#i love that she's actually discussing her roles in this

[flemingsfreckles]

Trying Again Part 2

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: Read Part 1, based off this suggestion, basically this fic just goes through what each month looked like for reader and Jessie once they learned they were expecting.

Warnings: pregnancy fic, morning sickness, discussion of labor/birth (again nothing graphic), suggestive, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), cursing

WC: 3.0k

A/N: this isn’t necessarily a part 2, but it’s kind of a continuation of Trying Again, walking through each month of pregnancy, I’m just labeling it Part 2 because that makes more sense than it being its own fic

Month 1

You nearly miss month 1 just not knowing. You didn’t take the pregnancy test until you were about 3 weeks along. Once you found out Jessie immediately assumed the role of overly prepared parent.

She came home the day after you had given her the positive test with a couple massive shopping bags.

“What on earth did you buy?” You asked her when you saw the pile of bags.

“Just some things. I’ll show you.” She proceeded to unload baby book after baby book on every topic. Books on pregnancy, books on supporting your partner through pregnancy, books on the actual birth process, books on the baby’s first year, books on how to raise a teenager. It was safe to say she had gotten ahead of herself but you couldn’t even fault her. The way she showed you each one with such excitement in her eyes and voice was adorable.

The next bag was filled with other baby items, blankets, clothes, pacifiers, stuffed animals, and a tiny pair of Nike shoes.

“Jessie, the baby will wear those for all of 5 minutes before they fall off and they outgrow them.”

“I know but they’re just so cute and little.” She grinned at the shoes, holding them in her hands. “I can’t believe our baby is going to be this small.”

Month 2

Month two was filled with morning sickness. Jessie is a saint, getting up with you every time, bringing you water and new clothes. She’d gather your hair in her hand, holding it away from your face. She’d get your toothbrush set up with toothpaste and hand it to you once you were done throwing up. She’d help you shower if you wanted to feel refreshed and then she’d tuck you into bed, making sure you were comfortable with a fresh glass of water next to your bedside. She’d hold you tight, in whatever position made you the most comfortable.

Your hormones were starting to jump to extremes. Jessie found you crying on the couch one day over a sock. To be fair to you, the socks didn’t have a match and that upset you deeply. She had held you on the couch while your hand clutched the sock tightly, rubbing your back gently. She then went and found the missing sock. You got angry quickly, she hadn’t told you she was stopping at the store to grab you some snacks and when she got home, later than she had told you to expect her you had been at the door yelling at her. Of course you apologized and also cried when she explained she had just gotten you a little surprise, the basket she held out to you containing snacks, new slippers, some bubble bath, and some baby clothes. You felt guilty for yelling, but you were irritable, tired, and just relatively in a bad mood.

Month two was also when you told your teams. The Chelsea girls first followed by the Lionesses and Canada. Everyone was naturally excited and thrilled for you and Jessie. Niamh was your biggest supporter beside your wife, she was with you on both teams and was Jessie’s eyes and ears when she couldn’t be with you. The girl would get up with you when you got sick, offering you water. She checked in during training, making sure you weren’t feeling ill.

You also both told your families at this time, Jessie’s sister the most excited out of anyone, quick to claim the role of “best aunt”. You were overwhelmed with everyone’s excitement about your baby, you knew they would be so loved by your families both biological and your chosen families you had created.

Month 3

Month three was similar to month two. Your morning sickness continued and Jessie continued to be your biggest support throughout. Your body began to feel more fatigued, you were sleepy all the time, doing nothing but training and sleeping. Jessie cuddled up with you on the couch after training, scratching your back or your scalp. The tiredness also led to more mood swings, you were angry one moment and then crying and then crying tears of joy. Jessie handled it all with grace, you knew you were being a terrible person to her and she didn’t deserve it, but growing a human was a lot of work and it took a huge toll on your body.

Training was becoming harder. Your clothes start to fit differently, your breasts becoming sore that it hurts to run around for long periods of time no matter the sports bra you wore. You were still irritable, the early morning wake ups to be sick did nothing to help your mood. You started to have weird cravings and changes in the foods you liked and disliked.

You had woken up from a nap one afternoon to Jessie cooking what used to be your favorite meal, however when she placed it in front of you, it repulsed you. When Jessie asked you why you weren’t eating it you had to tell her you didn’t want what she made. Jessie of course took no offense to your disgust, getting up from her own plate to immediately start cooking you something else. You cried when she handed you a new meal, overwhelmed with her cooperation and kindness toward you. She just kissed you and told you she’d do anything for you.

It wasn’t an easy month, maybe the worst out of the whole pregnancy but with Jessie’s help and support you made it through, day by day and night by night.

Month 4

Month four was when things settled, your morning sickness started to fade, happening less and less frequently. Month four however was the time when you and your doctor decided it was time to slow down with training and playing. It was a hard couple of days, realizing you were about to take a break from the one constant in your life, but Chelsea was great about it. You still attended the end of season practices and games, just with less and less involvement until you were solely on the sidelines.

You had also developed the sex drive that was through the roof. Jessie would breathe in your direction and you were ready to jump her bones. Jessie couldn’t complain too much about this side effect, she was getting laid everyday. It was fun for her for the first few days. Then she was starting to cramp in her forearms, fingers, her jaw, all sore from the pleasure she was providing you. Her own sex drive was also not affected by hormones; she just wasn’t always in the mood for multiple rounds of sex, every day, but she happily gave you what you needed, often for nothing in return.

Niamh had poked fun to Jessie when the two of you walked in and Jessie looked exhausted while you were grinning ear to ear.

“Long night again?” She bumped Jessie with her shoulder as you walked ahead to your locker.

“Oh my god Niamh, this time it was before bed, then twice in the middle of the night when we were both awake, and then again this morning. My body can only handle so much. I’m sore. I’m sore, from sex!”

“Oh boo hoo Fleming, god forbid your wife wants you to fuck her an insane amount.”

Jessie blushed at Niamh vulgarity. “I know Niamh, and I love her, and she’s literally growing my child, so of course I want to give her everything she needs and wants. And I love having sex with her, but oh my god a person can only take so much, it’s like the second week of this too.”

“Then get something to help.” Niamh shrugged, hoping to help her friend while not upsetting you.

To solve her own pain, Jessie went out and bought you a couple new toys that the two of you could share while preserving her muscles. You were plenty satisfied with the new purchases, enjoying them with Jessie. Jessie was satisfied that she was able to go about her daily tasks and not have her fingers or forearm cramp up on her.

Month 5

This was the month you found out the gender of your baby. You had gone to the doctor to get an ultrasound, when you told the technician you didn’t want to know the gender right away they sealed the reveal in an envelope for the two of you to take and open on your own time. You then gave that envelope off to Magda and Pernille as they were in town, allowing them to set up your gender reveal. They weren’t around as much, you and Jessie had been close with them on Chelsea and wanted them to have a role in your pregnancy. When you asked them to help with this they were ecstatic. You didn’t want anything too crazy or over the top. They had set up a small gathering, you, Jessie, Niamh, Zerica, with Pernille and Magda hosting what made up your small Chelsea family. They had cooked everyone a dinner, making it a nice evening, in addition to the gender reveal.

They had made a cake, covered in a white frosting, the inside cake was dyed pink or blue. You were so excited seeing the cake, you had asked for something simple and not over the top, that’s exactly what they had given you, and it was cake, you loved cake. You and Jessie both held the knife as you cut a slide into the cake while everyone else stood watching, Magda and P watching your and Jessie’s faces, already knowing the gender they didn’t need to watch the knife the way that the rest of you were.

You had burst into tears when you pulled the knife out and the pink tint frosting and cake crumbs clung to the knife. Magda and P both looked horrified at your reaction, not knowing what happened while Jessie, Niamh, and Z laughed. The three of them having a front row seat to your emotional swings everyday at training. Jessie gently rubbed your back through your emotions.

“I’m so happy. I promise.” You really didn’t care what your baby was, you would’ve been an emotional wreck boy or girl. “I’m just so excited.”

Niamh takes the cake and knife away from you, going to cut it up and serve it to everyone. You dry your tears and Z pulls you into a big hug.

“I’m going to make her a keeper.” She whispers to you. “Don’t tell the rest of them.” You laugh into her hug.

Month 6

You were laying on the couch after a long day of doing hardly anything, but everything felt exhausting these days. You couldn’t sleep on your stomach like you usually did. Sleeping on your back was anything but comfortable, and your side wasn’t much better. Your legs hurt, your ankles hurt, your feet hurt, everything was miserable.

You often would just lay on the couch after you and Jessie returned home from training, her practicing, you watching and coaching. Jessie would lay next to you, her hands always finding their way to your belly, gently holding it, drawing circles, she’d lean in, placing her lips to your bump kissing it gently and softly speaking to the baby.

“You’re going to be so loved, you already are so loved. I can’t wait to meet you.”

Jessie had already told the baby about how you two met, all about your first date, how you proposed to her and how she proposed back, she talked about your wedding, she told the baby everything.

Jessie was resting next to you, her ear pressed against your belly as she whispered to the baby, her hand gently caressing your skin. One thing about Jessie was she couldn’t keep her hands off your bump. She always asked to touch you and you always said yes but once you gave her permission, her hands would remain on you as long as she could.

“Hi baby girl”

That’s when you feel it and Jessie feels it. Your baby is kicking. It’s not painful but it’s uncomfortable as you feel the pressure from her foot inside of you.

“Babe?!” Jessie pulls her head from on your stomach, eyes wide in panic as she looks up at you.

“Did you feel that?” You weren’t sure if Jessie felt it outside of your stomach, you felt it inside.

“She kicked! Oh my god she kicked.”

“She kicked!” You exclaimed, bringing your hand back down to where the previous kick had been. Feeling the baby kick again. Jessie looks up at you, her eyes slightly teary.

“That’s our little girl.” Jessie says, her hand on your stomach still, a tear spilling over as she looks at you with love in her eyes. “Our baby.”

You baby kicks a few more times, each time you and Jessie look at each other with big smiles. “With a kick like that she’ll end up a striker like her mama.” Jessie says after one of the stronger kicks she gives you.

“We’ll see, Z said she’s making her a keeper.”

Month 7

You came home from a day out with your own mom to loud noises and voices coming from the extra bedroom that was set to become a nursery. You walk over to the doorway and see your wife, hammer in one hand, the other holding paper instructions. You look further into the room and Niamh, Sam and Zerica are all standing holding various pieces of wood and hardware.

They’re all silent, staring at you as you step into the room.

“You’re not supposed to be home yet!” Jessie looks up at you from the floor. She looks concerned at your early arrival.

“I know but I was starting to not feel great so I had my mom drop me home. What are you all doing?” You look between your three teammates and wife. You’re pretty sure you can figure out what they’re doing but ask anyway.

“It was supposed to be a surprise, we were getting the nursery ready.” Jessie explained to you.

“We’re building the crib.” Sam pipes in, she holds out the piece of wood she’s holding.

You walk further into the room, reaching over to grab some of the tools wanting to help out.

“No!” Jessie says as she bats your hand away from the tools. “Sit there.” She points to what you assume is a newly built rocking chair. “You can watch and yell at us, but no helping, you need rest.”

“Fine.” You sit down on the chair hesitantly, you trusted Jessie when it came to following instructions and building something correctly but you couldn’t say the same for the rest of your teammates. The chair held you, it was surprisingly comfortable. Niamh brought over an ottoman for your feet to rest on and they all got back to work. You watched as the previously empty room became filled with wall decorations and furniture. The girls would ask where you wanted certain pictures or items within the room, it was nice to be involved while not straining yourself too much.

Month 8

You have the baby during the eighth month. 8 months and 3 weeks and a day to be exact. She arrives a little early, no concern to your doctor but her slightly early arrival has Jessie stressing in the hospital room.

“Is it too soon?”

“Babe, the doctors said it’s practically like she’s coming at full term, it’s okay. She’s just 6 days early.” You’re nearly sick from watching Jessie pace laps back and forth across your room. Her hands are either in her hair, picking at her skin, or playing with her shirt, all nervous habits.

Unfortunately your labor was anything but easy. You had started contractions in the middle of the night, you and Jessie rushing to the hospital with nothing except the perfectly packed hospital bag your wife had made.

Despite the rough labor, Jessie was the most perfect partner to have during labor. She did well under stress, despite her earlier nerves once you were actually ready to have the baby she was level headed again. Jessie was attentive to you, bringing you ice chips, new blankets, rubbing your feet, rubbing your back. She was advocating for you whenever the opportunity arose. When you decided you wanted an epidural after trying to tough out the pain for 7 hours, she didn’t question you, she happily held your hand as the medicine was put in your back.

It wasn’t until 12 hours after you had gotten to the hospital that your baby girl made her arrival. Jessie let you squeeze her hand so hard you were convinced you were going to break it and she never complained once. She helped you by holding one of your legs as she pressed her forehead to yours, whispering words of encouragement and praise. She occasionally would look, wanting to see her baby girl despite her being adamant that she wasn’t going to look prior to arriving at the hospital, she was worried about getting queasy, she didn’t always do well with blood.

When your daughter finally came out crying they placed her quickly onto your bare chest quickly followed by a blanket.

“You’re incredible. That was amazing, I love you.” Jessie whispered with tears running down her face. Her eyes look between you and your daughter on your chest. You got to watch as Jessie cut the umbilical cord, a huge grin across her face.

Nurses then took your daughter, cleaned her up and swaddled her into a soft pink blanket. They come to hand back your daughter to you, you look over to your wife who’s patiently standing watching you, she hasn't yet gotten to hold your little girl.

“You want to hold her?” You ask and Jessie just nods at you. The nurse passes Jessie the bundle with your daughter wrapped inside.

You watch as Jessie holds your daughter for the very first time, you get emotional, tears welling up. Jessie looks up to you, her eyes matching yours, on the brink of tears.

“Thank you for making me a mom.”

[emjayewrites]

The Princess & The Race Car Driver | LH44

SYNOPSIS: Lewis meets Princess Tiana and he falls under her spell.

PAIRINGS: Lewis Hamilton x black!femOC Ariel Park (faceclaim is Coco Jones)

WARNINGS: flirting, discussion of sex/sex jokes, corny!Lewis, eventual romance?

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @omgsuperstarg @certifiedlesbianbaddie @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @motheroffae @hrlzy @sinflowersugar @vile-harlot @xoscar03 @blveeeeee @everywherea11thetime @blckgrl-sunflower @whoreforjjk @blowmymbackout

A/N: Please comment & reblog! I don't know if this will be a mini-series or not....we shall see.

disney and 3 others

liked by arielpark, lewishamilton, pharrell and 1.3m others

disney: Check out these brand-new behind-the-scenes stills from #ThePrincessandTheFrog, only in theaters this August! 👸🏾 🐸

If some of you are attending next week’s F1 race in Melbourne, be sure to say hello to #PrincessTiana herself, arielpark! tagged arielpark, princessandthefrogmovie

view 1,234 comments

arielpark: ah!! so happy! looks so good! 💚

⤷ disney: arielpark you look good #ForeverOurPrincess

mercedesamgf1: so excited to have arielpark at the race! she’s going to enjoy the hot lap!

⤷ arielpark: mercedesamgf1 what’s a hot lap? 🫤

⤷ lewishamilton: arielpark 🏎️💨

⤷ user: lewishamilton what is this, lew? not you trying to make her guess with emojis 🙄

user: so excited!! my two worlds are colliding!! arielpark you’re gonna love it!

Toto Wolff called for everyone's attention as the morning team meeting at the Mercedes AMG Petronas Formula One Team garage began. Once the chatter ceased, he launched right in.

"Today we have a very special guest joining us for the race weekend - Ariel Park, the actress set to play Princess Tiana in the upcoming live-action remake of The Princess and the Frog."

A buzz of excitement rippled through the room. This was a lucrative sponsorship deal with Disney that Toto wanted to ensure went perfectly.

"I want Ariel to have an amazing experience," he stated firmly. "This is an important partnership, so I expect everyone to be on their best behavior." His gaze landed on Mick Schumacher. "Mick, you'll be taking her out for a hot lap later."

Lewis Hamilton's hand shot up. "Actually, I can do the hot lap instead if you'd like."

Toto's brow furrowed slightly but he nodded. "Very well. Lewis will be Ariel's driver."

It was no secret that with Lewis' planned move to Ferrari in 2025, Mercedes had been sidelining him from some promotional duties lately. But Lewis had his own motivations for volunteering - he was quite interested in getting to know their lovely guest better.

At twenty-eight years old, Ariel Park was making waves as an up-and-coming actress with an impressive resume. After graduating from Penn State, she had carved out a nice career on Broadway before landing her huge break with the Disney role. And from the images Lewis had seen, she was absolutely gorgeous - ebony skin, wide hips, and a beautifully curved backside that was hard to ignore.

A few hours later, Ariel arrived at the Mercedes garage just before Free Practice. Even amidst the controlled chaos, Lewis couldn't take his eyes off her as she approached. She was utterly stunning - ebony skin glowing like polished onyx, wide eyes fringed with lush lashes, luscious lips curved in a warm smile. Ariel was introduced to the drivers - Lewis, George Russell, and reserve Mick Schumacher - exchanging friendly hugs with each of them.

When Lewis' turn came, her lithe body pressed flush against his own, soft curves molding to the hard planes of his chest. An intoxicating blend of exotic floral and rich vanilla washed over him. He breathed it in deeply, committing the hypnotic scent to memory.

As they parted, Lewis let his gaze leisurely trail over her, taking in the striking features he'd admired in photographs - gorgeous face, radiant skin, and an hourglass figure to leave anyone's mouth watering. Her wide hips flared temptingly above sculpted thighs, backside a work of art that even her slim-fitting jeans struggled to contain.

"You smell incredible," he murmured appreciatively, flashing her his most charming smile, as he went in for another whiff of her scent. "What perfume is that?"

Ariel seemed momentarily flustered by the compliment, cheeks warming as she smiled at him adorably.

"Oh, it's actually a blend of an Arabian perfume oil layered with vanilla body butter and wash."

Lewis hummed in approval, allowing his gaze to linger overtly on her luscious mouth. "I like that." In his head, he added, A lot more than I probably should.

This woman was a goddess, pure and simple. Her siren call was already working under his skin in a way he didn't expect. As if he needed another incentive to look forward to driving her around the track later.

As the drivers made their way to the pre-practice briefing, Lewis found himself stealing glances at Ariel from across the room. She looked equally alluring when standing still - those curves on full display as she chatted animatedly with one of the PR reps, gesturing expressively with her hands.

He watched the way her rose-tinted lips moved, briefly mesmerized by that bright smile. A few stray tendrils of her dark, glossy curls had escaped her updo, framing her heart-shaped face and accentuating those high-sculpted cheekbones.

Good lord, she was a vision. Lewis had to tear his eyes away with an internal shake before his thoughts wandered any further down that dangerous path.

The meeting mercifully provided a short reprieve from Ariel's tantalizing presence. But all too soon, it was time to give her the full VIP experience with a hot lap around the track. Lewis tried his best to tune out the heated rush of anticipation flooding his veins as they headed toward the sleek Mercedes AMG GT he'd be driving her in.

Up close again, the warm, spicy vanilla notes of her perfume caressed his senses like a lover's breath against his skin. He caught himself leaning infinitesimally closer, unconsciously drawn into her intoxicating orbit.

"Ready for the ride of your life, Ariel?" he murmured.

She nibbled her full lower lip - whether consciously or not, he didn't know. But the simple, seemingly innocent gesture nearly undid him right then and there. Heat punched low in his belly as those plump lips instantly became the sole focus of his world.

"More than ready," she replied, her tone taking on a husky quality that had his heart kick-starting into a heated gallop.

As she ducked under his arm to climb into the low-slung sports car, the swell of her ample breasts brushed ever so slightly against his chest. Every nerve ending across his body stood at rapt attention. Lewis sucked in a sharp breath through his nostrils, forcing himself to regulate his breathing.

Get a fuckin' grip, he scolded himself sternly. No doubt, this woman was a bombshell, but he needed to conduct himself like a professional, no matter how enticing the temptation.

With a herculean force of will, Lewis slid into the driver's seat, allowing the familiar environment of the powerful car's interior to re-center him, yet even as the twin-turbocharged V8 engine roared to life, he couldn't resist one last look over at his stunning female companion. And what he saw in her heated gaze threatened to shatter what little restraint he had left.

Lewis could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he tore around the track in the powerful Mercedes AMG GT. He risked a glance at Ariel in the passenger seat, taking in her wide-eyed expression with amusement.

As he drifted hard into a corner, her startled scream pierced the air.

"Oh my god!" She clutched at the door frantically, thankful for the sturdy seatbelt keeping her firmly in place. Even so, the brutal g-forces threatened to tug her luscious body sideways.

Lewis chuckled darkly. "You might want to keep those gorgeous eyes open, love. You'll miss everything."

He doubled-clutched and downshifted aggressively, the fat rear tires breaking traction with a squeal of protestation. Ariel yelped again, hands flying up to cover her face as Lewis powered them sideways in a perfect drift around the next bend.

"Want me to do a donut?" he called over the roar of the engine.

Through her fingers, he caught the frantic shaking of Ariel's head. Lewis wasn't having it. "Oh come on, that's the best part! Please?"

He knew he was pushing her limits, but he couldn't resist laying on the puppy dog eyes, unleashing the full force of his most devastating pout. Eventually, Ariel relented with an exasperated sigh.

"Hell yeah!" Lewis crowed triumphantly. He stamped the accelerator, pitching them into a frenzy of spinning rubber and screaming cylinders as he whipped the car through a series of tight donuts.

When he finally let off, Ariel slumped back against the seat, chest heaving. "Thank you, Jesus," she gasped, making the sign of the cross over her heart.

Lewis drank in her disheveled appearance hungrily. Those exotic features were even more alluring flushed with adrenaline and fear, pouty lips parted enticingly. He reached over to place a calming hand on her trembling thigh.

"Deep breaths, love," he murmured. "In…and out. Like this."

He exaggerated his own inhales and exhales until Ariel regained her composure. "Thanks," she managed shakily.

Lewis gave her leg a reassuring squeeze. "Of course. I didn't mean to terrorize a Disney princess. Don't want the Mouse coming after me."

The quip had the intended effect - a bright peal of laughter escaping those luscious lips. Lewis grinned, mesmerized.

"I like that," he admitted frankly.

Ariel arched one sculpted brow. "Like what?"

"Your laugh."

Her eyes danced with mischief. "Well you seem to like a lot of things about me, Lewis."

He shrugged innocently, his whiskey-brown eyes trailing over the tempting swell of her cleavage. "What can I say? You're a beautiful woman. Kind of hard not to find attractive."

Ariel's full lips curved into a coy smile as she cocked her head accusingly. "Is that what that is? Are you flirting with me, Mr. Hamilton?"

Suddenly serious, Lewis met her gaze directly. "Because I am." He paused, heartrate spiking at his own boldness. "Let me take you to dinner to make up for terrifying you."

Ariel's fingertip toyed idly with the fraying of her jeans, the action drawing Lewis' eye inexorably to her shapely thighs. "Alright then," she agreed easily. "I do like to eat."

Lewis bit his lower lip as he lingered over those lush curves. "I can see that…"

@arielpark • posted a story 15 minutes ago

story comments:

user: ahhh!!! this has to be lewis!!! he looks good from every angle!!

mercedesamgf1: reposted the story someone’s having fun 👀

lewishamilton: reposted the story The Princess is in the building! 👸🏾 🐸

On the way inside the restaurant, Ariel ducked into the bathroom to call her best friend and assistant, Tiffany. She felt uncharacteristically nervous energy thrumming through her veins.

"Tiff, I need your advice," she whispered urgently. "This date with Lewis…I don't know what to expect."

"Girl, that man is fiiine!" Tiffany gushed. "And from what I've seen, he seems like a solid guy too. Just enjoy yourself."

Ariel chewed her lower lip, recalling Lewis' intense yet playful demeanor. He was undeniably gorgeous with his chiseled features, soulful brown eyes, and physique sculpted by years of intense training. How his tight shirts hugged those broad shoulders and outlined the ropes of muscle across his chest made her mouth water.

And the borderline predatory looks he'd leveled her way, sweeping over her body like he wanted to devour her whole? Her thighs clenched instinctively at the memory of that heated appraisal.

"I don't know, Tiff," she fretted. "It's been so long since I've been…intimate with someone. What if I'm rusty?"

Tiffany cackled on the other end. "Then let Mr. Hamilton be the one to knock some cobwebs off that pussy! You need to get laid, sis."

"Tiffany!" Ariel hissed, cheeks flaming even as laughter bubbled up despite herself.

"I'm serious," her friend insisted, voice taking on a softer tone. "You work your ass off, Ari. You deserve to cut loose and have some fun for once, even if it's just amazing rebound sex."

Ariel rolled her eyes but couldn't contain her grin as she emerged from the bathroom. Lewis was waiting, looking like a delicious snack in those designer jeans and a fitted yellow shirt. He flashed her a panty-melting smile that she felt straight down to her core.

"Ready, love?"

She swallowed hard and nodded, falling into step beside him. Over a vegan dinner that surprised Ariel with its deliciousness, their conversation flowed easily.

"So you're an environmental activist as well as a racecar driver?" Ariel asked with an intrigued tilt of her head.

"Among other things." Lewis nodded, spearing a forkful of vegetables. "It's a cause I'm incredibly passionate about. I want to use my platform to raise awareness and drive real change."

"That's really admirable." Ariel found herself leaning in, captivated. "What kind of initiatives are you working on?"

As Lewis launched into an impassioned explanation, complete with expressive hand gestures, Ariel marveled at the depth of his convictions. Her eyes were inevitably drawn to those long-fingered hands - strong and capable, yet with an undercurrent of gentleness.

