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#I’m bad at spacing out my posts :P

leapdayowo · 1 year

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Goop!wally au

Joke book (1/3)

After Barnaby had a good spook from their first encounter, he realized Wally was pretty harmless and curious. Maybe he found a new person to test his jokes on!

#welcome home #welcome home au #goop!wally au #wally darling #barnaby beagle #I’m bad at spacing out my posts :P #Lots of stuff due for school but I plotted out all the key things for this au #and zoned out multiple times while thinking of new stuff to include #mostly fluff #puns #traditional art

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lokis-army-77 · 7 months

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A New Purchase

Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.6k

When you come home only to discover your boyfriend has bought something completely ridiculous.

Warning: 18+. p in v, riding.

Here's the little thing we talked about the other day @munson-blurbs @lofaewrites @chrissymjstan @hellfire--cult (it isn't as good as I think it could be but oh well)

Masterlist

Eddie was almost giddy with excitement when he saw the Facebook marketplace posting. The aluminum body was a bit rusted and the inside fabric was also questionably stained but hey it was a decoration for three hundred dollars and local pickup, hell yes, he was buying it.

The only thing Eddie didn’t realize was that it wasn’t a small decoration. No… it was real and he had no clue where he was going to store it until Halloween. Then came the brilliant idea of testing it out. He only wanted to know what it would be like to lie there, how comfortable would it be?

That’s how you came to find Eddie lying in a casket in the middle of your living room.

Walking through the door you stop suddenly, as the small walkway between the wall and the back of the couch is blocked. Eddie is lying there, eyes closed and hands crossed over his chest.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing?”

He can’t help the grin that paints his once stoic features. He squints open his eyes as he begins to laugh. “I’m testing out my new purchase. Do you like it?”

You sigh and whip your hand over your face, shaking your head. “What on Earth possessed you to buy a casket? Wait, hang on, where did you buy a casket?”

He sits up, resting an arm on the side, and goes into his explanation. “You are never gonna believe it, fucking Facebook Marketplace. It was so cheap and to be honest I thought it was a fake one that would have been maybe a foot or two tall but nope. Imagine my surprise when I get to this guy's house and he rolls this baby out. He slaps the side panel for emphasis. He even threw in the church trucks for free so it would be really easy to move around.”

You just chuckle and shake your head. “Okay, then why did you buy it?”

“I figured we could use it to decorate for Halloween and also because when I saw it was actually real I just had to test it out. Take it for a test drive before I actually do kick the bucket.” He said it so seriously like it was the most obvious reason in the world.

“Eddie, really?”

“Oh, come on babe, like you’ve never thought about laying down in one of these bad boys.”

“Contrary to what you might believe, no, no I haven't.”

Eddie reaches out then, making a child-like gesture of opening and closing his hand. You walk forward and curl your fingers around his. “Switch places with me, see how it feels.”

“No, I’m not getting in there.” You laugh.

“Why not? Do you really want the first time you experience this to be when you’re dead? You won’t even know if it's uncomfortable or not.” He pulls you forward even more.

“Eddie no-”

“Come on… If you won’t switch then get in with me.”

You give in, sighing playfully as you bend down and crawl into the cramped casket. Eddie tries his best to shift over so you have space, but the area inside is only so big and definitely was never intended for two.

You both are laughing when your knee suddenly loses its steadiness, atop the thin, almost non-existent padding layered over the metal bottom, and slides out from under you and you fall on top of Eddie’s chest with an “oomph”. You look up and you catch a glint in his eye as they darken just a bit.

It’s a familiar look, one that he has given you so many times no matter the situation or surroundings. A look that he knows you will give into.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You plead with him, knowing where this will end.

Eddie looks at you, eyebrows raised in faux confusion. “I’m not looking at you in any particular way, Sweetheart.”

You slap his chest playfully. “Eddie you are giving me your ‘I want sex’ eyes and I am not going to, not here.”

“Baby,” He wines. “Come on. It’ll be sexy. We could even role-play as vampires.”

“No-”

“Please.” Eddie reaches his hand to cup your cheek, pleading softly as he brings his face closer to yours. You are trying to fight it but you know you can’t and Eddie knows too. As soon as he looked at you with those sultry brown eyes, you were plyant in his grasp.

