cheek. “That’s my good girl making me feel so fucking good—fuck, I love you.”

This was why you genuinely loved giving Javi head—he was always so vocal, and when he praised you, it made you drip for him. Arousal was hot in your belly. It always turned you on to hear and see the effect you were having on him. You swallowed around his thick cock, causing your throat to squeeze him—his body shivered, and you watched it travel down from his shoulders to his hips.

“Shit,” he moaned.

The glow of the moon and what light reached the balcony from the living room softly illuminated the man above you, and you couldn’t think of a prettier sight than your husband struggling to keep from coming, as he was right then. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked at you with pleading eyes. “I don’t wanna come like this.” The words came out scratchy like sandpaper. “Can I fuck you? Please, Cielito?”

He didn’t need to ask twice. Immediately, you came off of him, strings of spit and precum keeping you connected. Staring up at him under your eyelashes, you answered hoarsely, “Yes. Fuck me, Papí.”

That had Javi helping you stand. When you were finally up on your feet, his large hands framed your face as he kissed you hard. He didn’t care that your chin was wet with spit or your cheeks had tear marks; he kissed you as if his life depended on it and slowly started walking you backward toward the railing.

He spoke between kisses, his mouth pressed to yours, muffling his words, “Estoy tan feliz de que seas mi esposa (I’m so happy that you are my wife)… Estoy tan feliz de poder pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I’m so happy I get to spend the rest of my life with you)... Estoy tan feliz de que algún día seas la madre de mis hijos (I’m so happy that one day you will be the mother of my children)... Este es el día más feliz de mi vida (This is the happiest day of my life).”

Suddenly, your husband spun you, his palm smoothing up the cotton covering your back to signal you to bend toward the railing. The top of it reached the middle of your ribs, so you weren’t bent at the waist—you were leaning onto it, crossing your arms atop the metal, and popping out your ass with a widened stance to give him more room. He gripped your hips and pressed his throbbing cock into your backside. Javi leaned into you. “Feel how hard I am? That’s all you, my beautiful wife.”

Arousal swirled in your belly, the beat of your heart pulsing between your legs.

You turned your head, looking at him behind you. “You should feel how wet I am. It’s all you, my handsome husband,” you replied, wiggling your butt.

He smiled and kissed your shoulder blade. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, too.”

It seemed he had enough talking. Javi straightened himself and flipped up the bottom of your robe to bare you, the cool air chilling the wetness at the crux of your thighs. He grunted as he crouched down behind you, squeezing handfuls of your ass. His teeth lightly sank into the meat of your inner thigh for only a moment, and it was like dousing gasoline on the flames in your core.

His hands spread open your asscheeks. “So fucking pretty,” he purred. A second later, a rumbling groan came from his throat as he licked up through your slit from your clit to your entrance before spitting on the skin between your two holes—you felt the warm wad of saliva dripping down to your already-soaked opening.

He smacked your ass, the cheek jiggling as he rose back up on his feet. “You gotta keep quiet, baby,” he whispered. One of his hands held your waist while the other slid his dick through your arousal and his spit to wet himself. He bent at the waist to rasp into your ear, “Don’t wanna draw attention to us—unless you want everyone to know how good your husband fucks you.” He squeezed your hip as he notched the fat head of his cock at your entrance.

Your robe was open, your nipples tingling when a breeze hit your bare skin. The alcohol made you brave as you looked at him over your shoulder again with a smile, your hand going up behind you to touch his smooth cheek.

“I want the entire world to know how good my husband fucks me. Give it to me, Papí.”

A shiver moved down Javier’s spine, his cock jerking in his hand.

This woman was going to be the death of him.

“Scream for me, baby,” he replied, turning his head to kiss the center of her palm.

He started pressing himself into the tight clutch of her pussy, her inner walls hugging his thick length as he fed it inside her inch by inch—her arm fell back onto the railing, and they both moaned, Javier’s eyes closing, his jaw going slack at how good she felt around him, all hot and wet. His hips met the softness of her ass, and he looked down to watch as he slowly pulled out, his dick glistening under what little light there was.

“I love how wet you get for me,” he said. “All nice and soaked for your husband.”

He couldn’t get enough of being called that: her husband.

The quickie in the car scratched the itch; still, Javier had been looking forward all-fucking-day to the moment when he got to take his time and properly fuck his wife. Gripping her waist, he pushed back in, Cielito’s head falling onto the cushion of her arms with a breathy “Yes” that riled him up. She wanted everyone to know how good her husband fucks her, and he was more than happy to oblige.

He started moving in and out of her, keeping most of himself inside for her to feel every ridge and pulsing vein as he reacquainted her cunt with the familiar shape of him.

“It’s so good,” she moaned. “You feel so good.”

“Yeah? I’ve got you, hermosa (beautiful).”

He could make it feel even better—this was a position where she wanted him to be rough, where she wanted him to fuck her until she was cock dumb and her legs shook.

He began increasing the momentum of his hips, slickly sliding halfway out and back into her over and over again until he was railing into her with hard, even strokes that stuttered her loud moans. Javier grunted with each thrust, their skin clapping where it met. With how the balcony had walls on three sides, the sounds echoed off the stucco.

Fuck, he loved being inside her. There was nothing better than feeling the squeeze of her pussy around him. He did love her going down on him a little bit ago, and earlier, when she gave him a hand job after their marriage ceremony, he loved that, too. He also loved the occasions when she’d let him fuck her ass—Javier loved anything she wanted to do with him. But if he had to choose a favorite, it’d be a variation of what they were doing right now.

“You like this?” he mumbled between grunts. “Is it good?”

Several seconds passed with no answer, and there was no hiding his smirk. He slid a palm up the path of her spine to firmly grasp the back of her neck, his other hand going to her front, roughly fondling her breast. He kept up the punishing pace of his hips.

“Am I fucking you good, mi amor?” he tried again a little louder.

Her head lifted, turning her attention to him behind her. Even in such dim conditions, he could see her eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed over. There was a scrunch between her eyebrows, and her mouth was slightly agape—she was absolutely wrecked. She finally answered, repeating, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Pride swelled inside him. “You like how your husband fucks you?”

“Yes! God, yes!” she cried.

Her words had sparks igniting at the base of his spine, making his cock twitch. His fingers plucked at her nipple, rolling the stiff bud. It’d be hard for anyone down below to fully make out what they were doing, but there was no masking the noise—the filthy repetitive slap of skin hitting skin, his rough grunts, and her whining moans that filled the air gave them away.

They were usually much more courteous to their neighbors when it came to their volume. His wife always found it embarrassing when Mrs. Hernandez banged on the wall between their apartments or the people upstairs stomped on the floor to tell them to quiet down. It had to be the tequila—the liquid courage—that had her acting so brazen tonight, and he loved it.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he asked.

“Yes! Don’t stop!” She started chanting over and over again, “Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop—”

He followed her orders, continuing to pound into her at the same speed, his fingers tweaking her nipple. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow and the small of his back, his gaze locked on hers—she was so gorgeous.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Cielito,” he told her. “So fucking beautiful taking it like my good girl.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, and she loudly whined his name into the night. Her cunt was fluttering around him, her entire body quaking. She laid her head back onto her arms, and that told him she was almost to the finish line.

“Come for me, mi amor,” he said. “Let me have it.”

He’d follow soon after he. His orgasm had been slowly building inside him, feeling the pressure rising deep in his guts with every passing second. He was thankful they fucked in the car because there was no way in hell he would’ve been able to last this long if they hadn’t fooled around beforehand.

Javier loved every second of this, the thrill amplifying his pleasure. The thrill was the reason he enjoyed fucking in places he shouldn’t. He craved the adrenaline, something he experienced regularly in Colombia. But now, instead of possibly dying to feel that rush, he just had to try not to get caught.

It wasn’t much longer before they reached a crescendo. She let out an unintelligible cry, all of the muscles in her body pulling taut, choking his dick hard enough to stutter his rhythm—he sucked in a breath through bared teeth, willing himself not to come while he continued fucking her through her high, drawing it out.

It happened fast. Her legs went wobbly like a newborn calf’s. “Shit,” Javier breathed, quickly getting his arm around her middle and the other across her chest. “Don’t fall, baby,” he grunted, hauling her up against his body to prevent her from doing as much. It was his strength that kept her standing and walked her forward, pinning her by the hips to the railing.

By some miracle, his cock stayed inside her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “My legs feel like jello.”

He carefully pulled the robe off one of her shoulders to lightly kiss the side of her neck, her skin prickling with goosebumps. “Don’t apologize,” was his muffled reply. “Means your husband fucked you good.” His lips made a journey to her ear. “Do you wanna stop?” he whispered. “Or can I keep going?”

She reached up behind her, combing her fingers into his sweat-damp hair. “Mmm, definitely keep going.”

Javier smiled. “Yeah?” He kissed that one sensitive spot behind her ear—she hummed happily. “I wanna look at you,” he said. “Can I turn you?”

“Of course. Just help me, please. I don’t trust my legs.”

He chuckled. “I’ve got you.”

He slipped out of her, the back of her robe falling into place. Her legs were still shaking as he helped her face him, pressing her into the railing again. They locked eyes, and both smiled. His hands reached to hold her perfect face while her arms went around his neck, her fingers pushing into the brown waves at the back of his head.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” His thumbs stroked over the apples of her cheeks. “There you are. My beautiful wife.”

Before she could respond, he closed the gap between their lips, hers petal soft and slotting together with his perfectly. He wanted to kiss her slowly. He wanted to savor this moment, take his time, but she made this delicious little noise that broke his resolve, and he wanted nothing more than to hear it again. It made him greedy. Not only did he want that noise, he wanted her moans and her sighs. He wanted to hear her mouth caress the syllables of his name and cry it out when he brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

The kiss turned hungry and passionate, both of them ravenous. When that sweet sound met his ears again, it spurred him on. He was still hard and aching to come. Unable to wait any longer, Javier reached down to hook her thigh onto his hip, then guided his length back into her pussy. The moment his cock breached her tight opening, he moaned into her mouth, his head going dizzy at how good it felt.

He started slowly thrusting, his lips breaking away to nip at her chin. “Can I make you come again?” he breathily asked. “Please?”

Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, and she pulled on it to get his attention. “Is that what you need, baby? You wanna feel me come around your dick? You wanna watch your wife come?”

Javier whimpered—his eyes squeezed shut, and his cock pulsed inside her. He wanted to watch, he wanted to feel and hear her come, taste her tongue on his, and smell the sex on her skin. She already occupied his every thought, and he wanted her to take over his senses, too. Take over his entire world until she was all that existed.

He continued moving his hips, his dick sliding easily with how wet it was between her legs.

Javier looked at her, his tongue wetting his bottom lip. “Yes,” he answered. “Can I?”

Her palm pressed to his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. “Yes, Javi.” This time, she was the one who crushed her mouth to his before he could utter another word, her fingers threading into his hair. Her tongue pushed past his lips, and he groaned, the kiss turning messy.

He was still so worked up that it wasn’t going to take a lot to get him off. Javier increased his pace, going harder and faster. There was an audible wetness where they were joined, and he could hear himself working in and out of her used cunt, her arousal dripping down his shaft and balls.

This was what he wanted. To be able to kiss her. To see her and watch her fall apart. He had one hand gripping her leg at his waist, keeping it up, and snaked his other between their bodies, sliding it down her stomach to the apex of her thighs to rub her clit. He swallowed her moan, her fingers tightening in his thick strands of hair. His lips broke away from hers, Javier ducking his head, spreading sloppy kisses along her collarbone, on her shoulder, and up her neck. With her robe open and off her shoulder, it gave him a canvas of bared skin for his mouth to map out.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he murmured against her throat. “Can you do that for me?”

He was doing everything in his power to hold off his own end so she could take him with her. The muscles in his belly were knotted up, his heart pounding in his chest. His cock was throbbing almost uncomfortably with his need to come.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” Javier sucked on her earlobe, then returned his attention to her neck and shoulder, kissing and biting the skin. His voice was muffled as he rambled, “I’m gonna make you come, and when I do—fuck—when I do, I’m going with you.” He was circling her clit, giving her the friction she needed. “I'll fill you up, and you’re gonna stay full. I fucking meant it when I said I’m gonna keep you stuffed full of me.” He was panting hot breaths as he kissed her, getting himself worked up with what he was saying. “I can promise you—shit—I can promise you, I am going to get you pregnant. I am going to knock you up.” He swallowed hard, his hips continuing to fuck into her. “You’re gonna have my baby. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

They were pretty sure her actual shot at getting pregnant was the week prior. But since they weren’t 100% positive, they didn’t want to miss their chance, and that possibility made the shit they said while fucking even hotter.

“Please,” she moaned. “Put a baby in me. Please. I want it. Fill me up, Papí.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned. “You can have it—fuck—you can have any-fucking-thing you want. I’ll fuck a baby into you.”

He tucked his face in the crook of her neck, breathing heavily through gritted teeth. It was taking most of his focus to keep himself from blowing his load.

“I’m close, Javi!” Cielito whined. “Oh, god, I’m gonna come!”

The excitement caused his rhythm to falter for a split second. “Shit,” Javier hissed. He quickly got back into tempo, his head lifting to look at his wife. Her eyes were closed, her forehead shining with perspiration, moans spilling from her rounded lips. His fingers kept strumming her clit, and his other hand gently grasped her jaw.

“Look at me,” he panted. “Open your eyes, Cielito. Let me see you.”

Her eyelids fluttered open, and he was met with hooded lust-blown eyes.

“Javi,” she gasped. Her fingers were clenched in his hair. “I’m gonna come, Javi.”

“I know, baby. I know. Come for me. Take me with you.”

She was quivering as his hips swung hard and fast into her. Javier watched as each stroke took her higher and higher, his gaze never leaving hers. After half a dozen more thrusts, she finally told him, “I’m coming.” Her eyes squeezed shut, moaning as she peaked; her body seized up, her pussy clamping down on him.

That was it for Javier.

A strangled noise left his throat as his balls drew up, pushing himself all the way to the root inside her. Pleasure erupted from his core, his dick pulsing, painting her insides with rope after rope of his come. He rolled his hips, fucking his spend as deep as it would go. The primal part of his brain making him ignore how sensitive his cock was in order to fill the depths of her cunt.

When every last drop was wrung out of him, he stopped moving, and his body became boneless. He slumped into his wife, but not before wrapping his arms around her and burying his face back into the crook of her neck. All thoughts had left his brain, the man blissed out, basking in her warmth and the familiar scent of her skin. And then she did his favorite thing and started playing with his sweaty hair. He sighed happily, nuzzling his face closer to her like he was trying to burrow himself under her skin.

This. This was the closest thing to heaven on earth. This was his heaven. She was his heaven.

Javier grew up going to church with his parents, and his interpretation of what he read and heard was that if there were a heaven, it wouldn’t be a physical place. There were no pearly gates or St. Peter waiting to greet you. Instead, it was a state of being where there was complete fulfillment and nothing but absolute happiness. How fucking lucky was he that he found that in life?

He stood there, his body pressed into her softer one, as the beat of their hearts slowed and their breaths evened out. There was a low rumble of cars driving on nearby roads and unseen crickets chirping in the distance.

It took a few minutes before either of them spoke.

“Javi?” she croaked.

He kissed the side of her neck. “Yes, baby?”

“I’m ready to go inside.”

He straightened to his full height to see her face. “Okay, mi amor.” He pecked her on the lips, rubbing his hands up and down her robed arms. “Can you walk?”

Her eyebrow rose. “Can I walk? Mr. I’m-going-to-make-you-come-so-many-times-you’re-gonna-need-a-wheelchair.”

Javier tried not to smile and failed, his hands pausing. “A wheelchair?”

“Yes, a wheelchair. Because my husband loves to fuck me to the point I can’t walk.” She wasn’t wrong, and it made his chest puff up. “Should’ve brought one home from work a long time ago.”

“You don’t need a wheelchair, baby.” He gently squeezed her biceps. “I did it, and I’ll get you where you need to go. Does a bath sound good? Or do you wanna get into bed? We could also watch TV on the couch—order a pay-per-view movie.”

Her lips lifted into a knowing smile. “Pay-per-view movie, huh? Like, porn? Javi, when you stay in hotels by yourself, do you order pay-per-view porn? You can be honest with me. I’m your wife.”

He scratched at the back of his neck. “I mean, not every time… what about you? You can be honest with me. I’m your husband.”

“A time or two, out of curiosity.”

He smiled. “Out of curiosity, huh?” His voice went a little deeper. “Did you touch yourself while watching…?”

“What do you think?”

Javier grabbed her hips. He leaned in to hover his mouth over hers, nuzzling her nose with his. “I think,” he rasped, “you played with your pretty pussy while watching. Did you get yourself off with your fingers?”

“Vibrator. You know I don’t like playing acoustic pussy unless I have to.”

“You like my fingers.”

“Because you’re sexy and an acoustic pussy maestro.” She brushed his lips with hers. “It’s your turn to choose,” she said. “Bath, bed, or couch, Mr. Peña?”

“Bath sounds nice.”

“Bath sounds wonderful.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do, Mrs. Peña.” He ended the sentence with a kiss, something slow and tender. They broke apart, smiling. “Let’s go, Cielito.”

The rectangular whirlpool tub was massive enough that your husband could sit across from you with his long legs fully extended while yours rested over his. Javi’s cheeks and chest were painted with a pink flush from the bath’s heat, his broad shoulders dotted with a constellation of freckles. Your bodies were submerged in the hot water, covered from your shoulders down, the bathtub’s jets rumbling as they massaged your backs. It was relaxing, the warmth of the water and the pressure of the spray along your spine easing all of the tension from your body.

To continue the celebration of your nuptials, your husband brought the complimentary bottle of champagne into the bathtub with you. He popped it open and poured you each a glass, the two of you toasting to your marriage and the start of your family before drinking and chatting, laughter quickly filling the room. The bottle was over halfway empty, and you both were buzzed.

“You’re fucking with me,” he said with a grin. His arm was resting on the edge of the tub, holding his flute of bubbly. The man always had to be touching you, his other palm under the water rubbing up and down your calf, but it paused when he spoke.

Your smile got bigger. “I’m not!” you laughed. Your champagne was sitting on the bathtub’s rim, your fingers fiddling with the stem of the glass. “When I graduated nursing school,” you said, “I was trying to figure out what I wanted to specialize in. So, I did a rotation in labor and delivery, and I had this mother in labor who needed a C-section. Like, it’d been hours with zero progress, and the doctor called it. She told the couple, and I quote, ‘This baby has to come out the other way.’ I shit you not, after the doctor left, the father looked at me and asked, ‘They’re gonna pull the baby out of her butt?’”

He huffed amusedly, his head shaking in disbelief. “Jesus.” He took a sip of his drink and set it back down.

“It was so hard not to laugh,” you said. “Surprisingly, not the dumbest or wildest thing anyone has ever said to me at work.”

His expression turned curious. “What’s the wildest thing someone has said to you?”

“Ummm.” Your eyes left his to think about it for a second, your mind running through many memorable interactions until one in particular stuck out. Your attention went back to him. “Probably the guy who may or may not have been a gang member who gave me his number and told me if I ever needed someone taken out—as in murdered—to give him a call. He even said it’d be free of charge, which was weirdly sweet? Not that I’d actually take him up on it,” you clarified, lifting your glass to your lips for a sip.

His eyes rounded. “What…?”

Your champagne returned to its spot on the tub’s edge. “It’s kinda like how people propose to me all of the time because they’re so thankful I brought them food after they fasted for their procedures. When scary-looking dudes who may or may not have gang ties come to the hospital, and you treat them like any other patient—you know, with dignity and respect—they really, really appreciate it. Their way of thanking you is by offering their services or illegal goods.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Illegal goods, like drugs…?”

“Sure, and weapons.” You shrugged. “One guy offered me illegal European cheeses, and I won’t lie, that one was tempting.”

“Do you still have the contacts?”

“No. I never kept their info, and let’s be real, they weren’t using their actual names. Once they left the hospital, they were no longer my patient, and what they did was none of my business. Snitches get stitches and all that jazz.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, and his hand began a new circuit along the skin of your leg. “What’s the dumbest thing someone said?” He had another sip.

“Oh, listen to this. A male patient came into the ER complaining about abdominal pain. After the doctor did a quick exam, he ordered an ultrasound. When we told the patient about the ultrasound, he shouted, ‘I’m not pregnant! I’m a man!’”

“You’re fucking with me,” Javi said again, looking just as amused as the first time, his champagne flute hovering over the water.

“I swear I’m not!” you giggled. “He said that! This guy was in his mid-fifties, too. His wife was so embarrassed. The doctor had to pull out a fucking human anatomy diagram to educate the dude.”

“I’d be a shitty nurse. I wouldn’t have the patience for all of the stupidity.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed, thinking about Javi as a nurse. “Between your grumpy resting face and the fact you cannot hide what you’re feeling, you’d be so bad. No offense, babe.” You patted his knee underwater.

“None taken. I said it first. It’s nice knowing my wife has the patience of a saint to put up with my bullshit.” He raised his glass your way in toast, then took a drink.

“Stop it. You’re perfect. Now, are you finally gonna tell me how much you spent on this room?”

He smiled, setting his champagne back onto the rim. “No.”

“Rude.”

He chuckled. “Just enjoy it, baby.” Water droplets trickled as he lifted your leg out of the bath and leaned in, kissing the inside of your ankle.

“But I’m curious as fuck,” you whined.

He returned your leg to the water. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “Earlier, you mentioned we sometimes have to compromise, so I’ll tell you how I got the room, but I won’t tell you what it cost me.”

That had you perking up. Maybe you could call the front desk and find out the price yourself.

“The front desk won’t tell you,” he continued, looking a little too pleased with himself. Of course, he knew what you were thinking.

You deflated with a sigh. “Fine,” you said. “How were you able to get the room?”

“The manager is mi prima’s (my cousin’s) brother-in-law.”

You grinned. “You’ve got connections. That’s very sexy of you.”

He was smiling, his eyes crinkling at the edges and shining with love—a look you were all too familiar with and hoped he could see on your face. His hand continued stroking your leg.

He chuckled. “Even with connections, it took some negotiating. It was worth it, though. You’re worth it. I know our wedding was pretty short notice, and since we couldn’t get time off from work for me to whisk you away on a real honeymoon—which I plan on doing sometime this year before we have a baby—this was the next best thing to show you how much I love you and what you mean to me. You deserve the very best, and that’s what I’m always gonna give you, and nothing less.”

His words had you melting, your heart skipping a beat. It was a regular occurrence where Javier said or did something that made you wonder once again what you did to deserve him in your life or to be loved in this way you never knew existed. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“I beg to differ because I am married to arguably the greatest man on earth, who worships me like a goddess, and that’s not even an exaggeration. A freaking goddess! Me! Insane.” It was crazy how much you loved this man, and the alcohol had your feelings threatening to burst from your lips. So, you let them. “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“You make me feel so safe. You make me feel comfortable and so fucking loved. Javi, I’ve never been so loved, and I know it’s sad, and you hate thinking about it, but I’ve never had someone love me unconditionally like you do.” The emotions had tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ve never experienced a love like this that I feel deep in my soul, and that’s how I know it’s real. I’m not as poetic as you are, so I’m just going to say what comes to mind. Prepare yourself for some sappy bullshit.”

He was watching you with a fond expression and watery eyes. “I’m ready.”

“Hold my hand.” You reached out to him, and he grasped your fingers, his thumb rubbing over the tops of them. You cleared your throat to compose yourself. “There was an emptiness inside my chest?” You said it in question. “A lifelong longing for something I never knew I needed until you came along. You redefined the void. You gave it meaning. You’ve shown me what it is to be seen, to be cherished, to be truly loved. You’ve shown me a world that, up until you entered mine, was nothing more than a fantasy I’d only ever dreamed about. It was something out of reach, you know? But here you are, a dream come true, who loves me unconditionally, and for that, you have my love, you have my total devotion, you get my every morning and my every night. You get slow dances in the kitchen and four a.m. grilled cheeses—ooh, I like how that kinda rhymes.” Your husband laughed, his lips curved up in a smile. “I’m not half bad at this. Javi, I am going to give you the life you’ve always deserved but never felt worthy of—a wife, kids, dog, house, and hopefully, happiness. I want to make you as happy as you make me. This is my long way of saying I love you, Javier Peña. Thank you for loving me.”

“I’m so fucking happy,” he replied. “Come here.” He beckoned you toward him, lightly tugging your hand. Without another thought, you moved, the bath sloshing as you pushed yourself up onto your knees and crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. Javi wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly to his body, your face nestled into the curve of his neck. His head tilted to touch yours. “I love you,” he said. “I love you so fucking much. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how fucking lucky I am to have you. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you, and sometimes I catch myself wondering if this is all a dream. You have no idea how many times I’ve almost pinched myself because being with you feels so right and so perfect that I think it all has to be too good to be true, and I’m gonna wake up alone in my bed at the ranch or in fucking Colombia.” You gasped, your heart squeezing at how heartbreaking that was. “Being with you is teaching me that life can be kind and there is hope for the future. You’re my future, and even though there are moments where it feels too surreal and too fucking good, it is real. What we have is real, and I am grateful for you. I will forever be grateful that you chose me, and I will never take for granted a single day that I get to share my life with you.” His head turned to kiss your cheek. “This is my long way of saying I love you, too. Thank you for loving me.”

“Oh, Javi.” You sat up, taking his face into your hands. Sitting in his lap, you were taller than him, and his chin raised to look at you with his red-rimmed eyes. “It is real. It’s so fucking real. I love you.”

That was an understatement of how you felt about him. Not when it felt as if his heart was beating in your chest, and looking into his eyes was like coming home—the familiarity, the comfort, the safety. Almost as if you’d always known that those irises, with their unique mix of chocolatey-colored hues, would belong to the one who was meant for you. A recognition, a certainty when your gazes met that he was your person, your other half.

Emotions had you smashing your mouth against his, kissing him hard. You poured your love into each press of your lips to his, letting him taste the devotion on your tongue. His arms were wrapped around your middle, holding you flush to him. It didn’t matter that you’d already come a handful of times tonight. The things he said had you wanting, no, needing him again, the desire searing through your veins and pooling in your belly.

An interesting side effect of being in love with Javi and knowing he loved you, too, was how it made you so fucking horny. Confessing your love to one another was basically foreplay, and wasn’t that adorable? A couple of love-sick fools getting turned on from loving each other. Robyn would absolutely fake-gag if you told her about you and your husband’s love kink.

He sounded breathless when he came up for air. “I love you.” He messily kissed your chin and the shape of your jaw. “I fucking love you,” he murmured into your skin.

“I love you, too.” His face was still framed in your hands, and you pushed him back to gain access to the line of his neck, your head dipping to swipe your tongue up his salty skin.

“Jesus,” he breathed, his throat bobbing. You rocked your hips, rubbing his already half-hard cock with your cunt, his hands grabbing ahold of your ass, the soft flesh firmly filling his palms as he helped you move. You sucked over his pulse point hard enough to leave a mark, Javi groaning, “Fuck, I love you.” The words vibrated under your mouth, making your lips curl in delight.

“I love you, too, Javi.” Your mouth traveled up to take his earlobe between your teeth, nibbling on it before your lips were at his ear. “I really fucking love you.”

“I’m yours.” His fingers dug into your asscheeks, moving you. “You fucking own me. I’m yours forever.”

“And I’ll always be yours, Javi. Always. For-fucking-ever.”

His large hand came up, lightly grasping your jaw to maneuver your face in front of his, Javier’s lips colliding with yours. This kiss was much more frantic, the headiness of passion overtaking you both, matching each other's energy, heartbeat for heartbeat, breath for breath. He was completely hard as you rolled your hips along his shaft, the bath’s water lapping at the sides of the tub. Your arms went around his neck, threading your fingers into the hair at the back of his head.

You loved this man so much that he was your entire world, everything that mattered, and the wild thing was, he felt the same way about you—you were his entire world and everything that mattered to him. It was an intoxicating feeling to love and to be loved.

The sweet heat of want burned at the base of your spine, the tension rising with each desperate kiss until it hit a breaking point. In sync, your mouths separated, you lifted your hips high enough for Javi to position his cock at your entrance, and then you sank onto it.

“That’s it, baby.”

“Yes,” you gasped when he was fully seated inside of you.

There was nothing better than the familiar fullness or how he stretched you open.

Your gazes were locked.

“I love you so fucking much,” he said. “Use me, Cielito. Make yourself come. I wanna feel you.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond. Javi leaned up to capture your lips once more, his hands gripping handfuls of your ass. Your palms slid up his flushed chest to grab his shoulders, and you did what he said: you started moving. You ground your hips, keeping most of him inside you while rubbing your clit on the coarse hairs at the base of his dick. Sparks danced in your core, your pulse pounding. Your husband helped you grind in his lap.

“Te amo (I love you),” he said between kisses. “Te amo muchísimo, mi amor (I love you so much, my love). Eres mi todo (You are my everything). Toma lo que es tuyo (Take what is yours).”

“I love you, too, Javi.” Pleasure built, and the coil in your tummy started to tighten. “I fucking love you. I’ll always love you.” Your hips circled in the most delicious rotations.

His tongue delved between your lips, plundering your mouth, moans coming from the back of your throat. With how close you were physically—your bodies pressed together like pieces of a puzzle—and emotionally—your love and devotion for each other—this was the closest you’d ever been with another person, and it felt much more intimate than sex. It was something deeper. Something on a different level where you were caught up in one another, lost in your own little world and the overwhelming feeling of love. Maybe it was the oxytocin, the love hormone, flooding your system that had you thinking this must be what it felt like when your souls came together, the two halves melding to become one.