"…so that's the plan for the upcoming sustainability project," he concluded. Those soulful eyes crinkled at the corners with his warm smile. "But enough about me for now, love. Tell me more about this Disney role that's making you the next big star."

Ariel ducked her head, cheeks warming at the genuine interest and admiration in his gaze. "I don't know about that. It's just such an incredible honor to bring Princess Tiana's story to life."

The night passed in a blur of tantalizing conversation, with Lewis' delicious sense of humor and cheeky banter constantly catching Ariel off guard. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so enthralled by a man's mind as well as his obvious physical attributes.

Between Lewis' attractive principles, quick wit, and the electrifying chemistry simmering between them, she found herself all too eager to extend their time together. Each time their gazes met and held, the heat and tension built exponentially until she could barely focus on her food.

"Would you like to get a drink somewhere?" Lewis asked once their plates had been cleared, dark eyes dancing with suggestion.

Desire curled low in her belly as Ariel bit her lip, giving him a slow once-over from across the table. "I'd love to."

Ariel shifted restlessly in her seat at the paddock club, unable to keep her mind from replaying the previous night over and over. She and Lewis hadn't gone all the way - he was an absolute gentleman, never pushing her further than she wanted to go, but oh, the heavy petting and heated make-out session they'd engaged in…

She squeezed her thighs together as desire pooled low in her belly, recalling the electrifying feel of Lewis' strong hands roaming her body. The way his chest hair had tickled her palms as she'd mapped every ridge and plane…

"Get it together, Ariel," she muttered under her breath, fanning herself lightly.

In her mind's eye, she could still see Lewis hovering over her on the hotel room's plush sofa, all coiled power and masculine intensity. His full lips had been swollen from kissing, eyes dark with want as they'd raked over her trembling form.

"You're so gorgeous," he'd rasped, dipping his head to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat. "Smell incredible too…"

Ariel had arched into him with a shameless mewl, fingers buried in his braids. Every nerve ending had been alight, skin blazing under Lewis' skilled touch.

"Lewis…" she'd sighed his name as his hand found her breast, kneading it reverently.

The sudden blaring of the race announcer's voice jolted Ariel from her lascivious reverie. She startled, blinking rapidly as she refocused on her current surroundings at the track.

All around her, the other VIPs were cheering excitedly as the cars took their formation lap. Heat bloomed in Ariel's cheeks - had she really been daydreaming about Lewis so salaciously in public?

"Come on, 44!" she called out, caught up in the infectious energy. Her eyes locked on Lewis' sleek Mercedes as it purred past the stands, heart jackhammering with a combination of adrenaline and lingering arousal.

The race passed in a high-octane blur of sound and fury. Ariel was on the edge of her seat every heart-stopping moment, fists clenched in a white-knuckle grip whenever Lewis made an aggressive overtaking move.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted over the radio communications and her breath hitched. No…it couldn't be. As the commentary confirmed her worst fears, she collapsed back in her chair with a dismayed groan.

"Lewis, no!" she cried in dismay, watching in shock as his crippled car rolled slowly into the pits to retire from the race.

Disappointment and worry for his safety warred within her as the pit crew swarmed around him. Ariel's fingers twitched with the overwhelming urge to go to him, to wrap her arms around his strong frame and check for herself that he was unharmed.

Instead, she stayed frozen in place, lips parted on a silent prayer as she willed images of their passionate tryst from invading her mind again. She was in far too deep already with this man. God help her if anything happens to him.

Ariel's anxious vigil was interrupted as the race commentators confirmed Lewis had been forced to retire due to a terminal power failure, not a crash. She exhaled a relieved sigh, slumping back in her seat.

Thank goodness he's okay.

Still, her heart ached for him as she watched Lewis climb dejectedly from his stricken car, ripping off his helmet and tossing it aside in frustration. He ran one large hand through his sweat-dampened hair. Even from a distance, she could make out the taut lines of tension in his broad shoulders and clenched jaw.

He has to be devastated.

Unbidden, memories of the previous night resurfaced - the unguarded vulnerability in Lewis' warm brown eyes as he'd gazed down at her, the tender path his fingers had carved along her skin. Ariel shivered despite the sweltering pit-lane temperatures, recalling how content and cherished she'd felt in his arms.

She had to go to him. Whatever this undeniable connection between them was becoming, she needed Lewis to know she understood his pain in that moment.

"I'll be right back," Ariel murmured distractedly to her publicist, already rising and slipping away through the crowd.

Making her way down to the team's cordoned-off area was like swimming against the tide of a raucous sea of fans. Ariel kept her head down, focusing on her goal of reaching Lewis' side.

When she finally broke through the mass of bodies, she spotted him bent over the workbench, forearms braced as he studied the telemetry readings with a stormy expression. A few of his crew members hovered nearby, clearly giving the gutted driver a wide berth.

"Lewis?" she called out hesitantly as she walked toward him.

His head whipped up at the sound of her voice and Ariel's breath caught at the naked disappointment burning in those soulful eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, wishing she could erase that haggard edge of defeat weighing on his features.

Lewis let out a harsh exhale. "Yeah, not a good day..."

His admission struck her like a physical blow - laid bare, haunted by the echoes of countless past heartbreaks and near-misses.

"Do you want me to leave—"

"No," he interrupted, albeit too harshly at first. Clearing his throat, he gave her a small smile. "Stay."

"Okay," was her response as she sat next to him on the bench. "At least Verstappen is out too. I heard from my publicist that there's beef between your teams?"

He let out a hearty chuckle at her words as he nudged her softly. "You don't know a thing bout F1, do you gorgeous?"

"Not a goddamn thing," she quipped with a giggle. "All I know is that the cars go very fast around the track and, of course, the drama."

"Fair enough," he concurred, eyes traveling down her frame. "It seems like I have to teach you a few things..."

"It seems like you do."

arielpark and 4 others - Melbourne, Australia

liked by lewishamilton, f1, f1paddockclub, mercedesamgf1 and 2.4m others

arielpark: This past weekend was so much fun! Thanks for having me! tagged lewishamilton, georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1, f1

view 2,459 comments

lewishamilton: arielpark pleasure meeting u...should definitely get together again 💕

⤷ user: so we're not going to address the fact that you and arielpark were spotted having dinner together?

⤷ lewisfanclub: he irks me, i swear! we all have eyes and it's all over the internet, lew lew. 😒

⤷ user: he irks me too 😫

comment liked by lewishamilton

⤷ user: not him liking this message! lewishamilton throw us a bone!! 🦴 😭

georgerussel63: arielpark nice meeting you, your highness 👸🏾

mercedesamgf1: arielpark the pleasure was all ours!

landonorris: arielpark thank you for saying hi to us! next time, we gotta get you in mclaren orange 🧡

⤷ lewishamilton: nah...never that, mate

⤷ user: and i….oop 🤭 you’re not gonna beat those allegations now sir

⤷ lewisfanclub: if they get together, i will never live it down & i’ll be running to change my username

With Ariel in London working on the album that will accompany the movie, she and Lewis had kept in regular contact after the Australian Grand Prix, occasionally exchanging friendly texts and calls. There was some gossip buzz about them potentially dating, but Ariel's team worked diligently to shut down any relationship rumors.

While Ariel was on a break from recording sessions, she received a text from Lewis hinting for her to come visit him in Tokyo. Part of her was tempted by the opportunity to see him again after they had hit it off so well, yet another part of her couldn't help but hesitate.

Scoffing at the message in disbelief, she then yelled for Tiffany to come over. Tiffany entered the lounge and gave Ariel a worried look. "You good, sis?"

Ariel showed her the message, causing Tiffany to squeal in delight. "Girl, this is your chance! Shit, if you don't get your ass on a plane to Tokyo and ride this man like a rodeo, I swear on our Lord and Savior, I'll beat your ass."

"Tiffany!" Ariel exclaimed. "You're crazy. I barely know this man, I can't just go off to Tokyo."

"And why not?" Tiffany said, crossing her arms.

Ariel gestured around them with a sardonic laugh. "I mean…do I need to explain?"

Tiffany gave her a dismissive eye-roll. "Please, this album is ninety percent finished. Go get some dick and stop being afraid of it. Have you been doing those pelvic floor exercises I told you about?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Good," grinned Tiffany, "because judging from the pictures I've seen of him, old boy has a third leg."

"Oh, fuck me!" groaned Ariel with a facepalm.

"Exactly!" Tiffany said, already pulling out her phone. "I'm looking up flights right now. When can you be packed?"

Suddenly considering her friend's point, Ariel felt herself starting to warm up to the idea of a travel adventure…

[nardo-headcanons]

Hey my dear mutual! Another super stupid and weird request coming, so, please, feel totally free to ignore completely if you want, really. So, let's say instead of a criminal organization, the Akatsuki are actually a lab team. Which would be their roles, their work focus or their research topics? How would they behave at work with each other or, I don't know, whatever you can think of. Inspired by your agar plates post, by the way, hahahaha

Hello Sasuke, my dear. Don't call your asks weird, I love how creative they are! If anyone wants to write a fic about this please TAG me!

Big thanks to @the-real-sasuke-uchiha for requesting!

The Akatsuki in a modern research lab AU

Akatsuki Labs, Inc. No one knows what they're actually researching, and how they get their funding, however everyone hires them, they're incredibly popular with institutions and businesses alike...

Deidara is a lab rookie who is still at the beginning of his study. He went to a scientific high school and an absolute ace at chemistry. Besides studying chemistry, his other major is pyrotechnical engineering. He blows shit up on the regular and even adds copper sulphate to fires when he is the one supposed to put them out. He frequently steals minerals from the lab to use them for his pottery projects. And yes, he knows how to make meth.

Hidan is on his way to become a neurologist. He is fascinated by the way the nervous system works (especially while processing pain) and has the ego of a neurosurgeon twice his age. However he is regularly asked for a second opinion because he knows his shit. He's pretty popular with the ladies due to his confidence, however many of them are freaked out when they find out what a huge masochist he is.

I've never seen Itachi as a huge stem guy, but I've actually had a discussion about this with my dear moots @pet-plasma-bubble and @suki91 and came to the conclusion that he's either a plant biologist or studies medicine because he's one of these kids with a chronic and/or underdiagnosed illness going into medicine to make a change. Plant biologist!Itachi regularly talks to his plants when no one is looking and he gives them names as well. He doesn't really care much for the actual lab work and prefers to take care of the plants in the different lab greenhouses. Med student!Itachi is one of these anatomy girlies who draw their stuff in fancy colors and actually enjoy studying human anatomy.

Kakuzu is a senior scientist/professor who initially studied pharmacology/pharmacy to save many lives and prolong the lives of millions, but eventually got disillusioned and sold his soul to the pharma industry. He should technically be retired now, but he joined the Akatsuki labs inc to make some money on the side.

Kisame started out as a marine biologist specializing in shark research, however, seeing these beautiful, innocent creatures get bastardized by Hollywood and pollution made him apply to Akatsuki labs inc to help find solutions to the current crises caused by humanity. During his free time, he volunteers in a dolphin rehabilitation center.

Konan is the cofounder of Akatsuki labs inc, everyone respects her and even looks up to her. Once a brilliant scientist in the field of engineering, she got tired of how male dominated it was and how her male colleagues kept getting the credit for her ideas. She frequently holds lab courses for young girls interested going into the scientific field.

Nagato is the Akatsuki labs founder, and rarely seen in the lab. He has made himself a name in the field of robotics by inventing the Shurado robotics system which helps millions of automated machines run to this day. Rarely seen in the lab, he communicated with his employees via his Pain Alias Email. though to be fair, Konan writes most of these emails for him; she's the only one regularly talking to him face-to-face.

Orochimaru is a geneticist and biochemist, his focus being finding ways to avoid cellular decay, as well as the human genome and anti aging research. His parents are academics as well and he lived up to their expectations to the fullest. He has his own skincare formula which keeps him looking snatched at all times. Given the rumors about several scientific ethical code violations, everyone is kinda scared of him except for his personal lab tech, Kabuto.

Sasori is a renowed mortician who's also very interested in histology. His preparation techniques are unmatched and he even invented new preparation- and histological staining methods, which are called "Red Sand" and "Red Technique", respectively. He often gets into fights with Kakuzu about his microtome collection being unnecessarily expensive.

Tobi is the Akatsuki labs CEO cosplaying as a clueless intern that always steals from the candy bowl in the waiting room. In reality, he has a PHD in physics, his thesis being about rifts in space time and interdimensional interactions, however all of his papers are published under an alias. He has a soft spot for Deidara and refuses to fire him despite the latter's frequent "accidents".

Zetsu is a biological anthropologist fascinated by human evolution and human behavior. Some think even his colleagues are subjects of his studies. Some people say he's two-faced, but he is very chatty and inquisitive most of the time. He volunteered to have Itachi's venus fly traps in his office and can sometimes be seen feeding them dead flies or mosquitoes.

[significant-ace-nnoyance]

How do you feel about Leah Sava Jeffries as Annabeth Chase, and why should we throw Leah a huge parte for being the annie we always deserve but never got much of

HELL YEAH ARE YOU KIDDING ME LEAHBETH IS THE BEST THING THATS EVER HAPPENED TO ME THIS ENTIRE YEAR OH MY GODS AND GODDESSES im fully self aware that "i look like i would have been an annabeth kid" and its because i FOR SURE WAS WHY WOULDNT ANYONE BE she is The Character the MOMENt the ICON of the AGES and leah is adapting her energy to screen so ???? perfectly ?????? like did rick just shake the book and she fell out ??????? what sorcery is this?? ??????

no but in all seriousness leah is killing it as annabeth and its super clear that she did her research and understands the character (in interviews she talks about how she read annabeth povs in later books and did research on greek mythology and athena so she could understand the lightning thief not just from percys pov but from annabeth 🥺🥺 she so annabeth coded irl i adore her) and it genuinely shows like ive microanalyzed all her expressions because her facial acting has so much DEPTH and LAYERS and OH MY GODS leah deserves all the parties and we are so privileged to have her as our annabeth chase <3 imagine being that talented at like 13

im super excited to see what additions she makes to the character in this adaptation!!! already i think she's really highlighting annabeth's battle strategy smarts over just booksmarts which EVERYONE ALWAYS FORGETS ABOUT SHES NOT JUST A BOOK NERD SHES A FUCKING GENERAL HEAD OF THE ATHENA CABIN MOST FORMIDABLE DEMIGOD AT CAMP AS A 12 YEAR OLD the duality is giving me LIFE and i love how she gets to boss around percy and grover (leah also talked about loving to get to be in charge and competitive as annabeth which shes SO REAL FOR THAT shes such an annabeth type) BUT ALSO YOU ALREADY GET TO SEE HER VULNERABILITIES AND INSECURITIES AND THE WAY SHE CARRIES HERSELF THAT MAKES HER SIMULTANEOUSLY COOL BUT ALSO IS A REFLECTION OF TRAUMA AND POOR EMOTIONAL COPING yeah basically shes not just giving us annabeth shes giving us annabeth but MORE and its making me understand her character BETTER and in a NEW way (and if you have anything to say about her portrayal in the show i will genuinely pull up with a full ass powerpoint slideshow because IF YOU MEDIA COMPREHEND FOR TWO SECONDS AND KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HER CHARACTER IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE AND ITS SO JUICY AND JALKDJFKBL)

i think about that shot of her looking at percy using medusas head through the screen porch ALL THE TIME. and her delivery of "grover can you tell your friend to pull himself together" LIKE THATS WHEN SHE TURNS TO HER PROTECTOR FOR HELP AND IT HAS A LITTLE BIT OF A SASSY IM-BETTER-THAN-YOU-PERCY VIBE TO IT BECAUSE SHES HIDING THE FACT THAT SHES SCARED AND UNCOMFORTABLE TO TALK ABOUT HER RELATIONSHIP WITH HER UNAVAILABLE MOM (and percy sees right through that just as she sees right through percy and oh my gods if i get started on percabeth ill never shut up)

anyways thanks for giving me an opportunity to go on a mini rant about leahbeth i could say so much more because when i say ive analyzed every frame my girl is in i am NOT joking

but ill just end by saying that anyone who is upset by show annabeth being black literally did not understand her as a character or the percy jackson books in general so they can stfu and get their little butthurt wrong opinions out the door bc they dont belong here anyway <3 rick and becky also talked about how they hired black sensitivity readers to help write annabeth's blackness more authentically into her character in the show so very much hoping that they do that well! and im overall just super excited to see what changes they make to adapt my favorite character to a new era, a new medium, and a new audience!

go treat yourself to some leah interviews because i actually adore her and will protect her and annabeth (though arguably theyre one and the same) with my life <3

[micamicster]

oh my b you guys are right the REAL flaw in trashy romcoms is we don’t pay enough attention to the men 🙄

[ssahotchnerr]

okay but when the team actually starts calling the reader and aaron mom and dad behind their backs and one day someone lets it slip out in front of them??

i just… aaron’s reaction?????

the parentals

i love this dynamic SO MUCH cw; fem!bau!reader, established relationship, fluff <3

as you and aaron entered the bullpen, you were both quick to notice the others huddled around spencer's desk, surely for a new session of physics magic.

a smile immediately twitched at aaron's lips, tossing you a mischievous look. as long as it didn't make a mess, or a disruption - per his and reid's previous discussions - he really didn't mind the recurring demonstrations.

but would he ever miss an opportunity to get the blood rushing in this scenario - never.

"be nice." you teased, laughing softly under your breath as you followed him over.

"i'm always nice." aaron playfully insisted, those brown eyes flickering in that way that just melted your heart. "what do you mean?"

"better be careful," emily's warning came into earshot as you neared, completely oblivious to the two of you - the timing just perfect. "or else dad's gonna ground you."

aaron's expression quirked at the title, his eyebrows lightly furrowing.

"oh please," spencer said, his fingers making quick work of whatever the experiment happened to be. "he's too busy with mom-"

jj's eyes happened to lift right at mom, made direct eye contact with you, and immediately choked back a laugh. some horror timidly filled her eyes, and she didn't cover up her sound too adequately. it caused the others to instantly look up too, and freeze.

"busted." jj mumbled, her gaze finding the ground.

aaron's smile resurfaced, crossing his arms. his tone was playful, yet confused and utterly amused nonetheless. "dad?"

spencer flushed. "uh..."

"oh c'mon. cut the crap." emily interrupted with an eye roll, looking between the two of you. "like it's not shocking at this point. just look at what the two of you were about to do, lecture us-"

"hey no," with a laugh you cut in, arching an eyebrow. "i don't lecture."

"exactly. he does," emily crossed her arms also with a smitten smirk - her point thoroughly exhibited. "you're the flexible one. see, mom and dad."

"i always thought rossi was dad." aaron expressed openly, a small chuckle shaking through his chest.

"no, you were always dad," jj shook her head, "rossi was mom, until," once again, her eyes found yours, smiling softly this time. "until someone else came around, and took on the role wholeheartedly."

you grinned, exchanging a quick, loving glance with aaron. "what's dave now, then?"

"old."

[sourpeachsayshi]

Praise kink with Nanami, please😭

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: therapist!nanami; client!reader; guided; forbidden; doctor-patient relationship; size kink(?)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: I went overboard with this one.

nanami's eyes darken, his glasses resting just below the bridge of his nose, irises blurring like the haze between night and day. he uncrosses then crosses his legs, desperately trying to adjust the bulge in his pants. his notebook is still resting comfortably on his lap, one of his hands fidgeting with the pen that he lightly taps against the paper, while the other traces the outline of his lip.

your legs are spread apart, your skirt flipped up, underwear pulled to the side. your shirt unbuttoned, exposing the lace fabric of your pretty, pretty bra. the sight of your cunt forms a knot in his throat, which he swallows while trying to forget the many nights he's jacked off picturing himself fucking you.

the one who came to him after leaving her horrible husband. who has struggled to find any sexual pleasure ever since, and who timidly admitted that she finds her underwear soaked after every session with dr. kento.

"I don't think," you sigh, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. "I don't think this will work..."

"but you look good," he reassures, noticing your lashes flutter at his words. "Wet. I can see it from here..."

your face burns with embarrassment, and you part your lips to say something though no words come out.

"just keep listening, okay? you're doing really well for me, I promise this will help," he lies through his teeth, his cheeks tinting a shade of crimson of him abusing his role. "your middle and index finger, use it to rub your clit, not too fast...nice and easy..."

you oblige, and that doesn't take him by surprise. you listen to his guidance, start massaging the nub of your clit gently. a few minutes pass, but he's busy paying attention to your reactions. the way your breath hitches and your chest hiccupping as you try to stifle a moan.

"don't hold it in," he coos, "give in to your natural reactions. it's okay, I'm right here. I'm watching you, helping you. you trust me, right?"

"yes, doctor," you whimper and he hums in response.

"feels good?"

"uh-huh"

"you sound lovely, like you're enjoying it..."

"mmph~"

"faster. add a little more pressure, that's right..." he continues, "how do you feel?"

"warm-" you add, breathless and needy which only fuels his desire. "I l-like it, I like how it feels..."

"This is excellent progress, I'm proud of you," he praises, a hint of a devious smile ticking the corner of his lip. "try putting a finger in, there you go..."

his eyes narrow as you sink your middle finger into your hole. you gasp in slight shock, taken aback that you actually enjoyed the tiny stretch. nanami nearly snaps the pen his half. knowing full well that the length and thickness of his fingers would do far, far better.

you pump in and out, so slowly like you're trying to figure out what pacing you prefer. "doctor kento," you moan, though you are not addressing him with anything specific except to simply call out his name.

his cock twitches.

he takes his glasses off, and folds it neatly between his pressed shirt. he closes his notebook, the page filled with mindless scribbles that he put together to distract himself from being aroused by you.

"when we discussed your sex life prior to your marriage, you mentioned you enjoyed receiving oral," he states.

you gaze up at him with doe eyes from underneath your lashes, finger fucking yourself tenderly as you shake your head in confirmation.

he gets up from his seat, takes a few steps closer as he carefully rolls up his sleeve. he kneels before you, the afternoon light sparkling against his golden hair. his face far too close to your cunt.

"a more manual approach might do you some good," he mumbles, his large palms reaching for your plush thighs.

the heat burns behind your ears and down your neck, your muscles in your lower belly start quivering with delight and anticipation.

"you're gorgeous, by the way," he admits, dropping his professional mask and allowing his inner thoughts to speak on his behalf. "it's a shame your ex couldn't appreciate that..."

he moves on hand to circle around your wrist and draws it away from your soaking cunt. he brings your shaking fingers to his lips to taste your essence before releasing you with a pop.

"so sweet," he purrs. he drops your wrist, his hands smoothing over your inner thigh and over the curve of your pelvis. when he looks up at you, you almost don't recognize the devilish expression on the face of such a gentleman. "you deserve to feel this good. may I?"

you melt into the pillow behind you, your heart pounding so hard against your chest it makes the room around you spin.

"we'll go for as long as you can handle. alright, sweetheart?"

"yes, doctor kento"

"good girl," he murmurs, the depth of his voice making you tremble in your seat. "such a good girl..."

your eyes roll to the back of your head, a cry leaving your lips that sounds like an ache when he brings his tongue to your sex and drags upward along the glittering slit.

no more secrets x

[sundrop-writes]

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven’t watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there’s no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it’s not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to ‘appeal’ to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife’ to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name’); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader’s true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader’s body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer’s fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don’t really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it’s good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn’t 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day. 

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy. 

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride. 

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted. 

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect. 

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained. 

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.” 

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged. 

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked. 

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.” 

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?” 

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.” 

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials. 

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat. 

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.” 

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer. 

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look. 

“Rings?” She questioned. 

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained. 

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.” 

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.” 

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.” 

You nodded at this. 

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome. 

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath. 

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel. 

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless. 

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day. 

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?” 

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.” 

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently. 

… 

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car. 

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently. 

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch. 

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction. 

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.” 

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand. 

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track. 

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote. 

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it. 

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you. 

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.” 

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do. 

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet. 

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives. 

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.” 

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with. 

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.” 

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed. 

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man. 

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch. 

You were just playing the part. 

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.) 

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation. 

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass. 

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.” 

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego. 

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.” 

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return. 

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’. 

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception. 

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.” 

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie. 

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented. 

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it. 

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him. 

“Has it been a godly union?” 

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage. 

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer. 

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out. 

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse. 

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted. 

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse. 

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.” 

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.” 

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth. 

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again. 

… 

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell. 

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid. 

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening. 

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay. 

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response. 

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant. 

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun. 

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it. 

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him. 

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again. 

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt. 

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide. 

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse. 

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly. 

Which ‘one’? 

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information? 

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time. 

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception. 

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed. 

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie. 

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.” 

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun. 

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream. 

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time. 

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now. 

Spencer didn’t take the bait. 

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-” 

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek. 

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek. 

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly. 

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head. 

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’. 

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.” 

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards. 

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you. 

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly. 

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead. 

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan. 

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened. 

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled. 

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man. 

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him. 

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued. 

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.” 

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides. 

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that. 

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you. 

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you. 

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you. 

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him. 

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies. 

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all. 

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that. 

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury. 

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God. 

You couldn’t hold yourself back then. 

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what. 

He would protect you because you belonged to him. 

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better. 

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort. 

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it. 

“Thank you.” You said quietly. 

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort. 

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test. 

… 

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes. 

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’. 

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind. 

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking. 

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words. 

You rolled your eyes sharply at this. 

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle. 

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.) 

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned. 

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,” 

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart. 

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.” 

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay. 

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly. 

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind. 

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way. 

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat. 

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.” 

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you. 

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s). 

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real. 

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked. 

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title. 

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it. 

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too. 

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued. 

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right. 

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.” 

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself. 

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right? 

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus. 

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked. 

“Of course.” Reid confirmed. 

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.” 

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely. 