When his lips press into yours, you sigh, relaxing into him. Your fingers curl into his shirt and you inch up, caging his hips between your thighs. It hasn’t even been thirty seconds from when the kiss started and you can already feel him hardening under you.

Pulling away, you mumble into him, lips barely touching. “Does it really turn you on thinking of fucking here?”

Eddie nods and surges forward to reconnect your mouths. His tongue flits past your lips and finds its way inside, caressing your own.

You're barely-there resolve crumbles as you begin to roll your hips into him. You can feel his hard length as you grind, his breath catches in his throat.

"Fuck baby," he mumbles against your lips. "Need to feel you around me."

There is a heat coursing through you, clouding your mind as your fingers begin to unbutton his pants.

Eddie is eager, his hips press up into your hands, pushing you to free him faster. The blue cotton of his boxers has turned a deeper color in a small spot where the head of his cock rests, the precum there being soaked up by the cloth.

You slide a nail up his covered shaft and a great shiver overtakes his body under you. "Don't tease me- please."

A chuckle bubbles out of you. "But that's the fun part."

Eddie just whimpers in response.

You begin pushing your fingers past the elastic waistband. You pull the fabric down and bring your other hand up to help situate both his pants and boxers down to his mid-thigh.

His cock springs forward and you can't help the feeling of absolute lust coursing through your veins. You need him inside you, now.

You silently thank your past self for deciding to wear a dress today. In your need, you don't think you would be able to wrangle yourself out of a pair of pants.

Firmly you take Eddie's cock into your hand. He hisses at the new pressure you ar editing him.

"Fuck baby, just like that." His hips jump into your touch.

"Gonna let me fuck myself on you? Gonna let me take what I want?"

Eddie only nods. Words have left him as he stares into your sultry gaze.

You begin to stroke him, up and down, spreading the stickiness leaking from his tip with your thumb.

Then, you begin to scoot up his body. Hovering over him. Eddie watches in awe as you take him up in one hand and move your panties over with the other. A slow moan releases itself from your as you begin to sink down on him.

Eddie's cock was perfect. It always felt so good to be wearied around him, his head pushing deeper into you.

Both of your breathing is labored. You try to keep yourself calm, you don't want to rush into riding him, you want to take your time making each of you feel wonderful. Eddie. On the other hand, is trying not to combust as he lays there and watches.

The way your dress is hiked up around your beautifully, thick thighs, how his cock disappears into you, surrounded by a curly thatch of hair.

God he loved you. It was the only way to explain why his heart was beating out his chest.

You groan as you feel him entering you. There is a slight burn as you stretch around him. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. Eddie starts to make choked noises and his hands reach out to grab you. His fingers grip your hips, helping you grind into him. Your own hands grasp at his covered stomach.

There was an ache building as you moved. Low in the depth of your stomach and it began to grow. The more you fucked yourself onto Eddie the more the ache was felt. IT had you clenching down around him. You cunt milking his cock of everything he could give you.

Eddie’s hands caress your body. When his fingertips touch skin, it's like an electric shock goes through you.

“Eddie-” You moan.

“I know, love.” He mummers.

“Can feel you so deep.” You grind harder, shivering as your clit rubs against his pubic bone. “Need more.”

“Yeah? Take it, baby, take anything you want.”

You catch Eddie’s hands and guide them up under your dress and to your breasts.

He hums in approval as he pushes your bra down and begins to play with your nipples, pinching and pulling them slightly.

Your head lolls to the side, hair falling down around you. It’s taking so much energy for you to keep moving. Your legs are beginning to tire out, there is a sting in your muscles. Your knees are screaming at you as they dig into the not-so-comfortable foam at the bottom of the casket.

Body becoming rigid, you cry out, moaning Eddie’s name loudly into the living room. Your fingers cling to him as your body caves into him. You can no longer keep moving so Eddie begins bucking his hips into yours, helping you to ride out this high and bring him to his own.

Eddie lets you fall almost completely on top of him once he’s finished. His arms wrap around you, your breaths in sync with the other.

As you rest your forehead on Eddie’s chest, you feel the tiny movement of him jerking. He’s trying not to laugh.

You crane your neck to look up at him. “What?”

He shakes his head.

“Eddie.”