The water splashed against your back and ribs, the bath’s jets continued to rumble. You didn’t stop the rocking of your hips or sloppily kissing your husband. He felt so good inside you, the pressure on your clit pushing you higher and higher.

“Eres mi vida (You are my life).” It was muffled into your lips. “Eres todo para mí (You are everything to me). Quiero que me uses como tú quieras (I want you to use me however you want).” He switched to English. “I wanna feel my wife come. You gonna get yourself off?“

“Yes.”

“My good girl. I love you. Take what you need, mi amor. Don’t stop. You come, I come. I’m following you. You’re taking me with you.”

Your orgasm was close, the muscles in your stomach winding tighter and tighter.

“I will, Javi. I will. I fucking love you.”

This man you married knew exactly what would have you careening toward your climax. He took your breasts into his hands, ducking his head to suck on your hardened nipple, his fingers teasing the other one. It felt like every nerve ending in your body lit up, your eyes closed, the shock of it making you cry out.

“I love you,” you repeated. “I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Each time you rolled your hips, it created the best friction against your clit, and that, combined with the attention he was giving your tits, had you tumbling over the edge, coming with a gasp of his name. This orgasm was softer than the others. When your body tensed and your cunt squeezed him, Javi hissed. He grabbed your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh as he used his strength to keep moving you in his lap. He kept those gentle waves of pleasure flowing through you, letting you ride out your high while your husband chased his own.

“I’m yours, Javi,” you told him. When you opened your eyes, you saw his were shut tight, and his teeth were bared. It was that sexy look he got when he was close to coming; he just needed a push to get there. You touched your forehead to his, your fingers clutched in his hair. “I’m yours, baby. I want you to come. I want my husband to come. I want you to fill me up and fuck it so deep inside me you knock me up.” He whined, and that just encouraged you. “Get me pregnant, Javi. Let me have it. Let me feel it.”

“Fuck,” he gasped. “I love you. I’m gonna—Christ—I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. I’m gonna fuck you full of my come. Fuck it—shit—fuck it so deep in your pussy it takes. Te amo, te amo, te amo, te amo más que a nada (I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you more than anything).” The groan he let out was guttural. He hugged you to him, holding you still, his face pressing against your throat as he came. His teeth sunk into your neck, the pleasurable pain causing you to moan. His cock jerked inside you with each spurt of his spend gushing into your inner depths, and when it stopped, his heavy breaths were hot on your skin.

The only sound in the bathroom was the tub's jets. The water had turned lukewarm. The large mirror on the opposite wall over the two sinks was still fogged up. It was peaceful and calm. Time stood still in this little bubble where you luxuriated in one another and those happy chemicals flowing through your bodies. All of your muscles relaxed, making you melt into your husband. Javi nuzzled his face into your neck, and your fingernails lovingly scratched at his scalp, earning you a happy hum.

You loved these moments. You loved how comfortable it was to hold each other, your bodies and souls bare. You didn’t feel self-conscious or a need to cover up. You just wanted to share in the afterglow with the man you loved.

Javier told you once that his favorite part of having sex was this: the post-sex glow when you cuddled close and came down with the other person. He loved the intimacy of it. He craved it. He also revealed that down in Colombia, he’d pay the sex workers he slept with extra to stay with him longer instead of leaving immediately after he came so he could have some semblance of that intimacy. It was a little sad if you thought about it too hard; if you thought about how lonely and touch-starved he was, that was made exponentially worse because his love language was physical touch. You’d never let him feel that loneliness again. You were happy to spend those minutes with him after you both finished, cradled in his arms. You were happy to give him that intimacy he craved. You were happy to do whatever it took to make him feel as loved as he made you.

Seconds turned into minutes. Finally, Javi broke the stillness with a kiss to the skin his face was pressed against.

“Javi?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love you.”

He was smiling when his head lifted to look you in the eyes, and you matched his expression.

“I love you, too.”

“I have a serious question.”

His smile fell. “Yeah?”

“Are you a sea lion?”

As expected, his face pinched in confusion.

“What…?”

“Are you a sea lion?” you repeated.

“What do you mean…?”

“I mean, you must be a sea lion ‘cause I can sea-you-lion in my bed tonight.” To really sell it, you wagged your eyebrows.

He tried to hold in the laugh, his cheeks flushing red, but he couldn’t keep it in. He sputtered into full-on laughter, his eyes practically disappearing with how they crinkled in glee. It had you cracking up, too, joining him in the merriment. His head fell against your shoulder as you both laughed at your stupid pick-up line.

It took you back to your wedding ceremony, when you both vowed your marriage would be filled with love, happiness, and laughter. Which was another thing you loved about your husband: he made you feel comfortable enough to be your true goofy self. Something you didn’t feel in your past relationships. But Javi–even with him being a somewhat serious, no-nonsense guy—he appreciated your humor and laughed at your dumb jokes. He never made you feel stupid or embarrassed, and it was truly a breath of fresh air that you could simply be you.

Eventually, you both calmed down. Your husband kissed your cheek and then sat up, rubbing his palms up and down your ribs. He looked at you with soft eyes and a sweet smile.

“I am so fucking in love with you,” he said.

You grinned. “And I am so fucking in love with you,” you replied, poking the tip of his nose. He snatched your hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss your wedding ring.

“I love you naked like this,” he rasped. His burning gaze traveled from your face to your breasts, drinking in the sight of you before his eyes returned to yours. “But you know what would look really good on you?”

“Lingerie? That red thong you love?”

“Me.”

“Oh,” you gasped, your eyes widening. “That just made my pussy flutter.”

“I know.” Because he was still inside you.

You gulped. “Can I, uh, see your left hand real quick?” It came out of the water, dripping. He held it straight up for you to see the back of it. You stared at his fingers, seeing the gold band on his ring finger, and nodded. “Yep, that is a wedding ring. Jesus, you really did marry me. Me. That’s fucking crazy.”

“Stop that.”

Your attention went back to him to see he was frowning. “Stop what?”

He sighed and took both of your hands into his. “Thinking I’m out of your league. I hate it. Cielito, you’re fucking beautiful. Say it. Say, ‘I’m beautiful.’”

“You’re beautiful.”

He gave you a grumpy look. “You know what I meant. Say it.”

The thought of repeating it made you wince, but you did it anyway. You mumbled, “I’mbeautiful.”

“Say it louder.”

“I hate this,” you whined.

“And we’re working on fixing that. So, say it again.”

You took a deep breath. This was so fucking hard. “I’m beautiful.”

He smiled. “You are. Repeat it.”

“I’m beautiful.”

“Again.”

“How many times are we doing this?”

“As many as it takes for you to believe it. Again.”

You sighed. “I’m beautiful.”

“What are you?”

“I’m beautiful.”

He made you say it five more times, and it got easier each time you said it.

“One more,” he ordered.

“I’m beautiful.”

“Good girl.” He closed the gap to kiss you, his big hands coming up to caress your face. When his lips left yours, he nudged your nose with his. “You’re beautiful, smart, funny, sweet, sexy, talented, and an amazing partner. You’re perfect. I need you to remember that. You’re perfect,” he said again, “and I am lucky to have you as my wife.”

“Thank you, Javi. You know I struggle when it comes to that stuff.”

“Yeah, I do know. We’ll keep working on it.” He kissed your forehead.

“I’m lucky to have such a supportive husband who calls me out on my bullshit.”

He huffed. “You do the same for me. I love you, mi amor.”

“I love you, too.” You pecked him on the lips, then pulled back when you started to yawn, covering your mouth with your hand.

“You ready for bed?” he asked.

The question made you realize you were exhausted. “God, yeah.”

“Let’s go, baby.”

Thirty minutes later found you dry, your teeth brushed, and naked under the covers, with Javi spooning you from behind. The curtains were closed, the bedroom dark save for the alarm clock on the bedside table, whose glowing red numbers told you it was almost two a.m. Your husband’s arm was around your front, your hand over his on your breast, your rings touching. His nose was buried in the hair at the back of your head.

It was cozy and warm, feeling so happy and loved. Sleep was coming for you, and your eyelids were getting heavy, your thoughts slowing. In your sleepy haze, you remembered something.

“Javi?” you whispered.

“Yes, Cielito?” he answered just as quietly.

“I just realized Valentine’s Day is next month. I don’t know if you have anything planned yet, but you know what I’d love to do?”

“What?”

“You.”

He chuckled, hugging you a little tighter and kissing your hair. “That’s what we’ll do then. Any other requests?”

You smiled, wiggling back to get closer to him. “Nope. Do you have any requests?”

He was going to ask for the red thong.

“You said something about the red thong in the bath.”

There it was. You giggled. “You got it, babe.” You patted his hand, your rings clinking together. “Sweetest dreams, my wonderful, perfect husband.”

“They’ll be about you, my wonderful, perfect wife. I love you, Cielito.”

“I love you, too.”

Steve lifted his wrist to check the time, the hands on the watch face showing 3:16 p.m.

He frowned. He could’ve sworn he told Javier earlier when they talked on the phone to meet in the hotel restaurant at three p.m. Not 3:30, three on the dot, because he had to get Connie and the kids to Laredo’s tiny airport by six p.m. for their flight to Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, where they’d get on a bigger plane to take them home to Miami.

Where the hell were the newlyweds?

He was sitting at the head of the long eight-person dining room table at the hotel’s restaurant, Zaragoza Grill, with a clear view of the entrance. Instead of a chair to his right, there was a wooden highchair with his one-year-old, Nate, sitting in it, chewing on a small slice of bread from the bread basket. Connie was next to their youngest in the middle seat, talking to Stevie, their three-year-old, on her other side while he used crayons to color the paper kids’ menu the hostess had given him. Olivia was at the other end of the table, opposite Steve, coloring her own menu.

His arm lowered as he looked at his wife. “Con?” he said.

Her head turned his way. “Yes?”

“I told Javi three, right? Not, 3:30?”

“Yes, you told him three.”

“Why aren’t they here yet?”

“Honey, they got married yesterday. You remember what it was like the days after our wedding. All of the laundry we folded.” She smiled.

‘Folding laundry’ was their codeword for sex, and he absolutely remembered the days following their wedding. They went at it like fucking rabbits and didn’t leave their hotel room in Cabo San Lucas for days.

He smirked. “How could I forget our honeymoon, baby? We had a good time. A really good time. You know, we should go back to Mexico. Maybe we could get your sister to watch the kids while we go on a little vacation.”

She rolled her eyes. “Keep dreaming, Steve. We’re not gonna be able to go on vacation alone until Nate graduates high school, and that’s a good seventeen years away.”

He sighed. She was right. They couldn’t pawn their children off on someone to fuck off to Mexico for a week. “You’re right, sweetheart.”

“I always am.”

That was the end of their conversation, Connie’s attention returning to Stevie.

Behind him was a table for two against the brick wall. The young women sitting at it had walked by them when they were seated, and he estimated they were in their twenties. He couldn’t help eavesdropping on their conversation when one of the girls asked, “Can you believe all that noise last night?”

“Oh my god, I know, right? Like from what it sounded like, either the woman in the room above us was getting it real good, or the rumors are true, and this place is actually haunted. But I just don’t think spirits of nuns would make those noises, you know what I mean?”

“Girl, the moaning? The screaming? The sound of that pounding? Whoever was staying upstairs is one lucky bitch. Her man knows what he’s doing, and I don’t blame her for not being able to stay quiet. I also think they probably figured that since they were on the third floor, no one would hear them going at it.”

Steve inhaled deeply, shaking his head. He knew who was staying on the third floor—he’d even been inside the massive suite. Javier had handed over $150 per night, a pair of expensive courtside tickets to a San Antonio Spurs vs. three-time defending NBA champions Chicago Bulls game, and all of his wife’s tamales from his and his father’s freezers for it. The hotel apparently didn’t rent out the Presidential Suite to just anyone to keep its allure of being something exclusive for the rich and famous who passed through the area. Javier’s local fame, unfortunately, wasn’t enough.

That didn’t stop him, though.

His pal could be a real stubborn son of a bitch.

Javier got intel that the manager was a huge fan of his mom’s tamales and the San Antonio Spurs. He lucked out that his wife’s tamales were the closest to his late mother’s, so he bribed the manager with fifty-something tamales and the highly sought-after tickets to the Spurs vs. Bulls game to book the place at full price.

There was no way in hell Steve would ever pay $150 per night for a hotel room. That was a month and a half’s worth of mortgage payments on his four-bedroom, four-bath home in Florida, for Christ’s sake. The only reason Steve rented a two-room, double-queen suite here in Texas was because Javi and his wife paid for it. They wanted his family to have roomy accommodations since they had their three kids, which was greatly appreciated, and their room only cost a reasonable fifty dollars a night.

Movement at the restaurant’s entrance caught his attention, and he watched as the new Mr. and Mrs. Javier Peña made their way inside. Steve snorted at seeing the newlyweds in matching outfits of jeans and lavender-colored shirts, Javi’s a button-up, and his wife in a V-neck. If that wasn’t ridiculous enough, they were practically fused together, with her tucked under his arm and pressed against his side, their heads close together, smiling and talking as they walked his way.

Steve had been friends with Javier for close to twenty years, and in all that time, he had never seen his best friend happier than he was with his bride. He wasn’t the same man Steve knew in Colombia. He wasn’t even the same man who lived with his family after he took down the Cali Cartel and quit his job. He changed, and he changed for the better.

To be honest, at first, Steve worried about his friend leaving the DEA and returning to civilian life. Javi had all of the signs of being what they call a lifer—someone who spends, if not all, then a significant portion of their career with the same agency. He’d been married to his job and fully committed to seeing it through no matter what it cost him. He didn’t visit his parents for years, and when his mother tragically passed away, he’d only gone home for a few days. Instead of grieving her death, he threw himself into his work. It sure as hell wasn’t healthy, but it was what he had to do to keep going.

Steve was so fucking thankful his friend got out and was getting a second chance. After all of the bullshit he went through, Javier deserved to be happy, and there was no doubt that this girl he married made him happy. She was the best thing to happen to him, and even though they needed to cool it with the PDA in front of his kids, Steve could admit they were really good for each other. He would never say it out loud, but he thought it was cute that a grumpy fucker like Javi ended up someone so bright and cheery.

He rechecked his watch to see it was 3:20 p.m.

The couple approached the table.

“Hey, guys,” the dark-haired man greeted as he pulled out the chair across from Connie for his wife to sit in. “Sorry, we’re late.” He got her settled, kissing the top of her head before taking the seat to Steve’s left.

“Tío (Uncle)!” Stevie shouted and hopped off his chair to run around the table to Javier.

His friend smiled. “Hey, mi principito (my little prince),” he grunted as he lifted the child into his lap.

When Javier was around, Steve and Connie no longer existed to their two eldest kids. Did that bother them? No. It gave them a break, and they weren’t going to be mad about that. They never expected Javi to take on the role of an uncle to their children. They never expected him to be as great as he was with their kids, either. He took his title of tío (uncle) seriously and loved the little Murphys as if they were his flesh and blood. It honestly caught Steve off guard the first time he saw how gentle and sweet Javi was with Olivia.

Steve could admit that at first, he didn’t like that his friend was so good and helpful with his daughter because it made him look bad. Steve grew up believing that, aside from the occasional diaper change, everything involving the children was his wife’s job. Looking back, he could see how that was a shitty way of thinking, and he felt ashamed for putting Connie through all of that. Seeing everything Javi did and how it helped his wife ended up being the swift kick in the ass he needed to step up and be a better father and husband.

“We lost track of time,” the bride said. “Empire Strikes Back was on the TV.”

That title sounded familiar.

“Is that one of those,” Steve started. “What’s it called? Star Trek movies?”

“Star Wars,” Javi corrected. Stevie got off his lap to run back to his original chair to grab his menu.

Nate had lost interest in the bread, so Connie put it on the table in front of the baby. Steve leaned down to his right to get into the diaper bag on the floor, grabbing a bottle of watered-down apple juice that he handed to the one-year-old as he sat back up.

“The ones with those, uh, laser swords?” Steve asked.

Javi sighed. “Lightsabers.”

“Never pegged you as a sci-fi guy.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Peña interjected. She looked past her husband at him. “Javi’s a space nerd.”

Steve smiled. “Is he, now?”

His son returned, holding the paper up to his tío (uncle). “Look!” He had crayons clutched in his other hand.

Javi’s attention went to the toddler. “Were you coloring, bud?” The man put the child in his lap again, and the page with a rainbow of scribbles on the table in front of them. “It looks good, buddy. What are you getting to eat?” He had an arm over the back of his wife’s chair, his other hand pointing at the list of three options, reading what each one was. Mrs. Peña watched the interaction with a fond expression.

Steve looked at Connie. “Honey?”

She met his eyes. “Yes, baby?”

“Five bucks says our kids will have a new cousin by the end of the year.”

She smiled. “I’d be stupid to take that bet.”

“She’s right,” Javi added before going back to talking to Stevie.

“Y’all are no fun.” Steve pouted.

The server interrupted to take their drink orders. After she left, Olivia called from across the table. “Tío (Uncle)?”

Javi turned to see her concerned face. “¿Sí, mi tesorito (Yes, my little treasure)?”

She asked him something in Spanish while pointing at his head, and whatever the question was made the other man’s cheeks flush and his new wife’s eyes widen. Connie looked where their daughter indicated and tried but failed to stifle a giggle.

“What did she ask?” Steve asked. His eyes traveled to each adult, hoping for an explanation.

Javier’s expression could be described as ‘panicked’ when he met Connie’s eyes. She didn’t even let him say anything. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know what happened, so you have to take this one.”

“What did she ask?” he tried again.

Connie caught his gaze and put her hand up to hide her mouth from Olivia while she mouthed at him, ‘Hickey,’ and pointed at the side of her neck. Great. Steve pressed his fingers to his forehead and sighed. They better come up with a believable excuse. His daughter did not need to be finding out what hickies were.

Javi finally answered Olivia in Spanish, and the young girl asked him another question Steve didn’t catch.

He hated it when they did this. He could make out some words, but his daughter and her tío (uncle) sometimes spoke too quickly for him to understand. They also liked to make it obvious when they were talking shit about him because they found it funny and enjoyed annoying the hell out of him.

Javier smiled and shook his head as he replied.

“What are they talking about?” Steve asked.

His friend’s missus threw him a bone. “Olivia asked about the bruise on Javi’s neck, and he told her what happened; he hit it on something last night, and he’s embarrassed about it.” That was a decent excuse. “She also wondered if it hurt, and he reassured her that it didn’t. Is that right, guys?” She addressed the uncle and niece.

His daughter said, “Yep!”

Javi turned his way and nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced over to Olivia and then back to Steve as he said something in Spanish that his daughter laughed at.

This was shit that made his jaw clench. “Hey, you guys know it’s against the rules to talk about me in Spanish.”

“Who said we were talking about you?” Javi replied. His attention returned to Olivia, the two of them, plus his wife, chatting in the language Steve barely understood.

“Leave them alone, Steve,” Connie said, and his eyes went to her. “It’s good practice for Olivia.”

“It’s rude,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

The server returned with their drinks, and the newlyweds had a chance to look over their menus, so the table ordered their food. Minutes passed. While Stevie was occupied with coloring, and the women were talking to his daughter about some show or movie he’d never heard of, Javier leaned his way and whispered for only him to hear, “Why does Olivia think I play baseball?”

The blonde man’s eyebrows knit together as he thought over the question. Why would Olivia think that Javi played baseball? It hit him: the conversation Connie and he had the day before on their way to the party after the ceremony. They used baseball terms to discuss whether the newlyweds would figure out how to fool around on the drive back to the reception.

He leaned toward his friend to reply just as quietly, “She wasn’t supposed to mention it to you.”

“Mention what?”

“It was nothing.”

“It was obviously something because your daughter is under the impression that I am a shitty baseball player.”

Steve had to hold in his laugh, air quickly leaving his nose. He needed to give his friend some kind of answer.

“You know how Connie and I use ‘folding laundry’ as a codeword?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Well, we were talking more in-depth about the topic, but we used baseball terminology, so if the children overheard, they wouldn’t know what the hell we were talking about.”

“And it was about me…?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you discussing my sex life…?”

“You really wanna know?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“Okay. I was being an ass and bet Connie that you horndogs wouldn’t be able to keep it in your pants on the drive to the party.”

“She would’ve lost. I hope she didn’t take it.”

“Of course, she didn’t, and I sure as hell didn’t take her bet that you guys would be able to wait until you got back to the hotel to score the first run on opening day.”

“Consummate our marriage?”

“Yeah.”

“That was a losing bet, too.”

“How the hell did you manage that with your wife driving?” he harshly whispered. She drove the two of them from the ceremony to Chucho’s house. “Wait, don’t tell me.”

“It was later on our way to the hotel,” he told him anyway. “We stopped in a field.”

“Are you guys trying to get arrested?”

“It was in the middle of nowhere. We were fine.”

Whatever happened to saving those kinds of activities for the bedroom?

“Uh huh, right.”

“Hold on a second, if Olivia overheard your baseball shit and assumed I played, where’d she get the idea that I’m bad at it? Did you fucking tell her that?”

Again, Steve had to keep himself from laughing, but this time, when he whispered, his voice was a little squeaky. “Maybe…”

His friend sat back to glare at him and forgot to keep his voice low. “You asshole.”

“You ass’ole!” the three-year-old in Javi’s lap parroted. “You ass’ole!”

The other man’s eyes rounded. “Oh, Shit. I mean, shoot.”

Steve groaned. “Goddammit, Javier,” he hissed.

“OH, SHI’!” Stevie yelled at the top of his lungs. He turned his head to look at Steve, pointing at him. “Daddy, you ass’ole!”

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#Pedro pascal #javier peña #Javier Peña/reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 11 months ago

Text

Down Bad — Spencer Reid x Fem Reader (Smut 18+)

Summary: After seeing that her ex boyfriend is engaged to his “rebound girl”, Reader finds herself missing the comforts and pleasures of sex.

Notes: ahh!! @reidsbookclub thank you my absolute love for reading this ahead of time. your enthusiasm and support and love is so so so appreciated <3 and this is my piece for @imagining-in-the-margins Friends with Benefits challenge

Word Count: 6 K

Content Warnings: Alcohol consumption (not drunk), oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, (kinda) dom Spencer ( hopeful ending?), unprotected sex, some negative self body image (reader), finishing inside with birth control, breeding kink, possessive language, dirty talk/crude language (I know Spencer's probably a tab bit OOC but this is me trying here)

Down Bad

There was no way for my situation to turn crappier. My finger stood, haunted and frozen above my phone screen. The bathroom sink ran unattended as I attempted to defrost my heart. It had dropped to my stomach as my eyebrows shot up.

I still followed Lydia, my ex's younger sister on Instagram and Facebook. Her brother might have turned out to be a terrible communicator, but she was cool.

Just a couple of months ago, she was a student in Geology and the last time we spoke she was writing a paper on Ancient Rocks in communities that used aqueducts systems. What you could do with a Master's in Geology was beyond me and my office job. I'm sure she hears too many "you must live under a rock" joke from her dad. He was always cracking the most dad jokes that have ever dad-joked; I missed it. And Lori's South Chocolate Gravy Pie. I didn't even want to know how many sticks of butter it took.

Lydia had her arms thrown around a tall, leggy, blonde girl that looked like her name was Sarah or Hannah. The post was in black and white and Hannah/Sarah showed off her gorgeous ring.

lydia-nielson99 The best honorary sister ever <3!

When my ex and I dated, the idea of fine dining was a night out at a movie sharing a bucket of popcorn and an honest-to-God-attempt at moving hopping. We talked about marriage; he'd slip on fake rings made from grass blades braided together meticulously on my finger, kiss it, and promise me that he'd earn me something worthy of my finger.

The post had only been up for 43 minutes and already had gotten a hundred or so likes. I scrolled the comment section, ignoring the rushing tap, to read the comments from my friends, our couple friends. They must've liked Sarah/Hannah better, or at least liked her and Shane better together then Shane and me. I haven’t heard from them since the breakup.

Aren't most geologists analog? I slipped my phone back into my pocket and washed my hands, wishing that I could crawl under a rock, one of those ancient ones that Lydia studies.

I couldn't decide. I couldn't decide between a red that would give me a headache I could feel in my teeth or straight gasoline that would make my face, and heart, as equally numb.

I wanted something quick and something strong. I was so, so, so over Shane it wasn't even funny. But that didn't stop him from being the love of my life, to the loss of my life. I just wondered, as I roamed the supermarket with my metal carriage holding tequila, limes, Kraft Mac and Cheese, and frozen pizza bagels, if he told Hannah/Sarah the same things.

If he would sit across from her, now probably able to splurge on a dinner fancier than Taco Bell or Denny's, and hold her hands. Would he move her ring from her middle finger to her ring finger like he did on mine?

God, I cringed, dropping in a box of Double Stuffed Oreos, I let him, shit talk me under tables with promises of rings and cradles in the other breath.

I reached for the pint of strawberry as another text pinged. Internally I knew that I would soon face an onslaught of future wine moms just jumping at the chance to "check in with me" during "such a challenging and emotional time" for me. I ignored the message, but it pinged again.

Spencer: Penelope said that the new season of that show you like is on. We can watch it tonight. I think that Hotch is actually gonna let us out at a normal time.

Spencer, my roommate, always texted with formality and correct grammar. I actually think that it would be impossible for him to do anything, but use proper spelling and grammar.

Unlike certain geologists, Spencer is actually analog. When I was searching for a roommate after my break-up, our mutual friend Penelope put us in touch. And just mere months later we've formed a friendship that most days is closer to a partnership than it is to anything else. Friends were hard for me, and relationships even harder. Looking back, I think that allowed Shane to bulldoze through boundaries I didn't even know I should have.

Spencer, a certified genius and self-described technophobe, couldn't tell me the purpose of Instagram, let alone that my ex-boyfriend's sister posted a picture with her newest soon to be sister-in-law, Sarah/Hannah.

I dropped a pint of Rocky Road ice cream and looped around for an extra box of Kraft Mac and Cheese before replying back to Spencer.

Me: Worst. Day. Ever!!! Ice cream & carbs @ 7

I stared at the bottle of tequila, understanding that ever since my 31st birthday, me and excessive drinking due to external crises would result in bloating, headaches, backaches, anxiety, and an entire weekend of recovery. Maybe instead of several shots, but I already finished half of the bottle of red I bought as a bottom of the ninth decision.

"Tequila?" Spencer mused, dropping his bag on the table. "This must be like Defcon 4? And I should know, I work in national security."

I grunted, my fingers drumming against the table. The cheap speaker connected to my phone plays sad breakup music. I saw Spencer's wheels turn as he sat down with me at the table.

"Want boxed Mac & Cheese?" I asked, standing up to scoop some of the dinner into a plate for myself. I didn't seek it out often, but there was something familiar and comforting about Kraft Mac & Cheese. "I know it's got a lot of shitty stuff in it. But I'm actually going to lose my mind tonight."

My voice turned shrill and unsteady. And my eyes flooded with sharp, salty tears. Spencer stood and then backed away, his eyes and face melting in mutual pain. "What happened?"

"Shane's getting married."

"That explains the tequila."

I laughed. Spencer didn't offer any condolences as the seconds ticked and ticked. Instead he looked at me. He must've noticed the groceries. The Oreos, ice creams, and boxes of incredibly processed macaroni and cheese all screamed classic crisis for me. Being as smart as he is, Spencer could probably have told something about me within weeks of meeting me.

"Well, I already drank some of that red wine." I said. "The tequila doesn't sound like a good choice. But bad choices can be fun choices when you want to hide under a rock for the rest of your life."

Spencer still didn't offer anything, he kicked off his shoes and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. "No tequila."

“You’re no fun." I huffed, grabbing my bowl and heading to the living room. "You promised me new episodes of The Queen's Court."

Spencer still frowned, his arms crossed as his steaming bowl of processed cheese pasta sat to his side on the counter. "I didn't think that Shane still was someone you thought about."

I sighed.

“It’s understandable. He’s marrying the girl he started dating right after breaking-up with you.”

I didn't think about Shane, not that often though. But he still was my first love. The love I shared with Shane was something he stole from me. I had given him all that youth for free; now I was thirty-one. Don't get me wrong, thirty-one is young, I don't feel old. But it's this weird, almost off-putting subliminal feeling when all of my friends either smell like weed or little babies.

"I don't love him. I don't want to be with him."

Spencer had rolled up his sleeves, revealing his forearms. He had a couple pictures of himself when he was younger. Him with his mom at one of his many post-graduate celebrations. One with his co-workers at a bar. He changed a lot; in pictures of the past he was thin and lanky. But now, when he would wear pants or cardigans or button downs with the sleeves rolled up, I found it difficult to not stare in appreciation. My sex life with Shane was good, consistent, and effective. While it might sound clinical to some, I think we both enjoyed knowing that we both knew how to, simply, get the job done for each other. I must be missing sex an awful lot to be getting flushed at the sight of Spencer’s arms.

Two years older than me, Spencer had had a life harder than most people. Penelope explained to me that he was finding it hard to live alone after he was falsely incarcerated. And working the hours he did at the BAU, he found it hard to find someone okay with someone coming home all hours of the night.

Like Spencer, I hated living alone. So together, we built a little home as roommates, as friends, and somewhere along the lines, as partners. And over the last couple of months, Spencer had never brought a date home. I had one hook up about two weeks after we moved in together. It was fine, but not enough to tempt back onto the horrid, vapid, devoid of anything promising landscape that was Bumble and Hinge.

"I just..." I bring my face into my hands in embarrassment. "I miss having someone to come home to who wants to see me."

Spencer crossed through the living room, bowl in hand. He sat criss cross on the floor like he did most nights. "I want to see you. I always want to see you, Y/N."