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked. 

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like? 

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.” 

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared. 

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said. 

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin. 

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.” 

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement. 

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.” 

Of course. 

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.” 

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day. 

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you. 

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children. 

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life. 

… 

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids. 

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then. 

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better. 

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?” 

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim. 

“Yes, we do.” He nodded. 

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak. 

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well. 

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced. 

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust. 

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.” 

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die. 

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him. 

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.” 

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room. 

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek. 

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about. 

“Come on.” Christopher grunted. 

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you. 

… 

Your plan worked flawlessly. 

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels. 

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear. 

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-” 

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along. 

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around. 

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you. 

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you. 

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her. 

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay. 

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back. 

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame. 

It was the church. 

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!” 

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm. 

“L/N!” 

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer. 

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down. 

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face. 

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.” 

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply. 

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you. 

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear. 

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then: 

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him. 

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go. 

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?” 

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you. 

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever. 

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake. 

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.” 

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’. 

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.” 

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced. 

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm. 

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss. 

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other. 

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed. 

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self. 

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder. 

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea. 

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it. 

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best. 

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

[barblaz-arts]

Fellow Chaggie shipper, here and I wanted to ask you a question. Could you please do an analysis post on the Chaggie argument from Hello Rosie. I know this will sound weird but I can't get over the level of icy anger Charlie had towards Vaggie or how despite everything going on, Charlie is more hurt from Vaggie not being honest with her. Just angst all around.

Oh yeah sure I'd love to!

I'm not sure there's a lot I can say about that argument that isn't already super obvious, so I wanna talk about Charlie's anger because of something my brother said as we watched episode 7. He loved that episode apparently because "When they're separated, it's even more obvious that Charlie is the one who's more quick to lose her cool." Which, looking back, is actually true!(To an extent)

Vaggie and Charlie are both quite quick to anger. Charlie is just better at hiding it because she's a chronic people pleaser. Although Charlie wouldn't immediately show her anger at a person being a jerk to her specifically, she's immediately summoning fire and brimstone over anyone who hurts/insults her friends or the cause she's fighting for.

Love this lil bit in "You Didn't Know". How Vaggie is the one telling Charlie to calm down, as if she knows what's about to happen. She knows that if she doesn't at least try to reel in her girl Charlie would be spitting literal fire at a goddamn seraphim.

It would seem like such a surprising role reversal, but if you look at all the times Charlie would lose it whenever Vaggie's not there to tell her "babe, chill", then it makes sense.

But then when their fallout happens, Charlie's short temper is even more apparent. She calls Alastor an asshole to his face even though she considered choosing his support over her father's. She openly glares and rolls her eyes at Rosie when she jokes that her and Alastor look like an item even though she still kept things cordial with Valentino after he licked her arm. She flips the bird at some old lady even though she didn't take visible offense at all the demons that inserted their crude and rude selves in "Happy Day in Hell." While she was cold and subdued even when upset with Vaggie, she was explosive and in ur face when she was pissed at everyone else.

Vaggie reigned in both the girl in Charlie who dreams a little too big and the demon who's waiting to lash out in flames. It really makes me wonder if there's a difference in the kind of person Charlie used to be before Vaggie. Before she had friends to be angry on behalf of and a person to calm her down. And then, in the wake of their argument, Charlie is left with a lot of anger that is easy to ignite.

But I love love love that despite all that anger, Charlie can't bring herself to deny that she loves Vaggie with all of her hurt heart.

This little moment is one of my favorite parts in the series. My brother mentioned that this episode and episode three were his favorites because he liked the beats the dialogues followed. So he looked back--

(the man literally paused the episode to check the opening credits of ep 7 and 3. I was a little annoyed because I just wanted my Chaggie dammit! We'd make terrible youtube reactors with all the pausing and discussing mid-episode that we do...)

--and was satisfied to see that it was written by the same person, Ariel Ladensohn. Apparently she's in a sapphic relationship too and projected her own experiences whenever she wrote Vaggie and Charlie, and it must have paid off because the moments she wrote with them felt so real.

Charlie expressing her fear that even Vaggie's support and love could also be part of the lies she told was understandable considering the betrayal she felt. But immediately following that she goes "Oh that's a horrible to thing to think!" which I love even more. Even when she's understandably mad she thinks about how Vaggie would feel over Charlie thinking that of her. Because although Vaggie lied about who she is, Vaggie was always sincere about how she felt for Charlie. Vaggie's past may have been a lie, but the things she did for, to, and on behalf of Charlie were very real and held dear in Charlie's heart.

I dont have anything smart to say to conclude this. Sorry, I'm not even sure where I went here. Let's all just appreciate the smile Charlie has on her face when she thinks about Vaggie even when she's under a lot of stress I guess.

[pizzapottah]

runaway

summary: you and james grew up together, being best friends since childhood, but after you get sorted into slytherin in your first year at hogwarts, it was only a matter of time until it all crumbled down.

pairing: james potter x slytherin!slughorn!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 3.6k

warnings: like two swear words, sirius and regulus' feud (they're both menaces), kinda mean james, sirius' a dick too, THEY'RE ALL DICKS BUT REMUS YOUR HONOR, a bit angsty

author's note: inspired by runaway by kanye west (don't worry, there'll be homecoming too). slughorn as granpa is going to have a bigger role on the second part i swear (i love granpas and he woud be so sweet) i swear the timeline piece for young love is coming. i don't know when but i'm trying ;-;

runaway | homecoming

To Sirius, it looked a bit obvious that you and James had somewhat of a history. 

They were just in their second year, and as soon as “BLACK, REGULUS” is called and gets put to Slytherin, he turns to his friend, about to start a bashing on his brother's House. “What did I tell you? Of course he would be put there. A little snake, he is, tried to drown me in the bathtub when he was five, Merlin knows what he will be capable of now…”

But as another name gets called to the Hat, James looks like he isn't listening. And as Sirius goes on, stubborn, the boy puts a hand on his mouth. “Shush, I wanna hear.”

Well, that's surely something new. Prongs wanting to listen? That has to be the news of the decade. So Sirius tries to hold back his wounded ego and looks at the chair where the students sit, one by one, to be sorted. There's a girl sitting on it, and as the Hat takes a moment to debate with himself for where to put her, James looks at the girl like she holds on her shoulders the sky and the stars. 

Sirius doesn't really understand - right now he just thinks that yes, she’s pretty, but not that pretty to break his neck just to look at her. (In a few years time, he’ll realise that it’s not because she’s not that pretty. It’s just because he doesn’t really like girls - and maybe, just maybe, at that time he had an itty bitty crush on his friend, but was too young and oblivious to know.) 

James stares dreamily at the girl. “She's the daughter of my neighbours - the girl I grew up with, remember? I told you about her.”

No, Sirius actually doesn’t remember her, but he stares at her and the Hat, waiting for the sorting. “Why is it taking so long? It never takes that long.” At this point he’s just trying to go on like nothing happened, like James didn’t just shut him up to stare at a girl - what happened to the bro code?

“The Hat’s probably settling between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor,” his friend tells him. “To Gryffindor because, well, I'm here, but also to Ravenclaw because she’s so smart- oh, Sirius, when she gets put here, you’ll have to move- could you give your seat to her?”

Sirius stares at him with his mouth open. In front of them, Peter and Remus assume the same horrified face of their friend - James Potter asking Sirius Black to give up his seat beside him? They’re not even sure if they ever saw them sitting apart. The latter seems horrified at the thought of his best friend asking him to move.

And before Sirius can start shouting mouthfuls of insults that a twelve year old surely shouldn’t know, the Hat declares his sentence. “SLYTHERIN!”

A sudden relief fills Sirius. Oh, thank Merlin. James, unlike him, looks outraged and is probably about to have an aneurysm. “WHAT?” he shouts, his protests unheard as the Slytherins claps fill the room as you go sit at their table. “I demand another sorting! The Hat’s broken!”

Professor McGonagall takes no more than a few seconds to shut him up, opting to use magic instead of discussing with a twelve year old with a too-big ego, and James has to sit still, almost chained to the table, for the whole evening, not muttering a single word. Sirius looks at him smugly, silently thinking that he deserves that for even thinking about putting a girl before him, as he glares at her and his brother quietly chatting on the green and silver table.

You don’t exactly remember when you and James Potter actually became friends.

You know your dads went to school together, his in Gryffindor and yours in Slytherin, and your family's cottage and the Potter's farmhouse being only a flower field away, for most of your childhood you were each other’s only friend. But as you grew up and he went to Hogwarts, merely a year before you, you two drifted apart.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. James was a year older than you, already growing faster, and probably needed more friends than just you - not that he had difficulties at that. He was an enthusiast, and put his heart in everything he ever did. During the summer he told you about his new friends - and the strange nicknames they’d given each other - and expressed his excitement over you meeting them.

It all went downhill when you got sorted to Slytherin.

For you, or your family, it wasn’t a big deal. Slytherin is a Hogwarts House as much as any of the others, and many of your family members are Slytherins. But as for you it’s not a problem, James surely doesn’t think of it like you do, and makes no effort to hide it from you. 

(In the first weeks of school, a rumour that he had tried to protest to professor McGonagall and even Dumbledore about your sorting spread around. You just hope it was a bad joke.)

More times than you’d like to admit he has complained about your friends, saying that you should just stick to staying around him and his friends. 

“Yeah, and then what?" You’d say, getting angry. “Spend six hours of lessons alone, not talking to anyone? Spending all my time at the dormitories by staying silent? If you found some friends, why can’t I? You’re not my mother, you can't tell me what to do!”

“It's because they’re bad for you!”

“Oh, so you mean to tell me that Regulus is worse than Sirius?” you’re not sure if he has seen the way Sirius treats you - like a rival, a nuisance that he has to endure until he manages to get rid of it. Just yesterday, when you were by the Black Lake, he made you trip by the river and almost fall in the water. When you confronted him about it, he shrugged it off, blaming your bad balance. James did nothing about it - not that it is his place to discipline his friend, but if he tries to scare off all your friends just to make you stay with his, assuring himself that he treats you decently is the least he could do.

It’s no secret that you and Sirius don’t get along, and as now he’s apparently James' best friend, it’s a problem. Sirius despises you because you’re friends with his brother - who, by the way, never speaks ill of him - and you despise him for the way he treats you. You wouldn’t have anything to do with him if it wasn’t for James insisting on you spending so much time with his friends. 

Peter? Sure, nice guy. Remus? Your favourite. But Sirius? He’s hated you even before you even met, you’re certain. It’s like you were made for hating each other.

But at this time, it’s still just the first year. You and James are both just kids who love each other very much, and surely none of you is ready to give up on the other. Somehow you compromise - you stay with your friends, James stays with his, and you try to avoid the Marauders, especially when you're with Regulus. Him, in fact, is even angrier about the whole situation than you.

“I can't believe it,” he said, once. “He's bashing you for befriending me and a couple of other Slytherins? Sirius goes around the school saying I'm not his brother and that our parents found me in a dumpster. I think it’s him who should revise his priorities.” 

Sure, your friends and his friends hate each other, but for your first year at Hogwarts, the friendship with James somehow remains intact. So by the time summer break comes, it’s like you never argued at school and never grew up from the kids you used to be, spending all your time in the field between your houses and constantly having sleepovers. 

It all comes crashing down in your second year. 

You befriend Severus Snape, a guy in James’ year, while the latter falls head over heels for Lily Evans. The arguments get more heated and frequent, you both just getting mad at each other over nothing, and it’s like all the time you spent together in the damn field is forgotten. 

“Why him, but not my friends?” is a frequent question he asks, worried about you, since Severus wasn’t one of the people he wanted to be around you. 

“Well, go ask Sirius, James!” you would always reply, getting meaner every time this question was asked. Now, basically every time you see each other, you argue, him too proud to admit his wrongs, you too stubborn to give in. 

And, one day, you’ve simply had enough. There’s no energy left in you, and it’s like you’re the only one caring about your friendship, fighting for it. So, since the only times you and James interact it’s for arguing, you start ignoring him. You ignore him when he tries to talk to you during breaks, you ignore him when he greets you in the hallway between classes, you ignore him when he tries to start an argument again.

Soon, the only signs of recognition he gets are from your friends, who send him dirty looks every time they see him. 

James honestly feels even more enraged than before, sure that it’s them who are conditioning you - especially Severus, who never liked him or any of the Marauders, always staring at him up and down like they were superior to him. 

“I think Snivellus’ putting strange ideas in her head,” James announces to the other Marauders one evening, while they’re all huddled in their room. Sirius huffs dramatically as Remus sighs, while Peter just frowns. 

“You have to let her go,” Sirius insists, never having liked you. You’ve never actually done him any wrong, but your House and the fact that you’re dangerously close to James are enough for him. “If she’s ignoring you, that’s her loss, ‘innit? She loses the only good friend she has. Once my brother and the other Slytherins get bored of her, she’ll be alone and will come crawling back.”

Remus and Peter stare at him with their mouths open. “Sirius, that’s horrible,” Lupin says, shocked. He turns to James, not understanding all of this drama, “Why can’t you just accept that she’s made new friends aside from you? Can’t you just be happy for her? Is it that hard?”

James crosses his arms. Right now, he looks like a spoiled kid who’s used to having everyone at his mercy. “I can’t be happy for her knowing what horrible people she is friends with,” he grumbles. Sirius nods, agreeing. “Just leave her alone and give her time to understand her mistake. And once she does, it’ll be too late.”

So he did, leave you alone. Stopped saying hi to you, hoping that like Sirius predicted, you’d come back - except it could never be too late for you. James is sure he’d welcome you back a thousand times, if necessary, even if Sirius is sure that you should learn your lesson by him never talking to you again. 

A week passes, then two, then a month’s passed and you only seem happier, always surrounded by a big group of friends, who now consist of some Ravenclaws, too. They stop glaring at him, finally, but Regulus doesn’t look like he’s going to stab you in your back at any given moment. You two look closer, even.

And when the summer break finally arrives, James thinks that maybe, now that your friends aren’t there to condition you, everything will go back to normal - it already happened last year, no?

Well, nothing goes back to normal.

You don’t show up at the Potter's saturday barbecue - your parents do, though, and say that you simply didn’t feel like coming. James is more than confused - you used to love coming to their barbecues. His confusion only strengthens when later that week he goes to your house to ask you if you want to come with him to take a swim by the lake, and he gets greeted by your apologetic mother, who simply tells him that you are at a friends’ house. 

Defeated, James goes back home, immediately writing a letter to Remus for advice - he’s learned not to name you in front of Sirius - and then slumps in bed, convinced that you’ve started to hate him.

It's monday. On mondays you always go to the lake together. Never missed a day since now.

But James doesn’t surrender. He isn’t ready to give up on this friendship yet. 

He goes to your house the next day - tuesday, usually you play Quidditch. Your mother probably pities him, at this point. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, she’s still at her friend’s house. Her name’s Pandora - a sweet girl from Ravenclaw, you surely know her. She's coming back next week, and the girl will stay with us for a while, too. Hasn’t my daughter told you about it? She probably just forgot.’’

James has actually never heard of this Pandora girl before, even if the name does sound familiar. He's hurt by the fact that you didn’t tell him you’d go away, even if it was for a week, but Remus’ reply to his letter is quick to snap him back to his senses. 

Dear Prongs,

Please, stop thinking that the poor girl is your property. Let her live her life. You don’t have to do everything together and she doesn’t owe you anything. Besides, I'd like to remind you that during the last months at school you two stopped arguing just because she started ignoring you, and you complied, instead of finding a sane solution. She was probably too exhausted to keep fighting with you, and thought that maybe not starting a conversation would be best. If you didn’t like that, you could’ve simply told her. 

In hope that you come to your senses,

Moony.

James' newly return to his senses doesn’t last long, though, as apparently, Remus told what happened to Sirius, too.

Dear Prongs, 

Let her stew in her own juice. You’ll do just fine without her. You still have me, Remus and Peter. Plus, it’s not that big of a loss. In your position, I would never talk to her again. 

Please listen to me, 

Padfoot. 

James is torn. Why are his friends like this? 

He ends up going to your house again, but this time he's sure that you're home and can't avoid talking to him. It's tuesday again, Quidditch again, so he brings his broom and all the equipment you'll need, in hope that you’ll just become friends again without a big fuss. It always was like that - in the past years, the ones before Hogwarts, you two rarely argued, and everything was forgiven without even saying sorry, not even the day after. A kiss on the cheek, two cookies and back to being friends like nothing ever happened.

(James hasn’t brought the entire jar of cookies that his mother just made. No, no, absolutely not. He would never try to bribe you like that, who do you take him for?)

Your father opens the door and forces himself to smile at the sight of Iames. It's kinda hard when he knows the kid has insulted the House he was in for almost two whole years now. “James,” he greets, rather formally than usual. “Good morning. How can I help you?” it is strange talking to a boy he’s seen grow up like this, but he can’t help the awkwardness, especially knowing how James made you feel.

“Is she home?” James doesn’t have to specify who, since he’s always come here for you.

“Well-” 

Before your father can articulate an actual sentence, a familiar voice comes from the hallway, “Who’s at the door, son?”

Your father shifts so that professor Slughorn can see James, clad in Quidditch uniform, looking smaller than he’s ever been. “Oh, it’s you, Potter! What a nice surprise! Why don’t you enter?” not sparing a look at your dad, who’s staring disappointedly at his own father, he welcomes the boy in. “I see you brought cookies! Is your dad home, perhaps? We’re making potions here, thought that maybe he would like to join…” 

In the living room there’s five people seated on the carpet: you, who James recognises immediately, Lily Evans - his heart skips a beat just by seeing her -, the girl who he barely recognises as Pandora and, to his absolute horror, Regulus Black and bloody Snivellus. You’re all seated in front of a cauldron each, and the potion inside them is the colour of an astonishing purple. You’re all laughing and chatting like nothing's wrong.

The fact that you would trade Quidditch tuesdays just to do extracurricular potion lessons with Snape makes him want to vomit. For Lily Evans? He understands, he would too, but Severus?

Once you all notice him, the room becomes silent. Professor Slughorn blinks, not understanding the sudden tension, remembering all the times you and the Potter boy would play outside in the garden with him watching over. He thought you were good friends - and you still are, right? 

You huff, getting up and taking him by the wrist. “Feel free to go on without me,” you say, “I'll walk him home.” 

“Hey, that’s not-” 

But it’s too late, since you’ve already passed by your father who just nods in an approving manner. You get to the door, and James thinks that never, never in almost thirteen years of friendship has he been thrown out of your house like this. You two always tried to spend the most time you could with each other, and when time to go arrived, it was not easily that his parents were able to bring him home. 

It's only when you’ve surpassed the porch that James is finally able to snap out of your grasp. “I don't need you to walk me home like I’m five!” he bursts. You don’t even blink, going for the flower field that sits between your houses, and he has to speed up to catch up to you. “Could you tell me what is going on?”

This time you frown, stopping. “What’s going on?” you ask in disbelief. Letting out a small laugh, you ask, louder, “What’s going on?”

James falters. “Yeah,” he breathes. “You’re not the same.”

He stares at you and for a moment, hoping it’s all a bad dream, because something tells him that this time you won’t go back to being friends thanks to some cookies and a kiss on the cheek. 

Your eye twitches. “I'm not the same,” you mutter. “What nonsense are you babbling about? James, I've tried my best to keep up with you, but I don't think I can do it anymore. At Hogwarts you treat me like I'm a pet, expecting me to do what you say, and when I rightfully don’t - because mind you, I am my own person! - you get mad at me saying I'm stupid!” 

You start walking towards the Potter's house again, letting out a frustrated groan. “I start ignoring you because I'm so tired of the fact that we’re constantly arguing about my friends - people I care about - and every time we talk we just end up fighting again!” you point your finger at him even before he opens his mouth to protest, “And don’t say that’s not true, Potter, it’s been months since we’ve had a decent conversation and now that we’re talking, we’re back to arguing again.”

James stops and suddenly thinks that holy shit, you’re right. He barely remembers the last time you’ve had a civil conversation that wasn’t a screaming match, or the last time he made you laugh or even barely smile. 

But pride is an ugly thing, and he isn’t ready to admit his faults - but is more than ready to point out yours. “So you do admit that you started ignoring me!”

You seem to lose it. “Yeah, douchebag!” you yell. “Don’t you get it? That's why we haven’t fought lately! That’s why we’ve been so peaceful! Because we didn’t talk!”

First James, then Potter, then douchebag. He's about to have a heart attack - he once was JJ and Jamie to you. “Maybe it’s best if we just… stop talking. Like, at all.” he murmurs, almost hoping that you will protest. It’s never really been him the one fighting for this friendship - since the Marauders entered the picture, it’s like he stopped fighting to maintain a good relationship with you, but started to fight to make it crumble to the ground. He’s realising it now, but it’s too late, and unlike him, you’re not that keen on letting him come back. 

Please, he thinks, don’t let me do this.

But instead of protesting, you spitefully murmur, “Yeah, I thought so.” 

And the same field that has seen you two grow up is seeing you two split up, probably for good. 

[xtra7s]

Hi hi omg i love your writing it’s amazing! Can i request a Reneè fic where reader is in a famous band and admits in an interview how much she loves and admires Reneè (yk that clip where Reneè is like “Date me” for Rachel Mcadams) and Reneè responds and they get close and collaborate or whatever you want!

𝐄𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Renee Rapp x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N, the bassist for Eclipsed, gives Renee some props during an interview and ends up hanging out with her.

Content: mainly fluff

Word Count: 2k

a/n: okay so this one was a bit confusing to write mainly because I felt like nothing was really going on, I didnt know if you wanted smut or something else so I apologize if it isnt what u wanted :(

masterlist

The excitement buzzed in the air as Y/N YL/N, the talented bassist of the rising rock band "Eclipsed," prepared for a much-anticipated interview. The band had been making waves in the music scene, and the media was eager to learn more about the individuals behind the electrifying sound. Y/N, known for their skillful bass playing and enigmatic stage presence, was ready to share their journey.

The interview took place in a trendy studio, with the band seated on a chic, modern couch. Y/N's fingers idly traced the frets on their bass, a well-worn instrument that had seen countless gigs and late-night jam sessions. The interviewer, a music journalist with an infectious passion for the industry, dove straight into the questions.

"So, Y/N, let's start with your musical journey. How did you find your way to the bass guitar?" the interviewer inquired, leaning forward.

Y/N grinned, the memory of their musical awakening evident in their eyes. "I actually started with the guitar, but one day, I heard this deep, resonant bass line that just spoke to me. It was like the heartbeat of the song, and from that moment, I was hooked. I switched to the bass, and it felt like coming home."

The rest of the band nodded in agreement, acknowledging the pivotal role Y/N played in shaping the band's distinctive sound. The lead singer, Maya, chimed in, "Y/N brings a unique energy to our music. The bass lines add a whole new layer, creating this dynamic and powerful sonic landscape."

As the conversation flowed, the interviewer shifted gears, asking about the band's creative process. Drummer Alex spoke about the collaborative nature of their songwriting, while the guitarist, Jake, discussed the influences that shaped their sound. Y/N interjected with tales of late-night jam sessions and the organic evolution of their music.

"We all bring something different to the table," Y/N explained. "It's like a musical potluck. Each of us has our own tastes and influences, and when we come together, it creates this fusion of sound that defines Eclipsed."

The conversation turned to the band's recent successes, including a sold-out show and a growing fan base. Y/N's eyes sparkled with gratitude as they reflected on the journey.

"It's been incredible," Y/N shared. "Our fans are amazing. They connect with the raw emotion in our music, and that's the most rewarding part. Music is a language that transcends words, and seeing people resonate with what we create is truly humbling."

As the interview with Eclipsed continued, the interviewer shifted gears, a mischievous glint in their eyes.

"Now, Y/N, the music world is full of incredible artists, and one rising star who seems to have captured a lot of attention is Renee Rapp. Have you had the chance to meet her, and what are your thoughts on her music?" the interviewer inquired, a sly smile playing on their lips.

Y/N's expression lit up at the mention of Renee Rapp. "Oh, Renee is fantastic! I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her in person yet, but I'm a big fan of her work. Her music has this raw authenticity that really resonates with me. It's always refreshing to see artists who pour their heart and soul into their craft."

The rest of the band nodded in agreement, expressing their admiration for Renee Rapp's talent. Maya, the lead singer, chimed in, "I love how she fearlessly embraces her uniqueness. It's inspiring to see artists who aren't afraid to be true to themselves, both in their music and their persona."

The interviewer pressed a bit further, asking if there were any specific songs or aspects of Renee Rapp's music that Y/N found particularly inspiring. Y/N thought for a moment before responding, "I really connect with the way she uses her voice to convey emotion. It's powerful and evocative. As musicians, we're always drawn to those artists who can create a genuine connection with their audience, and Renee does that exceptionally well."

The conversation then meandered into a discussion about musical influences, with each band member sharing their favorite artists and the impact those musicians had on their own sound. It was clear that Eclipsed Echoes drew inspiration from a diverse range of genres and artists, contributing to the richness of their music.

"And, Y/N, given that you've expressed admiration for Renee Rapp's talent, do you have any comments for her?" the interviewer asked, a faint hint of curiosity in their tone.

Y/N, ever composed, smiled with her teeth. "I do,-" She paused, looking at the camera directly. "Keep your head up, bitch. you're effortlessly you and that shit is wicked. You gotta remember the comments of your loved ones are the only ones that matter."

The rest of the band nodded in agreement, sensing the delicate nature of the question. Maya, the lead singer, added, "Absolutely. It's crucial to separate someone's art from their personal lives. We're all here because of our love for music, and that's what we should celebrate."

The interviewer, quickly shifted gears steering the conversation back toward the band's music and upcoming projects. Y/N, always poised and focused on the music, gracefully navigated through the interview, steering it away from personal matters and back into the realm of creativity and passion.