“Nothing, just that we fucked in a casket.” His smile was as wide as could be,

You let your head fall and you laugh into his chest. “Don’t get used to it.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader

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thebellearchives · 9 months

Note

I saw your fluff post for Gojo, and sheesh it was so good! If you're still taking requests for your event, can I request fluff #12 for Gojo? 💖

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐘

~ satoru gojo ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : it isn’t like satoru’s known for being the most serious of sorcerers out there, so why would’ve you taken seriously all of those flirty jokes of his?

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, first love coded so this one’s about younger gojo!

‧₊˚ a / n : you’re so sweet anon thank you so much ! hope you like this one, i feel like it’s a little bit all over the place, but hopefully no one will pick up on it 💃🏻

Toge ver. || Sukuna ver. || Gojo ver.

“What’s so good about this movie anyway?” Satoru had rolled his eyes behind his glasses with a mocking smile, but still didn’t bicker much more when you sat him down in your couch to watch it.

Surprisingly, you found yourself asking that exact same question in your head. You were eager to watch it because it was an adaptation of a book you had read a long time ago, but now watching it in your TV screen you weren’t sure if was just a terrible adaptation or the book had been this bad too. Maybe you had just been a bit too impresionable when you read it. Maybe if you re read it you’d find out it was trashier than you thought.

Whatever it was your eyes had started to give up after a while, eyelids trying their best to close in search of some nice rest. And you probably would’ve fallen asleep already if it weren’t for this weird sensation of someone watching you. You were alone in your living room with Satoru, so there was no way anyone else had their eyes set on you, but every time you glanced at him he was absorbed in the movie.

You closed your eyes for a second, just a small bit of time to rest, but there it was again. Someone was watching you. So you turned to Satoru for like the fourth time, his blue eyes staring intently at the screen… a little too intently, honestly. You squinted, studying his facial expression. His lips were slightly pursed in an attempt to hold back a smile, and he was so stiff he wasn’t even blinking. Satoru was always up to something, and the fact that he kept you on your toes all the time was probably one of your favourite things about him. So you sighed and opened your mouth to ask what the hell was he up to, but he quickly turned to you with a cheeky smile.

“How long are you planning to stare at me?”

The question took you by surprise. Of course it did, he always did.

“Are you serious?” you quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah? This is like the fourth time you glance at me. Am I really that handsome?”

You giggled at that, you had always thought he was handsome, but… he was just your friend. Right?

“Am I really that beautiful?” you went along with his joke “I can’t fall asleep when I feel your eyes on me like that.”

“Is that so?” he smiled wider, moving closer to you and forcing you to pick up your legs against you chest to give him space “staring at you like what?”

Defiant, you moved closer to him too.

“That’s what I’d like to know. You keep staring at me instead of watching the film, so what’s up?”

“Me?” he tilted his head, pretending to be confused, biting his lip “I just asked you why you were glancing at me all the time, it was totally not the other way around.”

“You just did it before I had the chance to ask!”

“Nah, you were staring at me first” he winked, a cocky grin on his lips.

“Why are you so desperate for my attention?” rolling your eyes, you let your legs hang from the side of the sofa and straightened your back, leaning towards him just slightly.

“Because I keep trying to flirt with you and you keep dismissing me!” he whined, but his statement only made you laugh.

“What are you talking about?!”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, letting his shoulder hit the sofa.

“You know what I’m talking about…” his irises stared at you above his glasses, almost looking like he was giving you puppy dog eyes “I wouldn’t be here watching this trashy movie otherwise.”

You just stared at him, eyebrows almost meeting in confusion. Yeah, he had always played around like that. But it was just playing! He was always playing! … or was he?

“… 'Toru, are you being serious right now?”

“Honestly, how many times do I have to tell you I am being serious!”

“Listen to you! All whiny and childish, how am I supposed to take you seriou-”

In the blink of a eye, Satoru’s lips were on yours. It took you a second to warm up to his gesture, but your body relaxed. You closed your eyes, lifting up your chin and kissing him back. Your heartbeat quickened and your chest felt like it was on fire. Was your friend Gojo Satoru really kissing you then or had you fallen asleep? Maybe you were dreaming about it. Maybe you were dreaming about the way his lips insistently kissed yours, or about the way your hands held his face to keep him from pulling back. About the way his hands reached out to hold you by your hips, that tiny moment where he gasped for air and kept on kissing you passionately, until his body was hovering over yours and you weren’t sure if you were gasping for air because of the kiss or to calm down the fire he had started inside of you. He inhaled sharply too, your lashes fluttering in confused blinking. There was this longing in the air around you, a need for more of his kisses so unfamiliar to you and yet so alluring.