"You know what I mean, Spencer…And if I'm being honest...sex. God, I miss sex. Good, consistent, effective sex from someone that knows me."

Spencer and I never talked about sex. When we would watch movies that had sex scenes in it, neither of us would talk. One time we watched a movie starring whatever current Hollywood Pretty Boy had captured the hearts of the Internet at the time, and I commented that I would "ride that cowboy into the sunset." I remembered looking at Spencer for his reaction. Usually he would blush or roll his eyes or kick me playfully in the shin for being crass.

But that time he didn't. Instead, his jaw set, grinding firmly and unyieldingly. After that I didn't make sexy jokes or talk about sex in front of him. I thought it made him uncomfortable, till now I suppose

The music changed, and the breakup anthem of the century played. I stood up on the sofa, solo cup in hand and swayed to the music as Spencer stood below.

"You want sex?" Spencer asked. "We can have sex on this sofa right now if that's what you want. I mean, how much wine have you had?"

I busted out laughing, sipping the red wine from my solo cup. I didn't bother for a fancy wine glass. Besides, it was cheap and . And clearly it was working if it made me imagine Spencer Reid, my hot, stoic roommate with dreamy brown eyes, offering me sex.

"Spencer! Come, dance. Please!" His eyes shifted over my body. And he must have noticed the way my knees wobbled under the insecurity of the sofa cushions or the way my eyes must have been glazed and sparkly.

He obliged me, and his hand wrapped around mine. He raised my hand above my head to twirl me and then walked me down from the couch. "Let's get you on level ground. I hurt my leg a couple years after I started the BAU and it's no fun healing up."

He sat me down on the couch and placed a throw blanket on my lap. My bowl of Mac & Cheese was missing, but returned back to my lap, reheated. Spencer also replaced my solo cup, cutting me off, thankfully, from alcohol for the time.

"Peach flavored electrolyte water. And tomorrow I'll make you breakfast." He offered, sitting down on my right as he started the show.

"I didn't mean to be annoying and buzzed. I know you don’t like it" I said, not looking at Spencer. "I don't love him. Or like him. Or even want to be with him. Ugh. No, I just...I want…sex."

Spencer nodded, not even looking at me as the scene between the Queen and her lady's maid wore on. I kept trying to convince Spencer that the Queen was actually the villain and the warring clan would take over and let the series run on and on for an infinite amount of seasons. But it was campy and dramatic and exactly what I needed as I licked my, apparently, very open and painful wounds.

"What's the matter?" I asked, pausing the television. "You look pissed off."

"You know that he was the one that lost out when you guys broke up." Spencer's eyes didn't meet mine, even though the television remained paused. "He didn't deserve you. Not if he didn't know how goddamn lucky he was when he had you."

I don't let my heart think this means anything."What?" But I feel my cheeks prickle with

heat, just like they did when Spencer, albeit jokingly, offered to have sex with me.

"I said, it's his loss. If I had you, I wouldn't ever lose you, Y/N."

"I'm nothing special." I admit. I wasn't the most positive or confident girl, in my mid twenties I went to therapy for a good three years to sort out some baggage from my childhood. We all have something and mine was having a hard time seeing myself. I couldn't maintain positivity, to my brain it was better to remain neutral than to jam positivity down my throat that I couldn't honestly accept.

"You're not nothing special, Y/N." Spencer's voice cut through, sharp and confident. He sat up, his body sliding so close to mine that his knees touched my thighs. "You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And you're smart. And funny. You make me laugh like no one has during a time in my life when I was convinced no one would be able to."

Our apartment isn't big, but it's enough space for Spencer and I to feel like we're could interact when we wanted, which was most of the time. But there was enough space for us to find our alone time when needed.

As Spencer's knees rubbed against mine and his soft eyes met mine, the room seemed to collapse. It was as if all the air was sucked out.

“And I am so...I've never been happier to have you be the last person I see before I go to sleep and the first person I get to see when I wake up. And if I...and if I had that with you the way he did? I wouldn't have messed it up."

"Spencer…" He raised his hand, showing me his palm, a sign that I think signified he meant no harm, but as he words, heated and charged sliced through me, I could feel them ricochet upon impact.

"I know…But, when I said I would fuck you on this couch, Y/N, it wasn't an empty promise. I meant it. And it wouldn’t have to mean anything.”

Spencer shifted on the couch. It creaked with his weight. The bowl of Mac & Cheese burned against my leg— even through the throw blanket. My heart was racing and racing till it skipped a beat. It nearly stopped. He sounded so sure of himself. I wanted to laugh it off again, as if the thought of me and Spencer hooking up…no fucking on the sofa was something comedic or entertaining.

“Are you…Spencer…are you sure?”

I tried to keep my voice steady, unwilling to let him know that the thought of his hands on my body lit a fire inside of me, a fire that I had yet to challenge. But God do I want to tame it. Sex with Spencer would be messy and complicated.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed in on my face. I would’ve thought that being stared at so intensely would have made me want to sink into the couch so I’d be as forgotten as stray hair ties and pocket change. But I wasn’t. Spencer’s brown eyes, liquid bronze bore into me. I felt a hot excitement wash over me that I knew was arousal.

“Yes.”

“Is it bad that I want you to kiss me?” I sighed. “It’s bad timing for either of us. But…”

“But you want me to kiss you?” I nodded and Spencer moved closer to me on the couch. “You want me to help you forget how that man has made you hurt.”

“Spencer…” Before I could rescind my desire, not that I would ever think about it, his hand cupped my cheek. Spencer’s thumb brushed against my jawbone as his eyes scanned my face. I could smell his lavender mint body wash; crisp and clean.

His mouth was anything, but crisp and clean. It was hot and dirty. Spencer kissed me with a hunger that couldn’t be sated with just one kiss. I knew for the moment his lips touched mine, I was done for. I wasn’t a whiskey drinker; I hardly knew what it even tasted like. But Spencer’s kisses felt like it. He doesn’t drink, but his warm body was flush against mine and I tasted the heady, smokey warmth of a strong cocktail. His arms and torso were thick and solid.

I brought my hands up to his neck and carded my fingers through his scalp. He groaned, the vibrations tingled against my lips as he kissed me. Spencer’s teeth tugged at my bottom lip, pulling it out before he kissed it again. He shifted so his back was against the couch and I was hauled up to his lap.

“There you go, baby.” Spencer said. His hands were large and imposing against my back and I could feel their heat through my shirt.

My muscles and resolve transformed to liquid when he called me that. I could feel my heart surge and lurch and leap as Spencer’s lips nipped against my skin. It was so good, so warm, so achingly wonderful that I felt myself wondering if I could do this over and over. I loved my vibrator and I would continue to love my vibrator long after this once-in-a-life-time situation with my roommate would end. But there was nothing like straddling a man’s lap.

And Spencer Reid was a sight to behold. I knew he used to be skinny, but in the years that I didn’t know him, Spencer had grown up. He filled out his pants with his strong thighs and softer stomach. His pants were strained and tented. I grinded down, enjoying his haughty moan in my ear.

I arched my back, exposing my neck as Spencer’s wet, hot mouth pressed kissed along the column of my throat. Feeling him grin as he kissed me I tugged at his hair sharp and hard. His grunt is a mixture of surprise and pleasure. I didn’t think that he’d be this vocal but with me writing in his lap I felt him try to hold back.

“Just touch me.” I whined, kissing Spencer. “Please just touch me.”

His pants tented against my core. I tensed at the feeling of his erection. My pajama pants and underwear, though thin, offer only a sliver of the friction I desired. Spencer’s fingers, quick and nimble, didn’t hesitate to undo the drawstring bow.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Spencer murmured, kissing my temple. His lips are like a tattoo kiss as he resurrects something inside of me that I had long buried. “Sit on the couch.”

I scrambled to sit, my body acting of its own accord as Spencer’s words rattled through me. He was so confident, so sure, so certain. And his hands never left my body. It was as if there was some internal pull between the two of us. He sank to his knees and swung my right leg over his shoulder. I lifted my butt and he slid my pajama pants off my legs. Tossing them to the floor, Spencer licked his lower lip and looked at me as if I was good enough to eat. I supposed that we were about to find out just exactly how good I was.

“Open up for me, baby girl.” Spencer whispered, his breath landed on my skin and made me jump. “Let me see just how pretty you are.”

Spencer Reid had a dirty mouth. My cheeks and chest and belly burned with arousal. He kissed along the edges of my panties. Spencer’s middle finger dragged along my underwear, teasing my clit through the cotton fabric. With the patience of a saint, Spencer tormented both of us. He looked at me as if he could commit me to memory. His eyes were heavy with lust and something that I swore could mean something more. But that line of thinking had red wine written all over it. It wasn’t drunk. Hell, I wasn’t even buzzed anymore.

“Jesus, I’m a lucky fucking bastard.”

Yet, I sat there. With my legs spread, held open by Spencer’s large hands, practically humming with need and desire.

“Please. Please. Just touch me.” I begged, beyond caring if I sounded wanton with need. Spencer smirked as he hooked a finger underneath my panties and slipped them down my legs. And there I sat, legs spread. Finally he obliged. With two fingers, Spencer dragged them up my exposed core. The heel of his hand brushed against my clit. His skin was soft and his fingers deft and skilled. I closed my eyes as the pleasure took control of my body.

Spencer slipped a fingertip inside of me. He could feel the wetness dripping from my cunt. I grabbed his wrist, forcing him to hold his hand against my core. Our eyes met and I could not tell which one of us decided to let his finger sink inside of me. I watched as he slipped inside and released a throaty moan. My cries were extinguished by Spencer’s unyielding mouth. He pumped in and out, in and out, before slipping out of my cunt all together. I lunged forward at the sudden loss and was met by Spencer’s wry chuckle.

“I am going to eat your pussy. And you are going to cum against my face with your legs around my shoulders.”

I groaned. It’s as if Spencer knew that my brain needed to be switched off. He nipped at my inner thigh. Blood rushed throughout my body and I felt my pussy heat at the sensation. Spencer’s soft breath was hot against my skin as he kissed. He licked a line up my aroused core before flicking his tongue over my clit. It was a teasing, tormenting motion that coaxed a wave of pleasure to build. He’s a man possessed, so far gone that I didn’t even attempt to hold back as a moan rises in my throat.

“Jesus. You are a sight to behold. I’m going to show you how a man takes his time.”

As if he could possibly spread me apart even further, Spencer squeezed my thighs. Clearly he wanted to see all of me. Taste all of me. I could feel a coil tighten in my lower stomach and as Spencer lowered his mouth to my core, I felt the coil snap.

His licks aren’t shy and timid like I imagined. They’re purposeful and powerful. And threaten to melt my carefully crafted guard. He’s already gotten me well past the point of foreplay. I’m so wet that I’m sure cock that tents his pants can slip inside without much resistance. But he didn’t stop. His tongue continued lick and nip and suck against my most intimate area.

“Is this all for me? So wet. So pretty, sweetheart. Your cunt is dripping for me.”

I panted, unable to form a coherent thought as Spencer’s heated gaze spread over me. “All for you. Only for you.”

“Well in that case, I think I have a job to do.

All I could see was red. His hands gripped my thighs. I hated my thighs, usually. They’re too soft and squishy and usually ruin most pairs of pants eventually.

“Fucking hell.” Spencer cursed as he sunk two fingers into my needy cunt. “You’re so hot and tight for me, Y/N. Look at you. All splayed out. All for me.”

“You don’t have to do it until I finish.” I blurted out. “I—I know this isn’t….I want tonight to be for you as much as it is for me.”

Spencer’s eyes shifted.

“Ssshh, shhh,” He cooed. He looked up at me with his eyes big and blissed out. It was almost too much for me to handle. I watched as he kneeled in front of me; pants had become too tight from the moment my fingers groped him. At this point it was nearly impossible to withstand.

“I’ve thought about this way too much for us to rush this. I’m going to take my time with you, baby. You are going to ride my face like a good girl.The only thing that’s keeping me from cumming in my pants is the thought of burying my face into your pulsing cunt followed by my fucking you raw with my leaking cock.”

I yelped as he and sucked along my inner thigh. My skin was impossibly soft and tempting. “Fuck. Fuck, baby. You’re perfect. You are a fucking dream.”

I fisted his hair, feeling the familiar rush of pleasure from my head to my toes. For a while it only set my own bedsheets ablaze, but now it spread to Spencer. He groaned against my core, still lapping me up as the wall of pleasure threatened to come crashing down.

One second I was moaning, feeling myself toe the precipice before I teetered over. The feeling built and crashed before I could even enjoy it.

“Fuck! No. Damn it.” I cursed myself for not being able to climax, despite the down right sinful things Spencer was hell bent on doing between my legs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t…sometimes I have a hard time.”

“Don’t worry,” Spencer assured, his thumb brushing against my kneecap, “We’ll find our rhythm. Together. Anything you want. And I think I might actually die if I don’t get inside you this second.”

I laughed, dragging Spencer up by the shirt collar. He placed his hands against my hips and pulled me forward for a kiss.

I tasted myself against his lips and it turned my on beyond belief. “I want you. I’m on the pill and I want you. It’s awful timing because I don’t have any condoms and it’s a terrible idea but—”

I’m cut off by Spencer’s lips again. His mouth seared against mine, hot and needy. “I’m clean. I want this. I want you. So badly, sweetheart. So bad.”

I nodded, my mouth unwilling and unable to leave Spencer as he knelt in between my legs. He stood to his full height and took my hands. “I know I have promised to fuck you on this couch, but I have a bad knee and once I’m buried inside you, baby, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back.”

“My bed’s made.”

Spencer’s hands didn’t leave my waist as I walked him to my bedroom. I should’ve been more embarrassed as I walked with him, considering I looked more akin to Winnie the Pooh than a sexy hook up. But once I felt a sharp sting on my ass, I quickly realized that Spencer thought the opposite.

“Don’t blame me.” Spencer said. “With that ass you’re lucky I haven’t had the sense to take you over my knee already.”

I turned, facing Spencer and standing with just an oversized pajama shirt covering my chest. His hands hovered over my waist, pulling me towards him by the fabric of my shirt. “I need to see those tits, baby. They drive me fucking wild in the morning. When you’re sitting on that damn counter with your messy hair and no bra. You’re a sight to behold, baby.”

“On one condition.” I presented, attempting to act as if the dirty words that fell between us had no effect on me. “Those pants? They find their way to the hamper. And fast.”

Spencer chuckled as his fingers brushed stray pieces of my hair away from my face. He touched me with such tenderness that I could feel myself craving it long after it was gone. He dropped his pants, followed by his boxers. I meant to tease him about the mini double helix DNAs printed all over his boxers, but I was effectively silenced by his erection.

I felt him the entire time I sat and made out with in his lap. I could feel how hard and thick and long he must be, but seeing him out in the open made my body lurch with need. He devoured me with his lips, pushing me down into the bed as his quick hands rid me of my shirt. Spencer’s teeth met my nipple, nipping and twisting it to elicit the dirtiest moans from my lips. He smiled, sucking marks into my skin that would last even after all what stood between us shattered.

Licking my lips, I could still taste myself from his kiss. Never feeling anything quite this intense with anyone, I suddenly felt so naked and bare. But Spencer’s calm hands, big and gentle, soothed me wordlessly.

“I need you.” I begged, wanton with need, “I need your cock so bad.” I wasn’t a begging woman, but as Spencer pressed the tip of his cock at my entrance I figured that anyone can learn how to relent now and again.

Sweet kisses to my sweaty skin replaced his dirty words that made me flush. As Spencer hovered above me, I drank him in. His eyes were hazel, but sometimes, depending on what he wore, they were brown or green. I quickly unbuttoned his top, eager to have his warmth spread all over him. He was thick and solid— all man. From the muscles in his back to the furrow of his brow and the slight curl pattern to his hair, Spencer sucked all the air from my lungs.

I was weightless. I was floating. I was soaring.

When he finally slid into me it was with an excruciatingly slow speed. “Don’t wanna hurt you.” He mumbled, a hand brushed my hair and a pair of lips kissed my forehead. “Give ya a chance to see what you can handle.”

Emboldened, I wrapped my legs and interlocked my ankles around Spencer’s butt. He lunged forward and his forehead dipped towards my breast. His kisses were fast and erratic as I felt him sink deeper and deeper inside of me.

“You’re so thick…ah!”

“Oh fuck.” His voice was as raw and as affected as mine. “It’ll be fine, darling. You’re so perfect like this. Taking this cock like a good girl. I know how to make it better for you.”

His thumbs, rough and sharp, circled around my clit helping me to take his cock deeper and deeper. I whined, desperate for the relief and embarrassed at the way I’m at center stage. Spencer took me, made me his and I’m nothing but a mess for him. My bones are liquid as he reaches out for my hand.

It was like there was a blueprint to my body. I had it locked away somewhere. But somehow, somewhere along the way Spencer figured out where it was stored. He read the blueprint. And he knew exactly what to do to make my foundation crumble. With each stroke of his fingers against my clit or pulse of his cock in my pussy, he knew exactly what I needed.

Spencer’s lust filled voice rang clear. “You feel close. I’m so close. Can you come for me? Huh? Show me how you play with that pretty little pussy. How do you do it, Y/N?”

His hands and fingers dug into my lush body with an unrelenting desire I wasn’t accustomed to. Magic fingers. God. And I magic fucking cock. I grabbed his hair, dragging him down to my lips as I teased my clit. Looking down to where our two halves met nearly sent me over the edge. My cock swallowed Spencer’s thick cock, it was hot and erotic and I watched with my mouth hanging open in pure, unadulterated desire. My pussy, wet and hungry for more, begged him for more. I grabbed his ass with my unoccupied, dragging my fingernails down his skin as I begged for him to fuck me harder.

“Harder. Spencer. I need it.”

Spencer brought his face into my neck, kissing and biting my neck as he pounded into me. The angle set rockets of pleasure from my core to my toes, spurring me on as I practically chanted his name. Spencer moaned, his teeth sharp and mouth hot and heady as his kisses grew more and more frantic.

His thrusting was still sharp and calculated as his cocked continued to fuck me. “God, you look gorgeous when I fuck you. All fucked out from my cock. My girl.”

I liked the way he called me his. It was nice to be claimed. To be wanted and desired so badly that two letter little words were tacked on. It was a tiny word, but it changed the entire meaning. It was the sort of word that could make foundations falter and buildings collapse and roommates morph into something else entirely. Endorphins and hormones and who else knows what coursed through my veins.

It was just me and him. Together in a limitless space that neither of us would care to ever leave.

“So close.” I groaned and Spencer knew well enough to just continue rather than to change anything up. “That’s it, baby. Oh! Fuck. Spencer.”

My high came crashing down around me. I felt my cunt clamp around Spencer’s cock as he continued to thrust into me. His eyes watched me with an analytic level of observation. I knew he had a good memory; one that refused to allow him to forget much of anything. But as he watched me fall apart, naked and vulnerable and oh so aroused, it was like he was trying to commit me to memory.

“Come inside. Fuck! Spencer. Please. I need it. I want it.” I begged him, desperate for him to climax inside of me. I wanted to see what it would feel like to have his cum dripping from my needy, spent pussy. I wondered if it would feel different, if it would change something, something fundamentally.

His voice was hoarse and strained as he came, shooting spurts of hot cum into my cunt. It was unabashedly erotic, watching him fall apart with his bare cock stuffed inside me. “Fucking, hell. It’s never been like that before.” He kissed my jaw, holding me in place by my chin while still sheathed inside of me. It was a lovely feeling. Full and safe. I must have been so drunk on him because I thought I could stay like this forever.

The silence that fell between the two of us lingered for several months. Spencer’s fingers danced along my hip bone and up to my rib change. His eyes were closed and his hair was matted with sweat against his forehead. He had creases near his eyes and deep, well set-in bags under his eyes. I wondered how inappropriate it would be for him to spend the night with me. Naked of course. I don’t think either of us could handle having it any other way.

I never fucked my roommate. Nor have I been ballsy enough to have “feel better” sex with a friend. It’s not like I expected him to lay out a red carpet and get down on one knee after he gave me a handful of (earth shattering) orgasms.

“Y/N.” Spencer breathed. A beat passed before I dared to reply.

“Spencer.” He stirred beside me, his hand resting against my thigh.

“I think…I think we’re gonna need to try that again and again and again…” He rolled over onto me, kissing along my jaw. I felt the pads of his thumbs against my bare breasts and sighed.

God, help me. He’s my man.

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

Text

Lover

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the little (and not so little) ways that you and Charles show your love for each other

You’re in the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you listen intently to Charles’ mother give you her famous tiramisu recipe step-by-step. “Now, this next part is very important,” she stresses. “You’ll need one cup of granulated sugar to add to the mascarpone filling.”

“Got it, one cup sugar for the filling,” you confirm.

Pascale chuckles warmly. “I’m so glad Charles has found such a lovely girl who wants to learn my recipes. He’s always loved my tiramisu since he was a little boy.”

You smile, touched by her kind words. You and Charles have been together for a year now, but it still makes your heart flutter to be so accepted into his close-knit family.

“It means so much to me that you’re sharing this recipe with me,” you tell Pascale sincerely.

You chat with her a while longer, going over some of the trickier steps and getting tips on how to best soak the ladyfingers. Finally, you have the full recipe memorized and are ready to give it a try.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it now. Thank you so much again, Pascale! I really appreciate you taking the time to walk me through this.”

“Of course, chère! Let me know how it turns out. Charles is a lucky man to have such a thoughtful girlfriend,” Pascale says warmly before hanging up.

You grin, eager to get started. You know tiramisu is Charles’ absolute favorite dessert and you want to surprise him with a homemade version tonight after he finally comes back from his latest race.

Humming to yourself, you gather the ingredients — mascarpone, eggs, espresso, cocoa powder, and of course, the sugar. You double check you have everything and preheat the oven so the ladyfingers will be perfect.

As you start the recipe, you feel a rush of excitement. You follow each step meticulously, Pascale’s voice guiding you in your mind. You carefully separate the eggs and beat the whites to stiff peaks. When it’s time to add the sugar to the mascarpone filling, you pause.

Now, which one was the sugar again? You look between the two identical jars of white powder, second-guessing yourself.

Shoot, you should have labeled them.

After a moment of hesitation, you decide on the bowl on the left. Yes, that must be sugar, you reassure yourself. You mix it into the silky mascarpone filling until it’s perfectly combined. Once assembled, you spread the filling over the ladyfingers and cover it with a final dusting of cocoa powder.

It looks absolutely beautiful. You did it! You made Charles’ favorite dessert completely from scratch. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he takes the first delicious bite.

You glance at the clock as you clean up. Charles will be home soon. You carefully store the tiramisu in the fridge to chill until after dinner.

Right on time, you hear Charles’ keys in the lock. You hurry to greet him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “I missed you!”

He grins and nuzzles your neck. “And I missed you, ma belle.”

Over dinner on the balcony, Charles tells you all about the race and his ambitious one-stop strategy under the Suzuka cherry blossoms. You listen attentively, asking questions and laughing at his dramatic reenactments.

Finally, it’s time for dessert. “I have a surprise for you,” you say with a playful smile.

Charles’ eyes light up. “Oh really? Do tell!”

You bring the chilled tiramisu to the table, along with two small plates and forks. “Ta-da! I made your favorite, with your mom’s secret recipe.”

“No way, you’re kidding!” Charles exclaims. He takes in the layered dessert with delight. “It looks incredible, mon cœur. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

You blush happily as you dish out servings for both of you. “I hope I did it justice. Your mom walked me through the whole thing over the phone.”

Charles takes a big eager bite, closing his eyes as he savors it. “Mmm … it’s absolutely delicious,” he declares after swallowing. “Seriously, this is amazing. Here, you have to try it!”

He holds out a forkful toward you. You accept it into your mouth, immediately bursting into incredulous laughter. “Oh my god, this is so salty! I definitely screwed up somewhere. You don’t have to eat it!”

But Charles just grins and takes another hearty bite. “What do you mean? It tastes perfect to me.”

You stare at him in confusion. “You can’t actually like this, Charles. It’s like I poured the entire salt shaker in by accident.”

“No no, it’s great! The best tiramisu I’ve ever had,” he insists. Seeing your disbelief, he takes your hand from across the table. “Really, Y/N. I love it because you made it just for me. With love. That’s what makes it so special.”

You feel your insides turn soft and melty at his words. “You’re just saying that to be nice,” you protest weakly.

He shakes his head. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Because ...” He pauses, looking into your eyes sincerely. “Because I’m completely in love with you, mon amour. I’d eat a thousand salty tiramisus if it made you smile like this.”

You can’t help the joyful laugh that escapes you. “You’re such a hopeless romantic, you know that?” You tease him.

“Only for you,” he flirts back with a playful wink.

You lean across the table to kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, the adoration shining in his green eyes leaves you breathless.

Maybe he’s right. It doesn’t matter that the tiramisu is an utter fail. All that matters is that you made it with love.

And that’s the sweetest taste of all.

***

It’s been a few weeks since your salty tiramisu mishap. You and Charles laughed about it afterwards, but you were still determined to make him something special with your own two hands.

So you decided to take up crocheting. It was trickier than you expected, but you persevered, watching YouTube tutorials and getting tangled in yarn for hours.

Finally, after a month of work, you’ve produced your first wearable creation — a sweater for Charles.

It’s an oversized style, cream colored with red racing stripes across the chest. You did your best to evenly stitch the rows, but there are gaps in some places that cause the stripes to waver drunkenly.

The sleeves are several inches too long, dangling adorably over Charles’ hands when he tries it on. And the neckline gapes open no matter how he tugs it.

But none of the flaws matter to Charles. His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when you present it to him.

“You made this? For me?” He asks as he eagerly pulls it on.

You nod, suddenly shy. “I wanted to make something special for you, even if my skills are still .... developing,” you admit with an embarrassed chuckle.

But Charles is beaming, admiring himself in the mirror. “It’s perfect! Seriously, I love it. This is the best gift ever!”

He engulfs you in a big hug, sleeves flopping over you. You hug him back, relieved and happy he appreciates your efforts.

From that day on, Charles insists on wearing the sweater constantly, even styling it with whatever eclectic pants he decides to wear on race weekends.

You try to discourage him — the holes along the hem are getting bigger from snagging and the neckline is truly unsalvageable.

But Charles won’t hear it. “Are you kidding? This is my new lucky charm!” He declares. “I have to wear it for every race now.”

Sure enough, he starts a winning streak whenever he dons your handmade sweater, even though it’s quite a departure from the fitted shirts and designer hoodies he previously favored, leaving his fans scratching their heads at the sudden change.

You watch in amused endearment as he proudly wears your gift for candid pre-race interviews and photo-ops. The overlong sleeves just make his exuberant gestures even more adorable.

Finally, a reporter works up the courage to ask him about the quirky sweater. “That’s quite a statement piece you have been arriving in each Sunday,” the reporter comments during a press conference. “What made you decide to wear it?”

Charles’ face lights up even more. “My sweater? It was handmade for me by my incredible girlfriend,” he announces, making you blush furiously from the audience.

“She worked so hard on it, even though crocheting is totally new to her. So I wear it to show how much I appreciate her and how talented she is,” he continues sincerely.

The reporters “aww” as Charles shows off the uneven stitches like they’re couture. “It’s my good luck charm now too! She put so much love into making it that I feel like I can’t lose whenever I have it on.”

He looks directly at you, eyes shining. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received, because she made it just for me. I’m the luckiest man in the world to be with someone so thoughtful and caring.”

You have to wipe away joyful tears at his heartfelt words. You never imagined your clumsy crocheting would come to mean so much to him.

But Charles wears that sweater for every race, no matter how tattered it gets. Because for him, it represents something priceless — your love.

***

You hum along to the radio as you stir the melted chocolate in a bowl. The rich aroma fills the air of your shared apartment. Today is Valentine’s Day and you want to surprise your boyfriend with homemade chocolate-covered strawberries when he gets home from training.

You dip the first plump, red strawberry into the silky chocolate, letting the excess drip off before placing it gently onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. One by one, you coat each strawberry, taking care to fully submerge them.

When the tray is full, you quickly pop one glistening strawberry into your mouth and slide the rest into the fridge to let the chocolate harden. As you wait, you tidy up the kitchen, washing the bowls and utensils used to make the treat. A glance at the clock on the microwave tells you Charles will be home soon.

The sound of the front door opening makes you grin. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls out.

You grab the tray of chocolate-covered strawberries and head towards his voice. “Welcome home! I have a surprise for y-”

You stop short, your throat suddenly feeling scratchy and tight. Your lips tingle oddly.

Confused, you lift a hand to your neck. Is this just excitement to see Charles? But no, your tongue is starting to swell now too. Your breathing becomes labored.

Charles rounds the corner. “Mon ange, what’s wro-” His eyes widen as he takes in your distress. In a few quick strides he is by your side, the tray clattering forgotten to the floor. “What’s happening?”

You wheeze, barely able to force out words. “Can’t … breathe …”

Charles sweeps you into his arms and runs for the front door. “Hospital. Now.”

You cling to him, each ragged breath a struggle. The world seems to blur and tilt alarmingly.

Then somehow you’re in Charles’ car, speeding down the street. One of his hands grips the wheel while the other clutches yours tightly. “Just hold on, stay with me. We’re almost there.”

You try to respond but only manage a choked gurgle. Black spots swim across your vision. A feeling of detachment steals over you.

The car screeches to a stop outside the emergency department entrance. Charles lifts you from the passenger seat, calling for help. There is a flurry of activity as a team of doctors and nurses rushes over with a gurney.

You are barely aware of being wheeled into an exam room, too focused on trying to pull air into your lungs. A mask is fitted over your face, dispensing blessed oxygen. An IV is inserted into your arm.