As the interview concluded, it was evident that the members of Eclipsed were not only talented musicians but also individuals who valued respect and professionalism in their interactions. The episode served as a reminder that, while curiosity about an artist's personal life may arise, the primary focus should always remain on the artistry and creativity that unite the diverse and dynamic world of music.

A few days after the interview, Y/N found a pleasant surprise in their Instagram inbox. It was a message from none other than Renee Rapp herself. Excitement bubbled within Y/N as they read the message.

"Hey Y/N! 🌟 I caught your interview, and it was awesome hearing your thoughts on my music. Your band's sound is killer! Would love to chat more and maybe hang out sometime. What do you say?"

Y/N quickly replied, expressing their gratitude and enthusiasm for the unexpected message. The conversation flowed effortlessly as they exchanged thoughts about music, shared favorite artists, and found common ground in their passion for creating authentic, powerful art.

Renee suggested meeting up for a casual hangout, perhaps grabbing coffee or exploring a local record store. Y/N eagerly agreed, and plans were set in motion for a meeting between two talented musicians who had connected through their shared love for the art form.

As the day of the meetup arrived, Y/N couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. They met Renee at a cozy cafe, and from the moment they greeted each other, it was clear that the connection extended beyond the digital realm. The conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter, shared stories of musical journeys, and a mutual appreciation for the creative process.

Y/N and Renee's casual hangout unfolded into an afternoon of shared laughter, animated discussions about music, and an undeniable chemistry that lingered in the air. The cozy cafe provided the perfect backdrop for their burgeoning connection, with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enhancing the warmth of the atmosphere.

As they chatted about their favorite bands and musical influences, Y/N couldn't help but be captivated by Renee's infectious enthusiasm. The conversation flowed seamlessly between topics, from the intricacies of songwriting to the exhilarating rush of performing on stage. Each shared anecdote deepened the connection, forging a bond between two artists who understood the unique challenges and joys of their chosen path.

The flirtatious banter began subtly, with playful glances and gentle teasing. Renee's laughter resonated like a melody, and Y/N found themselves drawn to her magnetic energy. As they strolled through a nearby record store, fingers lightly brushing against vinyl covers and sharing recommendations, the air seemed charged with an unspoken tension.

At a moment of quiet contemplation in the record store, Renee's gaze met Y/N's, and a playful smirk played on her lips. "You know," she said with a twinkle in her eye, "your interview made me curious. You mentioned appreciating someone's art without focusing on appearance. Do you always manage to separate the two?"

Y/N felt a flush of warmth creeping up their cheeks, realizing the subtle shift in the conversation. With a coy smile, they responded, "Well, I believe in appreciating the beauty in everything, whether it's in the artistry of music or… other things."

The air between them crackled with a newfound tension, and as they continued to explore the record store, the playful exchanges deepened into a more overt flirtation. A gentle touch on the arm here, a lingering gaze there—each gesture spoke volumes, creating an atmosphere charged with unspoken desire.

As they wrapped up their hangout, Y/N and Renee exchanged contact information, promising to meet again soon. The connection they forged went beyond the shared love for music, evolving into a magnetic attraction that lingered in the air, leaving both of them eager to explore the potential of this unexpected and thrilling connection.

In the days that followed their initial hangout, Y/N and Renee's connection deepened through playful messages and shared playlists. Their conversations became increasingly laced with flirtatious undertones, a dance of words that hinted at a mutual attraction.

One evening, Y/N received a message from Renee suggesting a joint songwriting session. The prospect of collaborating ignited a spark of excitement in Y/N, and they eagerly agreed. As they settled into the cozy ambiance of Y/N's home studio, surrounded by musical instruments and the gentle hum of creativity, the air seemed charged with both anticipation and a growing sense of intimacy.

As they worked on a new song, Y/N couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in Renee's body language—the way she would lean in slightly, the lingering touches on shared instruments, and the occasional laughter that held a hint of something more. The energy between them was palpable, a magnetic force drawing them closer with each passing moment.

Renee, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, suggested taking a break and grabbing a snack from the kitchen.

As Y/N and Renee took a break in the cozy kitchen, the atmosphere crackled with a potent blend of creative energy and unspoken desire. The shared laughter and flirtatious banter lingered in the air, creating a magnetic pull that neither could ignore. Renee, feeling the palpable tension, decided to take a bold step.

As they stood near the kitchen island, discussing the finer details of their latest composition, Renee's gaze lingered on Y/N's lips. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she leaned in, closing the distance between them and placing her hands on Y/N's waist. Time seemed to slow as Y/N felt the soft warmth of Renee's lips pressing against their own, and their back hitting the counter.

The kiss was electric, a spontaneous spark that ignited a fire between them. Y/N, momentarily stunned, soon reciprocated, their hands instinctively finding each other in a gentle embrace. The kitchen became a canvas for this unexpected moment, a dance of passion and shared connection against the backdrop of a creative haven.

Breaking the kiss, Renee grinned, her eyes filled with a mixture of playfulness and genuine affection. "Well, that was unexpected," she teased, her fingers gently tracing patterns on Y/N's arm.

Y/N, catching their breath, couldn't help but smile in response. "Glad you did it, Renee."

The shared laughter that followed sealed the moment, turning the kitchen into a haven where the boundaries between music and personal connection blurred. As they chatted over a plate of shared snacks, their knees brushed against each other under the table, creating a subtle yet electrifying connection. As they returned to their songwriting session, the newfound intimacy lingered, infusing their creative collaboration with an electrifying energy that promised more harmonies to come. The kitchen island, witness to the impromptu kiss, became a symbol of the uncharted territory their connection was now exploring.

[dwyntwo]

I don't think in a modern world, the Crows would completely keep to themselves in a college setting like these weirdass Cullens the way it's often depicted.

Like yes, The Crows would be the core group, but let's be honest, Jesper and Inej would be friends with everyone. Jesper would be the type of guy you'd see sitting at every table, chatting and joking with all the guys and gals and being loved by everyone he comes across. He'd talk to the quiet shy people and try to make them feel included and he'd make everyone at his table laugh.

Inej would have deep and meaningful conversations with lots of other girls and try to get to know them in the most unbiased way possible, but her favorite topic would probably be different cultures, religion, food from different places from all around the world, social injustice and travels. When she doesn't have these sorts of discussions, she goofs off with her peers; often that's her crows, often that's Kaz, but often it's also other people. She's blunt and direct and maybe some people have an issue with that, but those aren't people she involves herself with. She trusted some of the girls with her story, which just makes them admire her even more for how strong she is.

Nina would be one of the most well-known and popular girls on the campus, but in a...controversial way. Like she probably wouldn't be as universally loved as Inej and Jesper because she's very...out there, people might think she's a bit radical, she knows how good she looks (and isn't afraid to show it) and has a sense of humor that is a little too direct. Lots of people would love her, but some would then talk behind her back. There would also be sexist dudes who think she's "too much" (sorry, Matty) and "an arrogant bimbo", and girls with internalized misogyny would say she's "too crass" and "trying too hard", but whatever room she enters, she always finds people to talk to.

Matthias would find a few buddies since he often can't relate to Kaz, Wylan and Jesper. He loves them, but the demon boy gets on his nerves occassionally (their peers still laugh about the time when he snapped at Kaz to "Shut up" after he sneezed) and the other two don't have ANY morals, ugh 🙄 His buddies don't even have to be religious; Matthias just wants some NORMAL friends, is that too much to ask? He'd also be liked by the girls as a "big brother" type figure because he looks out for them and often intently listens to conversations about why the girls always carry pepper spray around.

Wylan wouldn't really have that many friends, but his peers like him because of his "shock humor". Like, he's quiet and blushes easily, but then when someone says something stupid or offensive in class, Wylan will suddenly out of nowhere respond with the most witty, unhinged shit they've ever heard. Just for that, they respect him and make him part of their (well meaning) jokes. He's not "invisible", he's also not really "out there", but he's accepted as "one of them" and everyone talks fondly about him. They also accept the fact that he can't read and it probably even makes him more interesting to them.

Kaz (and I'm sorry, but I REFUSE to acknowledge that Kaz would wear a suit on campus. He'd wear a casual black shirt/hoodie and black jeans, fight me. Don't make him more obnoxious than he needs to be 😭 Also, his backstory stays the same!) would, surprisingly, also be liked by most people due to his dry sense of humor and his blunt way to put things. A bunch of others would be intimidated by him, but overall, he'd be one of the more popular ones. Maybe the fact that he's together with Inej has something to do with that, too. He gives off major "Idc who you are and what you've done, we're cool if you don't get on my nerves"- vibes. When the class doesn't know how to solve a task, he's the one they turn to. Kaz IS actually socially intelligent, he just chooses not to be in canon; I mean, the bitch is a theater kid, he can slip into any role, which speaks for his ability to empathize with others. In college he doesn't have much reason to act like a wet cat, so he doesn't. He's not exactly "friendly", he doesn't let anyone get too close, doesn't share anything personal and the "No touching rule" is something most people on campus are aware of, but he still likes to talk to other people and discuss things with them. His peers try to give him THE most difficult riddles they can find, hoping to find one he can't solve, and get frustrated when he knows the answer to all of them. Have I also mentioned that he's a magician? Like come on, people would eat that shit up! Yeah, he's moody, but he also lives for dramatics and performances. You're trying to tell me he WOULDN'T make coins appear and disappear just to see the looks on his peers' faces?

[daisyblog]

Zane Lowe

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN is mentioned in Harry’s interview with Zane Lowe.

Based on this request.

“Nice nails” Zane compliments Harry who’s sitting in the seat opposite.

“Thanks” Harry politely replies as he glances down at his turquoise nails sitting on his lap. “Thanks for having me”.

After discussing Pleasing and he loved the idea of It, Zane asked “What made you want to do that?”.

“I think for me like…a big part of it is…like I really like making stuff and I really like..kind of coming up with ideas and collaborating with other…especially YN who again is very creative…I feel like I’m really lucky with people around me both personally and professionally that I get to work with are really fun to work with and…you know working’s like my favourite thing to do so..based on the fact that I think obviously it begins as a hobby so then like getting to make stuff for work I feel like is a real gift. I think if I didn’t think about it too much I would be making music and putting out music constantly…but I’m also aware that I’m a total control freak and I want everything to be perfect..so the idea of like oh I made these four songs I’m just going to put out an EP…It’s just not how I think of it”.

---

“You're faced with a time when you can’t do that…and the great leveller of like it doesn’t matter how much money you have, doesn’t matter where you live, doesn’t matter this doesn’t matter that…you can’t travel you can’t do this, you can’t go outside your house..It’s like suddenly you’re forced to not be this musician guy, you’re forced to be like a boyfriend, brother and a son…and all of those things..and actually I feel like I..you know kind of had a little bit of a chance to focus on that at least for a moment..umm and just stop and kind of take in a lot of stuff and…remember things, you’re kind of gifted this stolen time” Harry explained his view on the world pandemic.

“You mentioned being all these roles…you mentioned being a boyfriend, what was it like during these times?” Zane quizzed. “Because I imagine you got a taste of what it’s like being a “normal” couple”.

Twisting and playing with his rings on his fingers, Harry explains “Umm…YN has always been my comfort you know and I’d like to think I’m hers too…she’s been a big part of my life and…we’ve been through so much tougher…that it was kind of nice to just stop and take that in.” Zane nodded, an indication for Harry to continue “So when the pandemic hit..we isolated in LA for a while..I saw it as a time for us to be just us…but YN did find it hard because she has such a big family…and umm she just wanted to be closer to them…especially her grandparents and siblings”.

“Yeah I can imagine that being hard..being so far away” Zane sympathised “I don’t mean to pry into your personal life but what do you mean by time for just you two?”

“Like..we’ve never known anything other than travelling..or just being surrounded by other people and just having to plan everything in so much detail..to like not be seen you know…so we kind of got to see what a normal like would be like, whatever a normal life is..if that makes sense?”. 

“Yeah it makes total sense”. Zane agreed and could see that Harry craved a little normality in his personal life. 

“I suppose..I’m just like really lucky..because YN just gets it. She got put into the limelight the same as us..you know..so yeah she just gets it and I’m just so lucky” Harry continued with a slight giggle as he repeated how lucky he was. “I think what I’m trying to say is…I hit gold when it came to YN…she really is my best friend too and yeah…it was nice to be just a couple without the added pressures.”. 

---

“We have to acknowledge this because..you know we at one point we were going to this in the United Kingdom”. Harry nodded in agreement “But there’s something wonderful about being in this afterglow of Palm Springs..which is I'm sure is how you feel a little bit after these two amazing headline shows…you seem so chilled you know” Zane laughed but continue “There must have been a relief that you did it?”.

“I just..you know I knew I was going to put something out…whether it’s a show or an album or a song I want it to be perfect..and umm…I think like that’s why I take so much stress on I think around something like Coachella..cause I feel like I want it to be good..like if it’s not going to be good I’d rather not do it..so you know in that kind of setting, no matter what it is kind of…you know the dust or the wind or however many things, it's like so many things can go wrong in that situation..and it's not your show and it's my first festival so…you know I’m kind of going out to the crowd and I like knowing what I’m stepping out to” Harry rambled with a nervous chuckle at the end.

Harry continued “and that was really terrifying”.

“What was your instinct when they asked you to do it?” Zane interrupted.

“That’s too scary and I’m gonna say no” Harry laughed “But..uh YN was like you need to say yes and was just so encouraging and supportive..you know…plus she’s like my biggest fan so of course she wanted me to do it!”. 

“So..would you say YN helps with the nerves?” Zane asked curiously.

“I was so nervous..like so nervous..and I remember YN being on facetime to Louis before the show..and them both saying just to be myself and to enjoy…and when I was out there I just focused on being me and nothing else”. Harry spoke freely. “Their advice definitely helped…’cause I had the best time!”. 

“Late Night Talking?” Zane stated.

Harry let out a shy chuckle “Uhh…yeah” Harry leans his head on his hand to try and hide is cheeky smile “It’s about YN…well I don’t think it’s a shock to anyone”.

“So…would you say the whole album is about YN?” Zane asked confidently.

“Uhh..most of it..yeah pretty much” Harry smiled “She’s just been a constant in my life..since like we were what..sixteen or seventeen..you know..she’s my life..and I don’t have to pretend to be anyone other than myself around her you know…it’s just easy and I love that about our relationship.” Harry explained.

---

“Matilda really shows emotional intelligence and how you were thinking about someone at that time.”. Zane begins to talk about the middle song on Harry’s album. 

“Uh…yeah…I actually didn’t write Matilda”. Harry revealed, causing Zane to looked shocked. “YN had this conversation with someone…and she was getting to know them…and they opened up to her and she was like that’s not normal…so she was almost like writing down what she wanted to say to them…and I was like how many people could relate to this you know…and we agreed that it would make a beautiful song for those who needed to hear it”.

“Waw! It holds a real powerful message and I think even if people don’t feel those things…I think it definitely makes them feel something.”. Zane spoke with passion in his voice. 

“It definitely does….and it was just about saying I was listening….that was YN’s purpose to it”. 

---

“Boyfriends” Zane began “It is a great song..It’s from a male perspective, it’s a very knowing song..and It’s a very self-aware song..you have to have some self-awareness to write from that perspective surely”.

Harry answered immediately “Yeah for sure…Boyfriends was written right at the end of Fine Line” Harry explained “Boyfriends is about like…we’re all flawed you know..and I think pretending like we’re not, I just don’t get it..It’s acknowledging my own behaviour, it’s looking at the behaviour I’ve witnessed..I grew up with a sister so it’s like watching her date people and watching friends…but at the same time admitting I’ve not been a perfect boyfriend either”.

---

“Love of My Life..I’d always wanted to write a song about like home and loving England…and all of that kind of stuff..and it’s kind of hard to do that you know”

“So Love of Love My Life is about home and England?” Zane asked with a slight smirk on his face.

“As I started making them album…I realised it wasn’t about the kind of geographical location…it was more of an internal thing” Harry tried to hide his bashful smile by rubbing his finger under his nose.

“Do I see Harry Styles blushing?” Zane began to tease Harry.

Harry lets out a loud chuckle and tries to hide his face in his hands “You know..I’ll admit that I blush sometimes…especially when it comes to YN!”. 

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream @treehouse-mouse

[cjrae]

Stunted Love. Or: The Theme of MaoMao's little finger.

Maomao's little finger is a recurring motif in the Apothecary Diaries, and it receives even more emphasis in the anime's first season - it represents her belief that romantic love leads to pain and destruction. Spoilers primarily for the anime, but also the epilogue of light novel four and Chapter 15 of light novel six below.

Love In A Cage

The motif is first introduced in "The Unsettling Matter of the Spirit" - Concubine Fuyou's story. Maomao has already noted the parallels between the red light district and the Inner Palace, but here we see what happens when romantic love is introduced into the mix. On paper, Concubine Fuyou is a literal object of pity. Her personhood is being gifted to an officer who recently distinguished himself on the front lines, discarded after having failed to please the Emperor. It's telling that this is one of the first times we see Jinshi interacting with a consort where he is completely serious, without bringing his charm to bear. We never hear him say anything, but it's clear that he's communicating the Emperor's order with respect and understanding the gravity of the consequences for Fuyou.

As the events of the episode unfold, the parallels between courtesans and consorts get stronger as Maomao introduces the concept of having a contract bought out - if a man wants a courtesan enough, she is also an object to be purchased, albeit at potentially astronomical price. At first glance, it would seem like these women have absolutely no power in these scenarios - but by the end of the episode, Maomao shows us the feminine side of this transaction - how a woman can manipulate the system she is trapped by in order to get what she wants. All she has to do is lower her value - a rather counterintuitive measure that can go horribly wrong all too easily, as we see later.

And what Concubine Fuyou wants is to escape the Inner Palace to be with the man she loves - a task that she succeeds at. She has played a long, patient game in the service of freedom. Trapped in the cage of the Inner Palace herself, Maomao holds her scarred finger against the freedom of the sky and wonders what kind of medicine love would make.

Devotion

We see further flashbacks to Maomao's past through multiple episodes, but the next time the concept of love is brought up is when Fengming is confessing her role in the death of Consort Ah-Duo's baby in "Honey" (episode 11). Maomao is brought up short by Fengming's confession - she flat out says to the audience that she's never loved anyone with that depth of devotion Fengming displays toward Ah-Duo, so she doesn't know how Fengming feels. But if she doesn't have empathy to offer, she does have a rough kindness. Another person might have said that Ah-Duo deserved to know why her son died, that the knowledge might have provided closure. Maomao, however, believes that knowing the baby's cause of death would only cause more pain (it's never the crime and always about the cover-up) without providing any actual benefit.

With these two episodes framing her early character development we see that, whatever Maomao's natural inclinations are (and I will leave discussion of neuro divergency to those better qualified to discuss it), there is a certain distance between Maomao and her emotions most of the time. It is implied that this distancing from her emotions is a trauma response as the image of a woman holding a knife above her head while kneeling on a bed is shown but not explained (it is the only recurring image during the montage before the discussion about her potential execution with Jinshi).

Lakan and Fengxian

In "Lakan" (episode 18) the motif begins recurring more often as Maomao's parentage is revealed. We've caught glimpses of the sick woman in the annex before, but as the camera pans over the bed, it's clear that this is Maomao's mother (as always in anime, the hair is a dead giveaway). We've seen Maomao in this room, always curled in a fetal position, staring with blank eyes, but here we see Maomao actually caring for a woman who she describes as driving her out over and over again. The camera's focus is on Maomao's eyes as she watches her mother continuing to deteriorate - they're blank yet again, echoing her earlier line of "This is stupid. She's gone."

This is not the look of a girl who genuinely doesn't care about her mother. The image of her mother with the knife upraised is straight out of recurring nightmares that wake her gasping with terror and continue to haunt her after she's returned to work. While there is no AFFECTION involved, there are certainly very strong emotions here. Later, in the bath with Meimei, Maomao wonders if Meimei's in love - and immediately shies away from the thought, insisting that "love is an emotion I'm sure I left behind in the womb."

Interestingly, this is immediately belied as the Three Princesses (the women who took on the maternal role that her mother discarded) begin to pamper Maomao in the bath, and she relaxes into their touch, flushed with belonging and pleasure at their attention.

Confrontation

In "Blue Roses," (episode 22), everything has built to a head. By hiding Maomao back into the Rear Palace, Jinshi is acting as her shield - and Lakan responds with a power play. Both he and Jinshi are aware that Lakan knows his true identity, so Lakan provokes Jinshi with a political test. "Nothing is impossible" for a man with Jinshi's power - so providing some blue roses at a garden party in early spring should be simple, right? It's a near impossible task and Lakan knows it - even if Jinshi were to figure out how to dye the roses to be the appropriate color, they're still out of season.

Up until now, Maomao's response to Lakan has been to hide. But, with Jinshi's reputation on the line and seeing how worn out he is, Maomao has finally had enough. So she takes Lakan's challenge on and, while she's in the process of growing the hothouse roses so that Jinshi can best Lakan, she diverts unwanted attention from the Crystal Palace's handmaidens by showing Xiaolan how to do a manicure - something that draws attention to the deformed pinky on her hand and changes her perspective of the damage to the finger.

The art should be paid attention to here - we see close up shots of two other people's hands after having the manicure done - Xiaolan and Consort Lihua. In both of these shots, there's some subtle detail paid to their little fingers as well - Xiaolan's is ever so slightly crooked rather than perfectly straight, while Lihua flexes her fingers so that the pinky is extended as she looks at her hands. In the next shot, Maomao has done her nails as well - and when Jinshi draws attention to the fact that he's surprised she would do her nails (like Hongiang, Maomao usually prefers work over fashion), she looks at the finger and remarks that, even though her little finger is twisted and scarred, it looks better than it did before - an acknowledgement that the finger is not actually a hindrance, but a piece of her identity.

Healing

Giving Lakan the opportunity to finally do right by Fengxian is the most grace and forgiveness that Maomao can extend to either of her parents. Their romantic love is certainly sympathetic to an outsider, but Maomao was shaped by the consequences. Lakan's carelessness and Fengxian's willingness to break the rules of the pleasure district in order to deliberately lower her value so that she could be with the man she loved, is the guiding cautionary tale of her life.

But Maomao has also grown over the season. She is neither the terrified little girl, abandoned by mother and father alike (however unintentionally on Lakan's part) nor a teenager full of fear fueled rage at Lakan's persistence. She is Luomen's daughter and proud of that fact - she has found her family and a place in the world. It is with that more adult understanding of the world around her that she dances atop the wall of the Rear Palace, giving her parents the only thing she can, which is her blessing and best wishes for their short future, as she sends her mother off.

Sure enough, who is watching her as she takes a step toward a more mature identity but Jinshi? Other characters have provided a shield between Maomao and Lakan - Verdigris' madam, Meimei and even Luomen. But it is on Jinshi's behalf that Maomao decided to face Lakan herself. She loves her adoptive dad and granny and sisters with all the affection she never received from Fengxian, but Maomao's actions have always spoken much louder than her words - Jinshi protected her and she, in turn, chose to face her childhood bogeyman to help him.

Is it stating the obvious that Maomao tripping and Jinshi catching her is an obvious metaphor for falling in love?

As she dances on the wall, we see the two seemingly disparate sides of her identity coalesce into a whole. The moment she lets down her hair is a uniquely Japanese moment of eroticism (this is why maiko and geisha use the oshiroi that bare the nape of their necks), even as she's also deliberately reapplied her freckles.

The moment she realizes that Jinshi truly sees all of her in a uniquely emotional moment, she trips and is made terrifyingly vulnerable as she nearly goes over the edge - only to be caught safely in Jinshi's arms.

Safely back atop the wall, the little finger comes up one more time - except that this time, instead of looking at the damage inflicted and seeing the scar, Maomao looks at her pinky and shows it to Jinshi, telling him what sounds like a strangely gruesome medical fact. That a fingertip can regrow if cut off. For all the trauma that her biological parents caused her, for all that her pinky will be scarred for the rest of her life, the wound did heal. Maomao has healed - she is capable of friendship, loyalty and love that can inspire devotion - even if she rarely displays open affection.

Love Creates Fear

This motif comes back again, at the end of light novel 4 (what will be the end of Season 2, if the studio continues to stick to two light novels a season for pacing, which I expect they will). Jinshi has officially cast aside his cover as a eunuch and stepped into the political limelight as the Imperial Brother. Maomao, as a result of their adventures, has returned home, to her apothecary shop and, as she works she thinks about how everything has changed.

"Jinshi must have finally gone back to being whoever he really was. Maomao didn't know his real name: she couldn't have used it even if she did. The worlds they lived in were simply too different…Anyway, now that Jinshi was no longer a eunuch, he couldn't get away with keeping some lowborn girl around him…So it was for the best, really, that Maomao had come back to the apothecary's shop in the pleasure district."

As Maomao ruminates to herself about how she will never see Jinshi again, she retreats to what she knows best - medicine. She's got her emotions under lock and key and she's begun experimenting, working on creating a more potent painkiller. However, her pain tolerance is too high to work with her previous methods.

Or, to lay the metaphor bare, Maomao has dealt with abandonment before, but not like this. Her usual methods aren't working - so it's time to up the ante. What she does next is extremely telling.

"'Got to cut deeper if I want to be sure'. Maomao looked at her left hand, then tied some string firmly around her pinky. She stood and took a small knife from a cabinet. 'Here goes!'

Just as she was about to bring the knife down, a beautiful voice interrupted her: 'WHAT are you doing?'

Without a word, she turned to see a man in an unusual mask standing in the entryway of the shop…'Done with all your work?' Maomao asked, undoing the string around her finger and putting the knife back in the cabinet."