“Do you think I’m serious now?”

It was just finally making sense, all the pieces of the puzzle finally being completed in you head. All that playing around, smiles and jokes…

“Maybe. I’m not sure. You should kiss me again to see if that works.”

Satoru snorted, but he’d lie if he said he didn’t eagerly comply to that request.

#; fluffy belle #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo

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wheresarizona · 5 months

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Learning to Live Part 26

summary: Watching Javier with Steve and Connie Murphy’s three kids has you experiencing a bad case of baby fever. Some important discussions lead to making a big decision, and there’s one question you hadn’t anticipated being asked...

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, sneaking around (you have to be quiet so the Murphys don’t hear you), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, vaginal fingering, kinda rough sex (Javier works out his frustration on you), oral sex (f receiving), (MASSIVE) breeding kink, dirty talk, spit as lube, Javier saying very romantic things while he’s balls deep inside you, Steve trying to cockblock Javier with an obnoxiously squeaky bed (all it does is piss off Javi), Javier being a menace, misunderstanding, grumpy Javier, Javier being very cute with children, baby fever, emotional hurt/comfort, discussion of pregnancy/childbirth and fears, a dream sequence, death of a parent/grief, marriage proposal (it’s so romantic), love confession, mention of PTSD, an appearance of The Tac Vest™ (in a photo), Olivia and Javier talking shit about her dad in Spanish because Steve doesn’t understand, Connie being the best)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 24.5k+ (It’s a good time)

a/n: Hello there! This is a BIG chapter both in number of words and in terms of plot. Since this is a super long one, odds are the Tumblr app isn’t going to let you reblog with a comment—it’s a known issue. I haven’t heard of any problems if you go onto Tumblr.com directly through a browser, though. Since reblogs are super important, it’s totally okay if you reblog without a comment, and if you wish to comment, you can either do it on the post through comments or by sending me an ask! I’m chill with whatever you feel like doing. 🥰🥰🥰 Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. This is something we’ve been looking forward to, and I hope you enjoy! Thank you to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing and being a trooper for this monstrosity of a chapter.

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

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Baby fever was real.

And it was dangerous.

At least that was the only explanation you had for this overwhelming desire to have your own child that needed, specifically, to be fathered by the love of your life, Javier Peña.

It was cool in the house, and you were in shorts and a loose t-shirt, yet your skin was heated, watching from your seat on the leather sofa as the man you were going to marry played with the two older Murphy children—you weren’t entirely sure what the game was, but it involved Javi holding the three-year-old son in one arm while he dueled their nine-year-old daughter, Olivia, with hard, yellow foam swords. They were over in the empty space of the family room designated for the kids with the toy box against the wall beside a kitchen playset and a tiny red plastic table with two matching tiny chairs, other larger toys lining up in a row next to them.

The three-year-old, Stevie, was laughing while your boyfriend moved about, dodging the young girl's attempts at jabbing him. A big smile was plastered on Javi’s face with sweat beading on his brow, and you were doing your damndest to ignore the primal instinct that had ensured the survival of the human species, purring in the back of your mind as it zeroed in on him as the perfect man to procreate with.

He was so strong, so caring, so kind, so handsome.

So perfect.

Beautiful chocolate-colored eyes you dearly loved met yours, and he winked, making you suck in a breath as you melted into the cushion behind you, not even embarrassed you were literally swooning.

The leather creaked and complained when someone sat down next to you, your attention still on the future father of your children.

“I told you he smiles and laughs with my kids,” Steve said beside you.

Your head whipped toward him, finding that he was holding a giggling Nate up in the air, bringing him down to kiss all over his face and lift him again.

When you first arrived, you wondered how involved a parent Steve was.

Many men left the childrearing to the mother, and with him not helping with nap time or volunteering to get the boys when they’d woken up, you thought he might be one of those men. What you came to find out was his kids adored him, and he was very present.