The medical staff works quickly, asking Charles questions as they begin treatment. Antihistamines. Steroids. Epinephrine. The medications slowly start to counteract your reaction. The vice-like tightness in your chest and throat gradually lessens.

After what feels like an eternity, you are able to take full breaths again. The room comes back into focus, no longer spinning. Charles sits at your bedside, clutching your hand, his handsome face creased with worry.

The doctor examines you, nodding with satisfaction as your symptoms continue to improve. “It appears you had a severe allergic reaction. We’ll run some tests to determine the cause.”

Charles looks stricken. “But how? What could have possibly …” His gaze falls on your swollen lips. “The strawberries,” he whispers.

You nod weakly. It had to have been. You’ve never reacted to them before, but an allergy can develop at any time.

Charles smoothes back your hair, distress pouring off of him. “I’m so sorry, mon cœur. I should have been there with you.”

You squeeze his hand. “You couldn’t have known. I’m okay now thanks to you.”

He just shakes his head, unconvinced.

The testing confirms it — you are now mysteriously allergic to strawberries. The doctor gives you an EpiPen prescription and strict instructions to the fruit in the future.

After several more hours of observation, you are finally discharged from the hospital with an exhausted Charles supporting you.

The sun has long since set on what was supposed to have been a romantic Valentine’s Day. Instead, you spent it swollen and terrified in the ER.

Back home, Charles tucks you into bed, insisting you rest. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror — puffy-faced and red-eyed — and cringe. Some Valentine you turned out to be.

You reach for Charles’ hand again. “I’m so sorry I ruined our evening. I wanted it to be perfect but instead I ended up scaring you half to death and forcing you to rush me to the hospital.”

Charles silences you with a gentle kiss. “Not another word, mon amour. You have nothing to apologize for. All that matters is that you are safe.”

He caresses your cheek, looking at you with such love and tenderness it makes your heart ache. “You could never ruin anything. You are the light of my life — my everything. No Valentine’s Day is complete without you.”

You feel yourself tearing up. Even after the ordeal of this evening, he still looks at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re still the most beautiful Valentine I’ve ever had, you know that? A little swelling can’t hide that.” Charles brushes away your tears and pulls you close. “Rest now. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You nestle into his embrace, letting his warmth and steady heartbeat soothe you. As you drift off, you can’t help but marvel at how lucky you are to have this man. Even at your puffiest and most distressed, he thinks you’re beautiful.

No matter what surprises life throws at you, with Charles by your side you know everything will be okay. He loves you unconditionally — swollen lips, hospital visits, and all.

***

“Close your eyes,” you say to Charles as you lead him into the living room.

He laughs and covers his eyes with his hands. “What are you up to, mon amour?”

You grin, though he cannot see it. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

You guide him across the room, hands on his shoulders. He shuffles along, peeking through his fingers.

“No peeking!” You scold, and he squeezes his eyes shut again, smiling.

You position him in front of the coffee table. “Okay,” you say. “You can open your eyes now.”

Charles drops his hands. On the table sits a large gift-wrapped box with a massive red bow on top. His eyes go wide with surprise and delight.

“For me?”

You nod, bouncing on your toes excitedly. “Happy birthday!”

He pulls you into a tight hug. “You are too good to me, ma belle. Thank you.” Leaning down, he captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “You don’t even know what it is yet! Open it.”

Charles grins and turns his attention to the present. He carefully unties the bow and lifts the lid on the box. Inside sits a sleek red bomber jacket with the Ferrari logo embroidered on the chest. He runs his fingers over the leather appreciatively.

“This is beautiful,” he murmurs.

“Look on the back,” you prompt.

Charles turns the jacket over. Across the back, in bold white letters, it reads: DADDY.

His eyes go wide again, and for a moment he just stands there gaping at the jacket. Then his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses to the floor in a dead faint.

“Charles!” You rush to his side, kneeling next to him on the plush carpet. Gently you pat his cheek, trying to rouse him. “Charles, wake up!”

After a few tense moments, his eyelashes begin to flutter. You breathe a sigh of relief as he opens his eyes.

“Wha … what happened?” He mumbles.

“You fainted, silly.”

You help him sit up slowly. He puts a hand to his head, still looking dazed.

“I had the strangest dream …” He trails off, glancing around the room. His gaze lands on the jacket lying nearby, and his eyes widen again.

“It wasn’t a dream,” you say softly.

Charles looks at you, lips parted in shock. “Then you … you’re …”

You furrow your brow in confusion. “I’m what?”

“Pregnant!” He exclaims. “We’re having a baby!”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to go wide. “What? No! I’m not pregnant!”

Charles frowns, thoroughly bewildered. “But the jacket said … I thought it was your way of telling me we’re expecting.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Oh my goodness, no. The jacket is for a very different reason.”

He looks almost disappointed. “It is?”

You take his hands in yours. “I know you’ve been talking about getting a dog for months now, ever since you met Mimi.”

Comprehension begins to dawn on Charles’s face. “So the jacket …”

“Is for our new puppy!” You finish excitedly.

Charles’ face lights up. “You got me a dog? Really?”

You nod, grinning. “Really! I picked him up yesterday from the shelter. He’s the cutest little dachshund, white with brown spots. I’ve been keeping him at your brother’s so I could surprise you today.”

Charles whoops and tackles you in another ecstatic hug. You laugh as he covers your face in rapid, smacking kisses.

“This is the best birthday surprise ever!” He crows. “I can’t believe we’re finally getting a dog. And the jacket — it’s perfect!”

He grabs the bomber and shrugs it on over his t-shirt. It fits him flawlessly, the white lettering bold against the red.

Charles scrambles to his feet and rushes to the nearest mirror, twisting this way and that to admire himself. “I love it! Thank you, thank you!”

You stand and wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I’m so glad. But you should really be thanking your new baby boy.”

Charles turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”

You grin up at him. “Hmm, I don’t recall. Feel free to remind me.”

“You …” He punctuates each word with a kiss. “Are …” kiss “The …” kiss “Most …” kiss “Thoughtful …” kiss “Loving …” kiss “Girlfriend …” kiss “In …” kiss “The …” kiss “World.”

You pretend to swoon. “My, what a sweet talker you are.”

He chuckles and kisses you tenderly. When you break apart, his eyes are shining.

“So when do I get to meet our new baby?” He asks eagerly.

“Right now, if you want,” you say. “We can go pick him up from Lorenzo.”

Charles pumps a fist in the air. “Yes! I’m going to be the best dog dad ever, just you wait and see.” He crouches down and coos, “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

You pat his head playfully. “You’re a good boy.”

Taking your hand, he practically drags you out the door, babbling excitedly about names, beds, toys, and treats for the puppy the whole way to the car. Your heart swells watching his enthusiasm. You know that dog is going to be the most loved and cared for pup in the world.

When you arrive at his brother’s apartment, Charles bounds up to the front door ahead of you, unable to contain his excitement. Lorenzo opens it laughing, the wiggling brown and white puppy in his arms.

“Someone’s here to see you!” He says, handing the squirming bundle of fluff to Charles.

“Hello, hello!” Charles cuddles the puppy to his chest, his whole face alight with pure joy. The pup responds by licking every inch of Charles’ face he can reach.

Charles laughs delightedly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy? Yes you are!”

He looks up at you, eyes shining. “Thank you, mon cœur. This is the best gift I could have asked for.”

You lean in and scratch the puppy behind his silky ears. “Of course. Happy birthday, my love.”

As you walk back to the car, Charles cradling the puppy like a newborn, you know in your heart that your little family is one step closer to completion.

***

The race weekend after Charles’ birthday feels strange. As you wander through the Ferrari garage during free practice, Fred rushes over looking concerned.

“Here, take a seat,” the team principal says, grabbing a folding chair and positioning it behind you. “You should not be on your feet so much in your condition.”

You frown in confusion. “What condition?”

But the French man has already hurried away. Shaking your head, you continue walking. It’s a few minutes later that you spot Pierre.

“Hey!” He says, jogging up to you. Before you can react, he places both hands on your stomach and smiles brightly. “Wow, it’s hard to believe that little baby Leclerc is in there! I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew.”

Now you’re really bewildered. You take a small step back from Pierre’s wandering hands. “What are you talking about? I’m not pregnant!”

Pierre laughs. “Very funny. You don’t have to hide it from me.” He winks and walks away.

When Charles finds you later, you’re still puzzling over the strange encounter.

“Everyone is acting so weird,” you tell him, explaining what’s been happening all day. "It’s like they all think I’m pregnant or something."

Charles frowns. “That is odd. Where would they get that idea?”

You shake your head. “I have no idea …”

Later, after the last practice session of the day, you wander into Ferrari hospitality for a quick cup of coffee. Carlos quickly spots you and makes a beeline over, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“I just saw the photos of Charles wearing his new jacket.” He says. “A mini Leclerc on the way, how wonderful! Congratulations to you both.”

“What? No, there’s no …” you start to protest, but Carlos is already walking away.

Charles comes up beside you, having overheard. “This is getting out of hand,” he mutters. “We need to clear this up.”

“I know!” You say. “I feel bad, they all seem so excited. They must think we’re hiding a pregnancy from them.”

An idea comes to you then. Turning to Charles, you say loudly, “Honey, why don’t we go introduce the baby to everyone? I know they’re all just dying to meet him!”

Charles catches on immediately, smiling slyly. “Of course! Let’s go get our little one right now.”

You nod, linking your arm through his. As you walk away, you hear gasps and murmurs behind you.

“They already had the baby? When did this happen?”

“I can’t believe they’ve been hiding it all this time!”

You have to stifle a laugh. Charles grins and squeezes your hand.

In his driver’s room, your puppy is napping contentedly on a plush dog bed. Charles scoops him up gently so as not to wake him. Cradling the pup, you both head back out to the hospitality suite.

Everyone turns to look at you eagerly as you enter. Carlos steps forward, craning his neck to see the bundle in Charles’ arms.

“Here he is!” You announce proudly. “Our baby boy!”

Charles turns so they can see the sleeping dachshund nestled against his bomber jacket. A shocked silence falls over the room.

“Wha … that’s not a baby!” Carlos splutters. “That’s a dog!”

You and Charles just shrug with matching sly smiles. “He’s our baby.”

As the puppy yawns and stretches in Charles’ arms, licking his chin affectionately, you know with certainty that your furry new addition will be showered with just as much love and adoration as you both share for one another.

Who could ask for anything more?

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kisses4reid · 1 year ago

Text

convenient pt.3 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 1 | pt.2 (you cannot read this without prior reading)

summary - spencer likes the girl from the convenience store

warnings - awkward conversations and long silences, both of them being hopeless romantics, allergies/sickness

genre - fluff!!! college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer

a/n - thank you for the love and support on this series. it goes without saying i appreciate all of you all 🫶 thank u @raevyng for the cameo. sorry this is short, it’s either i upload this part or i make y’all wait for another week - i like you guys too much to do that.

“good job on you’re stem cell report, y/n. it was very informed and unique. i liked the, now who was it… william blake quote you included!” the teacher spoke before a class of 60. it was back to teaching new information before the next assessment, you were just about finished typing the professor’s notes before she spoke up. the mention of your name nearly made you jump.

a few of the students looked back up at you, some looking around because they had no clue who you were. you liked it better that way.

you also had no idea who william blake was.

“oh- um. thanks.” you say barely above a whisper. professor raena simply smiled and pushed back her shoulder length bob from her face. she started talking again, so did your friend.

“thanks? the professor who’s known to call out people for their incompetence more than smile in the classroom just praised you. that’s all you had to say?”

maybe logan wasn’t your friend per say. maybe she was just someone who sat next to you the first class and also happened to be your neighbour. she was stubborn and straight-forward, insanely intelligent and also smelt great. but she was caring, and gave you tough love when you needed it.

you glanced at her and smiled awkwardly, “i didn’t have much time to think about an answer.”

“i spend most of my time thinking about what i’d say to professor raena if she ever complimented me.”

“that’s because your-“ you suddenly muffle a cough into your hand, “obsessed with her.” you bring out a small packet of tissues from your bag and wipe your nose, nose reddening. logan leans slightly away from you and you roll your eyes.

“you’re not going to catch anything, it’s just allergies.” you lean back and try to continue typing notes but logan continues,

“you should go home, have some medicine, get some sleep.”

“i can’t, i’ve got work.” you whispered, a man in front of you turning around to shoot you with a side eye.

“you’ve told me multiple times that your manager wouldn’t care if you stole from the store. i’ve also told you many times i also don’t care.”

“yeah well… i like working there, that’s all.”

she rolls her eyes again, and waves you off, her long brown hair blocking her disappointed expression from you.

you stayed loyal to your job for two nights, for nothing. sure you got paid, and sure you got to steal some strawberry milk to ease your throat for a couple of minutes, but it felt boring. you actually started to file through the month old magazines you sold for double the price of a new one. you almost made it a third day without dying of allergies (and another secret feeling of sickness you constantly ignored), before you decided you were over it.

you stood up, flipped the door sign so the word ‘open’ faced you, and turned off half of the fluorescent lights before someone was suddenly in the corner of your eyes. spencer was opening the door so quickly you thought you were being robbed, you wouldn’t have seen him if not for the bell ringing on his entry.

“y/n.” he panted, watching your fingers hover over the last light switch. there was two lights left flickering softly above the front door and the check out desk. he looked stoic in the light, dressed in a grey sweater a little too big for him (like his mother had bought it for him telling him he’d grow into it) and black slacks. he seemed to have gotten a trim, his hair just under his ears now. “you don’t close until 1.”

he was confused, eyes wandering with a light hint of relief. like he was happy he didn’t miss you.

“yeah.” is all you said before you turned away from the light switch and returned to the register, assuming he would get his usual. but he didn’t keep walking, he just turned his body to face you. his eyes were expectant, delirious in a way like he needed something from you.

it was silent before the tension literally forced you to speak, “um. i need to close the store before i pass out. so i can uh… get home alive.” you look down and realise the pile of tissues before you was making a mountain, quickly grabbing them and stuffing them in an over filled bin.

“um.” a cat caught his tongue, he looked down to his feet.

spencer was sitting in his desk chair, scrolling on his government provided computer through forums and websites on ‘how to ask out a girl.’ not realising a majority of his team was reading them as well. he heard a small, familiar giggle behind him, quickly closing the tab and turning his head to be met with many other faces. jj slapped garcia on the shoulder with a smile, who’s hand was over her mouth, morgan and emily also smiling. spencer sighed and was about to cover for himself before morgan stepped in,

“look, pretty boy. no websites or article is ever going to teach you how to ask out a girl. they know nothing.”

emily joined, “yeah, none of those things are going to work. i mean, one of those said ‘don’t take no for an answer��. that’s straight up harassment.” she chuckled. morgan walked forward and placed a hand on spencer’s shoulder.

“all you have to do is talk. learn to what she likes, and be confident.”

“that’s easy for you to say.” spencer mumbled.

“who is this girl anyways? who’s taking our genius away from us?” garcia asked, today her hair was adorned with green themed pieces and a small pink flower clip.

spencer couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth perk up when he thought about the girl who worked at the convenience store. the girl who’s report honestly impressed him. the girl who knew his total without looking at the register. the girl who called him good looking without noticing, like it slipped off of her tongue with no second thought. “just someone.”

you were not just someone.

“yeah you should get home. you look terrible.” spencer’s eyes widened as you raised an eyebrow, “no i mean- not terrible- you never look or have ever looked terrible- i just meant today- no you- like you’re sick and obviously- i mean you don’t obviously look terrible- it’s just uh…” he nodded at himself after he noticed a smile creeping onto your face. “you know what i mean.”

“i know i look terrible, thank you.” he was slowly walking up to the register.

“you really should go home, i shouldn’t keep you here because of some coffee.”

you eyes stung and were puffed in redness, you nose dried yet running, eyebrow lines permanent from warding off a migraine. any other customer you would stay for, but you felt less guilty with him. not because you didn’t care, because you knew he did.

“yeah, thank you.” you grabbed your bag, put your empty water bottle into it and walked over to the lights, turning off the last ones, leaving you both in darkness. spencer was waiting for you, quite creepily as he was basically just a block of void. “you sure you don’t need your 3 minute lasagne?” you joked, and he smiled.

“no, this is fine.”

this? them? you thought this man was articulate.

you opened the door with a key-accessed button that automatically locked it after it closed, and walked into the warm streetlight with spencer.

“bye spencer.” you looked up to him only to find his eyes already on you. his face was plain of emotion, except maybe it was just the lighting that made you think he looked disappointed. not at you, at himself. he was silent, hands making their way into his pockets. it was a habit, you had learned. “what’s wrong spencer?” you asked softly, sniffling immediately after.

it was cold, the wind let a stray piece of hair cross your stuffy features.

“do you like old bookstores, y/n?”

you blinked, taken aback. “yeah. i like old bookstores.” you huddled into your sweater, a darker grey compared to his with a large font displaying your university.

“okay, goodbye y/n. see you tomorrow.” he hurried off into his car and you followed him with you eyes in curiosity.

you were already walking away before he could turn around and ask you something, he felt like he had missed his chance. but there would be more. spencer closed his eyes in frustration and took a breath, starting his car before texting the team’s group chat.

“Attempt One failed. 😐👎”

there was a string of messages after but he didn’t read them. all he could think about was the percentage of people who die alone, and then the percentage of people who are like you.

the next night he appeared at the normal time, around nearly 11pm. but he wasn’t the only one, logan was there with you, studying behind you on the floor.

she was bored, and needed to get out of her room, and the only person she knew well enough was you. there in her mens pyjama pants and an over-sized shirt that read ‘RIP Princess Diana’ with a photo of owen wilson on it, her computer warmed her lap and made a soft whirling sound the in the background.

“hi y/n.” spencer waved, he felt bad about last night. you were barely walking straight when you left and he could tell you wouldn’t get out of your ‘work clothes’ (whatever you wanted to wear with a vest over it) before falling onto your mattress, and he drove away. he didn’t even offer to take and walk you home, let alone give you a ride. but his hands were sweating and his heart thumping in his ears, and he couldn’t think straight.

“oh, hi spencer.” you turned from your own textbook splayed on the counter beside you to see spencer and his tall self. a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him.

he wasn’t meeting you eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows for a second before telling him his total with a sniffle.

“i’m sorry for not driving you home,” he lifted his head, a piece of chocolate brown hair crossing his left eye, “or walking you home. or making sure you made it home safe.”

you widened your eyes slightly and sat still before spencer cleared his throat and continued, “i was nervous, about being around you. and my friends- my colleagues- told me i need to be more confident around you so.”

logan had stopped writing, glancing through her bangs up at you both. your mouth was slightly agape before you realised how stupid you looked and how awkward you were making it.

“oh- no it’s okay spencer, you don’t have to say sorry. i was- i’m fine. um,” you tilt your head with the corner of your lips quirking up with little resistance, “you talk about me to your friends?”

spencer nodded, put his hands in his pockets and thought for a second. he wished there was a better place to do this, a better person to take over for him.

all you have to do is talk.

spencer is great at talking.

“did you know that you could be scrolling for seven weeks before you can reach the end of ‘how to ask a girl out’ results on google? i was scrolling for a long time but then my friends told me to just talk and be confident, but i’m only good at one of those thing. so i was trying to ask you out last night but then i- well i failed basically, it isn’t my strong suit,” he took a breath, “so basically i’m saying sorry for not asking you out and not driving you home.”

it was silent, even a customer stopped humming.

“and also your allergy medication isn’t strong enough for your symptoms.” he glanced down to a white and blue box by your hand. you looked down, seeing logan in the corner of your eyes, hand covering her face.

“spencer-“

“dude just ask her out.”

spencer’s face dropped, and he looked over the counter to find another woman sat down, a cringed out expression on her face. his nervousness increased after he realised this wasn’t as private a conversation as he thought. wiping his hand on his vest, he continue with a gulp,

“no i can’t. not here, um. i’ll see you on monday. and i promise i’ll uh- be better? i’ll try again, so. okay see you on monday.” he quickly took his groceries and walked off quite speedily. you watched him walk away and then once he was out of sight, you simply stared at the box of allergy medication on the counter.

logan groaned in the background and said something about growing balls, but it was tv silence for you.

you didn’t know how to go out with someone, your last relationship was in your first year of high school with a guy who thought baby’s came out of a woman’s bum. not that spencer meant he wanted a relationship, no it could just be a friend ‘going out’. totally not romantic.

you slump and stuff your face in your hands. you didn’t care if you hadn’t dated for however long, he didn’t seem to be a man-whore at all. you just cared about how you were actually going to say yes to a man you’ve only talked to inside of an off-brand convenience store on the night shift.

you muffle a scream before the same silent customer placed a carton of milk on the counter.

“$2.50.” you grumble.

you carried logan’s computer bag as she took out a box of strawberry pocky on the sidewalk. the store was locked, the air was crisp, the light was flickering. you didn’t say much until logan couldn’t stand it anymore.

“you know when you’re this silent it’s actually pretty nice, i like peaceful walks home.” you nodded, and continued your racing thoughts with your line of vision stuck on the concrete as you both walked the block to your apartments. she sighed, “but it’s odd. you love talking. a guy likes you and you go mute?”

“his name is spencer, he does something dangerous for a living, he likes old books and drinks a lot of coffee. he gets home late at night, looks skinny but can lift a box of flour above his head with ease. he’s insanely smart and reads poetry, and helped me with my stem cell report.”

you look over at logan who looks a little disgusted but mainly confused.

“he helped me lift that box of flour without me asking. i have no idea who william blake is. i have no idea how he managed to put poetry in a biology report, and i have no idea how he can admit he’s going to ask me out and then not ask me out. his favourite colour is purple, his favourite fruit is grapes but he buys apples because they’re cheaper. and his name is… spencer.”

logan stopped in her tracks, making you copy. you flung out of whatever trance you were stuck in and raised an eyebrow at logan, “what?”

“what? oh no i don’t know, maybe you’ve just never told me about a man you happen to know a lot about, and yet don’t know anything about. you sound insane- not in the ‘loony-bin way’, in the romcom way. it’s disgusting.”

you both continued to walk, climbing the stairs to the foyer of your building before she took back her bag and gave you the pocky, mumbling, “you need these more than me.”

the elevator ride was mostly silent, and that continued before you both unlocked your apartment doors right beside each other.

“you need to ask him out, if he doesn’t do it first.” she entered her apartment before you could speak, let alone think.

suddenly your apartment felt lonely.

so did spencer’s.

he was cross legged on his plush couch on a call with penelope garcia, she was squealing every second minute trying to create a plan for spencer to ask someone out.

“spence, you’re making this very hard. how am i supposed to be your coach if i only have half a team?”

“you can find someone’s address with half a fingerprint, i think you’ll be fine.” he takes a bite of his 2 minute bolognese.

“that takes the fun out of it. i can only give you tips if i know her personality.”

spencer sighed, and thought for a second, he could practically hear penelope’s growing smile knowing she had won.

“her names y/n.” garcia squealed. “she’s smart and pretty. and her favourite colour’s purple and she studies biology. she knows my groceries off my heart and she’s allergic to pollen. she works late at night at the convenience store two blocks away from my apartment building, and she likes old book stores. she’ll be introverted around an extroverted person, but extroverted around an introverted person. she can read my expressions faster than anyone else, she tries out different hairstyles when nobody’s in the store, and she’s funny.” spencer smiles to himself, “she’s pretty.”

“you mentioned that, lover boy.”

pt.4

taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @trashmonstersara @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @amortencjja @anuncalledbridge @belsreid @redmurderbaby @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @ilikw @screechingphantommaker

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid series

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sweetbans29 · 15 days ago

Text

You've Lost Me - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You just weren't the priority anymore (based on THIS request).

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: pain

Sweetbans Masterlist

Everything is perfect.

You are entering into the last semester in college with graduation right around the corner. You are finishing up your undergrad degree and plan to take a gap year before starting your masters. The gap year was a battle that you ultimately won. You took the side of wanting to take a gap year because of all that was going on. And by all that is going on, you mean your girlfriend deciding if she is going to declare for the draft or not.

You met Caitlin during your freshman year at Iowa. It’s a funny story. At least now it is a funny story. Freshman year was a weird one because of Covid, not many students were actually on campus and the ones that were could only be around those there for the same reason. Caitlin was on campus for basketball and stuck with the team most of the time. You, on the other hand, were only on campus because you had a job that required you there because students were onsite. You worked at the bookstore and even though Covid was happening and a majority of classes were online, students still needed books. It was pure chaos, but you didn’t mind.

Back to how you met Cait. There was one day where everything around the sun went wrong. You were one of two people in the shop and were bombarded by requests. The last priority you had was tending to actual people walking in the store, most of the chaos was happening via email. You were running around like a mad-women and didn’t even notice the bell indicating there was someone in the store.

“Sam, did you already package up those Bio books?” You yell to your coworker in the back. Right as you do, you trip over a stack of books on the ground causing you to go flying to the floor. You hear someone yell something along the lines of ‘oh shit’ right before you hit the ground.

You groan in pain and just lay there.

“Are you okay?” A girl comes up, not close enough to really check you because of Covid, but close enough to see that you aren’t bleeding.

“Just leave me here to die,” you say dramatically, not looking up to see who is standing there. “It would be better than this shitshow.”

“Well if you die, then I wouldn’t be able to get my books,” the girl says and you finally turn over to look at the source of the voice. The first thing you notice is her hair. She has beautiful brown hair that looks so soft and shiny.

“Your hair is shiny,” you say. You don’t remember but you must have hit your head when you fell because there is no way you actually just said that out loud.

The girl laughs, “Thank you.”

You are still laying on the ground when your coworker comes out saying she left them in a pile, the pile you tripped over.

She ends up being the one to help you up since the two of you quarantined together prior to starting at the campus store. After you are up, you double check and immediately know several places that will have nice bruises show up.

“I can help you,” Sam says to the girl.

“It’s okay, I can wait for…” the girl says then trails off when she realizes she doesn’t know your name. Sam says your name and Caitlin repeats it.

“I got it Sam,” you say as you limp over to the section where the onsite students' books are housed before they are sent to their dorms. That was what a majority of people opted for since it meant less contact and was deemed the ‘safer option’ when ordering online. The girl in front of you was the only person you have seen actually enter the store.

“Name?” You ask as you try to cover up the pain you are in.

“Do you always tell people you like their hair or am I special?” The girl asks.

“Umm I think you forgot the part when I fell and most likely hit my head causing me to speak irrationally,” you say.

“But you didn’t hit your head,” she says.

“I am pretty sure I did,” you say.

“I saw the whole thing, you didn’t hit your head,” she says and you stand there staring at her. You try to suppress the rage that is beginning to boil inside of you. What is she getting at?

“Okay, I didn’t hit my head,” you say. “It was probably the lighting, don’t consider yourself special.” You let out a little forced laugh, not knowing why the two of you were still on the topic.

“So are you going to give me your name?” You say with a little bite to it.

“Someone is feisty,” she responds and now this girl is officially on your nerves.

“Do you want your books or not,” you say, proving her point.

“I think I’ll switch to getting them delivered,” she says and your eyes twitch.

“Dude, seriously?” All professionalism is out the window at this point.

“Chill, I am messing with you,” she says. You are anything but chill. You take a deep breath and try again.

“Name?” You ask again, taking the edge off your voice.

“Caitlin,”she says and stops. She likes messing with you, if anyone were to ask her, she would say she finds it incredibly cute when you get frustrated.

“Last name?” You ask. You should have been clear the first two times you asked.

“Well that is pretty forward,” Cailtin says and you are done.

You begin to walk away without saying another word.

“Wait, wait, wait” she calls after you. “I’m sorry. It’s Clark.”

You slowly make your way back and go to look at the shelf labeled with ‘C’. Considering there are only like 10 orders in total, her first name would have been enough but you were just following the process.

“Are you always this difficult, Clark?” You ask as you go through the process on your computer.

“Depends,” she starts in a joking manner, then gets more serious. “It’s been different lately, ya know? With how abnormal things are, I guess I am just trying to find something that feels normal.”

This softens you a little, you can’t knock her for that. You have been feeling the same way.

“Well, I can tell you, falling in front of strangers is definitely not normal for me,” you say as you hand over her books.

She laughs and you’re hooked.

“I sure hope not, I don’t know how you are still alive if it was,” she says and you notice how even though you can’t see her smile, it shines brightly through her eyes.

The two of you part ways. It is shortly after that Caitlin comes and bugs you again only this time she has no reason to be there except to bug you. She ended up becoming a friend - even if she annoyed you more times than not. Your annoyance only made her want to annoy you more. By the end of the school year, the two of you are closer than ever and she invites you to come home with her for a few weeks during the summer before heading home yourself. It is the time spent at her house that she confesses her feelings to you. You reciprocate them and it feels like the rest is history (aside from her bringing up how you two met to anyone and everyone that would listen - and she never fails to mention how you told her she has shiny hair).

When senior year rolled around, the two of you knew wherever the future took you, it would be together. So when you started talking about taking a gap year after undergrad before starting your master, Caitlin was against it. You knew it was all with good intention - she didn’t want you putting your goals on hold while she was still trying to figure out where she would be. She still hadn’t made the decision to declare for the draft or not yet but deep down you knew she would.

So when March rolls around and her team is getting ready for March Madness, you could see the conflict in her eyes every time the two of you were together.

The two of you are in her apartment having a movie night. By the way her hands keep fidgeting with anything in their vicinity, you know she is caught in her own head and not paying attention to the movie.

“Babe, this is your favorite movie and you haven’t quoted it once,’ you say, bringing her hands up to kiss the backs of them.

“Mmmhmm,” she hums, not realizing her response doesn’t make sense.