The thought that she and Jinshi are now living in such different worlds that they will never see each other again is painful enough that cutting her finger off in a thinly justified experiment is preferable to feeling her own emotions. What Maomao wants in this moment is a return to the emotional numbness of the past - only this time, she will do the damage herself.

But Jinshi is not Lakan and abandoning Maomao for any reason is simply not an option. Just as he caught her on the wall, Jinshi catches her again. A prince is standing in an apothecary shop on the edges of the red-light district, a place where he should not be - except for the fact that it's where Maomao is.

Connection and Communication

Finally, as a callback toward the end of light novel six, Jinshi and Maomao are beginning to reconnect after Jinshi screwed up and lost a lot of emotional ground in light novel five's epilogue, and he does the following.

"She reached out for the package, which Jinshi had put behind his back, but he planted a palm on her belly to keep her from sitting up and she couldn't reach it. She kicked her legs from sheer frustration and this time he grabbed her ankle. She was just trying to decide what he might be planning when he brushed the tip of his pinky finger along the back of her foot.

'Hrk?!' Maomao choked, squirming...The back of her foot, and her back as well, were hopelessly vulnerable to a gentle brush of the fingers.

'M-Master Jinshi...That's...not...fair!'"

While Jinshi is still the instigator in this scene, this is the the first instance of romantic and sexual contact that Maomao accepts, eventually bursting out laughing - and when he gets that laughter, Jinshi also immediately backs off, accepting that he has pushed her as far as she can go right now. But that first contact was via that tiny fingertip representing love.

His hard-learned patience is rewarded when Maomao is finally willing to speak to Jinshi about how she's feeling about his desire to marry her, first obliquely as they discuss the plot of a very familiar tragic romance, before she addresses the issue directly.

"Instead of answering, she murmured, 'I don't want to be an enemy.' Jinshi gave her a sidelong look as if to ask whose enemy she meant. 'To Empress Gyokuyou,' she said.

Would Jinshi understand what she was saying? If not, that was fine, Maomao thought. There were things even he didn't know.

'You - '

He seemed about to ask her something else when a horse whinnied outside..."

Maomao may be hesitant, she may feel very confused, but she finally gives Jinshi something to work with here - communicating to him not that she simply doesn't care about him that way, but that she has a very real, concrete fear about what a romantic relationship with him would mean, not only for them, but for everyone else around them.

That's a lot to balance on the tip of a pinky.

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 25

summary: Javier is taking you on a trip to Miami to meet the Murphys, and baby fever hits hard when you see each other interacting with their small children. 

rating: E (18+! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, chair sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, anal play (f receiving), kinda double penetration, masturbation (m), sneaking around (you don’t want the Murphys to hear you), baby fever, (MASSIVE) breeding kink, dirty talk, spanking, (1) Papí, spit as lube, traveling, Javier being really cute with children, Javier losing his mind at seeing you with children, Steve giving Javier so much shit, Steve trying to keep you from fucking in the guest room and you two doing it anyway, grumpy Javier, feelings of insecurity/body insecurity (and Javier making you feel better), pregnancy discussion/talks of the future)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 18.2k+

a/n: Happy Halloween! This is my treat to you for Halloween and the end of Kinktober. I hope you enjoy! This Miami arc is either going to be two or three chapters long. Thank you to the lovely @senorabond for betaing! And also, thank you to @juletheghoul for ensuring my Spanish makes sense! 

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

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Javier’s cell phone only rang for four reasons: his dad was calling, you were calling, it was one of the Murphys; Steve for their regularly scheduled Thursday chat, or Olivia wanting to talk to her tío and sometimes needing help with her Spanish homework. Last, and the phone calls he always ignored outside of business hours, were from his office. 

The first time your boyfriend took a call while he was with you, you’d barely been dating a week. 

While the two of you were cuddling on the couch on a Monday, watching some movie you couldn't even remember the name of because your brain at the time was focusing on getting naked instead of actually watching it, his phone on the coffee table in front of you started ringing. He apologized when he picked it up to check the caller ID and apologized again when he told you he had to answer it since it was his niece and got up from the couch. 

It should’ve been an endearing moment, but your confusion had overshadowed it because you knew he had no siblings. You could admit it was pretty cute overhearing him in the kitchen talking to her in the sweetest voice he clearly saved for children, asking about how her summer was going. 

After he hung up and returned to you, he’d explained: she was his best friend, Steve’s daughter, and he was her godfather, a role he took very seriously by being the best uncle to her and her younger brothers. 

That was many months ago, and with today being Friday and Javi’s phone ringing on his bedside table in your shared bedroom, you had a feeling it was Olivia since he talked to his dad on his way home—the problem, though: your boyfriend was in the shower. 

This seemed like an order-in kind of night, with it being the end of the week and you both wanting to relax. You’d just set the bag of Chinese food on the coffee table when you heard his phone going off. In less than thirty seconds, you had it in hand, the caller ID reading ‘Murphys,’ which was their landline, and confirmed your suspicion. Stepping inside the bathroom, the sounds of water roaring and splashing in the shower stall and the overhead fan humming greeted you; the large mirror over the sink was fogged up, steam permeating the air. 

“Babe?” you said loud enough for him to hear. 

The frosted glass door rolled open enough for Javi to stick out his head, his hair lathered in shampoo. 

“Yeah?” 

“Olivia’s calling.” You held up the ringing phone. 

“Can you answer it and tell her I’ll call her back later?”

Now, Steve and his family were well aware of who you were, and you knew all about them, but you’ve never spoken to any of them. So this request had a nervous flutter erupting in your belly. 

“Yeah,” you answered. “I can do that.” 

A swoon-worthy smile appeared on his face. “Thanks, mi amor (my love).” 

Immediately, you clicked the answer button, putting the phone up to your ear as you said, “Javi’s phone,” before making your way back into the bedroom and shutting the bathroom door behind you. 

“You’re not Javi…” said a deep male voice that had your eyes going wide. 

“You’re not Olivia…” 

There was amusement in his tone, not expecting the smooth southern drawl. “No, I’m not. I’m her father, Steve Murphy, and you must be the woman my best friend is madly in love with.” 

With a smile, you replied, “That’s me,” and introduced yourself.

“It’s nice to finally meet you—well, talk to you, at least. I gotta say I don’t think I’ve ever seen Javi this happy in all the time I’ve known him. You’ve been real good for him, and I’m glad he finally found someone who can put up with his grumpy ass.” 

Warmth spread through your chest, his last comment making you giggle. 

“You wanna know a secret?” you whispered. 

“Yeah?” 

“When he’s with me, he’s not grumpy. He smiles a lot and laughs. He’s really adorable, to be honest.”

“I don’t know if I’d call him adorable, but he’s like that with my kids, too.”

“Oh, Javi with kids is my kryptonite—he’s so good with them.”

“Let me tell you, when I came home to Miami after getting Escobar, he stayed with us for a while, and it shocked me how good he was with Olivia.” That didn’t surprise you. He’d grown up with practically all his cousins being younger than him, and he has a lot of them. “I don’t know if he told you, but not too long after he quit the DEA, he lived with us for a bit ‘cause he was having a hard time being in Laredo—from what I understand, there are some people there who aren’t too kind to him.”

“That’s an understatement, but yes.” 

Javi staying in Miami for a time was something you were aware of. 

Being back in Laredo had been hard for him, like Steve said, and he was known to run from his problems, so he went and lived with the Murphys for almost a year in their guest room. Then, one day, his dad called and told him not to worry, but doctors were running some tests after finding a mass on his liver that could possibly be cancerous. Javier’s mother, Antonia, died from breast cancer that wasn’t caught in time, so when he got off the phone, he packed his bags and was on the first flight home. 

It was the kick in his ass he needed to realize his dad was all he had left and was worth braving his hometown. Chucho’s mass was benign, and Javi annoyed the fuck out of him his first month back by being a mother hen and fussing over him nonstop.

“Well,” Steve continued, “he came and lived with us and was a huge help with Olivia and Stevie. He was a natural with them—they love Javi more than their actual uncles.”

A grin was on your face, loving to hear that he’d done so well helping them with their children. “And he loves them like they’re his biological niece and nephews.”

“He really does.” There was fondness in his tone. “You know, when we were in Colombia, all the guys we worked with thought he was a giant asshole since he didn’t put up with their shit—I was his partner, and I thought he was a giant asshole, but all the women in the office seemed to love him because he was sweet to them. Your man only lightens up for women and children ‘cause I sure as hell did not have a partner who smiled and laughed a lot. Like, I’m looking at this holiday card y’all sent, and I barely recognize him with that big ‘ol grin.”

The holiday cards had been your idea. 

Chucho did the photo shoot, and the picture you both chose had Javi and you in matching outfits of red sweaters and jeans, with him holding you from behind as you both smiled at the camera. Daphne and Velma, the seven-month-old calves you lovingly called your bovine children, were on either side of you wearing fake antlers, all of you in front of the red wooden barn, the bottom of the card reading, ‘Happy holidays from us to you,’ typed in a fancy script. 

It was very cute. 

It delighted you people were finally getting them, now wondering when you’d get that disapproving call from your mother. You knew it was looming on the horizon when your parents finally got theirs. 

“It’s nice, though, right?” You chewed on your lip. 

“Oh, it’s more than nice—it’s fuckin’ great! That man has been to hell and back, and it’s about damn time he finally gets to be happy and relax for once. Which reminds me why I called—were you guys able to get that time off next week?”

The two of you hoped to go to Miami the following week; there were just some issues with you getting days off. 

“Yes! Javi was going to call you tonight. We can do Thursday through Saturday, but we need to be home Sunday for his birthday because we’re celebrating with his dad.”

“That’s fine! We’re just happy you can come! Excuse me, ma’am, Connie just came in the room and has a question for me,” It sounded like Steve covered the phone, hearing his muffled voice say, “Yes, baby, they’re coming… Thursday through Saturday, they need to be home for Javi’s birthday Sunday… It’s not Javi, it’s his girlfriend… She’s great… You know Javi, he doesn’t want a fuc-flipping birthday party… Fine, I’ll ask her.” Now you could hear him clearly. “My apologies, ma’am. My wife wants to know if you’d like us to throw Javi a birthday party?”

“Oh, you guys are already letting us stay with you. I couldn’t ask you to throw a party.”

“Okay.” He spoke to his wife. “She says that’d be too much since they’re staying with us.”

Noise sounded over the line like the phone was being passed, followed by a woman’s voice now speaking, “Hi, is this Javi’s girlfriend?” 

“Yes,” you replied, giving her your name. “Is this Connie?” A baby was babbling in the background, and you thought she might be holding their youngest child. 

“It is! It’s so nice to meet you! I can’t wait for you to visit next week.” 

“I can’t wait either! I’ve heard so much about all of you, and I’m excited.” 

“We’re just as excited! Now, it’d be no problem throwing Javi a little party, and the kids would love to celebrate with him. I mean, they love any excuse to eat cake.” 

Giggling, you replied, “Well, we can’t deny the kids cake. If you insist, I’m sure Javi would be touched by the gesture.”

“Great! We’re going to have such a wonderful time. Javi’s told us how much you love the beach, so we’ll have to spend a day there, and I need to go grocery shopping. Is there anything you want to eat while here?” 

You were hoping to go to the beach, and happy she mentioned it. 

“I can’t think of anything. I’m not picky.”

“If you think of something, just give me a call. We want you to have a great trip.” 

“I know it’s going to be amazing,” you said truthfully. 

“I hope so! Okay, Steve wants the phone back. Nice to meet you, bye!” 

“Nice meeting you, too!”

“It’s me again.” Steve was back on. “Are you guys going to need a ride from the airport?” 

The bathroom door opened, and you looked over your shoulder to see Javi coming out in just a white towel wrapped around his waist, his hair blow-dried and styled. 

“I don’t know…?” you distractedly answered. With you going on the trip soon, you had been refraining from sucking marks into his skin to avoid any awkward conversations with the Murphy kids. Still, there were fading hickies your eyes took in as they moved down his torso to the tantalizing trail of hair that disappeared beneath the cotton. 

With the fan on in the bathroom, he could hear Cielito on the phone; however, he was unable to make out anything she was saying, thinking she might be talking to Robyn or one of his family members. He walked into the room, and she looked over her shoulder at him, his chest puffing out a little at how she was checking him out. 

“Who are you talking to?” he whispered.

Her gaze snapped up to meet his. “Steve,” she answered just as quietly. 

That had him taken aback since he was pretty sure his best friend and wif-girlfriend had never spoken before. Was it Steve who called and not Olivia? Has she been on the phone with him this entire time? 

What were they talking about?

“What does he want?” Javier asked. 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she said to the other man. “Javi’s here, so give me a sec.” She turned in place to face him, covering the speaker. “He called to find out if we could visit next week—which I told him yes, but he just asked if we’ll need a ride from the airport, and I don’t know the answer.” 

Immediately, he held out his hand. 

She uncovered the phone, talking to his friend again, “Steve, Javi wants to talk to you.” A big smile was on her face. “It was nice talking to you, too… Oh goodness, that’s so sweet… He makes me happy, too. Like super happy.” She shielded her mouth so Javier couldn’t see it, her eyes locked on his, while she whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s an amazing boyfriend and so goddamn dreamy. Literally, the best partner I’ve ever had, and I cannot wait to marry him, so he’s mine forever.” What she said made him smile, and his heart skip a beat. Steve must’ve said something funny because she laughed. “Bye, Steve.” She passed the phone to him. 

“Hey,” Javier said, with the cell phone pressed to his ear. 

“Hey, Jav. Your girlfriend’s great, and we can’t wait to meet her.” 

After his last relationship with Lorraine, and how he missed the red flags and ignored his mother’s warnings about her, having his family love the woman standing in front of him, and now Steve also liking her, it reassured him he was making the right choice for who he was going to marry—not that he had any doubts. Javier knew for a fact she was the one he was spending the rest of his life with. It just made him feel great that others could see how amazing she was. 

“Yeah, she’s fucking incredible.” 

“You’ve got it so bad for her.” Steve chuckled. “I got your holiday card, and I couldn’t believe my fucking eyes—the way you’re smiling, the matching outfits, and the dressed-up cows—” 

“Daphne and Velma,” Javier interrupted. 

The girls behaved well for the photoshoot—with the help of many treats and pets. He loved how the card turned out and was beyond happy Cielito even wanted to do something like that with him. It made him think of the future and the cards featuring the additions of tiny Peñas and seeing their family grow with each holiday season—showing their friends and relatives how their family had grown. Not that he loved the idea of rubbing their happiness in her parents’ faces or anything…

“These are your—what do you call them? Your bovine children?” He’d mentioned the calves on previous calls. 

“Yeah,” he answered. “The red one is Daphne, and the other is Velma.” 

“Okay, I’ll admit they’re pretty cute.” 

“They are. So anyway, we don’t need you to pick us up,” he said, getting back on topic. “I’m gonna rent a car like I always do.” 

“Sounds good.” 

He turned away from his future fiancée as he spoke a little quieter, “Did you say anything embarrassing about me?” 

His question made his best friend laugh, and he frowned. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Javi. We talked about how great you are with my kids and that you’re only nice to women and children.” 

That didn’t sound too bad. 

He whispered, “How’d she react about me being great with the kids?” 

Steve laughed again. “Positively. A direct quote is, ‘Javi with kids is my kryptonite.’”

Javier smiled. “Good. Tell mis sobrinos (my niece and nephews) I need them to be extra cute when we visit.”

“Will do. Speaking of the kids, Connie needs my help, so I gotta go.” 

“Give them all my love, and I’ll see you next week.” 

“I will. Bye, you asshole.”

“Adiós, pendejo (Goodbye, asshole).” He clicked the end call button, walking over to set the phone back on his bedside table. 

“You’re a dork,” she said. 

Turning toward her, amusement was clear on her face. 

“Why am I a dork?” he asked, taking a few steps to stand in front of her.

“Asking my reaction to how good you are with his kids.” 

His hands went up to cradle her face. “He said I was great with his kids.” 

“Yeah, he did, and he said you were a natural with them.” Her eyes had darkened, her fingers dipping into the top of the towel at his waist as she bit her bottom lip—she was turned on, and it made him smirk, his cock beginning to harden. 

“You like that?” he asked, leaning forward until his mouth was a hair's breadth away from hers, her eyes closing. “You like that if I got you pregnant, I’d be great with our baby?” 

“Yes,” she breathed. 

This was the moment his brain decided to remind him he needed to book everything for their trip right away.

His eyes squeezed shut, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out as he pressed his forehead to hers. 

“I’m sorry, Cielito,” he sounded pained. “We can’t fool around right now. I’ve got shit I need to do.” 

“But we were about to have really kinky sex,” she groaned.

“I’ll make it up to you after I get all our stuff booked and we eat dinner.” He sweetly kissed her. “Anything you want,” he said when he broke away, looking her in the eyes. “Anything.”

“Okay. That’s acceptable. I both love and hate that you’re a responsible adult.” She pouted. “Use my credit card and book us in business class since it’s two seats in a row. That way, we won’t have to worry about anyone sitting with us.” 

He smiled. “Yeah, I didn’t want anyone sitting with us either and planned on booking business—maybe first, depending on the price.” 

“Meh, stick with business.” 

“Okay. Window or aisle?” 

“Window.” 

“Good, ‘cause I like the aisle.”

That made her grin. “It’s like we’re meant to be or something. Next, you’re gonna tell me I can have your peanuts.”

“Oh, yeah, I never eat them. I usually just have a drink.” 

Whiskey on the rocks. 

“We’re soulmates.” 

“We are.” He agreed with a nod. 

“Ugh.” She stepped away from him, and his mouth turned down, his hands falling. “You’re basically naked, and I want to jump your bones. Put on some clothes, you saucy temptress.” Her head turned, shielding her eyes with her hand. 

“Saucy temptress?” he chuckled, walking so close as he passed her their arms brushed, heading toward his dresser. 

“You heard me—seducing me with your manly wiles and, god, your rockin’ bod. Okay, I’m going to the living room because you are so close to getting your dick sucked.” He opened a drawer, pulling out his sweatpants. “You know,” she said, still standing in the same spot but shuffling to face him. “You’re gonna be on the phone, right?” The towel dropped to the floor as he pulled on the pants. 

“Yeah,” he answered. 

“So, I mean, while you’re talking, theoretically, I could suck your dick while you’re doing it.” 

He sucked in a breath, his half-hard cock twitching at the thought. 

“You’re the saucy temptress,” he rasped, bending down with a groan to grab his towel and moving to toss it in the nearby dirty clothes hamper. “No, mi amor (my love), that’s how I end up accidentally booking us on a flight to fucking Australia or some shit.” 

“You’re no fun.” She was pouting again, looking adorable. 

“But I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

The Laredo Airport wasn’t very big. 

Built by the U.S. Government during World War II, it was used by the United States Air Force, then during the Cold War, it was a pilot training base. With the defense cutbacks after the Vietnam War, the military presence ended by the tail end of 1973, with commercial air service not arriving until the summer of 1975. 

The commercial air service? It would take you to exotic destinations, like Dallas/Fort Worth and Houston-Intercontinental. Basically, you flew from Laredo’s tiny airport to one of the larger Texan airports and, from there, headed to your desired location. 

This is how you ended up on a flight from Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport at 8:45 AM on a Thursday morning in December. 

The trip would only be three days long, so you both packed carry-ons that Javi insisted he carry, or roll, for your suitcase; he brought a leather duffle bag for himself. He safely stored the luggage in the overhead compartment, and you had seated yourself by the window and buckled in, your boyfriend beside you in the only other seat in your row.

For a comfortable flight, you wore leggings, an oversized T-shirt, and tennis shoes. Javier? The man refused to look anything but his best out in public, so he was in his usual tight-ass jeans, a white button-up with a blue patterned design, and his black leather jacket—to go to Miami, where the weather was hot and, from what you were told, humid. 

The things he did in the name of being the sexiest man alive. 

Your leg was bouncing, your shoulders tense, chewing on your thumb. 

Warm fingers laced with those of your free hand, Javi gently squeezing it. 

“You a nervous flyer?” he whispered. 

Turning your head toward him, you answered, “Little bit. It’s mostly take-off and landing. Once we’re in the air, I’m fine.”

“Yeah? How can I help?”

“I don’t know. Talk to me? Are you a nervous flyer?” 

A little smile was on his lips, barely shaking his head. “No. I’m used to it with all the traveling I did for work. I will say I prefer planes over helicopters, though.” 

The last of the passengers were boarding, but you aren’t paying any of them mind, in your little bubble with Javi. 

“Did you fly in helicopters a lot?” 

“Thankfully, no. We used them mostly when we needed to go out into the jungle, which I always fucking hated.” 

“The helicopter ride or the jungle?” 

“Both. It’s hot in there, and the animals. I, uh, don’t like snakes…” 

His answer made you smile as you replied, “That’s very Indiana Jones of you.” A thought came to you. “Oh! Would you wear a fedora if I got you one?”

His eyes squinted. “No...” 

The pilot came over the speaker. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight AA319 with service from Dallas/Fort Worth to Miami. We are currently second in line for take-off and should be in the air in approximately ten minutes. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for flying American Airlines. We hope you enjoy your flight.”

You frowned at Javi, going back to your conversation. “But you’ve got the leather jacket—” You patted it over his pec. “—and the button up, that we can sluttily unbutton to show some skin, and we’ll get you a pair of khaki pants.” 

His eyes remained narrowed. “Why do you always want me to dress up as characters played by that guy—what’s his name? Harry Ford?” 

“Harrison Ford, and it’s not my fault he’s played some iconic characters that you’d look hot dressed up as—don’t lie to me and say you wouldn’t enjoy dressing up as Han Solo. You think he’s the coolest guy.” 

He was frowning now. “Han’s okay, but Boba Fett’s cooler.” He shrugged.

Your eyebrow rose. “Do you want me to get you some Boba Fett armor so you can pretend to be a space bounty hunter, and we can make it horny and have you hunt me down?” 

The wheels were turning in his head, and he seemed to be thinking it over, which made you giggle. 

“It’d be too uncomfortable,” he finally answered. “And I wouldn’t be able to see shit in the helmet. If I’m gonna dress up as a Star Wars character, I’ll stick with Han.” 

“Smart man.”

Javi kept talking to you about nothing important to keep you distracted as the plane started moving, only pausing when the flight attendants went over the safety briefing. 

What you didn’t expect was right before take-off, he kissed you, and not a chaste kiss but a toe-curling, forgot-how-to-think, skin-heating, breath-stealing, tongue-tangling kiss that had you so caught up in him, you didn’t even notice the plane had left the ground, or rose thousands of feet into the sky. 

When you finally broke away for air, you felt dazed; your eyes had closed, panting breaths and smiling. Arousal swirled in your belly and dripped into your panties, feeling the cotton dampened and sticking to your skin. 

“Still feeling nervous?” he asked, kissing your chin. 

“God, no.” You replied breathily. “Feeling horny.” 

A ding sounded, the light showing ‘seat belts needed to be fastened’ turning off, a flight attendant announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned off the fasten seat belt sign, and you may now move around the cabin.” 

“Javi?” Your eyes opened. 

“Yes, Cielito?” 

Leaning close to press your lips to his ear, you quietly asked, “Have you ever joined the mile-high club?” 

He audibly gulped. “No.”

“Would you like to?” His jacket was unzipped, and you walked your fingers over the skin on his chest, revealed by the top few buttons being undone, his aviators hanging in the dip. 

“Hold on.” Suddenly, his seatbelt was clicking open, and he was rising, keeping his head ducked until he was in the aisle, hastening toward the front of the plane. Watching curiously, he opened a lavatory door and went inside, coming out a minute later, a grumpy look on his perfect face as he made his way back to you and sat down beside you with a grunt. 

“It’s too fucking small,” he said, turning his torso to face you. “And I think we’d get caught if we tried.” He looked so disappointed, and the news made you sigh. 

“It’s good one of us is a responsible adult making the right decisions.” 

Leaning closer, he whispered, “I can get a blanket from the flight attendant and finger you under it if you really want to get off while we’re flying.” 

The idea caused your cunt to clench hard around nothing. 

“That sounds so good, but I’d want us both to get off. Guess we’re just gonna have to fuck when we go to bed tonight, and you’ll have to keep me quiet.” Your hand rubbed along his thigh, his eyes darkening. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he rasped. 

“I love you, too.” 

“Steve would hate us fucking in the guest room.” 

“That just makes you want to do it more, doesn’t it?” 

“Oh, yeah.” He smirked. 

“You’re such an asshole to him,” you giggled. 

“He deserves it,” he replied, closing what little distance was between you to kiss your lips. 

The flight was barely three hours long, which you spent reading the small book stashed in your purse, your boyfriend beside you with his reading glasses on, his big hand holding his own book you’d kept for him. 

When the flight attendant came down the aisle with the drink cart and snacks, Javi got a whiskey, while you got ginger ale and both bags of peanuts. 

The books were put away when it was time to land, and he held your hand tight while the other caressed your face as he distracted you with another mind-blowing kiss—you’d never enjoyed taking off and landing so much. 

Off the plane, Javi had the bags—carrying his duffle by the handles and rolling your luggage through the airport to the rental car agency. You took his bag when you got to the counter so he could fish his wallet out of his back pocket, passing the employee his driver’s license with you standing beside him.

The dark-haired man on the other side was smiling as he read the card and started inputting the information into a computer, his name tag reading Martin and beneath it, ‘Hablo Español.’

“Welcome to Miami, Mr. and Mrs. Peña!” Martin said, his words heavily accented. Your eyes rounded, Javi’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into him. “I hope you had a pleasant trip!” 

“It wasn’t too bad,” your future husband replied. “Right, Mrs. Peña?” He was smirking when he turned his head toward you, looking beyond delighted. 

“Right, Mr. Peña,” you answered with a smile, getting closer to him by hooking your arm around his middle, resting your head against his chest. “The flight was pretty great.” 