Earlier, you made chocolate chip cookies with Olivia and Stevie. Their dad happened to come into the kitchen just as you were putting them in the oven, and the kids flocked to him to excitedly tell him all about how they’d helped. He had picked up his three-year-old and smiled as he listened, taking them to the living room so Javi and you could clean up the mess you made. When it was time to eat the freshly baked cookies, Stevie ate his Connie-approved two cookies while sitting on his father’s knee at the kitchen table, Olivia eating her own in the seat beside them.

So, Steve was pretty great with his children.

When you commented about it while alone in the kitchen with your husband-to-be, he whispered to you about how it wasn’t always like this. Back in Colombia and when Steve first returned to Miami, he had that shitty patriarchal mindset that Connie should be the one to care for their daughter—that was, until Javi showed up and stepped in to help Connie with Olivia. Apparently, that triggered something in Steve and lit a fire under his ass to be a better father and husband.

Connie was currently on a run to the store, and Javi had taken it upon himself to entertain the energy-filled kids. Steve was handling Nate duty himself since the little one was super attached to his parents, especially his mother.

“Yes, you did,” you replied to the older man.

The toddler was now cuddled in his arms, repeating Dadada over and over again.

Steve looked at you. “He asked us earlier if we thought he’d be a good dad.”

“And how did you answer?”

White teeth appeared when he smiled. “We told him he’d be a great dad, and it was about damn time he became one.”

Your lips tipped up, glancing over at the man you were talking about, who was now down on his knees and being attacked by both of the children wielding the swords, shielding his head with his arms.

“Yeah, it really is.” Facing Steve again, you asked, “How did you know you were ready to be a parent?”

He snorted. “Did Javi ever tell you about how we got Olivia?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “He told me you adopted her in Colombia…?”

Leaning in, he spoke a little quieter, “The story doesn’t start off too happy, but I know Jav’s told you about what things were like down there.”

“Hell.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding his head. “Javi and I found her when she was a baby in the home where Pablo Escobar’s sicarios murdered her mother and grandmother—would’ve murdered her, too, if we hadn’t shown up.” He took a deep breath like he was remembering, your eyes widening at the horror.

Murdering a defenseless baby? They were monsters.

“Escobar was also responsible for the death of her father,” he continued. “She was so tiny and had no one. I was worried more people would come for her, so I brought her home with me. Connie wasn’t too happy about it at first.” A smile pulled up on his lips as he chuckled. “And we sure as hell weren’t prepared for a baby, but we’d always wanted kids and had just about given up until we got her.” He was smiling fondly now, looking past you at his daughter. “We fell in love with her, and it was an easy decision to adopt. So, to answer your question—” He met your eyes. “—I didn’t know I was ready to be a dad until after we got the kid. Sometimes, you don’t get a chance to feel ready before it happens, but I’ll tell you, the moment you hold your baby, the instincts kick in fast.”

“That’s good to know.”

“All these questions about parenthood between the two of you.” He nodded his head toward Javi, then you. “Are y’all trying?”

The question had you making a face, wondering why it was socially acceptable to discuss your sex life when it came to reproducing.

“If you must know,” you started, “we’re currently just practicing… A lot. Like practically once a day if we’re in the mood, and I think we’ve got it pretty figured out, especially the unprotected sex part.”

His nose had wrinkled like he smelled something bad, deeply frowning in disgust. “I don’t wanna know that.”

“You asked!”

Javi was suddenly standing in front of you, breathing hard and holding his beer he picked up from the coffee table.

He took a long drink, asking Steve when he finished, “What did you ask her?” He shooed the other man away with his free hand. “Move over.” Steve and Nate scooted to the other side of the couch so your boyfriend could plop down beside you.

Stevie was playing with some toy cars, and Olivia had disappeared.

Javi’s arm went over your shoulders with his side pressed against yours, bringing the brown bottle back up to his lips.

Looking at him, you saw his throat work as he swallowed the beer, rubbing your hand over his jean-clad thigh. “He asked if we’re trying for a baby.”

The liquid must’ve gone down the wrong pipe, your boyfriend making a choked sound and sputtering, it evolving into a coughing fit. You got his arm over your head to lean him forward to pat his back, Steve’s eyes finding yours.

“I swear I don’t do this on purpose,” you said. “I didn’t think it was something he’d react to.”

“Does this happen often?” the blonde man asked, looking both concerned and mildly amused.