“Hey,” you say and pause the movie. “Talk to me, pretty girl.”

“Everyone is waiting for me to make a decision and I don’t know what to do,” she says. “The media keeps commenting, my parents keep asking. I know you are waiting to figure out what to do, it is just a lot.”

“Hey, the only person that matters is you. It is what you want to do,” you say and bring your hand to sooth her hair.

“But it’s not,” she says and you stop her.

“It is,” you fight back. She shuts up.

You bring her in your arms and hold her.

“What does Caitlin want to do?” You ask softly.

“She feels ready,” Cailtin says after an eternity of thinking. “I have spent 4 good years here and I feel like I have done what I wanted to do.”

“Aside from a natty,” you say, a smile peaking through.

“That’s on the way,” she says. “But I feel like I am ready to move on to bigger and better things.”

“Then there is your answer,” you say. “And I will be right by your side wherever that is.”

“When you are on break from school, yes,” Cait says.

“No, all the time,” you bite back. “At least the first year. I heard that is the most difficult.”

“You are not stopping your schooling for me,” she says.

“That is not your decision. And my mind was made up a while ago,” you say. “I want to see what life is like outside of school, I mean we have been nonstop at it for 16 years now, I deserve a break.”

“I don’t agree with you,” Caitlin says but buries herself deeper into you.

“You don’t have too,” you say as you squeeze her tighter. Her actions speak louder than she is in the moment. You know she wants you by her side, there was never any doubt. So when the time came and she got drafted to Indiana, you packed up and the two of you found a place to live in Indianapolis.

Caitlin’s rookie year was hard but you were by her side through it all and she could honestly not be more grateful for you. You were able to travel to all the games and be home with her after practices. You wouldn’t have changed any of it.

Her second year was almost as good as the first. It was a little less hard. You had started your masters program which you were excited for and Caitlin had been nothing but supportive in you going back to school. The only thing that got a little harder was time. But even with you being busier and Caitlin having more engagements, the two of you still made each other a priority.

It wasn’t until about a year and a half after you started school - you only have about 4 months left, did you start to notice a shift in your relationship. At first, it was miniscule and you didn’t think much of it. It was Caitlin, staying longer at practice or her forgetting to grab something at the store. Things that you didn’t think twice about.

It isn’t until you notice you start spending more time alone than with her do you ask her if everything is okay.

Caitlin comes home from practice one night and you stop her in the kitchen.

“Hey babe, I missed you,” you say as she comes over to hug you. You stay in her arms and exhale.

“How could you miss me?” She says with a smile. She did have a point in the sense that you saw her that morning, but that wasn’t what you were getting at.

“I miss us time,” you say and the second you say it, you feel silly for even bringing it up.

“I miss us time too,” she says as she leans her head on top of yours. You sigh in relief, the last thing you want is to be seen as clingy. Not that it has ever been an issue before.

“How about this, I have a few days off after our next game. Why don’t we get away for a day or two, just us,” Caitlin says and you nod.

“I would love that,” you say and look up to kiss her.

“I would also love that,” she says against your lips and brings you back into a hug.

“Whenever you miss me, just tell me okay?” She says. “Although my hope is to notice before you have to say anything.”

“I love you,” you say. She repeats it back and you feel secure again.

The following few weeks are great and you feel like things are back to normal. It is after the season ends when you start to notice her distance again.

This time it is much more noticeable and seems more intentional. When you ask her about it, she dismisses you - but she does it in a way that doesn’t have you questioning her. You know her schedule picks up in the off-season and that includes a lot of travel. The part that gets you is when she doesn’t ask for you to join. You don’t let it bug you because when you ask, she makes it sound like she doesn’t even want to go herself.

“I mean if you don’t want to go, I’ll join and we can spend a few extra days. It would be nice to go on a little vacation - you deserve it,” you say. If you were honest, you also deserved it. You are just about to graduate and could use a few days before diving into finishing all you have to do.

“I would rather just go and come home,” Caitlin says and you respect her choice. Maybe you should have pushed harder or tried a different angle but you know once she has her mind made up there is really no swaying it. So you drop it.

“It is probably better that you’ll have a few quiet days to finish up your school work and then we can celebrate your graduation,” she says and you believe her logic.

“You’re right,” you say, swallowing the slight disappointment. “I can’t wait until we are on a boat in Cancun, no worries in the world.”

Cailtin goes on her trip and you stay home and get all your work done so that when she gets home you can spend all the time you want with her.

The only thing is, Cait doesn’t come home when you expect her to and you get a text saying that she is going to be delayed a few days. You are bummed but have no reason to think anything bad about it. You tell her to be safe.

The first big riff that the two of you face is when she misses your graduation. You try to be understanding but getting your masters is a big deal and she had known about it for so long that when she called you telling you how sorry she was to not make it, it stung but you know she meant it.

From there, it just kept getting worse. Caitlin became distant, then would apologize profusely and would give you attention for a little before going right back to being distant. After a few months of the back and forth, you slowly fell into your own rhythm, without her.

There would be weeks at a time where your shared apartment didn’t feel shared. It felt like you were living alone in a city that you used to love.

It all hurt but what hurt you the most is when Caitlin stopped noticing when you showed up. Even though she had stopped showing up, you would always be there to support her.

Her next season started and there was one that had you questioning how much more you could take.

You get to Gainbridge Fieldhouse with Cait and hang out before sitting where you have season tickets on the baseline. The whole game, she doesn’t look your way once, not that you need her to but she usually does - at least once. The Fever takes the win and you hang out with a few other regulars, waiting for Caitlin on the floor.

After a little while, you notice that the crowd has thinned significantly and there was still no sight of Caitlin. You head to the tunnel where you run into Lexie.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were still here,” Lexie says as she comes over to give you a hug. Before you can ask she continues, “I thought I saw Cait leave a while ago.”

You try to hide as your heart falls on the floor, but you don’t do a great job.

“Oh, yeah. I - uhh, we drove separately,” you say. It’s a lie.

Lexie knows you are lying but doesn’t want to rattle you even more.

“I can give you a ride home,” she says softly. The team has noticed changes for a while now. It started when Caitlin started showing up to dinners and game nights without you. They would always ask where you were but she would come up with some excuse saying you were busy and couldn’t make it. It wasn’t noticeable at first but then Lexie jumped to post something to her story one game night and noticed you had posted a story. Caitlin has said you were visiting your parents and couldn’t make it but your story was you in your apartment with the caption ‘movie night 🍿’. Lexie didn’t mention anything about it, but noticed.

“Umm, yeah, that would actually be great,” you say. “I don’t think I should drive right now.”

She nods and drives you to your apartment. When she pulls up and you get ready to leave she gives you a little encouragement.

“Cait just has a lot on her mind right now,” Lexie says and you wish you knew what she was talking about. Cailtin stopped talking to you about how she was doing and kept it to small talk when the two of you had time together.

You nod and thank her for the ride.

When you get to the door of your apartment, you struggle to find the words you want to use when confronting Caitlin. How could she forget that you were there? You drove together, had one of the best conversations on the way there. Then she doesn’t look at you once and leaves you at the arena. How could you be so quickly forgotten?

You take a deep breath and open the front door.

“Cait?” You ask as you enter, there is no answer.

You walk in and see most of the lights are off. You walk around trying to find your girl and feel yourself break when you finally find her.

Cailtin is sound asleep in your bed.

She fell asleep without you there. No contact, no nothing. She just came home without you and went to bed. No questioning where you were. Did she even notice you weren’t there?

The next few months you went back and forth between making yourself small and unnoticeable to trying to get her to pay attention to you. The thing was, she was never annoyed with you when you did more. It would be normal and just as you felt like things are on the up and up, she would go away for weeks at a time or do her own thing. It got to the point where you needed to prioritize yourself, even if that meant leaving the girl you love.

It was a warm summer afternoon when it happened. You had spent weeks figuring out what you were going to do and the first step that would affect your decision is seeing if Cait would bail on your anniversary dinner.

You hadn’t mentioned it was your anniversary - never had to. The only thing you mentioned to Caitlin was that you made dinner reservations for the two of you at her favorite restaurant. She told you she wouldn’t miss the dinner and like every other time, you believed her. She had practice that she couldn’t miss and the two of you planned on meeting at the restaurant. That wasn’t unusual.

When you got there, you were seated and offered Caitlin’s go-to wine which you accepted but wanted to wait for her to pop open. You look at the clock and tell yourself not to panic when it’s 10-past your reservation time. You sit and enjoy the ambiance, waiting for her.

It is about 20 minutes after that you feel deflated. You check your phone, no message or missed call and you begin to draft a text when you go to check her location instead. When you see that she is at the restaurant, you feel relief take over your body. She is probably walking in.

You look towards the door as excitement builds, only to be crushed by the sight of Caitlin with several of her teammates heading in the opposite direction of the table that you are at. They are guided to a private booth in the back and you can feel tears welling in your eyes.

She forgot and left you sitting there, only to come to the same restaurant with a different group of people.

The waiter comes over and you can see in his eye, there is confusion but also sympathy. You tell him you’ll pay for the wine but will be heading out. He refuses your payment but you leave cash.

You get yourself a hotel room that night, not wanting to be in the same space as Caitlin when she gets home.

Over the next few days, you make one of the hardest decisions of your life.

It is quiet, you don’t have it in you to be loud. Slowly - unnoticeably you begin removing your belongings from the apartment. At first you were scared that Caitlin would notice and begin to question, but as the days passed you were reminded how forgettable you had become to her.

It’s a Tuesday when you're at the apartment to retrieve your final things. You do one last sweep over the space, thinking about all the great memories that Caitlin and you had made there - muted by the past few months.

One last deep breath as you put your keys into the bowl on the entry table.

A goodbye you never thought you would have to make and it isn’t even to her face.

You head to the apartment you found, it is much smaller and is month-to-month as you figure out where you belong. You really don’t know how long you could stay in Indianapolis - really the state of Indiana. But that is a task for you to figure out after you allow yourself to waste away for as long as you need.

Caitlin feels like she is just walking though life in a haze right now, not really feeling much, just trying to make it to the next day. She has found that spending time with the team has been the best help and has her feeling like herself, even if it is only for a few hours. She knows she has been neglecting you but you are always there and she knows you always will be even while she is in this funk.

She gets home and drops her keys off at the entry table as she automatically goes to the bedroom and gets ready for bed. Cait feels like there is something off but she can’t pinpoint it - she shakes it thinking it is just a part of her funk. She gets in bed and it is slightly colder than it has been. She closes her eyes and tries to sleep but there is this nagging feeling in her that has her sitting up.

The spot next to her is perfectly made, a space she is so used to you occupying. Her eyebrows furrow. She doesn’t remember you saying anything about not being home.

Cait grabs her phone and scrolls to your last message to see if she has missed a text you sent about where you would be and it isn’t until it takes her a minute to actually find your name in her messages that she realizes she hasn’t talked to you in a while.

When Cait finally finds your name, she opens it only to realize the last message you sent was over two weeks ago. It was a reminder that the two of you had dinner plans and that you would meet her there knowing she had practice.

Dinner? She didn’t go to dinner with you…

She opens her calendar app and taps on the event that clearly says ‘Dinner Date 🤍’. Her heart drops when she also sees the ‘7 year anniversary’ headlining that date. Caitlin mutters a string of curses as it comes back to her.

“I made us dinner reservations at your favorite place this Thursday,” you say as you make something for lunch. “I put it in your calendar.”

“Why would you do that? You know I won’t forget,” Caitlin says - she hasn’t looked at you once, eyes trained on her phone.

You don’t say anything because you have a gut wrenching feeling that she will, which has led you to setting up precautions so she won’t.

“It’s at 6,” you say.

“I have practice until 5,” she says.

“We can meet there,” you say, disappointment shown on your face but not heard in your voice.

That was the end of the conversation, Cait didn’t say anything to you after that.

Caitlin is now standing in her bedroom, pacing a little. She was worried that something had happened to you, you are always home.

But the more that she thinks about it, it has been quieter in the apartment. Caitlin enjoyed it and didn’t question it until now, when she can no longer remember the last time she has actually seen you.

She has been so caught up in her head and she has never had to worry about you. Now she is worried.

She goes to call you. It goes straight to voicemail.

When Caitlin thinks to go check your location, you no longer show up.

At this point, Caitlin doesn’t actually know what to do. She has been so removed from you recently that she doesn’t even know who to call to see if they knew where you are.

She beelines to the hallway closet that houses both of your luggage, thinking maybe you went on a trip she forgot about and you didn’t have service or wifi. When she swings the door open she notices it is half empty.

The jackets you had hanging in there are no longer there.

Caitlin swallows the lump in her throat as she runs to the closet in the bedroom. She flicks the light on and she feels all the air leave her lungs.

It is half empty, but not in the traditional sense. Yes, all your clothes were gone, but you had moved her stuff around to make it look like there wasn’t that much of a change. Why would your stuff be gone?

She begins searching every area of the apartment and after 20 minutes of finding the same thing, she has to sit with the fact that you left. She can’t wrap her head around it because you never said anything. There was no fight, no arguments. Everything was normal.

On the verge of a full on panic attack, she calls the first person she can think of and before she knows it, Lexie is there and bringing Cailtin into her arms.

“Breathe CC,” Lexie says as Caitlin allows the panic to consume her.

“Gone,” is all Cait can get out.

Lexie stands here holding her friend and teammate as Cailtin breaks down.

Once she has Caitlin calm, she guides her to her room and gets Cailtin to lay in bed. She promises she will be there when Caitlin wakes up.

Caitlin eventually falls asleep but Lexie doesn’t. She gets up and looks around - coming to the same conclusion that Cailtin did a few hours ago. Her heart sank for the girl but she would be lying if she said she knew you were in the wrong here.

Lexie’s mind goes back to that one time she drove you home after Caitlin left you at the arena. Lex remembers slyly bringing it up to Cait at practice the next day where Cait just said it was no big deal and that it was all worked out. And when Lexie mentioned to have Cait invite you to her engagement party but Cait came up with some excuse of how you were busy without even asking you. Lexie knew you would be there in a heartbeat if you knew about it.

The next morning, Caitlin wakes up and goes around the apartment thinking the night before was one big nightmare. It was a nightmare but she is very much awake.

Where did it go wrong? Where did she go wrong?

Caitlin knew you would always be there, she doesn’t remember anything else. You were her normal, you were her home.

But she has to think hard, really hard, back to the last time she can remember spending time with you and her heart feels like it is on fire when she can’t remember. All she can remember is spending time with the team and then when she got home, she would usually just head to bed.

Cait doesn’t know what to do, has no idea how to find you, has no idea if you want her to find you because if she were in your shoes, she would never want to see herself again. But Caitlin doesn’t know how to do life without you, she doesn’t know how to survive without you. The hard truth that just hits her like another wave is that you have been surviving without her because she didn’t give you a choice.

Cailtin sinks into the truth that you have had to learn to live without her for who knows how long while she just kept on going with her life. And now that she has to do it, she doesn’t know if she can.

Everything was perfect. Until it wasn't and there is nothing Caitlin can do about it.

AN: I hope this is the pain you were looking for. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark concepts #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark masterlist #sweetbansummer

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daddyslittlecrow · 3 months ago

Note

I saw your post asking for writing ideas and was all 👀 with the new trailer coming out for Caleb being a cyborg- what if it was about Caleb x MC in the forest feeling touch/intimacy for the first time and practically getting drunk on it 👀 then possessive sex out in the wilderness

The Target (Caleb x MC)

THANK YOU FOR BEING MY FIRST SUGGESTION 💖💖 UNFORTUNATELY IT SEEMS IM INCAPABLE OF DOING A SIMPLE DRABBLE OF SMUT (accidentally made this 2.9k words 🤭)

Not proof-read its like 2am rn

Warnings: MDNI. Literal sex below. All bells, some whistles…

Twigs snapped under the weight of his steady approach, the sound heightened by the silence of the forest. Despite sunlight filtering through the trees, no bird dared to chirp.

Tears stung your eyes. You made one final attempt to somehow push yourself through the rough bark of the tree at your back. Your stomach twisted with heavy dread. His dominating frame loomed over you. It blocked the warm rays on your face, closing in. It was too late.

“Target acquired.”

Your throat constricted as you choked on a sob. This wasn't how you planned this to end. Not by the hands of a man who had been by your side since forever. Who always tried to be there every night, stroking your sweat-drenched skin as you heaved from your night terrors.

Caleb, the man who kissed you after you sobbed for hours, wondering how anyone could love an “experiment”. The programme you both were under had stripped you both of everything. Yet somehow, Caleb always remained strong for you.

He had confessed his feelings to you that night. It was the only tender moment you had shared.

When he went to the lab the next morning for a routine check-up, they had implanted the chip and he was gone. Replaced by this cold-hearted monster. His amethyst eyes glared at you like you were vermin. Ready to be executed.

He stood, still as a statue, smothering you with his presence. You were both clad in your uniforms. It was meant to be a simple mission, one you hoped would give you the opportunity to talk some sense into him. Remind him of what he promised you once you both finally escaped.

You were stupid enough to believe the lies the higher-ups fed you, too distracted by your heart to double-check the facts. By the time you realised your mistake, he had trapped you.

“Caleb.” Your voice was pleading. Maybe now would be the last chance you’d have of reaching him. Something flickered in his eyes, fingers twitching. Then it was gone.

Caleb’s hand shot out, clamping around your neck. His voice was cold, devoid of all emotion. You could tell he was listening to whatever they were ordering on his radio. A curt nod and his grip on you tightened. “Activating elimination protocol…”

You closed your eyes, accepting your fate. Tears spilt, rolling down your face. If these were your last words, you hoped they’d find the version of him they stole from you.

“I love you.” You gasped, the power of your voice restricted by his hand. Instantly, the pressure on your throat vanished.

Your eyes snapped open, watching as Caleb took a step back. Confusion etched on his face. He looked at you, utterly lost. “Y/N…”

You recognised the softness and your heart raced. Did you finally break through to him? Was he listening? His brows scrunched together in pain. It looked like he was fighting against his chip.

But then he growled. “No. Stop.” His head shook as though he was trying to dislodge whatever was overriding him.

Wasting no time, you bolted towards him. He caught your wrist but the attack surprised him. He tripped on a tree stump and he was on the ground, you landing directly on top of him. You used the distraction to quickly pull out his earpiece, tossing it away.

“Caleb.” You tried again. He was frowning at you, his piercing eyes glassed over. Almost dazed. “You belong to me. Not them, remember? You’re mine.”

You kissed him. His breath hitched against your lips and his hands grabbed onto you in an iron-clad grip. He was trembling. Short-circuiting. For a chilling moment, you thought he’d throw you off him. You almost cried with relief when he kissed you back.

His lips moved frantically against yours, consuming you. He pulled you closer and angled his head, tongue swiping along your quivering bottom lip. You granted him access to explore your hot mouth, eagerly swallowing your gasps.

A quiet whine slipped from you as he pulled back, trying to look into the depth of your soul from the way his eyes bore into yours. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry.”

His beautiful eyes brimmed with tears as the realisation hit him. He had become the very thing you both swore to destroy. And you saved him. A lifetime wouldn’t be long enough to make it up to you. “It’s okay Caleb. I know it wasn't you.”

“My sweet girl…” His voice faltered, thick with long-repressed emotion. “I promise to spend every breath I take proving I’m yours.”

The world shifted around you as he moved, suddenly underneath him. He captured your lips once more. His kiss was more urgent than before, like he was finally claiming you.

Everything around you went dark. Nothing mattered. Only him. You snapped your gloves off to feel his soft hair between your fingers. He groaned at your touch. The sound coursed through your veins, melting into a simmering pool deep in your core.

He broke contact with your lips to leave heated kisses along your jaw, slowly moving to your neck.

“I love you.” It came out of you like a plea.

It broke down every morsel of control within him. He lifted his head to look down at your face, drinking in the sight of your flushed face. He needed to have you. Completely. He never felt hunger like this.

You. You. You. The only thing that controlled him.

His mouth was on you, trailing along every bit of exposed skin he could find. His hands moved to the fastenings on your uniform, releasing them until the zipper slowly pulled down, revealing more of you.

Losing patience, he pushed the zipper faster until it was fully open. Then he ripped your uniform off in a few rough tugs.

He sat up on his knees, taking in the sight of you, still covered by a sports bra and panties. With your uniform still in his shaking hands, he folded it. He gently lifted your head, placing the makeshift pillow under it.

You didn’t care if you were currently lying on a bed of hot coals at this point. But his commitment to your comfort made your heart clench. The towering trees cocooned you from any trace of wind. You found the temperature surprisingly pleasant despite the lack of clothing.

He pressed his lips onto your forehead before he sat back. His eyes darkened at the growing spot of moisture that covered your core. He made quick work of his own uniform, tossing it carelessly when he was finally free.

You supported yourself on your elbows, caressing his body with your eyes. He almost shuddered. When you saw him, thick and straining against his briefs, you bit back a moan.

“You like seeing me like this, don’t you Pip?” Caleb fed from the look of pure desire on your face. You reached behind you and unclasped your bra in response, still allowing it to cover your breasts. He crawled over you until his face was inches from yours.

Tilting his head, he rested his mouth against your ear. “You’re the only one that can do this to me.” His words sent delicious shivers down your spine. Voice laced with a yearning so intense, it made you burn with raw need.

You had imagined this moment during restless nights, hoping a release would tire you enough to stave off the dreams. You didn’t mind when the dreams still found you on those nights. Because they were all of him.

Caleb grabbed the front of your bra and wretched it from your body. He cursed as he looked down, reaching out to test the weight of one of your breasts. His thumb skimmed along the sensitive nub, earning him a hiss of pleasure.

“Caleb…please.” You sounded so pretty when you begged. He made a mental note to himself, wanting to make you do it again and again in the future. But right now - he would give you everything you wanted.

His fingers trailed along your skin as he travelled lower, brushing over the waistband of your panties. He continued until his fingers found the throbbing ache of your clit. You let out a guttural groan as he pressed softly, coaxing you with circles as you became a sodden mess against his fingers.

Your moans wrapped like a vice around his cock, making him impossibly harder. His mouth watered at the thought of your sweet juices on his tongue. Shifting so he was nestled properly between your thighs, he bent down.

Your heart stopped as he pressed his nose against your clothed pussy. He inhaled deeply, your earthy scent obliterating every thought - every voice - from his mind. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the way he made something so..filthy, feel so good.

“Fuck.” His jaw clenched, hands gripping the swell of your thighs. He used them as his anchor before licking a hard strip up your swollen slit. You couldn’t take it. You needed more.

“Caleb..ah. I need-“ Your brain turned to mush as your panties were moved to the side. Head tilted down, you watched the corner of his lip tug into a smirk.

“What do you need? I’ll give you everything.” You didn’t have a chance to reply. His wet hot tongue against your bare clit was like a jolt of electricity, back arching as you pushed into his face. He devoured your slick cunt, drinking from you like he had been thirsty for days.

You couldn’t stop watching him, buried between your thighs. It was the most erotic thing you’d ever seen. Your moans and the sound of Caleb slurping from you made your stomach clench, a familiar coil of pleasure building. Hard and fast.

Caleb groaned against your pussy, your arousal flooding his senses, heating his blood. Nothing could’ve ripped him from you, not now. Not when he craved the sight of you coming undone.

One of his hands left your thighs, using a finger to coat himself in your slick. He brought it to your weeping hole, pushing slowly to avoid hurting you. He knew you’d be tight, virginity still intact. Knowing he was blessed to be your first was a privilege he’d never take for granted.

Your cunt greedily sucked him in. The realisation of how ready you were almost made him spurt right then. He pumped his finger into you, slowly stretching you out as he continued licking your clit.

The sensations of his tongue and finger had you writhing. You reached out and grasped his hair, pulling hard. It only made him work faster. Your orgasm was hurling towards you, the pitch of your voice rising.

When he curled his fingers, massaging your g-spot, all you saw was white. You came violently, screaming his name. Every ounce of restraint in him snapped but he kept working you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You had five seconds to come back to your senses before he tore your panties off. His briefs soon followed. Then he grabbed your wrists and lifted you up. Caleb crashed his lips against you once again, driven by a level of desire so intense, it bordered on madness.

He pushed you backwards, a soft whimper filling his mouth as you realised he had pinned you against the very tree that had trapped you before.

In an instant his hands grabbed your ass, sliding them down the back of your thighs. He hoisted you up effortlessly, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

You could feel him poking against your belly. He was so hard, so swollen for you. It made your pussy ache as it clenched around nothing. You had never felt so empty.

He broke the feverish kiss, resting his forehead on yours. Nothing could describe the raw emotion that blew his pupils wide. His whole world was in his arms. You stole the air straight from his lungs.

“You are the most beautiful thing the stars will ever create.” His voice was barely a whisper. The glassy sheen of your eyes reflected a monster. A hard lump formed in his throat, making it nearly impossible to swallow. Tears damped his dark lashes. “And I tried to…”

His eyes squeezed shut. Too afraid to look at you. At himself. Your thumb swiped away the tears that ran down his cheek. You hated seeing him like this, broken by the men who made him.

It wasn't his fault. Neither you nor he had any choice up until now. He felt your breath tickle his lips. “But you didn't Caleb. And that means somewhere…right here.” You pressed a hand over his thundering heart. “You’re still in there. I can feel it. Let me feel you.”

He kissed you then like he was trying to consume your faith in him, wanting to absorb it - like it could somehow replace the part of him they stole. You were his anchor. His reason to keep fighting against the programme that had taken everything from you both.

You moved your hips, your body burning for him. Caleb let out a low hiss as you tried to bring him closer. Your teeth found his bottom lip, biting him so hard you almost drew blood. A sign to take back what was his.

He groaned against the pain, surrendering himself to the depth of his desire. Tightening his grip on you, he shifted his hips to align it with your wet heat.

His eyes never left yours as he slowly pushed into you.

You gasped as you felt him, stretching you out inch by inch. You welcomed the pain. “Good girl. Just a little more. You're doing so well.” He kissed your neck, sucking the sensitive spot just below your jaw.

Pleasure started to mingle with the pain just as he finally bottomed out. You loved how full he felt inside you. “Move your hips for me.” Caleb purred. He wanted you to set the pace first until he was sure you were comfortable.

You frowned at first, not understanding how to follow his request. Your hips pulled back, noticing the way Caleb’s muscles tensed. You felt yourself grow shy as you tested your movements.

His lips parted, lost in how good you felt. So warm and tight. He used his hands to guide your hips, his cock dragging sinfully along the velvety wetness of your walls. The depraved sounds of your cunt, as it squelched from your hot slick, had him twitching inside you. When he heard you start to moan for him, he lost it.

He couldn't restrain himself anymore. He needed to fuck you. “Just hold onto me, Y/N. Tell me if it's too much, yeah?” He pulled back until his tip was barely inside, and then he thrusted. Hard. Again. And again.

He started fucking you like he owned you. Wanting to prove to you that he was here. He was yours. Every pretty sound that came from your mouth was rightfully earned. He relished in the sting of your nails as you gripped him for dear life.

Your foreheads pressed together, sticking with sweat. “You’re so perfect.” Your pussy fluttered at the carnal heat of his words. “You don't know how much I’ve thought about you like this. Having you a writhing mess, pussy so full that you can't think of anything but me.”

You didn't know how he learned to talk like that but it had you on the verge of gushing all over him. The rough grooves of the tree scratched your back but you were too drunk on his cock to care.

“I want to feel you cum around my cock. You'll give it to me, yeah?” All you could do was nod, your voice overtaken by grunts and groans. Your release was slowly building, stars spotting your vision.

“Such a. Good. Fucking. Girl. For me.” He thrust with each word. A hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing fast circles over your clit. His release was quickly chasing yours as your walls started to spasm.

“Oh god, Caleb. Please-” You were begging him to keep going as he pushed you to the edge.

“Cum for me, beautiful. That's it.” Your whole body shook as you fell apart on his pistoning cock. You hard came all over him. Soaking his cock and onto his balls. It dripped onto the ground.

The sight instantly had his hips stuttering, your name the last thing on his lips before he pumped thick spurts of cum into your slobbering cunt. He whimpered into the crook of your neck as you milked every last drop. He didn't think he’d ever cum like that without you.

You both breathed heavily, recovering from the earth-shattering release. Completely satisfied. Caleb was the first to move, carefully sliding out of you before setting you down on your feet. His arms continued to support you as your thighs trembled.

“Are you okay?” Concerned eyes scanned your face.

You gave him a soft smile. “Yeah, just a little tender.”

You were both silent, lost in thought. Reality had reared its ugly head. You obviously couldn't go back to the programme. They had clearly wanted to get rid of you. But Caleb?

As if he could read your mind, he pulled you into a tight embrace. Your face rested against his chest as he stroked your hair. He sighed deeply before he spoke.

“I’m not going to leave you, Y/N. I'll follow you to the end of every planet to keep you by my side. If I have to fucking kill them one by one, I’ll do it.” You hugged him harder, trying to fight back your tears. The way his voice wavered told you he was close to doing the same.

“You're mine, okay? And until my heart stops…it will always be yours.”

——

Psst. If you liked this, please tell me. If there’s anything my MC and I have in common, it’s praise 🥲

-Elle 🫡

#lads #love and deepspace #l&ds sylus #lads mc #caleb smut #lnds caleb #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #love and deepspace smut #lads smut

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writtenbyan-aries · 6 months ago

Note

i have a request for sam. so basically it’s like divorced dilf!sam and reader is the babysitter for the kid and one day the mom picks up the kid and sam says she should come over. and it’s like lowkey really smutty

Summary: reader gets invited to her job after hours.