“Awe,” Martin replied. “Newlyweds, no? Here on your honeymoon?” He glanced up from what he was doing. 

“Something like that,” Javi responded, kissing your hair. 

The conversation transitioned to business, with your boyfriend having to sign a lot of paperwork before he handed you a small stapled stack and the employee directed you where to go to get the car, which involved getting on a shuttle bus. 

The sun was shining down from the clear blue sky, the temperature hot and humid, Javi having to take off his leather jacket. You were more than happy to carry it along with the papers for the car while he took care of lugging around the bags when they dropped you off at the car lot. A stop had to be made in a small, blissfully air-conditioned building to get the keys and have someone take you to where the vehicle was parked. You would think for such a short trip and the small amount of stuff you had, he would’ve rented a full-size sedan at most—nope, Javi rented an SUV, a brand new forest green ‘98 Ford Explorer, to be exact. 

His aviators were on, leaving you with the bags on the ground at your feet. At the same time, he meticulously inspected the SUV’s exterior for any scratches or dings that needed to be reported so they weren’t blamed on you, rubbing his thumb over some spots. 

Sometimes—well, a lot of the time when you were out in public—he had an intimidating aura about him, ‘just don’t fuck with me’ vibes wafting off of him with the grumpy expression on his face and how confidently he moved about. It came in handy when you were in crowded places because people stayed out of his way and didn’t bother you—instead of scary dog privilege, you had scary boyfriend privilege. An issue with scary boyfriend privilege: he was making the rental car agency worker extremely nervous, the poor man holding his clipboard and sweating profusely, which you didn’t think had anything to do with the weather. 

He was standing by you as Javi did his thing, shorter than your boyfriend with light skin, brown hair, and if you squinted, he kind of looked like Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle—same hairstyle, same forehead. 

“He’s a teddy bear,” you whispered to the employee. 

There was confusion on his face when he looked at you. “What?” he asked. 

“Javi—” You nodded in the direction of the man, who was crouched at the passenger side door and using his thumb to see if a mark was dirt or a scratch. “—he’s a teddy bear. It’s just how his resting face looks. Watch this.” You called out to Javi, “Find anything, baby?” 

“No,” he answered, grunting as he rose to stand. His hands were on his hips as he gave the side of the vehicle another look over. 

“I love you,” you told him. 

His head turned in your direction, giving you a beaming smile. “I love you, too, mi amor (my love).” 

He looked back at the SUV, and you said quietly out of the corner of your mouth, “See.” 

“I didn’t notice anything,” Javi told the employee, heading your way and wiping his hands on his jeans. 

“That’s great, sir,” the worker replied. “I just need you to sign here.” He pointed at a place on the paper clipped to his clipboard with the pen he showed your boyfriend. Javi was quickly signing and taking the offered keys. 

“Thank you,” your boyfriend said, shaking the other man’s hand. 

“No problem. If you have any issues, just give us a call.” 

“Sounds good.” 

The employee went away. 

The vehicle was already unlocked, so Javi walked over to the front passenger-side door. “Let me get your door, Mrs. Peña,” he said as he opened it. 

It made you giggle, moving his way with his jacket and the paperwork still held in your arms and hand, avoiding the bags on the ground. “That really made your day, didn’t it?” you asked, leaning in to kiss him when you were in front of him. 

“Yes, Mrs. Peña,” he murmured against your lips, feeling him smile. One of his hands was on the top of the door with the keys tucked in his palm, his other grabbing a handful of your ass. 

“You’re adorable, Mr. Peña.” Breaking away, you continued, “Give me the keys so I can get the AC going.” There was a grin under his perfectly trimmed mustache as he dangled the keys in front of your face, and you maneuvered the stuff in your arms to free up a hand to grab them—he pulled them away before the tips of your fingers even touched the metal. 

You glared at him when he said, “Ask nicely for them this time.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.”

Inhaling deeply, you let the air leave your nose in a huff. “My love, may I please have the keys so I can get the AC going?”

“Of course, baby.” He handed them to you. “I’ll take care of the bags.” Leaning in, his lips met your cheek in a loud smacking kiss, slapping your ass before he walked away.

Miami had become a home away from home for Javier. It was a place where he could relax and be surrounded by the Murphys, whom he considered family even though they didn’t share blood. 

Colombia never felt like home. 

He knew he wasn’t welcome down there, finding his sparse apartments cold and lifeless, the only personal touch he made in the later years being the ofrenda for his late mother. There was no relaxing in South America when each morning he woke up could’ve been his last. Sure, he had Steve and Connie for a lot of it, but they were just as stressed as he was, and more so when Olivia came about, to the point Connie just up and left, back to the States. 

Colombia was never home, and at the time he was sent back to Texas after his fuck up with Los Pepes, Laredo didn’t feel like home either. 

He hadn’t known where he belonged when a good portion of the people in the town where he was born and raised still judged him for something he’d done over a decade earlier, a handful even hostile toward him. 

After Steve finished their work and got Pablo Escobar, he returned to Florida to his wife and kid. They invited Javier to visit and stay in their guest room for however long he needed, and he had. They wouldn’t take any money he tried to offer them, but they accepted his help around the house and caring for Olivia, who was five by then.  

Then he was called back to South America, and upon returning to the U.S. after that stint, he stayed with his dad for a month before he was in Miami again, that time for about a year, where he helped out with their barely ten-month-old, Stevie, and seven-year-old Olivia.

After going back to Laredo to be with his dad, he’d take occasional weekend trips like he and Cielito were doing now to stay with the family. Those trips became less frequent when they adopted Nate—he felt it was important they all had time to bond with their new addition without him being in the way. 

He spent so much time in this Florida city, he knew his way around pretty well, like how it was faster to take 874 South instead of Ronald Reagan Turnpike, and as a bonus, they’d avoid tolls. 

The air conditioning was cranked high, whooshing loudly while a Spanish station played loud enough to hear. He had one hand gripping the steering wheel, the fingers of his other laced with those of the woman he was going to marry, resting on her thigh. 

She was looking out at the scenery in interest as they drove. 

“Why’d you get this car?” she asked, staring out her window. 

“So we’d have room for the little passengers.” Bringing her hand up, he kissed the back of it. 

She looked at him. “The kids are gonna want to ride with us?” 

He glanced at her, resting their hands back on her leg, smiling. “Oh, yeah. At least Olivia and Stevie—Nate’s too young to care. Doing the whole car seat thing in a smaller car fucking sucks.” 

“So, what I’m hearing is we will be getting something like this when the baby-making starts and my car will have to go?” 

Her car was a tiny two-door Honda, and just thinking about getting a car seat in it was making his back hurt, her question also causing his chest to go tight from happiness.

His eyes were back on the road. “Sorry, baby.” He squeezed her hand. “I know you love your car. I was thinking something bigger than this.” 

“True,” she replied. “We gotta have room for all those babies you’re gonna knock me up with.” 

A shock of arousal shot through his belly. 

He had to clear his throat, his voice a little deeper. “Yeah…” 

“I can’t believe that innocent comment turned you on,” she laughed, and he frowned. 

“Don’t laugh,” he grumbled, having to wiggle a tiny bit in his seat with how blood had rushed to his dick. 

Immediately, she stopped but still sounded amused. “I’m sorry, babe. I know it excites you a lot.” 

“Excites you a lot, too.” 

“Yes, it does. So, let’s talk about something safe. How long before we’re there?” 

“About fifteen minutes.” 

“That’s not too bad.” 

She questioned him about what they lived close to, and he answered they were near a zoo, some parks, and the ocean was a ten-minute drive.

The Murphys lived in a one-story ranch-style house with an A-shaped gable roof extending over the front porch. The stucco on the outside was painted a golden yellow with crimson trim, and the window panes were outlined in bright white. 

In the driveway, Connie’s minivan and Steve’s little truck were parked. Javi pulled in behind his best friend’s rig, and not even thirty seconds later the front door was opening, hearing muffled, high-pitched squeals. 

“Hey,” he said to Cielito, getting her attention. “Relax. They’re gonna love you. You have nothing to worry about.” 

“Promise?” 

He smiled, letting go of her hand to hold up his pinky. “I pinky promise.” That made her smile as she looped hers with his, and he leaned in to kiss her quickly. 

“Okay, we better get out,” he said. 

“Okay.” 

Out of the vehicle, Javier walked around the front, a tiny dirty blonde toddler screaming at the top of his lungs as he ran out of the house, “Tío (Uncle)! Tío! Tío! Tío! Tíoooooo!”

It made him smile, crouching and opening his arms to catch the little boy, holding and hugging him as he stood back up. “Mi sobrino (My nephew)!” The child was securely sitting on one of his arms, looking more like his dad than the last time he saw him. “You’ve gotten so big, Stevie!” He tickled the toddler’s belly, making him laugh and squirm. 

Connie came out with Nate on her hip and Steve smiling beside her. 

“What are you feeding him?” Javier asked his friends. “How has he grown so much in, what, eight, nine months?” 

“Kids grow fast, Javi,” Steve answered. “Nate’s already walking.” 

His eyes went wide, getting a good look at the baby who’d only been six or so months the last time he was here and now was over a year old and a toddler—he was bigger, his olive-colored arms not as chubby, the black curls on top of his head longer, and eyes still as dark as he remembered.  

“You’ve gotta be fuc—” The other adults gave him looks, quickly correcting himself. “—freaking kidding me. He’s walking? Already?” 

“Yep,” Connie answered. “And talking. Right now, he’s tired because it’s nap time. Isn’t that right, baby?” she cooed, kissing Nate’s hair, his head resting against her shoulder and babbling. 

He was stunned at how quickly they grew in so little time, feeling a ball of anxiety form in his gut, thinking about his future children and losing so much time with them because of work. Dread was heavy like a stone on his chest at the thought of missing milestones of his kid’s growth. 

Fingers snapped in front of his face to get his attention, hearing his name and realizing it was Steve, Javier swallowing hard. 

“What?” he asked. 

His best friend’s eyebrow rose. “I asked if you were gonna be polite and introduce us to your girlfriend.” 

“Oh, shi-shoot.” She was on the side with his empty arm, and he rubbed his hand up her back, smiling. “Sorry, Steve, Connie, this is the woman I’m gonna marry—” He told them her name. “—or I just call her mi Cielito, my little heaven.” He kissed her temple. “Cielito, these are my best friends, Steve, Connie, Connie’s got Nate, and—” Straightening, he looked at the child in his arms. “Hey buddy, you wanna tell her your name?” he asked gently. Stevie hid his face in Javier’s neck, and his big hand went to the back of his head while his parents laughed. “Awe, it’s okay, bud.” He rubbed over the boy’s hair. “I know she’s a new person. She’s really nice and excited to meet you, and she makes amazing cookies.” 

His little head popped up. “Cookies?” his tiny voice asked. 

Javier smiled. He knew that’d get him. “Yeah, she makes amazing cookies.” 

“I want cookies,” Stevie replied. His attention turned to Connie. “Can we have cookies, Mommy?” 

“One second, baby boy.” She walked toward Cielito to whisper something in her ear. 

His girlfriend nodded her head, answering, “Sure! I can do that!”

“Is it really okay?” the other woman asked, meeting her eyes. 

“Yeah!” 

“Okay.” Connie looked at her eldest son. “The nice lady says she’ll make cookies with you, but you’ll have to tell her your name.” 

The boy looked past Javi to excitedly shout at Cielito, “Stevie!” Reaching his little arms toward her, and it made warmth spread through him when, without missing a beat, she took the toddler from him. 

“Hi, Stevie,” she said with a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

They were facing him, and Javier pointed at her. “She’s gonna be your tía (aunt), Stevie.” 

The child’s eyes moved from him to her. “Tía?” he asked, shoving a finger at her chest.

“Yeah, bud, she’s your tía (aunt), and I’m your tío (uncle).”

Tiny blue eyes met his. “Tío—” His head turned to her. “—Tía.” 

“Yes.” She confirmed. “And you’re Stevie.” She gently poked his chest. 

“Stevie!” He clapped his hands. “We’re gonna make cookies, Tía?” 

“Yes, your mom said after your nap.” 

“Well, let’s head inside then, guys,” grown-up Steve announced. 

“Come with me,” Connie told his girlfriend. “The men can get the bags, and I’ll put the boys down for a nap.” 

“Okay,” she replied. 

It made him smile how easily she went, his eyes on her back with the toddler on her hip, whispering to him, and Javier thought it looked so perfect, so right; his mind was running wild with images of what she’d look like holding their child—wishing she was holding their child. Stevie looked like a miniature version of Steve; would Javier’s child with his future wife look more like him or her? Or would they be a mix of them both? What he knew for sure was they’d be perfect, and he would love them more than anything in the goddamn world. 

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get married.

Hands landed on his shoulders from behind. 

“Jesus Christ, Jav,” Steve laughed, giving him a playful shake. He got out of the hold, spinning around to see his friend’s grinning face that made him clench his jaw. “I knew you had it bad, but this is something else—you’re really in love with this girl.” 

His eyebrows creased, frowning. 

Steve had known about his girlfriend since their relationship began and even gave him wanted and unwanted advice when he did and didn’t need it—he knew damn well Javier loved her. He’d been on his ass to fucking tell her, like how he’s been on his ass to get him to fucking propose, and only now was he actually believing it was all real? 

It pissed him off that his best friend doubted his feelings for her.

“Fuck you, man,” he replied, shoving the other man’s shoulder and watching his face fall. “Yeah, I fucking love her. I’ve fucking told you.” 

“Hey, hey—” Steve put up his hands in a placating gesture. “—I know you love her, Javier. I’ve known from how you’ve talked about her, but seeing it in person is something else.” 

“What do you mean?” His hands were perched on his hips, ignoring the beads of sweat dripping down his spine under his shirt. 

Steve smiled. “That ugly mug of yours—” He gestured at Javier’s face. “It’s clear in how you look at her. It’s like you’ve got fuckin’ hearts in your eyes or some shit,” he chuckled, Javier sighing. “I’ve known you for a long fucking time, Javi, and I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her.”

The explanation mollified him.

“I’ve never felt like this with anyone but her.” 

“I know.” His friend clapped a hand on his bicep. “And I’m really fucking happy for you, Jav.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I’m sweating my balls off. Let’s get inside.” 

“Yeah, it’s fucking hot,” he replied, heading toward the back of the rental. 

He didn’t need help carrying the bags or directions to the guest room. 

The house was nice and cool as he walked inside along the stone tiled floor and directly into their formal sitting room containing a long beige couch against the far left wall with a walnut-colored coffee table in front of it; a smaller version of the sofa along the wall beside the front door and under the large white-framed window, a chair that matched the same style across from it, and end tables at the sides of the couches. 

They never actually used this area unless they were hosting guests or during Christmas when Connie would rearrange the furniture to make it picturesque with their tree. Steve thought it was a waste of space; his wife could never know that.

His shoes came off with everyone else’s by the front door, where Connie had a shoe rack overflowing with pairs for adults and children, leaving his next to Cielito’s on the floor. Going further into the room, Steve headed for the kitchen while he turned down the hallway that opened to the right and led to the bedrooms and bathrooms. Olivia’s was the first door on the right. The second was a full bath themed around dolphins, her favorite animal, with them on the shower curtain, the art on the walls, painted on the toothbrush holder, and soap dispenser.

Next was Nate’s room, his door closed and across the hall from his parents’ master suite. 

The two boys’ rooms happened to be connected by a bathroom between them. Javier stopped in his tracks at Stevie’s open door—the woman he came here with, the one who made him the happiest man in the world, who he was going to marry and spend the rest of his life with, was sitting on the edge of his nephew’s bed with her back to the door, her attention on the child lying on his side facing her with his eyes closed under a light blanket as she rubbed small circles on his shirt-covered back.

Javier’s eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled, a soft sigh leaving his lips. 

“She volunteered,” Connie whispered behind him, causing him to jump in his skin. “Sorry for scaring you—“ She squeezed his arm reassuringly. “She volunteered,” she continued. “Asked me how she could help and what Stevie’s nap time routine was, and it looks like she’s a pro. She’s great with him.”

“Yeah, she is.” He spoke just as quietly, glancing over his shoulder. “Rubbing his back still puts him to sleep?”

She playfully slapped his arm. “That’s your damn fault.”

“It makes him fall asleep, doesn’t it?”

“Quickest way. We do it with Nate, too.”

“Then why are you mad at me?”

“It’s not right you out-parented us. Now, you better marry this woman, Javier. It’s about damn time you become a father.” 

He scratched at his mustache. “You, uh, think I’d be a good dad?”

She looked at him like he was stupid. 

“Javier, you’ve always been so much help when you stay with us, and the kids adore you. Yeah, you’re gonna be a fantastic father.”

His throat was feeling tight. Steve arrived at Connie’s back, holding a beer. 

“What are y’all whispering about?” the other man quietly asked. 

“Javi being a great dad,” his wife replied, looking over her shoulder at him. 

“Oh, yeah, we’ve known that for years,” Steve said. “We just didn’t think you’d ever pull your head out of your ass and settle down.”

“Didn’t find the right person until now.” Javier shrugged. He peeked into the room, seeing his future wife was still occupied. Turning his head, he told the other two, “Follow me to the guest room. I need to ask you a favor.”

To be honest, you were really nervous about helping with nap time and stayed a little longer than necessary, rubbing the sleeping three-year-old's back to ensure he truly was passed out.  

There’d been whispers in the hall that hadn’t helped your nerves, wondering what the other three adults were saying amongst themselves and knowing it was probably about you, hoping it was positive. Steve and Connie seemed to like you, and she had trusted you to help with her child, so that was a good sign. They’d disappeared into the guest bedroom, down and across the hall, Connie had pointed out earlier when she gave you a very quick tour. 

You figured it was probably safe to leave now, ensuring the toddler was tucked in under his dark blue blanket before you’d gotten up and quietly tip-toed out of the door you closed behind you with a soft click. 

It didn’t take too many steps to get to where the guest room door was cracked open, with light spilling out into the hallway, and muffled voices could be heard. You entered, finding your boyfriend and the other couple huddled at the foot of the queen-sized bed directly in front of you.

The walls were painted a soothing greige, the greyish-beige color accented by the eggshell white ceiling, trim, and doors for the closet and en suite. An interesting choice was the wrought iron bed frame that looked old and out of place alongside the nice newer black bedside tables and dresser across from it and the stone-colored armless accent chair in the corner—even the lamps were modern, making the dark, possibly rusting, iron stick out like a sore thumb. The large framed photos of ocean waves crashing and rolling decorating the walls made up for it, though, enjoying the room's atmosphere. 

Javi’s head turned toward you, and he smiled. “Hey, baby.” He took a couple of steps to grab your hand and pulled you over to the Murphys. 

“What were you guys talking about?” you asked. 

“Going to the beach tomorrow,” Connie answered with a big smile. “Olivia’s staying home from school, and we were thinking we’d spend the day there.” 

That made you grin. “I’d love that!” Javi pulled you into his side. 

Your bags were on the ground in front of the dresser. 

“I know,” your boyfriend said, kissing your hair. 

It had warm fuzziness spreading through your veins at how thoughtful they were. 

“Well, glad we’ve got that figured out,” Connie announced, clapping her hands together. “Javi knows, but let me show you where everything is.”

“Okay.” 

She took you into the pretty standard bathroom—the combination shower/bathtub against the furthest wall from the door with a floral printed shower curtain on a golden rod; the bathroom vanity on your right as you walked in, painted white with a similar color laminate countertop and sink with red handles to open the drawers and cabinets under the sink, a large mirror hanging on the wall above it, and the toilet in the space between it and bath. She opened the doors under the sink so you could see where the towels and washcloths were kept and led you back into the bedroom to open the closet door so you knew where the extra blankets were. 

“—and I’m sorry about the bed.” Connie grimaced. 

“Yeah,” Javi interjected. “What happened to the old bed frame?” His hands were on the top of the footboard that looked like a wide, upside-down U made out of a thick pipe, with two smaller ones going across and others connecting those two in the middle. He gave it a little shake, the metal squeaking loudly.

“Steve saw this—” She pointed at it. “—and said it reminded him of a bed he’d slept in at his grandparents, and he just had to buy it. He thought it’d look great in here.” 

“Right…” Javi replied, turning his head, and even though all you could see was the back of it, you knew he was glaring at his friend.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Steve asked, crossing his arms. “I have fond memories of spending time with ‘ol peepaw and granny. Like when he’d take me duck hunting.” 

You were pretty sure you heard Javi mutter, “Fuckin’ hillbilly.”

Obviously, he was not happy about the sounds the bed was making, and you were a little disappointed about it, too—he hadn’t been joking about Steve hating you fucking in here. 

The blonde man was smirking. “What was that?” 

“I said it’s great you’ve got fond memories,” Javi sighed, looking forward again with the fingers of one hand pressed to his forehead. 

“So,” Connie began, “again, I’m sorry about how squeaky the bed is—”

“I’m not,” Steve interrupted, which earned him a middle finger from your boyfriend, whom the blonde man simply laughed at. 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” you said, trying to keep things civil. 

“Hopefully,” the other woman replied with a nervous smile. “Well, we’re gonna get out of your hair ‘cause I’m sure you wanna freshen up after your flight.” 

“If it’s okay with you guys, I might take a cat nap after I shower. Getting up so early and traveling has exhausted me.” 

“Oh, that’s absolutely fine, honey.” She checked her watch. “We’ve got a little over an hour before Olivia is home, and the boys will sleep until right before she gets home. Come on, Steve, let’s leave them alone.” 

“Yes, dear,” her husband answered, following her as she walked out of the room, Javi moving to close and lock the door after them. 

He turned around with a grumpy expression, letting out a loud, long sigh. 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is,” you told him as you took a couple of steps to the bed and started getting on it—immediately, high-pitched squeaks sounded with any kind of movement you made on the mattress. “Okay, so it’s worse than your bed at your dad’s…” 

“He did this on purpose,” he seethed, putting his hands on his slim hips while all his weight went to one side. 

You were lying on your side with your head propped up on your arm to look at him standing over by the door. 

“Uh, yeah, that’s obvious. It was a lot of effort to put into cock blocking you. He really doesn’t like the idea of you fucking under his roof.” 

“I told you he’d hate it—didn’t think he’d do this.” He pouted. 

You didn’t like how upset he was, and you had a great idea of how to cheer him up. 

Ignoring the ear-splitting sounds as you got up from the bed.

“Keep standing there, looking pretty. I’ll be right back.” 

You saw the confusion on his face for only a moment before you were walking around the front of the bed and away from him to go through the bathroom door beside the dresser. In seconds, you were back in the bedroom and tossing a white towel onto the grey chair in the corner on the other side of the en suite door. 

“Are you taking a shower?” he asked, watching with curiosity as you moved toward him, his eyes on yours. 

“Not right now,” you answered. “I’ve got more important things to do.” 

Finally, you were in his space. “Like what?” 

���You,” you answered, grabbing him by his open collar and tugging him toward you to crush your mouth against his, swallowing his moan. His arm went around your waist, the other hand on your back, allowing you to lick into his mouth, his tongue eagerly moving with yours in a familiar dance you both knew all too well. 

Arousal was burning in your belly, feeling your heartbeat at the apex of your thighs, your need for him seeping into your underwear. 

Your fingers started working open the buttons on his shirt. 

“We can’t fuck on the bed,” he breathily said between kisses, a big palm grabbing your ass. 

“The chair,” you replied, nipping at his bottom lip. 

Suddenly, he was pulling back to look you in the eyes, his reddened lips glistening from spit while his shirt was unbuttoned, hanging open. 

“The fucking chair,” he rasped, a look on his face like he was only just realizing. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “There’s also the floor, the counter in the bathroom, the shower, and the clear space at the wall right there—” You pointed behind where the door opened. “—if you were in the mood for wall sex, but you’re really upset about the bed—” You rubbed your hands up his bare chest. “—so I thought you’d enjoy getting ridden on the chair.” 

His lips turned up in a toothy grin. “I love you so fucking much.” He kissed you quickly.

You matched his expression, looping your arms around his neck. “I love you, too, and I’m not letting a sabotaged bed stop me from getting dicked down. We just have to be… creative and quiet.” 

His eyes darkened, the pink of his tongue peeking out for a second, and when he spoke, his voice had gone deeper and raspier. “You’re not tired,” he said matter-of-factly, his arm pulling you into him so your bodies were flush.

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p.’

“You don’t want to take a nap.” 

“I don’t want to take a nap,” you confirmed. 

His fingers slid along your cheek until he cradled your face, his gaze stuck to yours. “You want me to fuck you.” 

“Very much.” 

His head moved until his lips were grazing yours, nuzzling your nose with his. “What got you so worked up you couldn’t wait until we went to bed tonight, Cielito?” 

His proximity was fanning the flames of arousal inside you, making your entire body heat, your nipples tighten, and your lips tingle where his barely touched.

Snaking your hand between your bodies, you palmed his hard cock straining against the zipper of his pants. “Probably the same thing that has you hard as a rock—I can’t stop thinking about having babies with you.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, thrusting into your hand. “I can’t fucking wait.” 

“To get me pregnant?” you purred, stroking him over his jeans. “Or to fuck me?”

“Both,” he growled, grabbing the hem of your oversized shirt and saying as he roughly pulled it up and off your arms to land carelessly on the floor, “and you fucking know it.” You did, and it made your pussy throb. 

“I do.” You helped him shrug off his button-up, your hands going to his belt next. “And I can’t fucking wait either.” The buckle clinked as you effortlessly worked it open and unbuttoned his jeans, hearing the teeth pull apart as you unzipped them. 

Warm palms held your face to make you meet the dark pools of his eyes. 

“To get pregnant,” his voice had gone lower, seeing his tongue quickly wet his bottom lip. “Or for me to fuck you?” 