“Kinda?” You grimaced. “But not on purpose!” Your attention moved to your boyfriend. “Are you okay, babe?” His coughing had stopped, and he’d set his drink back on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” he hoarsely answered. His head turned in your direction, his eyes red-rimmed and watery. “You’re just as bad as Pop with making me choke.”

“I’m sorry, Javi.” Your hand was gliding up and down his spine. “You know what, from now on, I’m going to stop you from drinking before I say anything.”

“Why don’t you just wait for me to finish drinking?”

“The delivery, babe. Timing is everything for a joke to land or a snappy reply. Don’t wanna throw off my groove.”

He huffed out an amused breath, sitting back up on the couch. “Okay, your plan works.” Leaning forward, he pecked you on the lips before turning his attention to Steve. “We’re trying as much as we can with her on birth control—we go at it like fu-reaking rabbits, and with it only being 99% effective, maybe we’ll be that one in a hundred, and she gets pregnant.”

“I hate you,” Steve said evenly. “I hate you both. All you needed to say was no.”

“Why are you mad?” Javi asked. “You asked about our sex life, and we answered.” He looked over at you. “What did you tell him, mi amor (my love)?”

“That we’re practicing and really good at the unprotected sex part.”

A smirk appeared under his mustache, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and you knew he was just fucking with Steve now. “Yeah, we are really good at it.” His attention went back to the other man. “We told you the truth. Don’t ask questions if the answers are gonna make you uncomfortable.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed as he said, “Everyone else in the world would have answered that question with a simple yes or no. The two of you are perfect for each other with how much you fuc-fudging enjoy messing with me.”

“She’s mi media naranja, my soulmate,” Javi replied. “We are perfect for each other.”

“Uh huh, calm down, Romeo.” Nate was wiggling out of Steve’s arms, and the man helped him climb down from the couch, the child toddling over to play with his brother. “Now I’ve been watching you both since you got here,” he continued, “and anyone with eyes can see how much y’all wanna be parents. You may be a couple-a—” He whispered the next word. “—assholes—” He spoke normally again, “But I think you guys would do a pretty good job at it—that’s just my opinion, though.”

Javi had grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together, giving it a gentle squeeze as happiness seared through your veins.

“Thanks, man,” Javi said.

“You’re welcome, Jav.” Steve grinned, patting him on the shoulder. “You both do know the quickest way to get pregnant is for her to be off birth control, right? Do I need to give you the sex talk? Tell you about the birds and the bees? Explain how babies are made?”

Your boyfriend flipped him off out of view of the children, the other man laughing.

“We know, you—” He lowered his voice so that the kids wouldn’t hear. “—dick—” His volume went back to normal. “We’ve gotta figure out some things before we pull the trigger.”

“And what if you end up being the one in a hundred, and she gets pregnant before you figure those things out?”

Javier’s attention turned to you with a hopeful look, bringing up your joined palms so he could kiss the back of yours.

“We’d be okay,” you answered truthfully, your boyfriend smiling as he set your hands down. “If it happens sooner than we planned, then it happens sooner than we planned, and we’ll be excited no matter what.”

“Yeah,” Javi added. “We will.”

The trip was going better than Javier anticipated, and it was only the first day.

He had a feeling his friends and their children would like his fiancée-to-be, and he’d been correct. The Murphys all loved her to the point that Steve and Connie were on him about marrying her. Now his best friend was saying they’d be good parents, which, when added to Cielito telling him earlier, they might be able to start their family soon. Javier was so happy, he felt like he was on top of the world.

There were two things he wanted more than anything: to marry the woman sitting beside him and to become a father.

As long as she said yes to his proposal, he figured they’d be married within the next six months, depending on what she wanted to do for the wedding. The marriage was pretty much in the bag with all of her reassurances that she'd say yes, but there were still small tendrils of doubt creeping their way into his brain and making him worry if she’d really be wearing an engagement ring the next day.

He stamped down the negative feelings by remembering the times she practiced saying yes to his proposals and, of course, the fact she had already pre-accepted.

With all that in mind, he was sure he could cross off marriage from his list, which made him feel a bit giddy.

The thing that was going to require work was becoming a father.

Even though they both wanted a child, she had, and there wasn’t a better word than stipulations that needed to be met before she wanted to go for it. He both loved and hated how responsible she was being. The list included:

Get help with his mental health.

Get married.