Warnings: SMUT18+, swearing, dad!sam, babysitter!reader, flirting, kissing, scratching, hair pulling, oral (m rec), unprotected sex, creampie, general filth

Word Count: 4.5k | unedited

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Come on, sweetheart. You gotta get your shoes on. Mom will be here any second to get you!” You sigh quietly as you watch the crazy four year old running around the living room, “Zoe, honey. Mama is coming.”

She sighs, plopping down onto the couch with a small groan, “I have more fun with you.”

You stifle back your laughter as you walk over to her, “don’t say that, Zo, you have lots of fun with mom.”

She rolls her eyes and you raise your brows, “Who taught you to do that? Mommy or daddy?” She giggles as you slip her shoes on, “Mommy.”

Figures, you think as you shake your head.

The door bell rings and you gasp, “Is that mom?” Zoe gets up and squeals, “Mommy!” She runs to the door and you follow close, laying your hand on her shoulder before opening the door.

“Hey Lilly.” You smile, “She just had lunch, so she should be good for a little bit.”

Lilly smiles, “Perfect.” She points to you, “Did you tell y/n, bye?” You drop down, giving the child a big hug, “Be good for mom, okay?”

She laughs, “I will, y/n.” She turns taking Lilly’s hand, “Bye!” You wave as you hand her backpack to Lilly, “everything she came with is in there. Sam gave me a list and I double checked.”

“Also perfect. Thank you.” She smiles, “I’ll see you.. Monday morning when I drop her off, right?” You think for a second, “Yes, Sam has to work later Monday so I’ll also pick her up from school.”

She gives you a thumbs up, “You’re great.”

You laugh slightly, “I try.” You smile at Zoe, “See you Monday, Zoe!” She nods and walks with Lilly to the car. You close the door and look at all of the toys strewn all over.

You let out a sigh and walk over to pick up the toys, then make your way to the kitchen to clean up from lunch.

As you’re washing the dishes, you hear the door open and you glance over, “Hey.” You give Sam a smile, “Lilly came to get Zoe like twenty minutes ago. I’m just cleaning up our mess from the day.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.” Sam laughs slightly and you shrug, “Hey, I made the mess. I can clean it. Lilly was a lot earlier than I thought she’d be.”

“Yeah, usually she runs late.” Sam rolls his eyes and you laugh, “Sorry. I’m not- Zoe rolled her eyes at me today and she told me learned it from mom, but.. now I’m starting to think it could go either way.”

He smirks, shaking his head, “Oh, no.”

“She was good. She ate all of her breakfast and lunch.” You reach in and unplug the drain, watching as the water goes down the drain for a few seconds before reaching to dry off your hands, “She did fall and hurt her elbow, but she was using it just fine after a little bit of ice and time.”

“That’s good.” Sam crosses his arms and leans against the counter, “We’re still good for Monday, right?” He looks over at you and you nod, “Yep, i will be here in the morning and I told Lilly I’ll pick Zoe up after school.”

He nods, “perfect.”

“Alright, if that’s everything.. I guess I’ll see you, Monday then.” You walk by him, his eyes following you, “Monday evening.”

“Right, yes. Monday evening.” You smirk, “Have a good night Sam.” You grab your bag and walk over to the door, stopping, “Oh.” You turn around, “There is some leftover lunch in the fridge if you want it.”

“Sounds good, thank you, y/n.” He smiles and walks over to the door, opening it, “Drive safe.”

You nod, “Always.”

You turn, walking out and down to your car. You get in, and start your drive home. On the way, you can’t help but think about Sam.

How him going into dad mode is one of the hottest things he does. How he stares at you for just the right amount of time, and just how perfect he is in general.

Sam is literally the perfect guy, and anyone could be lucky to have him. Your mind starts racing, what if he’s seeing someone, is he seeing someone? You start racking your brain, has he mentioned anyone?

You gasp, slamming on your breaks as you see the car in front of you growing closer and closer at a slightly fast and scary rate.

You tilt your head, taking a deep breath before letting out a sigh, hoping no one saw that.

You feel your cheeks grow hotter as the thought of Sam creeps back onto your mind. You shake the thoughts away, moving around in your seat as you try to drive home without almost causing anymore accidents.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“I need you.. to tell me I’m crazy.” You sigh, laying your hands over your face, “Like an-y-thing to calm my delusional ass down, Mel.”

She laughs, “I mean, from what I’m hearing, there’s something there.”

“No.” You whine, “Don’t say that.” You laugh, “Like, I was thinking about him on the way home, like.. I almost caused an accident.”

Mel gasps, “Oh, you got it bad, girl. B. A. D. Bad.”

“Shut up.”

“Do you want my help or not?” She scoffs, “I’ll gladly ha-“

“No, no. Please.” You laugh slightly, “Like, the way he looks at me, like isn’t the way you should look at a babysitter, right? Like it’s like.. fuck, I can’t even-“

Mel cuts you off, “Like he’s undressing you with his eyes?”

“Yes!” You sigh, “Exactly that. It’s like he’s trying to get me nervous or something, and I mean, if that’s what he’s doing, it works. But, I’m not going to let him know that.”

“Maybe you should tell him, call him out on his shit.”

“What, so I can spend the rest of my days as his babysitter feeling awkward around him? No thanks.” You shake your head, “I just, wish there was a way for me to get over this, like he’s just..”

“A total dilf.”

“Yes.” You sigh, and Mel continues, “He really is though. Like, I’m jealous you get to see him everyday.”

“Not everyday.” You correct, “I mean, do I wish it was? Yeah, but I think the less days I spend around him, the more I’m able to keep my composure around him.”

Your phone dings and you sigh, “I got a text.”

“Who is it?” Mel asks and you walk over to your phone, “I don’t know, probably Lilly saying I forgot to pack something for Zoe.”

“She isn’t my cup of tea. Good for Sam getting divorced.” She laughs but you stare at your phone, in shock mostly.

“Hello? You still there?” Mel speaks louder, “Hello?”

“Y-yeah, I’m here.” You scoff, blinking as you read the text over and over again, “Sam just texted me.”

Mel gasps, “What did he say!?”

You laugh slightly, “He just said he has a question.” You tap the screen, What’s up? You hit send, “I just said, what’s up?”

“Maybe he’s going to invite you back over. I mean..” She changes her tone, “he’s kid free all week, you can’t tell me he doesn’t get lonely over there in that big house when he’s all alone.”

You roll your eyes, “I doubt that, Mel.”

You see his text pop up at the top and your heart skips a beat, “He wants to know if I’m busy.” Mel scoffs, “No. you’re as free as a bird flying high in the sky.”

You laugh slightly, tilting your head, Just waiting for my laundry to dry so I can fold it and put it away.

You read what you sent and Mel groans, “Why did you say that?!” You groan, “He makes me nervous, Mel, fuck.”

You purse your lips as he responds, Well that’s exciting, lol. The reason I asked is because I was wondering if you had dinner yet?

“Did he answer? What did he say?” Mel asks and you sigh, “Nothing, he hasn’t answered yet, but my laundry is done, so I’m going to go take care of that.”

“Bor-ing.” She laughs, “Have fun, talk to you later.”

“Talk later, bye.” You hang you and sit down, typing back to Sam, I haven’t actually, that was my next thing. Your eyes watch as the bubbles pop up and get replaced with his text, Would you want to have dinner with me?

Your heart was racing, along with your mind.

Was this a date? What it a casually dinner between friends. A professional dinner?

You lick your lips, nodding to yourself as you type, I would love to have dinner with you, Sam. I can come over in a few?

You stand up, immediately thinking about what to wear and your phone dings. You pull it up, reading over his message, text me what you want from Melinda’s and give me like thirty to pick it up.

You let out a relived sigh, typing out what you usually get, Thank you, see you in a little. You add a smiley face and hit send, immediately regretting the smiley, “Oh my god. I’m going to make a fool out of myself.”

You press your palm to your forehead and walk to the bathroom.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After your quick shower, you get dressed. You didn’t know what to expect, so you just settled for a cute sweater and leggings.

You slipped your shoes on and grabbed your keys, giving Sam a quick, I’m on my way, message before heading to your car.

The whole way there, you kept having to wipe your palms on your pants because they were growing sweaty from your nerves, “Oh my god.” You felt like you were a mess, “what the fuck.”

Maybe Sam did like you. Maybe you both have a mutual pining for one another, and just maybe, it was finally going to work out in your favor.

As you pulled into the driveway next to his car, you took a shaky breath, “Fuck, okay. You can do this.” You nod to yourself, “Come on.”

You get out, walking up to the door and knocking.

The door swings open and Sam smirks at you, “You practically live here during the day. You don’t need to knock, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat as you desperately try to form words, “I-I just- sorry.” You close your eyes, “I’m a little nervous, if you can’t tell. That’s why I brought this.” You extend the bottle of wine out and Sam takes it, raising a brow, “this shit is good, and expensive, how’d you get this?”

You walk in, “from my old job, a coworker during a secret Santa thing.”

“I take it you’re big into wine?” Sam asks as he closes the door and you nod, “Well, not like I’m always drinking it or anything. I promise I don’t drink on the job.”

Sam chuckles as he walks over, “You need to relax, y/n. I know you don’t drink on the job.”

You let out a small sigh, “Sorry, I just-“

Sam cuts you off, “Here.” He walks over to the table and pulls two glasses towards him before opening the bottle, “Drink this and take a breather.”

He probably thinks I’m a fucking loon, you think as you force a smile, “Thank you.” You take the glass and take a sip, “Oh, this stuff is good.”

“You haven’t had this kind before?” He asks as he brings his glass to his lips, “This is my favorite wine.” He takes another sip before motioning to the table, “Shall we eat?”

“Yes, please. I’m starving.” You walk over and Sam pulls the chair out for you. You give him a smile as you sit down, “Thank you.”

He nods, “Mhm.” He walks around, sitting across from you, “I didn’t realize how much this looked like a date.. I’m sorry if-“

“I was stressing about what to wear, so I think we’re on the same page, Sam.” You were shocked you said that, maybe you aren’t as nervous as you thought?

“Yeah, I think I can say the same. I got a suit out and then I was like no, I’m at home not at work.” He laughs, “So I hope you’re not offended by my sweatshirt and sweatpants.”

“Oh, Sam. I’m appalled by your attire tonight.” You tease and he smirks, looking down as he nods, “My apologies, I’ll get right on that.” He laughs and looks up at you, “I was nervous you were going to say no.”

“What made you think I’d say no?” You tilt your head and Sam shrugs, taking another sip of his wine, “I just, wasn’t sure if you thought it would be weird to have dinner with the dad of the girl you babysit.”

You purse your lips and take another sip of your wine.

Sam furrows his brows, “It is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I-“

“No, no. It’s not weird at all, Sam. I’m actually.” You laugh slightly, “I’m actually really glad you asked me.”

“Really?” He smirks and leans back in his chair, “I mean, that’s a relief, I’m glad I’m not the only one who felt something.”

You smile, “Right, now I can stop almost causing accidents on my way home because I’m too busy thinking about you.” Your eyes go wide, “Oh that just.. came flying out..”

“Oh.. my god.” He tries not to laugh, “Yeah, that’s not, I mean. I’m happy you think about me, but I’d rather you not crash your car.”

You nod, “Yeah, me too.” You laugh, finishing your wine, “I’ll have another glass if you don’t mind.” He smiles, leaning forward to grab the bottle and fill your glass halfway, “Good?”

You nod, “Good.”

“So..” Sam glances up at you, “What were you thinking about, exactly?”

You tilt your head, giving him a subtle shrug, “that’s a conversation to have with me when I’ve had a few more glasses.” You smirk and he raises his brows, “Mm, I see.”

“So, if I can ask..” you glance up again, “And please, stop me if I’m overstepping in anyway.” Sam shakes his head, “Ask away.”

“What happened with you and Lilly?”

He chuckles slightly, “That’s.. a funny story actually, well. It wasn’t as the time, but now that I think about it..” he sighs, “Lilly and I met back when I used to explore abandoned places with my brother, Colby. She owned, well, her grandfather owned an old hotel that’s been on my bucket list for months at that point. She basically kept up with making sure people stayed out and what not.”

You nod, “Right.”

“We met the day Colby and I went over and hit it off right away.” He shrugs, “One thing led to another, we started dating, then a year later, Zoe made her grand entrance and then I got this idea to propose and after another year, I guess I just wasn’t enough for her anymore.”

“She filed for divorce?” You frown and sam laughs, “Nope. I did. The day I came home from work to find her in bed with her boss.” Your jaw drops and he clicks his tongue, “It’s funny because that day, it was like a big weight was lifted from my shoulders, I just focused on work and Zoe, and that’s really all I needed.”

He takes a sip from his glass, “Or that was until you came along.”

“What do I have to do with it?” You tease, downing the rest of your glass, “I’m just the babysitter.” You smirk as you extend your arm across the table and Sam smirks slightly with a small shake of his head, “You’re really not, though, y/n.”

He lifts the bottle and pours you more, “You’re literally.. everything when I’m not here, correction. Even when I’m here, I still think Zoe would prefer you over me.”

“This.. is going to sound bad, and I kind of feel bad for saying it, but earlier today, right before Lilly got here, Zoe told me she has more fun with me than her.”

Sam purses his lips, “Zoe has told me that before, too. About you, and being fun.” He smirks, “She always asks about you, when you’re coming back. If we can call you. I never wanted to bother you on your off days so I just tell her you’re busy.”

“Sam.” You lean forward, “I have no life other than taking care of that sweet girl.”

He chuckles, “That surprises me. With a pretty face and a perfect personality, it actually shocks me that you aren’t already spoken for.”

You shrug, “haven’t found the right one yet.”

“Oh, so you’re looking?” He teases and you roll your eyes, “Please, I look at you every time I’m around you.”

“I know.” Sam flicks his brows up, “But, I’m not one to talk, because I do it, too.”

You can’t help but smile, “I have no idea why I was so nervous about this. You’re really easy to talk to, Sam.”

“You mean flirt with.” He winks and you sigh, “Whatever you wanna call it, Mr. Golbach.” Sam laughs, “I remember.. when you used to call me that. It took forever for you to call me Sam.”

You shrug, “I was trying to be professional, I think? But, you made me nervous the second I saw you, my mom never told me that the guy I was interviewing with was so.. hot.”

You can see his cheeks turn a shade darker and he tilts his head, “that what you were thinking about when you almost crashed your car?” He tried not to laugh but fails, “sorry.. sorry.”

“No, no. You’re right.” You nod, “And maybe some other things, but we’ll just-“

“No, no. Tell me.” Sam smirks, “I wanna know what runs through that pretty little head of yours when you leave here, or when you’re here, with me. Just the two of us. Whatever.” He shrugs, “I’m all ears.”

You giggle as you remember what Mel called him, a dilf.

“What’s so funny?” Sam asks and you shake your head, “just a term that my friend uses to describe you.” You look up at him, “when you texted..” you groan, “Oh this is so embarrassing.”

You look at him and he smirks, “You’re fine, sweetheart.”

“When you texted, I was actually on the phone with my friend, and I was basically trying to get her to talk me out of my.. feelings, for you. I thought I was just being delusional, you know.”

“I’m glad she didn’t talk you out of it.” Sam smiles, “But anyway, I’m curious about this, term, she used to describe me.”

You laugh, shaking your head before taking a sip of wine, “She called you a dilf.”

He chuckles, “I’m sorry, a what?”

“A dilf.” You repeat, your eyes moving to his, “A dad, I’d like to fuck.”

Suddenly, everything shifted.

“Was she talking about her, or you?”

“Me.” You swallow, setting your glass on the table, “She basically said what I was trying to say.”

“Am I.. the dad you’d like to..” he purses his lips, a smirk fighting to appear, and you nod, “I mean, I’d like to do more than that, of course, but right now, that’s all I can think about.”

“So why don’t you stop thinking..” he sets his glass down, “and do something about it?”

You slowly stand up and walk over to him, laying your hand in his as he holds it out. He pulls you towards him, your legs on either side of his as you sit down on his lap to face him.

Your eyes scan over his face and you smirk before leaning in to kiss him.

His hands slide to your hips, a small groan leaving his lips as they move with yours in a slow motion. You earn another by grinding down onto him, gasping when you feel his cock growing harder under his sweats.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers as he kisses down your neck, “Can I take this off?” His hands slip under your sweater and you nod, “Only if you take yours off.”

“Deal.” He pushes your sweater up your body, pulling it up over your head. You slip your arms out or the sleeves and immediately reach for his sweatshirt.

You bite your lip as you watch him pull it up over and toss it to the ground to pile with yours. Your eyes rake up and down his body, head tilting as you lean back in to kiss him.

You kiss down his neck, earning small gasps and groans as you nip and suck at his skin.

Your hand drags down his chest and torso, slipping into his sweats. You kiss back up to his lips, swallowing his moans as your hand wraps around his cock, slowly twisting up and down.

“F-fuck.” He groan, “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

You give him a shrug, “I can show you, rather than tell you?” He bites his lip and nods, “Please.” You slide down off of his lap, sitting between his knees.

His hips raise from the chair as you work his sweats down over his hips and pull them down to his mid thigh. You rise up, spitting a little on the tip and he groans as your thumb slowly spreads it around.

His eyes are on you, watching as you lean in to wrap your lips around the tip. His breath hitches in his throat as his hips buck upward at the touch.

You tilt your head back, flattening your tongue on the underside before licking upward.

He lets out a shuddered breath, “Fucking hell.”

You take him into your mouth, slowly working your head up and down as your tongue swirls around. He reaches down, his hand slowly pulling your hair into his grasp, “Fuck, that’s it.”

You pick up the pace, going a little faster and he tightens his grip, “Doing so good, baby.” He groans, “Fuck, just like that.”

Your heart starts to race at his praise, the walls of your cunt squeezing around absolutely nothing in full desperation.

Sam’s breathing grows faster, “Fuck, okay. Okay.” He pulls your head off of him and you lean back, a smirk resting on your lips, “What?”

“You know what.” Sam smirks, pulling you up for a kiss, “Take your pants off.”

You nod, stepping back to push your pants down your legs. You kick off your shoes, stepping out of them and you walk back over to Sam.

He stands up, his arm wrapping around your waist as his lips crash onto yours. Your hand moves up to rest on his cheek and you moan against his lips.

He reaches back behind you, swiping stuff out of the way and lifts you to set you down on the table. You lift your leg, reaching down to guide his cock into you.

You both pause, gasping as he slowly pushes into you more. Your head tilts back, moans slipping from your lips as you feel the pleasure from him stretching you floods through your body.

“Fuck.” You gasp, arm sliding around his neck, “Feels so good.”

He nods, his lips pressing to your forehead, “So good.”

He slides out, thrusting back in with a grunt, “Fuck, baby.” His hand slides up to rest on your cheek as his lips reconnect with yours. He swallows your moans with ease, his hand dropping to grip your thigh.

Your other leg hooks around his hip, “F-fuck, harder.”

He groans at your words, his fingers pressing into your skin as his thrusts grow harder. You gasp out, sliding your hand down in between your bodies.

Sam tilts his head down, lips parted as his eyes bounce between his cock going in and out of you and your fingers circling your own clit, “That’s it, baby. Does it feel good?”

You nod, eyes squeezing shut, “Y-yes.. so, so good.”

He bites his lip, leaning in to press kisses along your jaw, “Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”

You gasp at his words, the pressure of your fingers growing harder, “Y-yes, yes.” You open your eyes, locking them onto Sam’s, “Fu-fuck. Don’t..” you tilt your head back, moaning loudly, “don’t stop.”

“Didn’t plan on it, baby.” Sam smirks, his read tilting to the side as your cunt squeezes around him, “God damn.”

You tighten your leg around his waist, moaning out constantly as he gets you to tip over the edge. You pull your hand away, sliding it to the back of his neck as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You were a whining, moaning mess before him, and he loved it.

“Fuck, fuck, there you go.” Sam groans, “That’s it.”

Your nails dig into his skin, “Fuck, Sam!” You pull him in for a kiss, moaning against his lips as his thrusts keep the fast pace, “You make me feel so good.” You tilt your head as his lips trail down and back up to your lips.

“I knew you’d feel good.” He moans, thrusts deeper into you, “I didn’t know it would be this good.”

You whimper at his words, smashing your lips back onto his. After a minute of making out, he leans back slightly, “Where do you want me, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, giving him a shrug as you pull him in closer, “Wherever you prefer, baby.” You bite down on his lip, earning a gasp from him and he groans, “Fuck.. okay.”

He slides his hand up to your cheek, cupping it as he kisses you deeply. You swallow his moans, gasping as he thrusts into you, holding himself in as his cock twitches inside of you.

You moan at the sensation, gently pressing a few kisses to his cheek and jaw.

He slowly pulls out, gently setting your leg down. You sit up, taking a deep breath as you look at him, “That was..”

“Incredible.” Sam smirks, nodding as he lays his hands on your waist, “Literally better than I ever thought it could be.”

You nod, “Oh, yeah. I agree. And trust me, I thought about you a lot.” Sam smirks and nods, “Yeah, I’m guilty of that, too.” He tilts his head, “So, is that what you’d think about?”

You nod, “yeah, that and whether or not you were seeing anyone.”

“Did that answer your questions?” Sam laughs slightly and you nod, “This whole night answered everything.”

Sam smiles, leaning in to press his lips to yours, “So I think I have a solution for you not crashing your car on the way home.”

“Oh yeah?” You smile, looking up at him, “What’s that?”

“Just stay here.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

First fic of the new year! Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading! I love you all SO much! I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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royalarchivist · 9 months ago

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Quackity: Ok, that's it. Ok, it's ready, I have everything ready for when the game starts.

Luzu: 😀

Quackity: ¡Uy, cabron! You scared me, how are you? [Laughs] Sit down, sit down here. Sit down here, Luzu. Or on top of me, no, sit on me, sit on me.

Luzu: No– [Laughs]

Quackity: Sit on me Luzu.

Luzu: Hi guys!

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]

—

Quackity: What's going on, Luzu? Tell them.

Luzu: Are you doing it in English?

Quackity: What?

Luzu: Are you doing it in English?

Quackity: No no no– it's in Spanish. For the whole race.

Luzu: We're ready! It's so fcking cool–

Quackity: It's really cool, it's so badass, and we're going to give it our all, gracias a Dios, gracias a Dios.

[Staxx wanders up to them]

Quackity: Look– wave, wave Staxx!

Staxx: [Waves and gives the camera a thumbs-up]

Quackity: No mames... This is the first time I've seen Staxx in real life.

Staxx: It's true!

#Quackity #Luzuvlogs #Staxx #THE KARMALAND BOYSSSS #I've missed them #Right after this Quackity says to Staxx ''Last time we talked you told me to spread my legs''#I wish I didn't remember the context for that #Luzu #October 4 2024 #Sorry for the quick repost I had a moment of doubt about one of my translations #(Thanks for double-checking that for me Bell)#All Stars Rubius Cup

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transboyswitchytales · 24 days ago

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Caught In A Bear Trap

Request by Anon : Unsupervised you mentioned witch hunters.. I’d love to see what would happen if a witch hunter happened upon Baby, and Agatha and Rio track them down and decimated them because no one touches baby but THEM. I can’t get it out of my mind and I’d love to see your take on it!

Warning: TORTURE/GORE /BLOOD / ANGST /DEATH / HURT READER / Nicky mentioned / Upsetting story / Prequel to Unsupervised / short fic / DARKFIC /Angst for sure /AgathaRioxReader

Anon I hope this is ok 🖤 if you want a part two let me know! I made it short because it is ouchie.

'Oh, I know that I can't live without you But this world will keep turning if you do Would you even want me looking like a zombie? Would you even want me, want me, want me?'- YUNGBLUD

You would look back at this moment as one of your biggest mistakes.

You knew better. But it was the 60s in San Francisco. And it was just a small blip

Later Agatha would implement a rule for what you’d done, the carelessness and brazenness in which you ignored your gut.

Rio had always told you to trust your tummy. She said every animal was made with fight or flight. Just as a a hare’s big ears stand at attention for a rustling in the forest.

Rio said that the hare knows and doesn’t second guess before he runs.

And she grabbed your arm tightly and said this last thing, a thing you’d think of later.

“A hare is small but trusts its instincts and runs. Baby it doesn’t matter the size. A grizzled bear still sniffs the ground for hunters. If he doesn’t he’ll step in a trap.” She’d cupped your cheek lovingly, “trust your tummy, don’t step into a trap.” Rio said it like it was the most important thing.

And those words repeated over and over as they sliced your skin.

But it was San Francisco in 1961. You were on Haight Street. It was the age of hippies and acid. Rio had commented offhandedly that marijuanaha would never be as good as it is now. You didn’t ask why she thought that. You simply smoked and did magic and listened to music.

You’d begged Agatha to stay in this city. She’d been reluctant at first. But being a witch sort of blended in with these rough looking hippies. They’re dreads and bell bottom pants made your long hair and earthy life style sorta normal.

Agatha also enjoyed how happy you and Rio seemed to be.

So she and Rio found an apartment with the bay windows. All that light. Rio buying endless plants into the place. Agatha was happy to find her first queer book shop. It seemed people were finally putting up stories of queer people.

Even if it was smaller and hard to find.

You three were happy. It was a starling wake up call.

On a Tuesday afternoon Rio and Agatha had needed to go to the local apothecary. It was in china town and you didn’t want to go. Agatha didn’t like the idea of leaving you. But you told her you would stay in the apartment, listen to vynil and make ice tea.

Rio hesitated as well, but you promised them youd have dinner ready by the time they got back.

You hadn’t even realized.

Perhaps they should have trusted their tummy’s.

You thought you’d bake your sourdough loaf today. But you noticed a lack of bread flour and figured the corner store might have some. If not you’d head over to Gabriel’s Bakery. He always gave you stuff for free.

You left the house. Wearing your happy hippy attire. Double checking you didn’t forget your two wedding rings on the sink from doing breakfast dishes. You walked to the corner store.

You will never forget it.

You bought Rio a new strand of mint. She’d been talking about wanting to grow it and you thought she’d be happy to see it in your kitchen. You loved getting them gifts. Small things to make them know you were always thinking of them.

You made an extra stop with your basket in the grocery store to find a bag of loose leaf tea for Aggie.

You checked out, handing the guy cash, you thanked him, and grabbed your brown bag. Walking out the store like your world wasn’t about to change.

Because that’s the thing about big trauma, no one ever knows before it hits.

You can spend everyday worrying and you’ll never be prepared for the truly earth shattering events.

Like this one.

You stupid fucking rabbit.

You were walking, aware of your surroundings for the most part. You were a powerful witch. Trained in necromancy, potions, and even mind control. You’d recently been more interested in speaking with the dead. But that was a different story.

It was a sunny day.

You’d gotten comfortable in San Francisco. You’d grown soft. No longer paranoid of what lurked in the shadows.

And you should be. You should be.

They came from behind, and you never even saw them coming. Didn’t even hear your head crack on the cement. No, you walked right into a trap, silly rabbit.

But you woke up to men in surgical masks. You woke in pain as they opened your veins. Letting the blood come out of you like the plague times.

You were naked on a cement floor, in chains. Like how so many witches before had been.

How poetic.

History repeating itself it seemed.

They’d used magic, ironically, these assholes had tortured another witch to make runes. You couldn’t use your magic, it sat like a phantom limb.

You screamed as they used their scalpels and medical instruments. Dunked your face in water until you stopped twitching. Then they’d wake you up again. Your vocal cords gave up on your screams as they cut you open over and over. Seemingly amazed at your ability to heal.

A resilient animal you were.

You wept until you had no tears left and in your mind you disassociated.

You left your body as they played with you like a child plays the game operation with tweezers.

Your muscles begged for release. Your body lost so much blood. Your magic was depleted. You had no fight. You had no will.

You did not speak to them once. Not as they asked you questions and tortured you. They asked about your coven. They asked about how you acquired income. They wanted to know how old you were. What tricks you could do.

You had thought yourself powerful. A witch. A fucking Harkness no less. You thought yourself strong. You were not a rabbit. You were the bear. How had you been so foolish to forget a world full of traps?

A man kicked your naked bloody body with his boot in your ribs. You slid across the bloody cement floor with a thud. Scabs breaking open once more, puss and blood leaking from wounds you could no longer keep track of.

If Agatha were here she’d sing to you as Rio licked them close. Aggie would wash the blood out of your hair. You sometimes hallucinated her above you. Only for your eyes to adjust once more.

You weren’t sure, as there was no windows, how long you’d held prisoner.

You shivered on the cold wet cement. With a broken left shoulder, two dislocated wrists, and you couldn’t feel your right leg. You weren’t sure if the nerves even worked anymore. They’d drilled into your knee cap.

You closed your eyes and remembered the smell of Agatha’s hair. That perfect scent as she held you at night, the comfort of her arms. You focused on the gap in Rios teeth as she threw her head back to laugh.

You hoped Agatha would forgive Rio.You hoped Rio would forgive herself for the job she was about to do.

Because you would die soon. You hoped it would come fast.

And you were ready. You made peace with it around the point one of the witch hunters had taken a hammer to your fingers. Where were your wedding rings? What did a corpse need with wedding rings?

You were done.

You lived a great life. A life full of Agatha and Rio.

How fantastic it had been to be loved by them. How lucky you were to have gotten to hold them close. To share laughter and kisses.

You lay in your blood unable to open your left eye anymore.

And you hoped Agatha would find your Yule gifts. You knew San Francisco lit up for Christmas. You’d already bought their gifts. You’d already written the love notes. You wondered if Rio would be able to play your records, listen to your favorite songs. Or would Agatha shatter each vynil? Would she turn away from love. You hoped not. You wanted Agatha to love.

You hoped Agatha would forgive you for giving up.

You were just so tired. And you’d fought for so long. You couldn’t stay awake one more minute.