His pants were undone, and with there being no underwear in your way, you reached in and took him in hand, his shaft feeling like steel wrapped in heated velvet—hot, hard, and silky to the touch. A thrill moved through you at his mouth falling open and eyes closing, his groan going straight to your cunt. 

“Both,” you answered. 

One word and he became ravenous, desperate, smashing his mouth to yours in a passionate kiss while he went about undressing you as he walked you backward toward the chair—your bra getting tossed somewhere to your left, his lips leaving yours and stopping long enough for him to tug down your leggings and underwear in one fell swoop. He ghosted kisses up your body when he rose again until your mouths were attached once more, continuing the journey to the corner chair, his arm holding you around your middle to help guide you, your hands hanging onto his shoulders. 

He spoke between presses of his lips to yours, “You looked so fucking perfect holding the kid…. You’re gonna be an amazing mother to our children…. I need you so fucking bad…. I wanna give you a baby…. Let me fuck a baby into you…. Please.” The last bits made you moan into his mouth, your nails digging into his skin. 

The lines were blurred, and you weren’t sure if this was him leaning into the kink you shared or if he was being serious. It was true you couldn’t wait to get pregnant, but you both were well aware the apartment you lived in wasn’t big enough for the addition of a baby and had been actively working with one of the only two architects in town to design the home you planned to build. There was also the fact you wanted to get married first, and the proposal was months away. As much as you both wanted a child, you couldn’t start trying for another year at minimum.

Why were you overthinking this? You would just have a discussion with him after the sex to make sure you were both on the same page. 

“God, yes,” you gasped. “I want it.” 

The soft fabric of the chair hit the back of your legs, his big hands gripping your asscheeks, murmuring against your lips, “Let me eat your pussy first.” 

“Later,” came your muffled reply. “This has to be quick, so we don’t get caught.” 

You could feel him frowning before he broke away. 

“I don’t fucking care if we get caught.” His eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips were turned down.

What he said made you sigh, another thing that had you overthinking. “I know you don’t care,” you kept your tone as gentle as possible, rubbing your hands over his bare back. “But I do. They’ve been your friends for years and already love you. I’m only just meeting them, and I don’t want to give them a bad first impression. Yeah, I’m okay with going against Steve’s wishes and fucking here, only as long as he doesn’t know. Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I was an asshole for even thinking of letting us get caught.”

“It’s okay.” Your hands skated along his naked sides. “Now, let’s get back to the sexy—I am so horny.” 

His hand fell. “Do you need me to finger you?” 

“I think I’m wet enough. One second, though.” You held up a finger before turning around and spreading the towel over the seat. Facing him again, you ordered, “Pants off, Mr. Peña, and sit,” and moved out of his way. 

He huffed out an amused breath, pushing down his jeans. “As you wish, Mrs. Peña.” Stepping out of them, a pained groan slipped from his throat as he straightened, taking the seat as you requested. 

The armless chair was about as wide as a dining room chair with some cushioning and a channel-stitched back, covered in grey velvet, the wooden legs painted black. Javi sat down, getting comfortable as he sat back and spread his legs. 

The sight before you had your mouth going dry. 

His lust-filled gaze was looking up at you, taking in the broad shoulders, the expanse of his golden chest down to his soft tummy, where below his belly button, a trail of hair led your eyes to his big hand slowly stroking his hard cock; the tip was red and shining from the steady dribble of precum leaking from it, that he was using to ease the glide of his palm—he was the perfect picture of seduction and you were under his spell, willing to do anything he wanted.

A crooked smile appeared under his mustache. 

“You wanna watch me jerk off?” he asked. “Or are you gonna ride me?” 

The questions snapped you out of your reverie. 

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized, stepping to stand between his widened knees. “You’re just so sexy, and you know, watching you jerk off really gets me going.” 

“I know, mi amor (my love),” he chuckled. 

His hand left his dick, the long shaft resting against the coarse hair on his belly. Gently, he tugged you by the arm down for a kiss, and you took over, slowly stroking him at the odd angle, making him groan into your mouth when you went lower to fondle his sack, his large palm reaching around to trace the curve of your ass before giving it a squeeze.

On occasion, your husband-to-be had the tendency to get caught up in kissing—Javi loved kissing, so when he pulled you forward by your backside, your arms went around his neck for balance, and you welcomed his tongue when it pressed between your lips. His palms slid up your sides to rest on your ribs as he plundered your mouth, your heart hammering in your chest, feeling slick coating your inner thighs. 

The needy ache in your core got worse and worse with every passing minute, finally getting to the point where you had to get him inside you, or there was a chance you were going to combust from the pent-up tension. 

You broke away, his lips chasing yours. 

“I need you,” you panted. 

His eyes met yours, his pupils blown so wide that only a thin sliver of chocolate brown remained. 

“Okay,” he said through heavy breaths with a nod. “I’ve got you, baby. Stand up.” 

You did as he said, watching as he spit on his fingers and rubbed the saliva onto his cock, doing it a couple of times until his entire length glistened in the bright overhead light. 

Once satisfied, his hands were on your upper thighs as he helped you get one leg over his onto the ground beside the chair, then the other to have you standing on either side of him and straddling his hips. Not wasting any more time, you reached between your legs, guiding him to your entrance, and slowly lowered. That first stretch always stole your breath, resting your arms on his freckled shoulders, one of his going around your back to bring you flush to his front, his free hand skating down your back to grip one plump cheek of your ass. 

Javi’s eyes had squeezed shut, his breath hitching, feeling how your walls were having to make space for the girth of him and relishing the slight burn from the lack of foreplay. He wasn’t even halfway in, and you rose until only the tip remained, dropping again to take a little more, doing the same thing over and over, taking more of him each time until he was fully seated inside you. 

The familiar fullness made you smile, a deep sigh leaving you at how good it felt. Your skin was buzzing just below the surface, your body hot all over, sweat beginning to form on your brow, and you were in heaven. 

His face was against your collarbone, his warm breath hitting your skin. “You feel so fucking good,” his voice was muffled, the hand on your ass tightening. “Fuck, te amo (I love you). No sé cuánto tiempo voy a durar (I don’t know how long I'll last). Úsame para hacerte venir (Use me to make yourself come). Úsame, por favor (Use me, please). ¿Puedes hacer eso por mí, Cielito (Can you do that for me, Cielito)? ¿Puedes hacerte sentir bien (Can you make yourself feel good)?” 

“Sí (Yes),” you answered. “Sí, Papí (Yes, Papí).” 

His chest rumbled under you from his groan, a hand coming down on your ass in a sharp slap that made you clench around him. 

“Monta me (Ride me),” he ordered, smacking your backside again. “Monta me duro, mi amor (Ride me hard, my love).” 

Grabbing the hair at the back of his head, you pulled on it as you straightened your spine to make him look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded when they blinked open, while yours narrowed in a glare. 

“Javier, stop smacking my ass,” you hissed. “We have to be quiet, and you better make sure I don’t get too loud.” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. 

“Lo siento, cariño (I’m sorry, sweetheart).” His warm hands rubbed along the sides of your spine. “Prometo, estar más callado y evitar que hagas mucho ruido (I promise, I will be quieter and keep you from making too much noise).”

“Thank you,” you replied, pushing his hair back from his face. Leaning in close, you gave him a gentle peck on his lips and the tip of his nose. “If you come before me, it’s fine—it would probably take me with you, anyway.” 

“Fuck,” he breathed, feeling him twitch inside you. “With how you’re soaking my dick, I think you’ll get off pretty fucking fast.” 

“Probably.” You shrugged and started rolling your hips, watching in delight as his mouth fell open in a moan and his body shuddered. 

His arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand holding your jaw, keeping his eyes locked on yours, your own arm over his shoulder, and free hand caressing the side of his face. Both of you were sharing in the pleasure, your bodies fitting together so perfectly like two puzzle pieces, breathing each other in, losing yourselves in this moment. 

He wanted you to use him to make yourself feel good, so you did. 

Standing made it easy to rise on your legs, sliding up his hard cock to leave only the head and fall back down, thrusting your hips forward on the downstroke to take him to the hilt and make him raggedly groan. 

Heat was blooming in your belly, getting hotter with every second you worked yourself on his dick. He pulled you in for a kiss, and you slowed to a grind, the rough curls at the base of his cock rubbing deliciously against the swollen bud of your clit, adding gasoline to the fire inside you.

Like this, he was in so deep you were sure you could probably feel him if you pressed on your stomach, and you knew if he knew that, he’d be a smug bastard about it, which was valid.

You started moving again, the kissing becoming sporadic as you rode him in earnest, your arousal spilling down his shaft to coat his balls. His fingers were digging into the cheeks of your ass, his arms flexing as he gave you momentum and helped you move. 

The two of you were trying your best to stay quiet and hold back your sounds, Javi’s face flushed and forehead wet with sweat, both unable to keep some noise from slipping out. The loudest sound was between your legs, hearing the wet suck of your slick gushing around him when his dick pushed into your drenched hole. 

Something about fucking in places where there was a chance of getting caught really turned you and him on. Add in, you were told without explicitly being told you weren’t allowed to have sex here, and the higher risk had you rocketing toward your orgasm—Javi was right; you were going to get off quick. 

His hands went to your tits, his thick fingers zeroing in on your pebbled nipples, pinching and rolling them before his mouth's hot, wet heat pulled one stiff peak into his mouth. 

“God, yes,” you moaned, pleasure shooting directly to your cunt as you bounced on his thick cock. 

The muscles in your belly were tightening, adjusting your hips so every time you sunk down, he was pressing into that one spot that dotted your vision with stars, his mouth giving your other breast the same treatment. 

This all felt amazing, but there was something you needed…

“Touch me,” you panted, rising and falling in his lap.

His head popped up, glazed over eyes looking at your face.  

“Anywhere?” he breathily asked, and the question made you stifle a moan. 

“Yes.” 

“I’ll get you there.” And you had no doubt. 

He started with tweaking your wet nipple, roughly pinching it, his other hand going between your bodies to rub his thumb against your sensitive clit, the sensations feeling like electricity arcing up your spine, making your rhythm stutter for a moment—the heat in your stomach was growing and getting hotter, the closer you were to your climax. 

“Hang onto my neck,” he told you.

“What?”

“Lean forward and hold onto my neck.” 

You did as he said, pressing into his front and hanging onto him. 

His hand on your breast moved to cup your bottom, and he adjusted in the seat, grunting as he sat up, the chair creaking beneath him. Your tempo slowed while he continued circling your bundle of nerves with one hand, his other arm reaching around your thigh to spread two fingers around where his cock was impaling you, feeling how he was stretching you open.

“Your tight little pussy takes my dick so well,” he spoke into your breasts with how you were raised up on your feet, his cock halfway inside you. “I swear I was fucking made for you.” 

A moan slipped from your lips unbidden when those same fingers slid through the abundance of your slick on his length and continued up, swiping along the edges of your puckered hole, causing sparks to dance in your center. One thick finger slowly pushed into the tight ring of muscle to the first knuckle, your eyes rolling back in your head and toes curling at the added fullness, biting your lip to keep yourself from making any noise. You worked yourself faster on his dick, tilting your pelvis so he was pressing into all of the right spots, his digit fucking in and out of you at the same pace, it all making you go dizzy with pleasure. 

Your inner walls were fluttering. 

“Come on, baby,” he rasped, not stopping what he was doing. “Once you come, I’m gonna fill you up.” His head lifted. “Gonna fuck you full of me.” He kissed your clavicle, maintaining your pace. “Stuff you so full of my come, I knock you up.” You whimpered and were almost there. “Isn’t that what you want?” His fingers were still circling your clit and pushing in and out of your asshole, your hips rolling on his cock. “For me to finally get you pregnant?” he asked. “I’ll fuck a baby into you, Cielito, all you have to do is ask.” 

And you knew he meant it, the thought entering your mind that you could throw out your birth control today, and odds were he’d have you pregnant by next month—that was what made you crest, sitting all the way down in his lap as you came, your body tensing up tight as euphoria exploded out from your center, spreading through your system. His hand on your front was suddenly over your mouth to smother your loud cry, your body trembling as you slumped into him. 

“Good girl,” his words came out thick and rough. “You’re so good to me.” 

Your chest was heaving, enjoying the aftershocks and the feel of your cunt spasming around his dick that was still hard inside you. 

His hand left your lips to ghost up and down your spine, and he removed the finger from your ass. 

“This baby stuff is getting dangerous,” you sounded drunk, slurring your words, your face in the crook of his neck. 

“What?” 

“Our breeding kinks. You wanna know the thing that fucking got me?” 

“Yeah.” 

Leaning back to look him in the eyes, you told him, “The thought that if I tossed my birth control today, you’d probably have me pregnant by next month.” His cock jerked hard inside you. “I got off on you being fucking virile.” 

His eyes were practically black, licking his lips before he spoke. “We, uh—” He cleared his throat. “—we, uh, could test your theory…?” The hope was there on his face, and it made you feel like utter shit to have to deny him of his dream. This man wanted to be a father so fucking bad, and you more than wanted to make him one. It just wasn’t feasible at this point in time.

You held his face in your hands, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks. 

“Javi, I love you,” you started. “I want to have all of your babies, but as we both know, the apartment is too small for us and a baby. There’s also the whole I want us to be married thing, too.” 

“Pop said we can move in with him while the house is being built, and we’ll be married before a baby is born.” He sounded very sure of himself. 

Your eyebrow lifted. “How are you so positive we’ll be married in less than ten months?” 

He smiled. “Because you pre-accepted my proposal and told me you didn’t want a big wedding.” 

That was something you told him. 

Standing in front of a giant room full of people you actually only knew a fraction of and being the center of attention sounded like a literal nightmare scenario. A tiny wedding with only close friends and family in attendance was something more your speed—hell, eloping seemed like a goddamn dream. 

It hit you then the possibility of how soon the two of you could be married, and excitement bubbled up inside you, doing the first thing that came to mind and kissing him deeply, cradling his smooth cheeks in your palms. His lips were soft and plush, his tongue delving into your mouth with a moan, it turning into one of those kisses that drove you wild. 

You needed to make him feel good. You needed him to feel your love and happiness.

His dick was still throbbing in your pussy, and you started rolling your hips, his hands cupping your backside, keeping you in charge of the rhythm while he assisted in your movements. 

The way he liked it when you were on top was for you to go hard and fast, so you lifted and slammed back down in quick succession. It was slippery between your thighs, his cock sliding easily in and out of your wet heat, the kisses turning messy with how you were moving on him. 

In this position with both of you sitting up, you could get him to come pretty quickly if you sloppily made out with him and occasionally clenched your cunt around his cock; he’d say that was playing dirty if this was a regular romp, but under current circumstances, they were legal maneuvers like how he toyed with your clit and put a finger in your ass. These were all finishing moves that generally only came into play during quickies, though, when he was in the mood to make you come multiple times, he was liberal in their usage—and every time you were about to utilize a move, the fatality screen from Mortal Kombat came to mind, hearing in your brain the announcer say, “Finish Him.” 

His eyebrows were knitted together, and his eyes were closed, the effort he was putting into being quiet causing pitiful whines to escape his throat. He was tense beneath you, every muscle in his body pulled taut like a bowstring close to snapping, and you knew he was almost there, clenching up around him on your downstrokes. 

“‘M close,” he murmured, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your behind and spreading your cheeks while helping you rise and fall.  

“Yeah?” you replied through heavy breaths. “I want you to come for me, Javi.” Your kiss landed on the side of his mouth. “I love you.” This kiss made it onto his lips. “I want to marry you, have your children, and spend the rest of my life with you.” 

He pressed his face into your chest, kissing what he could while you moved up and down—over the tops of your breasts, along your collarbones, up the line of your throat; all the while, he was saying against your skin, “Te amo (I love you). Me voy a casar contigo (I’m going to marry you). Te voy a dar todos los hijos que quieras (I will give you as many children as you want). Voy a pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you). Fuck, te sientes tan bien (you feel so good). Eres perfecta (You’re perfect). No puedo esperar a verte embarazada (I can’t wait to see you pregnant).”  

“Embarazada con tu bebé (Pregnant with your baby),” you panted. 

A strangled noise came from him, shoving his face in your neck to mute it as he pulled you down to completely bury himself inside you. His teeth sunk into the spot where your neck met your shoulder, and you hissed at the pleasurable pain; his dick thickened, feeling it jerk, and the familiar wet pulse of spurts and spurts of his come gushing deep in your depths to fill you. 

You ran your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, his heaving breaths hot against your skin as he soothed over the bite with kisses, your own chest rising and falling rapidly, his arms hugging you close to him. 

The solutions he had so you could have a baby were rolling around in your head, and you wondered if it really would be that easy. 

Chucho would be over the goddamn moon if you guys temporarily moved in with him, and then a baby on top of that? His first nieto (grandchild)? The thing he constantly brought up? Chucho wanted to be a grandfather just as bad as Javi wanted to be a dad, and you knew he’d do anything for you both. 

Why were nerves fluttering around in your belly? You should be ecstatic, but there was a voice in your brain that sounded a lot like your mother pointing out you haven’t even been together a year. For all intents and purposes, you were still in the honeymoon stage of your relationship, and that’d have to end at some point. Would you both still feel the same after a year has passed? Two? Five? Ten? Would he still be as attracted to you after your body changed from pregnancy? 

These questions were stressing you out. 

“Javi?” 

He hummed in reply. 

“You know how you feel about me right now. Do you think you’ll still feel that way in a year?” 

His head came up with his eyebrows pulled together. 

“Yeah?” he answered. 

“What about in two years?” 

He was giving you a look like the answer was obvious. 

“Cielito, I’m gonna love you like this for the rest of my fucking life.” 

Your voice was small, “How can you be sure?” 

His hands had started rubbing comforting circles on your hips, looking at you with a tender gaze. 

“I’m my father’s kid,” he said, “and when we find the person meant for us, that’s it; it’s game over. We dedicate our lives to them, and we love them so fucking deeply we feel it in our souls—this is going to sound stupid, but Pop says we’re penguins.” 

“Penguins?” 

“Yeah, he watched some nature documentary and found out they mate for life—we’re penguins.” 

It made you grin. “That is the absolute cutest shit I have ever heard.” 

He smiled. “I knew you’d like it. Does that make you feel better?” 

“Yes,” you answered truthfully. “We’re mated for life.” 

“Yeah, we are, and I know it’s not gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. We’ll have our ups and downs like all couples do, but there’s no one else I’d rather go through the good and bad with.” The look on his face changed to something unsure. “Do you, uh, think your feelings will change?” 

“I don’t think so. My love for you is so embedded inside me that it sometimes feels like you’ve always been with me, and I just didn’t know. So, I think I’m a penguin, too.” 

He chuckled, leaning in to sweetly kiss you. When his lips left yours, he nuzzled your face. 

“Anything else you need reassurance about?” he gently asked with his nose sliding along yours. 

“Um, the other thing was if you’d still be attracted to my body post-pregnancy…” 

A thing you loved about Javi was how you could basically tell what he was thinking from the expression on his face, and right this second, as he stared at you, he was trying to work out how to politely tell you it was stupid to think he’d find you unattractive after having his baby.

“Are you talking about the body that grew our baby and kept them safe for nine months?” he asked, and yeah, you realized now how dumb it was to think something so absurd. “Yeah, I’m still gonna be attracted to you,” he continued, “the woman I love, who made me a father. I’m not gonna care about stretch marks or if you put on weight or any of the other shit that’ll change. You did something fucking incredible, and honestly, it makes me hard thinking about you being pregnant, so if there are things to remind me of that, I’m probably gonna be all over you constantly. Feel better?” 

That eased your worries. 

“Much.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you. Now, let’s go take a shower.” You started to move, and he stopped you. 

Hope was swirling in his eyes. “Is this a yes to a baby?” 

“This is a maybe on the baby, and we will need to have a long discussion with your father.” 

The smile he gave you was so blinding, you were sure it outshined the sun, a joyous laugh coming from him as he hugged you into his arms and squeezed you tight. 

“I’m so fucking happy.” The emotion was heavy in his voice. “Thank you so much.” He sniffled in your ear. 

Your hands slid over his back. “Don’t thank me yet. It’s not set in stone.” 

He pulled back, his eyes rimmed red, tears falling down his cheeks. 

“No,” he replied. “Thank you for loving me and being with me and wanting to have kids with me. I know it’s not a sure thing, but it’s the fact there’s a chance.” His voice cracked when he said the last word, his shoulders shaking. 

“Oh, babe.” You wrapped your arms around him and held him close to your body. 

This reaction for a maybe made you want to throw all caution to the wind and say fuck it, and just start trying, the rational part of your brain telling you to cool your jets. It was an angel and demon on your shoulders situation, with you leaning toward the baby, and it wasn’t going to help that the two of you would be around children for the next few days. 

The way Javi interacted with Stevie? Almost killed you. He was so sweet, and the child clearly loved him so much it had your ovaries aching. Three days, you were going to have to watch him with the Murphy kids, and you weren’t sure if you were going to survive or keep from throwing your birth control in the trash. 

You had to be strong. 

Javier knew this trip would be important since he was bringing his wif-girlfriend to meet his best friend’s family. He just didn’t expect also to get the news they might be able to start trying for a baby sooner than they had planned. 

Don’t get him wrong, he was excited about having their house built and getting to have a say in the design, but they were looking at twelve to fourteen months before it’d be ready to move into, and he did not want to wait that long to start their family—he was feeling… impatient. He’d already wasted enough of his life, and with him turning fucking forty on Sunday, he’d been plagued with thoughts of how many years he had left above ground. 

A couple of weeks ago, his therapist told him he was having a mid-life crisis, which he scoffed at because he sure as hell wasn’t buying some expensive sports car or chasing women half his age—he outright owned his dependable truck and was more than happy in his amazing and healthy relationship with a woman slightly younger than him. Then the therapist went for his jugular over why he’d begun wrestling with feelings of his mortality and how it started with him planning their trip to Miami and thinking about the Murphys and Cielito. What it boiled down to was he regretted the time he lost to his job and now felt unfulfilled that, at his age, he didn’t have a family of his own like Steve. 

The guy was right, and it annoyed him. 

It gave him a swift kick in the ass to figure out some things, though. 

Like how he went out to his dad’s last Tuesday after work to have a beer with him and ask if he was serious about them living with him if they were ever expecting and their home was still under construction—he said yes, and told Javier when Cielito eventually got pregnant he was planning to turn the guest bedroom into a nursery anyway. 

There was also the ring box he rolled up in a pair of socks tucked away at the bottom of the duffle bag he brought.  

He was ready to make some big changes, and by the end of this trip, he hoped more than anything he’d have a fiancée. 

After he got all of his happy tears out, they kissed and got off of the chair to take a shower, stopping on the way for her to grab her toiletry bag from her luggage. 

They washed each other and stole kisses, his hands wandering over her soapy skin with her giggles echoing in the stall. It didn’t take them very long to finish, going through their after-shower routines to get dry and do their hair. They changed into clean clothes, and he put on a lavender-colored button-up and some jeans, his eyes glued to her ass in the high-waisted denim shorts she was wearing as she bent over to put on her socks. He found himself closing the distance in two long strides to grab her hips, carefully bumping and rubbing the front of his pants against her backside. 

“Are you seriously humping me while I put on my socks?” 

He frowned. “I’m not humping you. You’d know if I was humping you.” 

“Fine. Are you seriously grinding on me while I put on my socks?”

“Maybe…”

She finished what she was doing, her socked feet planted on the floor, standing back up and turning in his arms. 

There was an exasperated look on her face as she smiled. “You’re so fucking ridiculous.” Her arms went around his neck. 

“They’re nice shorts,” he replied, making her laugh when he grabbed handfuls of her ass.

“Well, you’ll be excited to know I only brought shorts and leggings.”

He smirked. “I’m very excited about that.”

“Good. Have we been in here long enough that they’ll believe we showered and napped?”

Checking his watch, he answered, “We’ve been in here about an hour, so I think we’re in the clear.”

The look on her face shifted to something nervous. 

“Do you think we made too much noise?” 

For her comfort, he slid his hands up and down her sides. 

He’d never lie to her, so he told her the truth. “They’re on the opposite side of the house, and between them and us is their master bathroom that’s on the other side of that wall—” He pointed at the wall next to the door to the guest room’s en suite. “—then their walk-in closet, their big fucking bedroom, and finally you’d end up in the kitchen. Unless they used their bathroom or came down the hall to check on the boys, which I doubt because they have the baby monitors, I don’t think they heard anything.” 

“You’re sure?” 

The smile on his face was reassuring. “Yes. I’m not lying, Cielito.” 

She let out a breath, and her body seemed to relax. “Okay, fingers crossed they didn’t hear anything. Let’s head out there.” 

“Bésame antes de irnos, por favor (Kiss me before we go, please),” he said, puckering his lips.

“So polite.” She leaned in to kiss him.

When they separated, he took her hand, leading her out to find his friends. 

They found Steve in the actual living room they used at the back of the house, having to walk through the kitchen and dining room to get to it. There was a massive brown leather sofa in the middle of the room, Steve’s recliner next to it, a coffee table, and a decent-sized television in their entertainment center against the wall in front of the couch that had an abundance of VHS movies aimed towards children, and it looked like Connie had cleaned up after the boys, all of their toys put away in their toy box or back in their designated spots in the part of space designated for the kids. 

Walking in, they were behind the sofa, seeing Steve was watching ESPN and the highlights of a basketball game from the previous night between the Chicago Bulls and Orlando Magic, a beer held in his hand. 

His head turned toward them, his lips turning up in a shit-eating grin. “How’d y'all sleep on the bed?” 

Javier’s eyes narrowed. “Like babies.” 

Cielito moved to stand beside him in his friend’s view. 

Steve sputtered into laughter, and Javier frowned at the sudden outburst. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” the other man finally said. “Matching shirts?” He looked over at his future wife and her V-neck that was the same lavender color as his, he matched out of habit—all the shirts he brought had counterparts to what she had in her luggage. It was their thing. His friend wiped at his eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with my asshole of a best friend?”