You wanted to see Nicky again.

You wanted Rio to take you in her arms. Place the last kiss you’d ever be given on your split broken skin. And you could just give in. Not hurt one more moment.

Your eyes lulled back.

The room grew quiet.

You no longer felt.

You opened your eyes to see Rio. And you coughed blood and Rio had her hand in your chest.

“Take…me.” You signaled and her eyes turned black. So deep dark black.

“I’m going to. I’m taking you home baby. Agatha HURRY UP!” Rio screamed and you looked to the side to see…

Agatha covered in purple magic.

She was killing so many. They begged for mercy and she tortured their minds and made them kill themselves, slowly too. One man was taking his own eyes out with his fingers.

Agatha was making them relive what they’d done to you….but to those they loved most.

She wanted them to see it. See it how she seen it in their minds.

“AGATHA WE DONT HAVE TIME! COME ON!” Rio screamed and you coughed again.

“No..no baby. Hey come on. I don’t want to do my job. Come on. We looked everywhere for you. Please don’t. Fight baby. You promised. You promised me. You said I’d take you when you were an old crone. Please don’t go. Please don’t. I can’t do it. I can’t take you. I’m not strong enough.”

Rio was shaking and her hands were in your chest cavity. She was beating your heart.

Your cold black heart.

“It’-s..o..—k” you rasped out and she shook her head.

“No. I won’t do it. They can take me. Take me instead no. I can’t do it again. Don’t make me.” Rio sobbed and Agatha must have heard because she fell to her knees.

“No..no, no baby. Please stay awake. You can’t go. No please no. I can’t do this without you. “ Agatha begged and you couldn’t speak

The sound of your heart being squished between Rios hands was louder now.

“RIO IF YOU TAKE HER I WILL NEVER FORGOVE YOU. DONT DO THIS TO ME AGAIN. FIX IT! Fix it now. PLEASE MY LOVE!” Agatha gasped and you couldn’t keep your eyes open. It was too much.

“NO NO! YOU STAY WITH ME! YOU PROMISED NICKY YOU’D STAY WITH ME!” Agatha screams at you.

And then it’s black.

Goodnight moon.

‘If I can’t reach you…let my song teach you?’

But you hear Nicky…he’s laughing. You smell the wildflowers of Salem. You feel warmth return to you.

“Mama!”

And then….

And then pain hits your chest and you inhale once more.

Your life flashes so fast by you. And you are no longer with your son.

Blinking a few times you see a fuzzy shade of red… a room. It’s not home, it smells of incense and fermented magic. You blink and realize you aren’t dead.

Magic inscriptions hang in the walls.

Pain, lots of pain in your body. But not dead.

You hear someone’s speaking Cantonese. And you know the language but you can’t concentrate on the sounds.

You realize as your eyes adjust that you are in someone’s basement in china town. At the local medicine woman’s shop. You know this room.

Rio and Agatha can be heard arguing with said elder. You try to move your hands but you feel heavy.

Agatha lets out an earth quake of a sob and you know she sees you are awake.

You are alive.

#fanfic #fanfiction #kathryn hahn #ao3 fanfic #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #audrey plaza #rio x reader x agatha #angst #my fanfic #my writing #Spotify

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seonghrtz · 1 year ago

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𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑.

synopsis: you have a sleepover at gojo's.

No one had said that taking care of two children half your age, one of whom had a lot of cursed energy, would be easy. And maybe it wasn't supposed to be easy. After all, you were eighteen, a young adult, and the only thing you had been taught as a child was to obey your superiors and fight curses ⸻ even how to deal with the limbo that was your life, you had to learn on your own. You hadn't been given a manual on how to take care of children, let alone a manual on how to deal with the most powerful sorcerer of the generation. But you always knew your life wasn't going to be easy anyway.

You and Gojo eventually established a dynamic so that you could take care of Tsumiki and Megumi Fushiguro. During the week, Gojo took care of the children, especially since their school was in Tokyo, and on the weekends, you took care of them. Of course, if Gojo had a mission that made it impossible for him to take care of the children, you took care of them. It was basically the dynamic of a divorced couple with joint custody of their children. But the point was that you and Gojo weren't a (divorced) couple and you didn't even have children. In fact, Gojo had only taken Megumi and Tsumiki to look after, and you were accidentally involved in the whole situation.

And since it was the weekend, it was your day to take care of the Fushiguro siblings. Gojo was usually the one who took the children to your apartment, but since you had an appointment in Tokyo, you ended up arranging with him to pick up the children at his apartment. You had asked for the address of his apartment and miraculously convinced him that it wasn't necessary for him to pick you up and take you to where he lived ⸻ it took a long five minutes of arguing with Satoru before he gave in.

You walked in a bit of a hurry until you found the street where Satoru lived. You looked up the numbers of the houses until you found Gojo's. It was a tall building that gave you a headache just looking up, and it was fancy, completely different from your building, which was much smaller and much simpler. This building certainly showed how well off Gojo Satoru was financially. He had luxurious comfort.

The two of you were different in many ways ⸻ the only thing being that you were both Jujutsu sorcerers ⸻ and sometimes, it was inevitable not to wonder why he needed your help, you of all people. It was an unlikely action coming from Gojo Satoru, but if that was the price for Megumi and Tsumiki to have a normal, healthy childhood, then you were willing to pay it.

You approached the building, double-checking that you were in the right place, though you didn't need to, the whole atmosphere matched the lust that Gojo himself exuded.

"Excuse me, good afternoon" The access controller got your attention before you could pick up your phone and tell Gojo that you were already outside his building.

"Good afternoon." You bowed slightly.

"Are you Kamo Y/n?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Gojo-san asked me to let you in as soon as you arrived," the loud click of the apartment gate opening was heard as soon as the access controller spoke. "You can go up, the apartment is on the twelfth floor."

"Thank you very much." You thanked them and headed for the elevator, obviously not up twelve flights of stairs after a relatively tiring day.

When the elevator arrived, you entered it and looked at the button panel, there were twelve buttons for the floors of the building. Of course, Gojo Satoru wouldn't live anywhere but the penthouse. When the elevator doors opened, you stepped out of the elevator and noticed that there was only one door on the twelfth floor; if there was only one apartment per floor, at least you wouldn't be confused as to which apartment was Gojo's. However, before you could touch the elevator, you had no choice but to do so. But before you could ring the bell, the door opened to reveal a smiling Tsumiki.

"Kamo-san! Are you here to pick us up?"

"Uhh." You nodded.

"Ah, but we were going to marathon the Barbie movies..." Tsumiki said sadly

"Hey Kamo-chan, don't just stand there in the hallway!" Gojo appeared next to Tsumiki and grabbed your wrist, pulling you into the apartment.

“Gojo-san!”

"'Gojo-san'? Kamo-chan, we're the same age, there's no need to be so formal."

"What happened to your hair?" you asked, noticing the ribbons in some of his hair.

"This is called style!" Gojo put his hands on his waist in an odd pose.

"Fushiguro?" You looked at the little boy who was walking towards you with his backpack, ready to leave.

“Oi Megumi, do you want to leave so badly?" Gojo put his hand to his chest and pretended to be offended.

"Ah, but what about Barbie?" Tsumiki looked at you sadly and then at Gojo."Well... ah... you can watch it at my apartment..."

"NO!" Gojo shouted, interrupting your speech. "That's not fair!" A pout formed on the white-haired boy's moist pink lips. "I also wanted to watch Barbie too and watching it alone is no fun since I won't be able to sing the duets from the movies..."

"If you want, you can stay at Gojo's for the weekend, it's no problem." You've given a simple and practical solution.

"I don't want to." Megumi said, attracting the attention of everyone present.

"Megumi!" Gojo said dramatically, "Don't you want to spend a super fun weekend with me and your sister?" Gojo looked at the little Fushiguro, hoping that he would give an affirmative answer, but Megumi just stared at him with a serious face.

"Why don't we all stay here together?" Tsumiki suggested with a smile, "That way, we can watch Barbie and have a fun sleepover!"

"That's a great idea, Tsumiki!" Gojo said excitedly, he'd been trying to convince you to spend a day (or night) in his apartment for a long time, he knew it might cheer up Megumi's constant bad mood, but it was hard to convince you to stay. And now he had the perfect opportunity.

"I'm sorry, Tsumiki," you said, putting an end to Gojo and Tsumiki's happy murmurings about a possible slumber party, "I don't think today is a good day for that."

"And why not?"

"The only thing I have with me right now is my wallet" and a pocket knife, but you omitted that information from the girl.

"No problem!" Gojo said with a smile on his face, "I can lend you the towel, toothbrush and clothes, don't worry about it!"

"Please, Kamo-san" Tsumiki's bright, hopeful eyes made you look away.

"Ah... okay," you gave in and watched as Tsumiki and Gojo celebrated while Megumi hid his relief, at least you were with him and he wouldn't have to endure Gojo's taunts alone for another night.

"Tsumiki, you can choose today's Barbie movie, Megumi, you're responsible for building our hut in the living room, I'll order the food and Kamo-chan, you can take the part of being pretty and sit in that chair." Gojo smiled and put his glasses on his face. Tsumiki smiled excitedly and pulled her brother into the living room.

"Let's make dinner together." You said, drawing Gojo's attention back to you.

"What?" Gojo looked at you in surprise.

"Let's cook dinner instead of ordering in."

"Are you sure about that? It's easier to order in, not to mention there's a really good restaurant I always order from."

"If you want me to stay, we'll cook dinner together."

"What kind of bribe is that?"

"You promised to feed them well." You crossed your arms and stared at your own reflection in the sorcerer's glasses in front of you.

"All right," Gojo sighed and led you into the kitchen.

When you entered the apartment, you were surprised by the size of the place. Everything in Gojo's apartment was double, if not triple, the size of your own, but it was still surprising to see the size of this kitchen that was almost unused by its owner. You went through the fridge looking for ingredients to give you an idea of what you could make for dinner.

"Are you sure you don't want to order something? It's a lot easier." Gojo said, watching you take out the ingredients and put them in the sink.

"Peel the vegetables." You said, ignoring Satoru's question.

If you had the chance to ask your past self how she saw herself at a certain point in the future, she would certainly never tell you that she would be taking care of two children half her age, much less that she would be cooking alongside one of the strongest sorcerers, much less that she would see him cut off his own finger while chopping vegetables. You probably didn't expect him to be a disaster in the kitchen. But as they say, you learn by making mistakes ⸻ even if you seriously doubt that Gojo has learned anything from what he's learned in the kitchen.

When dinner was ready, you gathered in the pantry. You and Megumi ate in silence while Gojo and Tsumiki had a deep and serious discussion about the best characters, dresses, clothes, everything related to Barbie animation.

Everything went perfectly and although you would have preferred to stay in the comfort of your small apartment, seeing Tsumiki's radiant smile and Megumi's relaxed expression made your decision worthwhile.

It didn't take long for your regrets to show.

Watching Gojo and Tsumiki perform the songs from Barbie & the Diamond Castle at midnight certainly made you rethink many of the decisions you had made in your life. The scene of Tsumiki singing and twirling in front of the TV was quite cute, what was hard to bear was Gojo's thin voice every time it was his turn to sing ⸻ it was inevitable not to get a headache at that moment. You took a deep breath, the movie was only half over, and according to Gojo, this would be the last of the movie marathon, you had to be strong and hold on until the end.

When you least expected it, you felt something touch your arm and turned around to find Megumi sleeping peacefully next to you. Afraid of waking him, your body stiffened and you waited for a quieter moment in the movie to ask Gojo which room Megumi was sleeping in. Before you could do or say anything, Gojo picked Megumi up in the most tender way you'd ever seen and carried him to his room. Tsumiki, now without her duet partner, turned to you with a sleepy smile.

"Kamo-san"

"Yes, Tsumiki?"

"Thank you for joining us today. It was a lot of fun."

"Oh, that's okay, it was no big deal." You shrugged with a slight smile on your face.

"Can I... can I give you a hug?"

"Oh?" Your eyes widened slightly, surprised by the sudden question from the girl in front of you. "Yes... yes, of course" You opened your arms so that Tsumiki came closer and hugged you, snuggling into your arms.

"Thank you for taking care of me and my brother." Tsumiki whispered into the hug.

"Um... no problem." You murmured and felt your heart warm. "I think you better go to bed, Tsumiki, it's getting late."

"But what about the movie?" she asked through a yawn.

"We can finish it tomorrow at noon."

"Will you stay with us until noon?" A small smile appeared on the girl's face.

"Um," you said with a nod, "I'll make your favorite if you like."

"Ah, you're the best, Kamo-san!" Tsumiki hugged you once more before going to her room, leaving you alone in the huge living room of Gojo's apartment.

A sigh left your lips and your attention turned to the television, which was showing the movie you had forgotten a few minutes ago. You weren't familiar with the movies that Tsumiki (and Gojo) loved so much. During your childhood and teenage years, you had only one concern: to stay strong enough to survive. In a lifeline like that of a jujutsu sorcerer with a born technique from one of the greatest clans, you felt more like trapped and powerless prey about to be devoured alive than the predator about to strike. The world you were a part of was for the smart, the strong, the influential, and in this game, you ultimately chose to learn the rules of the game rather than how to beat it.

Cartoons, movies, and even fiction books were a privilege your lifestyle didn't allow you, not when you were in the clan domain, bound by the ideals of the terrible elders who looked no further than their own navels, trained tirelessly to become a fighting machine whose goal was to put an end to what they called curses. It didn't take you long to discover that you were just a disposable pawn in the elders' game. And that it would be an uphill battle to break free of their control.

"I still can't believe that was your first time watching Barbie" Gojo sat down on the other end of the sofa "You should have more fun, that's for sure!"

"I never had time for it..."

"You're so boring." Gojo sighed and threw his arms up before he let out a sigh. "I have to kill myself working to make money and ensure my independence," Gojo lowered his voice in a failed attempt to imitate you, "Do you work so hard to impress daddy?"

"My father is dead." You said in a serious tone.

"Ah... well... ah..." Gojo swallowed, shocked by your statement. "Wow, you really know how to create a tense atmosphere," he murmured.

Silence fell over the room and you turned your attention to the television, which was paused at the end credits. It hadn't been your intention to create a tense and uncomfortable atmosphere at that moment, but the words had come out without thinking. And when you least expected it, you felt something soft and cuddly hit you hard.

"What?" You turned your head to see Gojo holding back his laughter.

"You were too serious!" He smiled and threw another pillow in your face. "Come on Kamo-chan, aren't you going to fight back?"

"Fight back?"

"Yes, throw a pillow back at me?"

"What's the point when you can manipulate and distort the space around you with your limitless?"

"Come on, Kamo-chan, I was trying to make us have fun! Why do you always have to be so serious? Can't you just laugh at me like last time?"

"I've never laughed at you."

"Okay, will you stop gaslighting me?" Gojo stood up from the sofa, hands on his waist, indignant, "You know what? You should take a shower!"

"Are you telling me I stink?"

"No!" Gojo quickly denied, "I'm saying you need to relax, I can see your muscles tense from here."

"Um, okay then." You shrugged and followed Gojo to the bathroom down the hall.

While Gojo left you in the bathroom to get you some clean clothes, a towel and a toothbrush to use, your eyes wandered around the relatively large bathroom (like everything else in his apartment). The white and blue details in the bathroom reminded you of Gojo, and you wondered if he might have patented those colors for himself.

"I didn't have any panties to lend you, so I took some new underwear I've never worn before." Gojo said, looking away, his hand on the back of his neck trying to hide the blush on his cheeks.

"Oh, that's fine," you picked up the things he'd brought for you and waited for him to leave before closing the bathroom door and getting ready to shower.

In a way, Gojo was right. In the end, the shower helped you relax and get your mind out of the way, and not think as much as you used to.

When you finished showering, you put on the clothes Gojo had brought for you. The white blouse was soft and sweet-smelling, it looked big on you, but it was just right and gave you a comfort you couldn't quite explain. You put on the black shorts and hung the towel on a rack in the bathroom, along with two other towels, and took the opportunity to brush your teeth with the toothbrush Gojo had given you. When you came out of the bathroom, your body shivered as you came into contact with the cold air of the apartment as opposed to the warm air of the bathroom, and you walked into the living room and sat down on the end of the sofa where you had been a few minutes ago.

"If you want to sleep, my room is the last door on the left." Gojo said as he looked at you, feeling a blush on his cheeks as he noticed a certain more domestic area around you.

"Your room?"

"Yes, my room. The guest room is being used by Megumi and Tsumiki, so if you want to sleep, you can go there."

"I will not sleep in your room."

"Why not? My bed is quite comfortable, you know?" he said proudly.

"This is your house and you should sleep in your room. I can sleep on the sofa without a problem."

"I'm not going to let you sleep on the sofa?" he said more like a question.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to," Gojo crossed his arms in front of him. "Come on, Kamo-chan, don't be stubborn!"

"Look who's talking" You rolled your eyes.

"Okay, since I'm the owner of the house and I'm the one who makes the rules here, you have to sleep in my room."

"I never thought of you as someone who respects the rules..."

"I don't, but you, being a good girl, will respect the rules," he smiled sideways.

"Will you stop bothering me if I sleep in your room?" You arched your eyebrow in doubt.

"Yes!" Gojo replied quickly with a smile on his face.

"Okay, then I'll sleep there." You rolled your eyes and got up from the sofa.

"Everything is already prepared for you there, Kamo-chan, I hope you have sweet dreams."

"Um... good night, Gojo." You mumbled and went to the boy's room.

For some reason, the simple decoration of Satoru's room didn't surprise you. Maybe your subconscious had already imagined something similar in his room. You closed the bedroom door behind you and let out a sigh before sitting down on the huge bed, which was strangely soft and comfortable, just as Gojo had told you. You glanced at the bedside table and noticed a vintage lamp and had to fight back the urge to smile, Gojo had good taste in decorating.

"What a treat..." You muttered as you noticed the light switch next to the bed. You turned off the light and ducked under the covers, and couldn't help but compare all this comfort to the equivalent of lying on a cloud ⸻ if that were possible, of course.

But when you thought you were about to fall asleep, your brain decided it was time to make you overthink about the day you had.

Why did you agree to stay the night?

Why had you showered at Gojo Satoru's house?

Why did you wear his clothes and now lie in his bed?

Why did you accept all this?

To see a sincere smile on the faces of the Fushiguro siblings? Yes, of course, but that wasn't the only reason. There was something else that even you didn't have the answers to. Not there, not in that moment.

Satoru had everything and he made you feel as if you had nothing or as if the little you had was insignificant. It still didn't sink in that you were lying in the bed of the most powerful sorcerer of the generation and that you were only there because of his insistence.

Perhaps you should be more honest about your feelings, not only with those around you, but also with yourself. Even if it's incredibly difficult, since you've spent your entire life up until this moment hiding your feelings so they won't be used against you. And sometimes old habits die screaming in a deafening silence.

And maybe, just maybe, it's time for you to stop seeing Gojo Satoru through his titles and start seeing him as an equal...

memory garden masterlist !

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deliciousangelfestival · 7 months ago

Text

You're The One - 3

Summary: A daughter uncovers the wild, untold story of how her parents’ marriage began—and it’s way better than any romance movie she’s ever watched.

Character: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Comedy

Words Count : 1,654

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky stopped the car abruptly in front of an outdoor gear shop, cutting the engine with a purposeful click. He turned to you, his intense blue eyes meeting your confused expression. “We’re stopping here.”

“What are you doing?” you asked, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your hands smoothing the delicate fabric of your wedding dress.

“You need to change your clothes,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

You crossed your arms defiantly, leaning back into the car seat. “No.”

He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as if summoning patience. “Do you really want to go skydiving in that dress?”

You looked down at the intricate gown you wore—a masterpiece of lace and silk, designed by a famous designer and stitched by twenty skilled hands. It was beautiful, the one thing about this doomed wedding you truly appreciated. “This dress is stunning.”

“It is,” Bucky agreed, stepping out of the car with a smooth, deliberate motion. He shut the door with a firm thud and walked around to your side. His leather boots crunched against the gravel as he moved. “But it doesn’t say anything about you.”

Your brow furrowed as he opened your door. He leaned down slightly, his posture commanding but his tone gentle. “The dress owns you, not the other way around.” He extended his hand.

You hesitated, your fingers brushing against his hand before accepting his help. His grip was warm and steady as he helped you out of the car.

Together, you walked into the shop. The heavy door creaked as it swung open, and a bell jingled above. Heads turned immediately. Customers and employees froze mid-motion, their eyes widening at the sight of you in your elaborate wedding gown.

You felt the weight of their stares, instinctively clutching the skirt of your dress. Your cheeks flushed, but Bucky walked confidently ahead, completely unbothered. His broad shoulders cut through the crowd as he scanned the racks with a laser focus.

“Here.” He plucked a practical outfit from the racks and handed it to you with a decisive motion. “Put this on.”

You held the outfit at arm’s length, giving it a skeptical once-over. “Who’s paying for this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t bring my wallet—or anything, for that matter.”

“Me,” he said simply, adding a pair of sturdy shoes to your pile without even checking the price tag.

Your brows shot up in disbelief. “Since when are you so generous? The Bucky I know pinches pennies.”

His lips curved into a small smirk, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I’m rich,” he said, pointing to himself.

“You?” You folded your arms, tilting your head at him, clearly unconvinced.

“Yes, me,” he replied, leaning closer until his face was inches from yours. His voice dropped to a low murmur. “Now go change. We’re on a tight schedule.”

He stepped back and gestured toward the fitting rooms. You sighed dramatically but did as he asked. Inside the small, dimly lit room, you carefully slipped out of the wedding dress, taking your time to fold it neatly. Despite everything, you still hoped to return it. The new outfit fit perfectly, even the shoes, though you wondered how he’d known your size so precisely.

When you stepped out, Bucky was waiting, leaning casually against a rack of jackets. His eyes lit up as he saw you, and he gave you a playful double thumbs-up. “Much better,” he said, his voice warm.

You hugged the wedding dress to your chest. “What should I do with this? I want to return it.”

“Give it to me,” he said, stepping forward. His gloved hand brushed yours as he took the dress. “I’ll have someone deliver it to the church. Trust me.”

You hesitated, your fingers lingering on the fabric before letting it go. “Okay,” you said, though doubt flickered in your eyes.

“Now go pick out a jacket,” he said, his tone lighter as he nudged you gently toward another section of the store.

As you walked away, Bucky’s smile faded. He pulled out his phone and murmured something low and quick. Minutes later, a man appeared, dressed in an unassuming black jacket. Bucky handed him the wedding dress without a word. The man gave a curt nod and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

“Take it to goodwill. Now,” Bucky muttered, his eyes darting to where you were browsing jackets. “Don’t let her see you.”

“Sir…” A timid voice interrupted him. A young part-time employee stood nearby, her wide eyes darting nervously between him and the now-absent wedding dress. “Why… why was she wearing a wedding dress?”

Bucky turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Life’s complicated,” he said, his tone leaving no room for further questions.

“I’m ready,” you said, returning with a jacket in hand. He turned to you, his smirk softening into something warmer as he helped you slip it on.

“Perfect,” he said. With a hand lightly resting on your lower back, he guided you toward the exit.

As the two of you left, the employees gathered near the counter, their voices hushed but urgent.

“Why was she wearing a wedding dress?” one whispered.

“I don’t know, but they didn’t seem like strangers,” another replied.

Then the television behind the counter blared a breaking news alert. “Bride-to-be of the Jordan heir kidnapped on her wedding day!” Your photo flashed across the screen. Gasps filled the room.

“Oh my God, it’s her!” a cashier exclaimed. “And that guy—he’s her kidnapper?”

“They seemed… close, though?”

“Should we call the news?"

Unbeknownst to you, the breaking news of your disappearance was plastered across headlines. But you and Bucky were completely oblivious as you headed to the skydiving site, the tension between you giving way to cautious curiosity.

In the car, you stole a glance at him. His hands gripped the steering wheel casually, his jaw set with a quiet determination. Finally, you broke the silence. “Where have you been all this time, Bucky?”

He didn’t look at you right away. Instead, his lips quirked into a small, almost mischievous smile. “Around.”

“Around?” You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That’s not an answer.”

“I’ve been... working.” His voice was deliberately vague, but the slight tilt of his head as he glanced at you hinted at something more. “Made some money.”

You frowned. “Made some money how?”

“Does it matter?” he asked, brushing off your question with a shrug. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Before you could press further, the car pulled to a stop at the skydiving facility. The sight of the towering hangar and parachutes on display made your stomach flip. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you stepped out, staring at the planes in the distance.

“This was on your bucket list, wasn’t it?” Bucky said, walking up beside you. His voice was teasing, but his eyes held a knowing gleam.

“Yeah, but…” You glanced nervously at the sky. “That doesn’t mean I’m ready.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said, clapping a hand on your shoulder. His touch was warm and steady, grounding you despite the nerves swirling in your stomach.

Inside the hangar, you were fitted with a jumpsuit and harness, your nervousness growing with each passing moment. Bucky, already suited up, looked completely at ease, his confidence almost irritating.

On the plane, the hum of the engine filled the cabin. You sat next to Bucky, your fingers fidgeting with the straps of your harness. The plane vibrated slightly as it ascended, and your anxiety reached a peak.

“Wait…” You looked over at him, realizing something. “Why am I being tied to you?”

Bucky smirked, securing the straps that connected the two of you. “Because I’m already a certified instructor.”

“What?” Your eyes widened. “Since when?”

“Now.” He grinned just as the plane door opened, and without another word, he jumped, pulling you along with him.

“KYA!!” You screamed as the wind roared in your ears. Your stomach dropped as the world below turned into a blur of blue and green.

“Relax!” Bucky’s voice cut through the wind, calm and steady. “This is skydiving, Y/N!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, clutching at the straps holding you to him. “This is terrifying!” you yelled back, your voice shaky.

“Open your eyes!” he said, his tone softening. “Look around.”

Tentatively, you did. The endless expanse of sky stretched in every direction, the sun casting a golden glow over the clouds. It was breathtaking. The fear ebbed away, replaced by a quiet awe. The wind carried you like a whisper, and for a moment, it felt like freedom.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the wind.

Bucky smiled, though you couldn’t see it. “Told you.”

Moments later, he deployed the parachute. The sudden jolt made you gasp, but then everything slowed. You floated gently toward the earth, the view below growing clearer with every passing second.

When your feet finally touched the ground, you stumbled a bit, your legs still shaky. Bucky steadied you, his hands firm on your arms.

“That was cool, wasn’t it?” he asked, his grin boyish and triumphant.

You glared at him, your chest heaving. Then, without warning, you shoved him hard. “You jerk! You scared me to death!”

Bucky chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “What? You survived, didn’t you?”

“You didn’t even warn me!” You jabbed a finger into his chest, which he didn’t even flinch at.

“Hey, I did tell you I was certified,” he said, still grinning.

“Certified idiot, maybe!” you shot back, crossing your arms.

He laughed at that, leaning closer. “But you had fun, admit it.”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use!” you said, but the corners of your lips betrayed a small smile.

“You’re welcome,” he said smugly, clearly enjoying himself.

Before you could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air. “Y/N!”

Both of you froze mid-banter, turning toward the source of the voice. Your eyes widened as you saw a familiar figure storming toward you.

“Clark?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Clark didn’t stop. His face was a storm of fury, his fists clenched at his sides. Without hesitation, he swung, landing a punch squarely on Bucky’s jaw.

Bucky staggered back but caught himself quickly, his head snapping toward Clark with a cold, steely glare. His tongue darted out to swipe at the corner of his mouth, checking for blood.

“Nice to meet you too,” Bucky said, his voice low and sardonic.

🔔💍🔔💍

Present Day

“Oh my God! He hit you?” Jade exclaimed, her eyes wide as she leaned forward in disbelief.

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, rubbing his jaw as if recalling the punch. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “I let him have that one.”

Jade tilted her head, her expression skeptical. “Then what happened? Did Mom follow him?”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. His gaze grew distant for a moment, as though replaying the memory. Finally, he met Jade’s eyes, his smirk widening.

“Well… that’s the end part of the story,” he said, his tone teasing, leaving her hanging on the edge of her seat.

Jade groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Seriously, Dad?”

Author's Note:

What kind of wedding dress do you think she wore? Everyone reading this might picture something different. Share your ideas with Pinterest photos! 😊

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fashionteahouse · 5 months ago

Text

i wonder - edward cullen x reader

<<prev next

You were so angry, tears threatened to spill over.

“Do you understand?” your parent says to you.

“Yes.” you forced out, trying to keep your voice steady. You rise from the couch, feeling dead inside.

Slowly, you walked up the stairs.

Laying on your back and staring up at the ceiling, you clutched the teddy bear Edward had given you in your arms. You basically suffocated it.

You heard a tap. You move the curtain, you signal a no. Edward looks baffled. His eyes were gold instead of the darkish color from earlier.

You shake your head.

He mouthed, “Open the window.”

You shook your head. You move the curtain back. It killed you to do so, but you face away and the tears that threatened to spill over, ended up gliding down your cheeks. You looked at the empty spot where you kept your keyboard. It was gone. Taken away. Just like that. You were ordered to do nothing but go to school and come straight home. No rides with the Cullens. Your parent being the only one to drive you to and from school until graduation.

You didn’t speak in the morning. It was deafening as you blocked out your parent’s chatter. It was as if they didn’t strip you from what you liked.

“Have a good day at school.” they say as they look to you, they pull in the parking lot.

You mumble out something incoherent and step out of the car.

You didn’t dare to look over in the parking spot where you knew the Cullens were. A part of you hoped they didn’t show up, but the thought of them not being at school felt like your own personal hell.

“Y/N.”