“I don’t see what the big deal is about us matching,” he replied, crossing his arms. “So what if we like to look good together? Where’s Connie?” 

“Doing laundry.” He nodded toward the door that led to the laundry room, and as if she were summoned, it opened, and she came in holding a large basket full of clothes against her hip with one arm. 

“Oh, great!” she exclaimed. “You’re up!” She paused after shutting the door. “Be honest with me, how bad is the bed? If you can’t sleep on it, I’ll pull out the air mattress.” 

Just the thought of sleeping on an air mattress made Javier’s body ache.  

“It’s pretty squeaky,” Cielito answered. “But we’ll survive. It’s seriously okay.” She waved away the concern.

“If you’re sure.”

Sounds started coming from the baby monitors on the coffee table, Stevie and Nate both in their separate bedrooms calling for their mom.

“Oh,” Connie said. “Looks like the boys are up. I’ll go put the laundry in our bedroom and get them.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Connie,” Javier told her. “I’ll get them.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s not a problem.” His head turned to the woman next to him. “Do you want to come with me or stay out here?” 

She smiled at him. “I’m sure you can use an extra set of hands—I’ll come with.” 

He nodded with a matching look, taking her hand once more and guiding her back to the hallway where the bedrooms were located. 

First, they stopped in Nate’s room, finding the tiny boy standing at the railing of his crib, crying for his mom. 

“Oh, mi precioso (my precious),” Javier cooed, quickly making his way over and scooping the child up. He held him on his hip, bouncing a little while rubbing his back. “You’re okay, buddy. Shhh, you’re okay. We’ll go see your mom in just a minute.” Turning to look at Cielito, she had a soft expression on her face. “Baby?” She was just staring, and it made him grin. “Mi amor (My love)?” 

She visibly jolted. “Sorry. Yes. Did you say something?”  

“Was trying to get your attention. I need to change his diaper. Do you wanna go get Stevie?” 

“I can get Stevie, yes,” she answered, nodding. “Be right back.” Immediately, she turned and left the room.

Nate had calmed down and wasn’t crying anymore, murmuring mom over and over again with his hand in his mouth. 

“That was your ​​tía (aunt),” he informed the little one as he walked him over to the changing table. “I know you can keep a secret,” he whispered, laying the child on the cushioned top. “I’m gonna propose to her tomorrow.” Grabbing a clean diaper and the wipes from the shelf underneath, he went about changing the toddler. “I figured out how I’m gonna do it last weekend,” he continued talking, his hands working. “So, she’s gonna be your tía, and hopefully soon you’ll have some primos (cousins).” He tossed the dirty diaper into the lidded bin he opened with the foot pedal, the kid now in a clean one as Javier buttoned back up his turquoise onesie with a sleeping long-eared, white, spotted dog on it.  

“Who’s that?” Came his soon-to-be fiancée’s voice from the doorway. He turned his head to see her holding the other boy in her arm while she pointed at him with a smile. 

“Tío!” Stevie shouted, grinning. “Tío and Nate!”

Javier picked up the younger of the two children and smiled. 

“That’s right, buddy,” he said, turning toward them. “Who’s holding you?” 

The three-year-old pressed his finger against Cielito’s chest. “Tía!”

“Good job!” He was close to them now, affectionately ruffling the kid’s dirty blonde hair with his hand and making him laugh. “You’re so smart.” 

Stevie held out his arms to Javier, and he quickly took him in his free arm, both boys sitting comfortably on each of his hips.

“Oh, no,” his future wife breathed, staring at him with wide eyes. 

Concern was etched on his brow. “What?” 

“My ovaries feel like they’re gonna explode.”

“Is that a bad thing…?” He wasn’t sure. 

“For my self-control? Yes. For you getting that thing you want really bad? No.” 

“What thing do I want…?” 

Her answer was to point at Nate, and his heartbeat stuttered, sucking in a breath.

This meant she really was contemplating them not waiting to have a baby, and it made hope swell in his chest. He didn’t want to be an asshole and deliberately wear down her resolve. Still, he also couldn’t control how he usually interacted with the Murphy kids, which apparently was getting to her—it made him happy that she was so affected by him being great with the children. He was beginning to think this trip was going to show her that he’d be a decent father.

He didn’t have a chance to respond, hearing from down the hall in the living room, Olivia shouting, “Is he here?!”

She must’ve just gotten home from school. 

“Sissy’s home!” Stevie exclaimed. 

“It sounds like she is,” Javier replied. “Let’s go see her.” He looked at Cielito. “Ready to meet the oldest?” 

“Yep.” 

Running footsteps could be heard as they made their way out of the room, his wif-girlfriend behind him on their journey toward the sound of voices. The young girl seemed to have run to where her father was in the living room because she came speeding back through the dining room that connected it to the front sitting area and finally found them. 

“Tío!” Olivia had a big grin, missing a couple of baby teeth in the front, throwing her arms around his middle when she reached him, hugging him hard. 

“Hola, mi sobrina (Hi, my niece). Lo siento, no tengo brazos para abrazarte en este momento (I’m sorry, I don’t have arms to hug you right now).”

Steve and Connie felt that Olivia should learn Spanish and had enrolled her in after-school classes for it since she first started going to school. Her dad’s Spanish was shit, and her mom’s wasn’t much better, so any time she needed help with homework she’d call Javier.  

“Está bien (It’s okay). Estoy feliz que estás aquí (I’m happy you’re here).”

Connie was walking up, having come from the kitchen. Nate immediately reached toward her and chanted Mom.

“I’m here, baby,” she said, taking him from Javier and returning to where she’d been. 

With a hand free, he patted Olivia’s back. 

“Hi, Sissy!” Stevie greeted. 

“Hi, Stevie,” she replied. 

“¿Cómo te fue en la escuela (How was school)?” Javier asked the nine-year-old. 

She let go of him to look up and meet his eyes. 

“Bien (Good). Aprendí sobre (I learned about), ¿cómo se dice dinosaurs (how do you say dinosaurs)?”

“Los dinosaurios. ¿Qué te enseñaban sobre los dinosaurios (What did they teach you about dinosaurs)?”

“Oh, my teacher wasn’t teaching us about dinosaurs today,” she said, switching to English. “I don’t know what she was teaching.” The girl shrugged. “I was too busy reading this book I got in the library about dinosaurs.”

He smiled. 

“Which dinosaur is your favorite?” 

“Triceratops! They could take on T-Rexes. I want to look for dinosaur fossils when I’m older!”

“You want to be a paleontologist?” 

She looked confused. “What’s a pale—a palien-tol-gist?”

“Paleontologist,” he said slower. “They’re scientists who study fossils.” 

“Yes, I want to do that!” She nodded enthusiastically. 

“Sissy!” Stevie loudly called, bouncing in Javier’s hold. “Sissy!” 

“Yes, Stevie?” 

“Tía’s gonna make cookies with me!” 

Confusion was on her face again. “Tía?” 

It made him realize he hadn’t introduced the young girl to his other half. 

“Yes, your tía,” Javier told her and moved the toddler from one arm to the other so he could wrap the free one around Cielito’s waist. “Olivia, I want you to meet the woman I’ve told you about who I’m gonna marry.” He introduced her to Cielito. 

“Oh! Cielito!” She looked over at the older woman. “Hi!” She waved.

Cielito was smiling. “Hi,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I wanna make cookies! What kind?”

“Chocolate chip.” 

“My favorite!” 

“Mine, too.” 

“Cookies!” Stevie shouted, making Javier snort and his future wife giggle. 

“Better head to the kitchen,” Javier said. 

“Yeah,” Cielito responded. “Let’s all go make cookies. You too, Olivia.” 

“Yes!” The girl did little jumps of excitement. 

In the kitchen, they found the ingredients for the cookies waiting for them on the counter, Connie having already gotten them out along with measuring cups and spoons, a large bowl, and an electric hand mixer. Hands were washed, including Stevie’s, who had a little stool to stand on so he could help as well as a toddler could. 

Cielito entranced the children as she walked them through step by step how to make the cookie dough, and Javier left the room for only a minute to run to the bedroom and grab his camera. 

She had Stevie in front of her on the stool, holding the toddler’s little hand to help him scoop the flour and sugar into the bowl, and Olivia next to her. She showed the young girl how to crack the eggs, and when they got to adding the chocolate chips, they all took handfuls to snack on—and through it all, Javier took pictures, getting candids of them laughing and others where he asked them to look and smile at him, Stevie always grinning big and saying cheese. 

Baking with a three-year-old was chaotic with how he wanted to touch and get into everything, but Cielito handled it like a champ and had the patience of a saint. 

It all had him thinking about their future, easily picturing her doing this same thing with their own kids. It reminded him of how some of his favorite memories growing up were cooking with his mom, and it made his eyes burn that his children would get to have similar experiences.

What he has known, and was being proven right, was he’s found his perfect match and the person he was supposed to spend his life with. 

From the moment he met her, there was something about her, some kind of pull—he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and as he got to know her, she engulfed him, and he fell hard. After their first date, on his drive home, he experienced something new: he imagined what his future would look like with her in it. A lifetime played out in his mind of them dating, getting engaged, married, buying a house, getting a dog, and he’d never felt so much hope before. 

He didn’t think he had a chance in hell to make it a reality. He was positive he’d fuck it up before the third date. 

By some miracle, he didn’t. 

When he thought about those first few dates, the second was when he fell in love with her—that was when he knew she was it. By the third date, he knew he was going to marry her. 

A thing about Javier was when he put his mind to something, he got it done, and he didn’t like to waste time—this evidently also included relationships. He fucked up when he said he’d propose on their anniversary because there was no way he was going to be able to wait that long—and he cracked quicker than an egg hitting a wall. 

How could he not when she was so perfect?

Life was dull before her, empty; he always felt like something was missing. She was what was missing, filling that space inside him, turning everything vibrant and lively. There were an infinite number of ways their lives could’ve played out, and he knew in every single one the path he chose would always lead him back to her—they were meant to find each other. 

His love for her burned brighter than the brightest star in the night sky, and she was a part of him now—he could feel her burrowed deep down in his bones to the point there was no him without her any longer. She was his first and the only love of his life; there was no one before, and there wouldn’t be anyone after because she was the one for him. 

And when he held her, he held the entire world in his arms. 

She was his world. 

She was everything. 

And in less than twenty-four hours, she would hopefully say yes when he asked a particular question while holding a ring. 

Until then, he’d try to stay calm while watching her interact with his friend’s kids and ignore how his chest was filled with so much happiness he thought it might burst. These glimpses of what she’ll be like as a mother were driving him crazy, and it was taking everything in him not to haul her back to the bedroom and show her how much he loved it—they couldn’t, anyway, with the kids wanting to spend time with them and the damn bed. Fucking Steve.

He didn’t want to rile himself up, so he’d do his best to avoid thinking about her being the mother of his children or how earlier she said maybe to a baby.

Who was he kidding? It was all he could think about, and he was dying to get her alone.

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin @themarcusmoreno @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @enjoyourlattebitch @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @theewokingdead @guess-my-next-obsession @pedrostories @deadhumourist

[magics-neptunes-things]

Fire and Ice 2

Hi guys!

Here is the part 2 of Fire and Ice, I try to pick a suggestion an anon made yesterday so I hope it will be fun to read :)

And it’s actually much longer than I imagined at first.

Keep telling me what you think about my writing, I love to read you.

Enjoy!

PART 1 ______________________________________________________________

The next time you saw Leah was two days after your kiss. She was kind of moody, all the team was supposed to take the team picture and the weather wasn't really nice.

Even if you didn’t stop thinking about this kiss, you didn’t try to talk to her. Or at least you didn't do anything else than creep every picture on her Instagram or the firsts videos of her TikTok. And the more you find yourself watching these videos, the more you fall in love with Leah. The way you felt during this kiss is always present and you just have to think about it to feel them again. It never happened to you before and you don't know what to do about it.

Arriving the last ones with Alessia, with whom you make the trips to the stadium, you don't have the courage to go and greet everyone. You just smile and wave, but your gaze lingers for a few more seconds on Leah. With her umbrella, she seems to complain to a Lia who have an amused look on her side.

After this day you didn't really have the opportunity to see her. However, what you don't know is that she sometimes observes you from the physio center where she continues to follow her exercises to return to the field with you. Despite the tinted windows, she sometimes has the impression that you feel her gaze on her given the way you turn in her direction.

**************

The next time you really have the opportunity to see her, it's for the next team evening. This time it was organized by Lia and you gladly accept when she ask you to come over. You managed to sit on the sofa with direct look to the kitchen where Leah is, in the middle of a discussion with two or three other teammates, allowing you to look at her without it being too obvious. This will not stop you from getting caught by Leah herself watching her, several times. But each time you just smile at her before looking away, without even taking the time to check that she gives it back to you.

Pizza were eaten and the first film finished when Beth and Katie approach you with a big smile, sitting each on either side of you. You were talking with Frida about Norway, you missed your country a little bit, but your conversation was quickly stopped. From the corner of your eye, you notice that Leah sits down more straight on the other sofa, a look of frustration on her face.

"So!" Katie begin as you raise an eyebrow at here "We made you a Tinder account."

"You what?"

To be honest, you really thought they’d forgotten about you meeting someone. The subject hadn't been discussed since and you didn't even think to tell Frida about it, the kisses you exchanged with Leah making you forget what else had happened during this evening.

"What’s all this about?" Frida asked with a deep frown, taking her role of big sister a little too much at heart.

"Well, Y/N is single, young, cute and really hot. She need to find someone to take care of her and give her the love she deserved" Beth answers, like it was the most logical thing ever.

You whispers something about the love of god on your mother language, hiding your face behind your hand.

"Told you it was stupid of you" Leah mumble from her couch.

You look at her between your fingers, but you are quickly interrupted by Beth who removes your hand from your face to show you her phone screen.

"Look!" she says happily while you take it in your hand.

Tinder was open on your profile and you look at what they might have written or said about you.

"Where did you find this picture?" you asked, as it was one you take from your last summer holiday.

"Google, i think. Dunno" Katie shrugs.

"I'm single and ready to mingle. Really?"

Beth and Katie both laughs as you roll your eyes, giving Beth's phone back. You’re trying to take this lightly, even if you must admit that it makes you a little uncomfortable. If the information that a profile in your name is on a application like this comes to your parents, you’re not sure you can handle their questions. Frida, on the other hand, seems rather suspicious and a glance at Leah informs you that she's still looking at the scene with a gloomy face.

"And it's not finish! We already managed to arrange two dates for you. We didn't know which kind of girl you like, so we take a brunette and a blonde. You just have to cancel the one you don't like."

You remain completely amazed this time, simply not knowing what to answer. It was Leah who did it for you, getting up from the couch, too angry to stay on the couch.

"This is some bullshit, making up a date from Tinder? What are you looking to? Get her murdered to get her place on the team?"

"She's right" Frida add, frowning. "I don't want to find her in the news, other than for her athletic talents."

"You both are overreacting. She will be safe" Katie shrugs.

"Blond or brunette?" Beth asks you, ignoring the others.

Your gaze flies away for a split second towards Leah, before you respond in a whisper that you prefer blondes.

**************

A few days later, you find yourself at the date that you haven't planned at all, clearly not totally comfortable with the girl that your teammates have selected for you. She realized very fast that the way you talk isn't the same that it was on the application, so you confessed the truth. It didn’t seem to bother her, but rather to amuse her. After your meal at the restaurant, she offered to continue the evening in a bar a little further down the street and you agreed. You can’t deny people things.

You’re having a hard time concentrating on what she’s telling you, stupidly excited about something else. One little thing, too. But Leah did a post last night on your last game and in her photo drop she posted one of you accompanied by a goat emoji and a crown. And it gives you far too much pleasure for it to be innocent. But again, Emma, who seems to be particularly the kind to forgive people, doesn’t seem to pay much attention to it.

Speaking of attention, you haven't shown much either since you didn't realize that the woman who has been haunting your thoughts for almost three weeks is actually a few meters from you.

Leah managed to snatch the name of the restaurant you were supposed to meet Emma from Beth and simply decided to take you as a fillature. Officially to watch over you and make sure nothing happens to you. Unofficially because she’s mad as hell just thinking about the stupid idea of her two friends. Like you need a Tinder date to meet someone.

As she watches you talking to that damn blonde, she tries to determine the real reasons why she came here. Because the truth is, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your kiss either. And it annoys her like crazy, but after trying to ignore you for almost two weeks, these idiots of Beth and Katie decided to throw you in the arms of the first person coming.

And even though she’s consumed with jealousy to see you so comfortable with Emma, unlike what you’ve never been with her, Leah can’t help but feel satisfied seeing you get lost in your thoughts sometimes as Emma talks. Emma can certainly not realize it since she doesn't know you, but Leah has been watching you for two weeks and can now determine the different expressions of your face.

She followed you to the bar discreetly, there also satisfied to see the physical distance that you put between you two while you were walking. She saw the way Emma tried to grab your arm to walk and the skillful way you went away, while remaining polite. It reassured her a little, too, proving that despite your shyness you can say no.

The bar you chose doesn’t have a very good reputation (something you don't know) and Leah is happy to have followed you, just in case. The crowd being denser than in the restaurant, she sometimes loses sight of you from her table while you are installed in the bar with Emma. She isn't disturbed on her side, her icy look sufficient to keep away any human being having a little common sense.

**************

The discussion with Emma is rather light, but not transcendent either. She seems rather kind and it makes you a little sad not to be able to give her the attention she probably deserves. But you can’t help but think about Leah and it makes you half crazy. While you and Emma were walking down the street, you were wondering, for example, where would Leah have preferred to take you after the restaurant instead of listening to Emma talk about her work.

"I'm going to the bathroom" you say right after you order your second drink.

On your way to the toilet, you take the opportunity to take a look at your phone and send a message to Frida and Alessia to inform them that you are still alive. And you end up on Leah’s Instagram page, pouting when you see she doesn’t post anything. When you return, you inform Emma that after you finish your drink you will go home. You’re getting tired and the heat at the bar doesn’t help you feel better.

She takes it with a smile, not even asking if you will be able to see each other again next time. It makes you hope a little that she realized that you didn’t necessarily have sparks between both of you. Perhaps she could become a friend, but certainly not a love interest.

"Are you all right?" Emma asks you frowning a few minutes later.

With your eyes closed, you shake your head negatively, using all your strength of mind not to fall off your stool. Your head turns atrociously and you have the impression that the food you ingested a few hours earlier is just waiting to come out.

"Bathroom" is the only word you managed to say.

You try to get up, but it’s only Emma’s hand catching your arm that keeps you from falling. It's no longer your head that turns, but the whole room while the sounds of conversations or atmosphere of the bar reach you as if you had your head under the water.

"Come with me, I'll help you ok?" Emma tells you nicely by helping you to the bathroom.

As you reach the door, a voice intervenes and you must focus to understand what it says.

"Let her go. Now."

"Who are you?"

The unknown voice doesn't respond, but you feel much more toned and assertive arms seize your waist, rather delicately though. A fresh, pleasant hand lands on your forehead and only then that you recognize the smell of Leah’s perfume. The white fear that gripped her voice prevented you from recognizing her.

Hardly opening your eyes, blinded by the light of the toilet, you only see two babyblue eyes before sinking definitively.

**************

When you regain consciousness, despite your closed eyes, it only takes you a few seconds to remember what just happened. Opening your eyes abruptly, you suddenly sit in the bed in which you are. You’ve read too many stories that end badly because of drugs ingested without consent.

"Wow, slow down cowboy"

Leah get up from the chair next to you, lightly pushing your elbow to make you lie down again.

"Leah? What are you doing here? Wha- What happened to me?"

"It's ok sweatheart. You're safe. Breath, ok?"

Leah doesn't answer your question but the pet name she gave you make you forget this point. The softness of the tone she just used and her hand that delicately releases your hair from your face causes you like electric mini-currents throughout all your body. Is it normal to react like that to such a banal gesture?

But the black hole in your memory continues to torment you, you need to know.

"Do you know what happened to me?" you ask quietly, raising your eyes on her.

Leah bites her lips and you imagine already the worst, but she doesn't let the suspense remain too long.

"They think someone put something in your glass. Your girlfriend swore it wasn’t her, so they’ll look for who it might be. Even if you decide not to press charges the bar did so then they will look anyway. But no one touch you, I promise."

"She's not my girlfriend" you mumble, sinking yourself in the pillow.

"Whatever" Leah grumble, pulling the chair next to your bed to be near you.

"What are you doing here Leah?" you ask again, looking at her.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Of course not. You’ve never been alone with her in a room so long and you’re secretly thrilled that she’s here to take care of you. You’re worried about her leaving.

"No"

A few seconds of silence passed after your answer, to which Leah replied only with a nod, before returning to speak.

"I followed you"

You did not expect this answer and your head turns so sharply in her direction that Leah doesn't have time to hide her slight red cheeks.

"Why?"

"I'm your captain. I’m supposed to look after you."

You nod, a little disappointed with this answer. Your eyes continue to scan Leah’s face, who always seems to refuse to look at you. After a few seconds of hesitation, you gently place your hand on hers. You notice with relief that she doesn't remove it, despite her look on your hands.

"It's weird"

"What?" you ask, frowning.

Her eyes plunge into yours and you find yourself breathless in front of so much intensity.

"The way you make me feel"

You feel your heart miss a beat, before it start beating way too fast. You swallow your saliva but suddenly find yourself unable to say a word.

"Don't tell me you didn't feel anything when we kissed Y/N. I can't stop to think about it. I can't stop looking at you even if I don't want to because that's fucking scare me. I never fell this way before, even though I didn’t kiss almost two hundred people like Beth implied the other night. I mean, of course I noticed you because like Katie said, it’s hard not to. But we never really talked, and now I’m just thinking about you all the time. It doesn’t fucking make sense."

You're stunned, one more time. But Leah has been honest with you and you owe her the truth, too.

"You impressed me. That’s why I never really came to talk to you. I was afraid you might think I was stupid or immature."

"You used the past. Does that mean you don’t think I’m impressive anymore?" Leah asks you with a smirk.

Despite everything you can't help but smile slightly.

"No. I feel it even stronger, because you’re not the only one who has those kisses in mind all the time. I didn’t know you felt the same way."

Your heart keeps beating fast and you are relieved not to have a heart rate displayed on a machine, nothing would have been more embarrassing than that.

Leah’s gaze scans your face and you take the opportunity to do the same, admiring her features more openly than ever.

"Would it be inappropriate to kiss you now?"

Smiling softly, you respond negatively with a nod. You didn’t think your heart could pick up its pace again when you realized that Leah is approaching your face. Very slowly, allowing you to largely anticipate what will happen.

A breath escapes from your mouth when her lips ghost yours.

"Stay still" she whispers.

And you need all your strength of concentration to lie down and not break the last millimeters between your lips. But eventually it happens, Leah’s lips gently settling on yours. With the tip of your thumb, you caress her cheek for the few seconds that the kiss lasts.

It may have been a simple kiss and not a session of long making out, but the fireworks are back. You find yourself immersed in the blue of Leah’s eyes when you open yours again, shining with the same light you saw when you were at her home.

"I want more" you whispers and she smiles.

Delicately, you draw her with you on your bed and she willingly lets herself be guided.

You’re the one who initiates the next kiss, now that you know you have the right to do it. The sensations you find on her lips make you feel like you can breathe completely again. You spend a few moments rediscovering her lips, before sliding the tip of your tongue on her lower lip. You take advantage of Leah’s moan to slide your tongue into her mouth, starting a playful battle to determine which of the two will win.

When you separate from her to catch your breath, you feel her chasing your lips for a new kiss that you cannot refuse her. The truth is you don’t want this moment to end. But this eventually happens when a nurse enters the room right after knocking. Leah detaches herself from you to cast a bad look at the professional who blushes like a tomato.

"Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t know…" she stammers and you have to bite your lips not to burst out laughing.

"What do you need?" asked Leah coldly.

"I just came to check that everything was fine"

"I’m fine, thank you" you answer with a smile, not to traumatize this poor nurse.

She nods and waits a few more seconds without moving, requiring a steady look from Leah with both eyebrows raised so that she gets out of the room, apologizing again.

"Stop impressing people" you smile, gently smacking her shoulder.

Leah turns her attention to you with a smirk and lays a softer kiss on your lips this time. Laughing softly at the visible disappointment on your face, she wraps a strand of your hair around her finger.

"As much as I would literally spend the rest of my day kissing you, I would like to make things clear right now"

"Ok?" you answer, feeling the anxiety slowly coming back.

You push yourself to the side of the bed to let Leah settle next to you, which she does by lying on the side her head supported by her hand.

"I know I’m not easy, I’m unpredictable, and sometimes I have trouble myself figuring out why I’m reacting like this. I am unbearable when it comes to food. I am jealous but I hate being so sometimes I pout for like two days without succeeding in explaining why. I’m really not the perfect girlfriend, every time I wanted to surprise someone it went wrong."

You don’t say anything, listening to Leah talking about herself, maybe not in the best way, wondering where she wants to go by telling you all this.

"But I think I’m a caring person, who knows how to take care of those she loves and remember things. I love cuddling in the morning, singing like crazy while burning my breakfast and taking baths. And I think I’ll love all these things even more if you share them with me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a relationship, but I want to try with you. I promise you to never hurt you. Let me get this right and let me take you on a date as soon as you get out of here."

"I would love that, Leah"

"Yes?"

"Yes" you answer, your smile illuminating your face.

She smiles back and you lean for another kiss. Leah doesn’t let you, however, putting an index on your lips at the last moment.

"One last thing"

"What?" you ask, hiding your frustration.

"I never want to hear about this damn Emma again."

You laugh while rolling your eyes. Despite her, Leah smiles softly and finally decides to interrupt your laughter by kissing you.