You slowly close your locker with a soft clink and behind it stood Edward, wearing the same expression that he did when he was outside of your window.

You look down at his shoes. You weren’t strong enough to look him in the eye.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” you say in a fake content tone.

“Y/N, don’t lie to me.”

“It’s nothing. I’ll uh…I’ll see you in the lab, okay?” you say and turn, disappearing in the sea of students.

Your head rested on your hand as you stared at the questions on the test. The classroom was filled with silence as everyone was focusing. The teacher slowly walked along the aisles of desks to check on everyone.

The only thing you had written down, was your name, last name, and the date.

“20 more minutes everyone.” the teacher says in a hushed tone. You bit your lip as you closed your eyes to try to focus.

The bell rings, you were the last one to give the teacher your test. The teacher was a bit shocked to see you be the last one, but you finally completed it. You didn’t double check your answers.

Rosalie had her arms crossed as she almost glared at you.

“Hey.”

“Don’t hey me. What’s going on with you?” she asks as she takes perfect steps next to you to your class.

“Nothing. Why do you or…Edward think something’s wrong?”

She blinks at you with impatient eyes.

“What? I’m focused, okay? I’m this close to the finish line.”

You stop as she stops in front of you, staring hard into your eyes.

“You’re not fooling anyone.” she quietly but firmly says.

“I’m not trying to fool-”

“You are….We’ll talk at lunch.” she says and with that, she’s off to her own class.

You didn’t even see the incoming person as you turn to head to go to your class, you smacked right into them. Papers fly up in the air.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

“No, I’m sorry.” you say with shame and scoop the fallen papers up in your hand, the person you bumped into picks them up as well. You saw the name handwritten on a piece of paper. You slowly lift your eyes and extend your arm towards her.

“Thanks. I should really watch where I’m going. I’m really sorry.” she says nervously.

“You’re fine. That was on me.” you say to no other than Bella Swan. Her face was flushed. You turn your head and continue walking.

When you walked out of your classroom before heading to science, Edward stood waiting for you.

You both walk in silence. You both sit down at the desks in silence. You both watch the teacher explain what the experiment its going to be for the day in silence. You both sit down at the lab table in silence.

Students around you two, were not silent. They laughed talked loud. The teacher already helping a group.

“Was it me?” he asks sadly.

“No.” you whisper as you slowly stir the concoction as Edward pours it in the beaker.

“Then what is it?” he softly asks. You slump your shoulders.

“I’m sorry I didn’t feed that day, but I wanted to spend more time with you until you went home.” he whispered.

You shake your head, flashing him a sad smile, “I can’t believe you’re blaming yourself. It’s not you, Edward.”

“Then tell me….Was it…The shifter? Are you still scared?” he whispered.

“No…I mean it was pretty scary but..I haven’t really thought about that. It’s not that either. I told you it’s nothing. I’m just trying to stay focus, that’s all.” you say in a hushed tone.

He’s not convinced.

The first half of the bell rings. He watches as you leave the classroom with a trickle of other students. The other students mingled with their friends in the hall, others warning their friends who had the teacher next, of what to expect in class.

You went to the bathroom. You stood in the mirror as you examined your face. You wanted to look as convincing as possible. But, it was no use. Your eyes said it all.

“I wonder if that’s why he always wants me to look at him. He can tell by my eyes.” you thought to yourself as you took your time to walk. The start of the other half of lab started as the warning bell rings.

You sit down and touch Edward’s shoulder. He completed the lab. You gave him a look. He only rises up and turns in the both of your worksheets of the lab report.

“That’s not helping me.” you say with a slight grin.

“l want to help you. You won’t tell me. I know something’s wrong. I’ll just wait for you to spit it out.”

You wished you had homework to work on, but everything was already done. You had long minutes to go before your next period. You look around the classroom.

Students are trying their best to complete what they have done so far. Some not even halfway finished. You look to your hands that’s on the lab table.

“Are you coming over today?”

“Can’t.” you softly say with a shake of your head.

“Why?”

“I was told to come straight home today.”

He hummed a response.

“Yeah.” you say.

Time wafted by, the clock was painfully slow. You fought the urge to sigh deeply.

“My keyboard got taken away.”

“….What?”

You shrug.

“Why?”

You shrug again.

“Was it because of me?”

“For christ sake would you stop it?” you say to him, finally looking at him. You didn’t look how close he was until you did look. You immediately became shy. You known him for all of this time and it was like he was your biggest crush of all time.

“I encouraged you to still play. I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“It’s fine, really.” you say.

“It’s not.” he says with a knowing look.

“You’re right…It’s not.” you say with pity. You furrowed your eyebrows, “You didn’t have to wait for me to spill it out. Why couldn’t you…?” you gently tap your forehead.

“It’s like a bad radio signal. You know how some parts are loud and then it gets really low or incoherent? It’s like that but it’s just really low whispers in your mind. That night, in your room, I was able to read what chooses to come clear. When you wondered if I had known you were being threatened to go back home from Rosalie, that was the first time I could read what you were thinking. But, I had to really focus because it was still low.” he explained in a hushed tone.

“I wish you could always read my mind…” you mused.

“Why?” he brings on a grin.

“Because I feel left out.” you say with humorous tone.

He chuckled under his breath.

“You don’t have to drill me.” you say to Rosalie as she pulls you down in a seat at lunch.

“I do. You were pretty shady.”

“No, I wasn’t.” you say almost laughing.

“When you come over, I have to show you my collection.” she tells you as Jasper and Emmett make observations of a college sports game that’s coming up this week on television.

“Oh um..I can’t..Come over.”

“And why not?” her smile fades.

“I was told to come straight home…I’m getting picked up so..” you nod as you stare at your half eaten lunch.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” she says. You look up, “I didn’t make the rules…Unfortunately.”

“You’re being punished for your choice…I don’t get it.”

“Yeah, well. Go me.” you say sarcastically.

If you could get down on your knees and kiss your history teacher’s feet, you would’ve. A new project was announced.

“Alright. Choose your partner.”

You and Jasper immediately turned heads towards each other before the both of you started laughing.

An arm draped around your shoulders as you walked to your locker with Edward. He leaned his shoulder against the locker next to yours as you pulled your jacket out.

“It should be nice this weekend.” he comments lowly.

“That’s nice.” you say as you watch him zip your jacket up. When he’s finished, he leans and pressed a sweet kiss on your cheek then gently rubs his lips back and forth on your cheek before taking your hand.

You let your hand go from his grasp as you push the door open. Before you stepped out, he grabs your arm pulling you back in. You both are by the wall near the door, out of the walkway.

“I want to see you tonight.” he says to you in a hushed tone. You look at him for a moment and you then nodded.

You look to see the Edward’s siblings watch you open your parent’s car door.

They drive, chatting about their day at work. You couldn’t care less in that moment. The sound of the car whizzing on the road was more enjoyable to listen to.

You were so bored. You tried reading a book but you couldn’t concentrate. Your brain was filled with ideas and your fingers itched to play something. You angrily stared at the wall with the discarded book at your side.

Dinner was somewhat quiet but your parent broke the silence.

“Have any homework?”

”Nope.” you say and take a bite.

“How come?”

“Had a test today, completed my lab report in class, and was assigned a project that isn’t due for another two weeks.”

“Hm..”

“I’m going to have to start going to the library after school so that me and my partner could work on it.”

They sigh and raise their eyebrows a bit, “Alright.”

You stop chewing as you look at them. You hide your smile.

In your chair, Edward watched as you close your door quietly. You fall gracefully into his lap like a feather.

He held you tight to him as if you were going to run away, you do nothing but lean your body into his hold.

“It’s really gone.” he says.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” you whisper.

He’s quiet. You watch his face. He flickers his eyes to yours.

“I thought..You wanted to end things.” he speaks after some time.

You were suddenly drowning in the state of incredulity, “What?”

He looks down a bit as a faint smile is on his face.

“I really thought I did something wrong.” he says as his hand rests on your knee before sliding it up some on the side of your thigh.

“If you did something wrong…I will let you know.” you reassure with lips to the corner of his eye.

“Okay.”

Comfortable silence sets in.

Eventually, seeing that it’s getting late, he watched as you then stand. You take his hands in yours with a soft grin and silently invite him to lay with you on your bed.

You woke up slightly startled. It wasn’t Edward who woke you up, but it was your parent.

“Come on, you will be late.”

You quickly turn your head next to you and rose out of bed as your parent shuts your door. Edward comes out of your closet.

“Close one.” he joked silently. You stifle a laugh.

“You can ride to school with me.” he encouraged.

You shake your head. He didn’t want to go right away so he stalled.

“I have to go.” you say softly with a smile.

He gave you a look, a puppy dog eyed look that almost made you fold your decision. You close your eyes and breathe in.

“Edward. That’s not fair.” you whisper.

He stands up after you open your eyes and cups your face in his hands, lips glued to each other as you both didn’t want to step back from it. It ended up being you because you had to breathe.

Your breath is heavy as you look at him. He looks at you back. He takes a step toward you while looking your mouth and you stop him from moving further with a grasp on his arms.

He was already waiting for you at your locker. He looked as if he’d seen you for the first time in years. You chuckle at this and place a sweet kiss on his cheek. You mean to move away but he holds you there. Slowly, your arms wrap around his neck. His face rests in the crook of yours.

You tried your best to not be distracted in class. Your mind kept traveling to how you felt when you got to spend the weekend in his home. You wondered if he was thinking about you like how you were thinking about him.

“Were you thinking of me?” he says. You both were close, face to face as you both sat in the back of the school library. With a shy expression, you nod.

“Were..You thinking about me?” you shyly ask him.

“I always think about you.” he confessed, not daring to break eye contact.

You and Jasper talked about the layout of the project in history class.

“So…Over the weekend, we could go to the library if you want.” you say as it was pretty hands on.

“Or you could..Come over.” he shrugged.

You tell him you don’t think your parent would approve.

“It’s just a project.” he tells you. You told him you would think about it.

Your parent stops at the grocery store. You decide to go in because you didn’t want to stay in the car bored.

“Could you grab some paper towels? We ran out.” they ask you. You nod as you separate from them.

You reach up on your tippy toes to grab them but you see a long arm grab them. You look around and it was as if you had seen a ghost.

The boy from the beach, held out it for you to take. You slowly take it, “Thank you.”

He nods with a slight purse of his lips.

You start to turn but he says, “You didn’t have to block me.”

You look down before turning back around to face him, “I’m sorry…I had to.”

“You had to?” he asks with an eyebrow lifted.

“I have a boyfriend now.” you say.

“Oh..Boyfriend.” he said in thought. You nod.

“You still could’ve came to my party. You said you would.” he said quietly.

“That was before..Me and….That was before my boyfriend and I became official. I didn’t want to give you any mixed ideas.”

“Mixed ideas were already made. I only wanted to know if you were still coming only to find out that you blocked me…A simple text of you weren’t coming or interested would've sufficed.”

“Sorry.”

“Next time, you should stick to your word.”

“Whatever that means.” you chuckle a bit.

“It means…If I did that to you, you definitely wouldn’t like it, I’m sure.”

“It doesn’t matter...” you say with a small shake of your head.

“It’s a small town. You didn’t think I would run into you again? You’re cold.”

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything. You take it to be your sign to go meet your parent in line.

“Who was that?” they ask as you both out items on the conveyer belt.

You shrug, “Nobody.”

Edward lied down with you as your ear was pressed to his chest. His hand rubbed up and down your arm soothingly.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispered.

“Nothing….I might be able to come over this weekend.” you whisper back.

“For the project with Jasper?” he asks.

“Yes.”

You sit up from his chest, his hands are still on your arms. You lay back on your pillows instead.

He shifts on his side to peer down at you. You peak at him.

“Did something happen?”

“You mean like…Today?” you ask.

He nods once. You shake your head. He studied your face. You reach up and grace your hand on his cheek with a compassionate smile, “What’s wrong, Edward?”

“Alice had a vision…You changed your decision….You decided to stay…Here.” he says carefully with his eyes closed.

Your eyebrows knit with confusion as you sit up. He zhts

“Why did I say that?”

“I don’t know. That’s all she saw so far. We were sitting down, holding each other, and you told me you wanted to stay here.”

“Do you know why?” you ask.

“That’s all that I saw before the vision ended.”

You don’t say anything as you sink back in the pillows. You scoot close to him. He looked almost scared. It almost scared you.

“You’re still going to help me? Right?” you ask. He looks to you, “Of course.”

“Do you still want to travel together?” you ask in a whisper. He leans closer to you, “Of course.”

“Then that’s what we’re going to do.” you say.

“Do you promise?”

You nod.

“Yeah.” you whisper as your hand cups his cheek as you look up at him.

“Say it.” he replied as he smothers the hand that’s on his cheek, with his own.

“I promise.”

The next morning, you parent tells you news as they work the steering wheel.

“We’re having dinner over a friend of mine.” they tell you.

“A friend of yours? Isn’t that a distraction.” you say. They roll their eyes a bit and you couldn’t help but huff of a small laugh at their reaction.

“I’m focused on my work…But, he invited me over. He’s a good man. I don’t want you to be rude so I expect you not to be rude.”

“I’m not rude. You didn’t raise me that way.” you mutter.

“He has a daughter about your age. Bella Swan. Do you know her?”

“Yes. She’s a year below me.”

”Are you two friends?”

You shake your head, “Nope.”

“Oh.”

You wave goodbye as you go into the school building. Edward is at your side before you could blink. You lean into his side as you both walk to your locker.

“I really would like to take you out this weekend.” he states as you both sat close in science.

With a grateful smile you tell him, “Okay.”

“Did you ask yet?” Jasper asked as you both wrote down information about your project.

“No.”

“Y/N, just ask.” he says with a smile.

“Yeah, easy for you to say.” you say with a small chuckle.

You didn’t change out of your school clothes. Your parent starts the journey. You were already bored. You were already waiting for it to be over.

Your parent holds an alcoholic bottle as they advised you to knock on the door. A rhythmic rap is made from your knuckles.

The girl, Bella from school, opens the door. After politely smiling at you both, she steps back letting you both in. She turns her head and calls for her dad. He comes and greets you both, he introduced himself as Charlie Swan to you. You shake his hand with a polite smile.

Your parent and Charlie began to talk as your parent shows them the bottle, leaving you and Bella alone.

It was a bit awkward as she tells you that the food is finishing up in the oven. You nod silently.

“Thanks again for the other day.”

You shrug, “It was nothing.”

“I’m super clumsy so, I’m accident prone. I should probably wear a sign.”

With that, a grin cracked on your face at her statement.

“I um…Heard that you had a scary accident.” you say after you follow her in the kitchen. She wanted to keep a eye on the food.

“Yeah. It was…Embarassing.”

“I mean you almost got hurt…By the van..”

“Yeah…When the paramedics came, all eyes were on me.” she says as she cringed.

“It’s not embarrassing. You’re a..Survivor.” you say with reassurance.

“If it wasn’t for…Edward..It would’ve crushed me..”

“Yeah…That’s nice.” you say and look down.

“I remember you from the hospital that day.”

“You do? I mean…I remember you too…”

She nods, “What happened with you?…Only if you mind me asking.”

“Oh.” you chuckle a bit, “I was only getting my cast off.”

“What happened..”

You then tell her the story of how you broke your wrist. You and a friend dared each other to try a backhand spring on their trampoline.

You and Bella were able to laugh about it.

The food was done, leaving you to be seated as Charlie tells the tale of how he met your parent. According to your parent, Charlie left out some details.

You help Bella with cleaning up.

“What do you think about Forks?”

“It’s okay. Its cool. It’s been treating me good so far.”

“That’s good.”

“Have you been to the beach here? I didn’t even know there was a beach when I first came here.”

“Are you talking about the one in La Push?”

You nod.

“Oh, yeah. I love it. I love La Push in general.”

“You spend a lot of time there?”

“Yeah. My best friend lives there so I get to see him too.”

“I went only once.” you say.

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah…I went with some friends from school.”

“The Cullens?” she asks surprised.

“No.” you tell her and you then take a look at her expression. You wondered if she knew that the Cullens couldn’t be there, explaining why the surprised expression. You wondered if she knew about the shapeshifters.

“You seem surprised.” you comment.

“Yeah, I am.” she admits.

“May I ask why?”

“It’s just….I heard someone say…The Cullens aren’t welcomed there. I don’t know what they did but…” she says with a shrug.

“Oh…I didn’t know that.” you lie.

“We could go…Together sometime if you want. Get away from Forks.”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Are you going to the dance?” she then asks.

“Yeah. Are you?”

She shakes her head.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Not my thing really.” she says.

“Just bring your best friend. You both can still have fun.”

“Maybe…”

Your parent was ready to head home.

“I’ll uh..See you at school.” she says to you as you and your parent is walking out of the door.

“Yeah. See you.” you agree with a wave.

Before you knew it, it was a Friday. Rosalie steals you out of Edward’s arms as you barely could keep up.

Walking out of the school doors, she leans down the driver’s side window with a polite smile. Saying hello to your parent in the car. Your parent smiles back and says hello to her.

“Me and Y/N have a history project that we need to work on. My mom and dad says it’s okay if Y/N can come over and spend the night but they said I would have to ask for your permission first.”

“Did they?”

“Yes. I can give you their phone number if you want.”

“Yes. I would need that.” your parent says.

“This means I can go?” you ask from the passenger seat.

“I didn’t say that. I still need to talk to Rosalie’s parents first Y/N.”

You and Rosalie share a discreet look.

“No problem.” Rosalie says cooly and gives Carlisle and Esme’s phone numbers to your parent.

Your parent calls as you sat on the edge of your bed. Edward watched you from your chair.

“Don’t be nervous. They’re going to say yes.”

“How do you know?” you whisper.

A knock was at your door and you look to find Edward gone. You open it.

“I want you back here, Sunday morning. Do you hear me?”

You nod, “Y-yes. Thank you.”

Edward carried your overnight bag inside of his home and up the stairs to his room.

He looked at you with undivided attention as you told him about your day. People in the restaurant surrounded your ears with soft chatter and soft clinks.

“You went to Bella Swan’s house?”

You nod.

He makes a look.

“What?”

“Nothing.” he says with a soft grin.

“It’s…Something.” you say to make him feel comfortable.

“Why..her of all people?” he genuinely asks.

You explain with a shrug that your parent and Charlie became friends, prompting Charlie’s dinner invitation.

“Are you two friends?”

“I don’t know.”

He reached over to adjust the salt and pepper shaker to a neat position with a soft smirk, “What do you mean you don’t know?”

You place two folded arms on the restaurant table.

“Did you two use to date?”

He gives you a look, almost offended, “No.”

“Then what’s it to you?”

He brings out a lax smile to bring peace, “I was only..Asking.”

You lean back in your chair. He takes a look at you. You look at him. Your food finally arrived but you don’t dig in right away.

“You should eat.” he comments.

“When she asked to talk to you at the hospital, what did she want?”

He lets out a small sigh, “If I tell you…Will you eat?”

You scoop your utensil and put food in your mouth, chew and swallow. You set it back down.

“Okay. Spill.”

He found this quite funny as he stifled a laugh.

“When the van almost crushed her…I stopped it.”

“How?”

“With my hand.” he says quietly as he splayed his hand.

“You mean to tell me, you stopped the van with your hand and Bella saw it.” you whisper with wide eyes.

“Unfortunately.” he says without breathing.

“So, she knows?”

“No…But she was suspicious…A lot of gaslighting had to be done…I haven’t talked to her before then or after then.”

You look down at your plate.

“Are you jealous?” he teased.

“Would you..Shut up?” you whisper and he chortled.

“I have to confess something.” you tell him after you swallow some food.

“Good or bad?”

“Mmm..Guess.”

“It’s bad.” he says.

“I’m staying here.”

His face goes straight. Seriousness was written all over his face and body language.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

It was your turn to chortle.

“That’s not funny.” he says.

“Sorry.” you say as you sober up.

“But, she did invite me to La Push.” you then say.

“She did?” he asks and his face didn’t agree with the idea.

“Yeah.”

“That wouldn’t be a good idea, Y/N.” he says with a touch of disapproval.

“Because of the shifters?”

He nods once.

“The one in the woods didn’t attack me.” you say in thought.

“Because Rosalie, Emmett and I came just in time.”

“…Was he scared?”

“Who?”

“The shifter…When you read his mind, was he scared? You said that he was newly transformed and his thoughts were all over the place.”

“Y/N.” he sighed out.

“What? I just wanna know.”

“It’s doesn’t matter if he’s scared or not. His instincts tell him to kill us. You were lucky that day.”

“But, he can’t kill me….Right?”

Edward didn’t like the question as he looked at you. The waiter asks how everything is. Edward wanted the check.

You smother his hand with yours as the waiter walked off, “Please don’t be mad. I was just wondering.”

“I’m not mad.” he says calmly, “I care about you immensely. If one of them were to hurt you, I don’t think I could be sane.”

“It’s not going to happen.” you say quietly as you both look at each other.

Hand in hand, you both walk out of the restaurant. He lets go of your hand as you both walk on the sidewalk, his arm around your waist pulling you close to him.

Rosalie showed you her car collection in the garage. You sat on a stool as you both talked. The others were out hunting. You both talked freely without supernatural ears. Really opening up to each other.

You showed compassion as she opened up about her human life.

Constantly being praised for her vanity, admitting that it made her shallow.

Opening up about her engagement with Royce, the son of the owner of a bank, Royce King ||.

Carlisle found her, deciding to change her, hoping she would be a companion to Edward.

You couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that she was hurt that Edward only loved her as a sister, her not because she liked him back, but she was so use to being showered with compliments that it hurt her feelings. She had never been rejected before.

As chaotic the story was, you were a bit entertained by the revenge that she took, saving Royce for last.

“Not one drop of blood?”

“None. I wanted no parts of them inside of me..” she says.

She killed Royce and his friends who had hurt her without draining them. You tell her how impressed you were of her self control.

The story turns to a different light.

“He reminded me so much of Vera’s son, Henry.” she says about Emmett. You see the look on her face. It was nothing but pure love that was plastered over her smile.

“That’s so sweet.” you comment.

“I feel…Ashamed to admit that I would give anything to be human again…I would really love a child.” she quietly confessed.

“Does Emmett know?”

“Of course he does. I love him and..A family… A child is where I would feel complete…I know that you’re with Edward and all but, if you’re thinking about joining this life, I would say think again.” she speaks out.

“Honestly…That’s never crossed my mind.” you say as you look down.

“Really?” she asks after silence. She was shocked and surprised. She thought all of this time you wanted to be like them.

“Really, really.” you say.

“So..Say you were to keep getting older, you don’t mind that Edward is forever 17?”

“It’s not like I control it. To be honest…I was against us dating in the first place.”

“I know…He showed it in his attitude with glum when you wanted to be friends but, he wanted more.”

“Yeah…I did tell him it wouldn’t work but I guess he wants to prove me wrong…Rosalie…My career is what I want more than anything. Edward says he will help me and be by my side and I trust that he will do that. I’m enjoying whatever this is but if things do not work out…I won’t be too upset. I’m prepared for the impact.”

She thinks for a moment as her eyes are actually filled sympathy.

“He told me….A vision that Alice had…That I chose to stay.” you say quietly.

“What are you saying? You don’t want to showcase your talent?”

“I didn’t plan it out right.” you say as you look to the floor, “I really like him a lot. I like the times we have spent together. I really like you and the family…”

Rosalie seems pleased at this compliment but she looked sad at the possibility of what you were thinking.

“But, I didn’t think I would have to change.” you say in realization.

“You don’t have to. It’s just….It’s clear as day my brother has fallen head over heels for you. I like you..Which is why I want to see you value your human life more.”

“Yeah but…Each day, I’m liking him more and more..” you say breathlessly. Your heart skipped a beat. You never thought you would experience it. It almost scared you.

“The scariest thing is that…I can actually feel passion… When you two are around each other.” she mused as you caught her looking at you.

You were silent, deep in thought as Edward held you close in bed. You blinked at the ceiling.

“Tomorrow we can go to our spot. Would you prefer to watch the sunrise or the sunset?” he asks in your ear.

“Surprise me.” you whisper with a soft grin and close your eyes to go to sleep. You felt a kiss on your cheek.

You sat with your forearms propped up on your knees as you and Edward watched the sunrise. An arm was wrapped around you. You were grateful for this moment. You would never forget this moment.

The sunrise from the view was picturesque.

Tears began to form in your eyes. A small shaky breath came out of your mouth without your permission as Edward tightened his grip on you. He looked at you.

He calls your name. You turn your head slowly and blink back the tears that were threatening to spill over the rim of your eyes.

One tear drop falls and Edward caught it with one swipe of his finger. He kisses and lingers his lips on the same spot and you close your eyes. You speak.

“We have to talk.”

If he had a heart, it would drop. He nods sadly as he looks down.

“Edward, what’s the end goal?”

“For us to be happy. For you to be happy. For you to reach success in whatever you want to do. I want us to create memories together.”

“You know…I didn’t think about…Or put into consideration of…Me turning into one of you.”

“One of me?”

“Yes.” you answer shyly.

“You don’t have to. I prefer you not to.” he looks down.

“That’s why it can’t work.”

He looks back up to meet your gaze. He swallows.

“What are you saying?” he whispered.

“Me and you aren’t compatible. I really like you. Like a lot. Each day I feel more and more smitten with you. You take over my mind even. I don’t want it to transform into love before it’s too late.”

“You don’t want to fall in love with me?”

You look down.

“That’s not what I was trying to say. It will be harder for us if we do fall in love.”

“Y/N.” he calls out you.

You look in his direction.

“Look at me….Please?” he whispered.

You look at him. It hurt you to do so, but even if you wanted to, you couldn’t look away.

“I think I’m falling in love with you…I don’t regret what we have. I don’t regret anything that we have done together..”

“I don’t either.” you whisper.

“I mean it.” he says and interlaced your fingers with his. He kissed the back of your palm with his eyes closed.

“I want to stay here. I don’t want things to be complicated for us.” you whisper.

“Don’t do this….Please, don’t do this. We made plans together, remember?” he asks as he guides your fingers to caress his face, some brushing on his lips.

“I’m going to keep getting older. You’re stuck this way. Never changing. I’m not upset or angry with you. You deserve someone that will match your speed.” you say with a small but sad chuckle.

“I don't want just someone else. I want you. We can make this work. Why are you giving up on us?” he’s filed with frustration.

“I’m not.”

“You are!” he says, you felt bad because he was getting emotional. Anguish was written all over his face. It was as if you tore his heart out and squished it with a stomp.

“I’m thinking realistic.”

“Do you want me to change you? Is that what it is?If that’s what-”

“Edward, no.” you say waving the idea off.

“Then what is it? What can I do to change your mind?” he asks slowly in desperation.

“You might have to let me go.” you whisper.

Devastation wasn’t even the word to describe the expression on his face.

“No.” he says with hardness. He was resisting to make this his reality.

“Edward-”

“Y/N, no. Whatever you and Rosalie talked about, made you change your mind.” he states, it was proven in his body language that he knew what you two talked about.

“We only talked about the future. When she talked about wanting a family, I realize that…That’s what I want as well. Vampires cannot conceive children and…”

“We can always make something work. Together.” he says quietly begged. He grabbed both of your hands.

You blinked as you tried to not show your sadness but it was too much work. Vulnerability had left you both completely emotionally naked.

He pulled you close to him.

Two hands cradled your face and you both breathe in the same air, lips centimeters apart, his lips brushed against yours as he whispers out your name like a prayer. You couldn’t help but to wrap your arms around him. You close your eyes as both foreheads touch.

“I still want you in my life. I won’t stay here, okay? I won’t stay.” you whisper softly to him after a very long time of silence. You both are sitting close next to each other, it was intimate as you both smothered each other’s hands on top of your knees that were to your chest.

“I want you in my life. I can’t and don’t ever want to imagine letting you go.” he says back, his face is close to your cheek. You both look at the unity of the hands.

“But after graduation….Can you just be…” you swallow, “Can you just be my mentor? Take a break to just really focus?”

“Your mentor….”

“I still want you in my life. I don’t want to slow you down. I’m just a human and you’re incredibly…You.”

“You’re not slowing me down. What about us? Everything that we had?”

“It still means a lot to me.” you say confidently but in a hushed tone. You both slowly blink at each other. Swimming in the gaze of each other. Time floats past.

“When you change your mind…I want to marry you.”

”Edward.” you whisper as you blink rapidly. You look down. Your heart raced but the ring on your hand made you feel a deep spark. You wondered what a wedding ring would look like, wondering the feeling of calling him, your husband. But, you also wondered if a wedding would even happen.

“I want you to be happy. I will wait for you. You own my soul. I’d rather consume you than life itself.” he says in your ear.

“Married? That’s…A tough commitment.” you say as you remember the arguments between your parents. Gun to your head, you cant recall the last time you seen your parents kissed when they were together.

It was nothing like that with Edward. “I know what I want….I will wait for you to want to change your mind. You don’t have to worry about rushing either. I’m patient. Especially for you.”

You nod slowly as he kissed the side of your mouth. You breathe out a small sigh. You both watch the horizon. Still close to each other, both not wanting to move. Contentment.

You’ve been nothing but happy with him but right now, you felt that this was best. You wondered if he hated you. You wondered if he knew how much he meant to you and your heart. You wondered if you were experiencing what a thing called love was. Something that was so forbidden, a deep feeling that made you crave whatever it was, more. Crave him more. You couldn't kid yourself, he would eventually find his soulmate who would be a vampire.

He kept it to himself, he concentrated hard to read clues to match his own feelings.

“I wonder if there was another way for this to be easier.”

He blinked as he held you tighter.

Little did you know, he was terrified inside. This was the same scenery from Alice’s vision.

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