Move into a bigger place.

The first thing he did was start going to therapy, and it had helped a lot over the past months, especially with the Stechner shit. A lot of old wounds had been opened, and it was finally time for Javier to tell the woman he planned to marry about Colombia, finding it cathartic, even with the nightmares he was plagued with for the week after. She was there every time he woke up in a panic and helped calm him down, soothing him with her words and touch.

His therapist had clocked him early on as having PTSD, and at first, he didn’t believe him because guys who fought in wars and did active combat came home with PTSD, not DEA agents doing drug busts and taking down cartels.

Javier’s therapist was a short, stocky, bald man in his sixties with a calming voice who didn’t like to beat around the bush and told it like it was. His response to Javier’s denial was to lay it all out that the war on drugs was still a war, and Javier had been a soldier who witnessed and experienced a lot of horrific PTSD-inducing shit that he needed to work through. He had worked through it, but the incident with Stechner had triggered him and brought it all back. Luckily, he was fine after about a week with help from his therapist and wif-girlfriend.

So, he’d taken care of his mental health, and marriage was on the horizon—that was two out of three.

Moving into a bigger place was where things got tricky.

Initially, they had planned to buy a house, and then his dad gave them the idea to build one on his land, which sounded great, except for how long it would take. They ended up loving the thought of being able to design their dream home and decided that was what they were going to do, and were now working with an architect—everything else was figured out. His tía María’s husband had his own construction business and would be building it, and they found the perfect spot a little down the road from his dad’s house that was close to him but also far enough they’d have privacy where they’d build. Chucho was thrilled they were going to be next-door neighbors.

It was going to take, at minimum, a year for the home to be built.

Javier didn’t want to wait that long to start trying for a baby, so he figured out a way for them to move out of their one-bedroom apartment into someplace bigger while they waited for their house to be finished, and it was living with his father, who was beyond excited by the prospect.

She seemed to be okay with that, and he hoped it was enough for her to give them the green light to start their family, but she wanted to discuss it with Chucho, which he understood. It was just driving him crazy that he was so fucking close, it was within reach, yet he had to wait for her to talk to his dad on Sunday when they were seeing him next.

The sounds of the front door being unlocked and opened made it to where they were, the two small Murphy boys jumping to their feet as they both yelled, “Mom!” They ran from the room.

“I better go help her with the groceries,” Steve said, grunting as he got up from the couch on his long legs and headed for his wife.

It was just Javier and his future wife in the room—they were alone, and immediately he was turning in his seat toward her, dipping his head to kiss and suck at the side of her neck, his hand sliding up her thigh.

“Javi,” she gasped, her fingers tangling into his hair.

She smelled so good, the sweet aroma welcome as his lips trailed up to tug her earlobe between his teeth, his palm resting on her inner thigh, feeling the heat between her legs.

His mouth pressed against her ear, whispering, “I saw how you were watching me playing with the kids—how much you liked it.” She sucked in a breath, and he smiled. “You say the word, and we can have one of our own—I’m more than willing to give you a baby, Cielito.”

“This is rude,” she breathed, pulling his hair.

Javier chuckled, smacking a loud kiss against her cheek.

His hand left her leg to cup her jaw and turned her head to look him in the eyes.

“I’m serious, mi amor (my love),” he said. “You know how fucking badly I want one, and when you’re ready, I’ll make it happen—I wanna prove you right that I can get you pregnant within a month.”

The way her pupils expanded told him his words were getting to her.

“I cannot believe you’re tempting me with your virility, and it’s fucking working,” she whispered, and he grinned. “God, you’re gonna be such a good dad.” There was a slight whine as she quietly spoke. “Our kids are gonna be obsessed with you, and you’re gonna be obsessed with them and me being pregnant and an amazing partner through everything. Like, I am this close—” She held her thumb and index finger so close together they almost touched. “—to saying fuck it, let’s make a baby.” Arousal sparked in his belly. “But then that annoying, overly cautious, responsible part of me cuts in to remind me I need to double-check with your dad that he’s really okay with us living with him—yes, I remember him making the offer months ago—you know I hate being a bother, though, and I’m worried he likes the idea and would hate the reality of living with his son and a pregnant woman that will eventually also include a newborn.” She chewed on her lip.

“His pregnant nuera (daughter-in-law),” Javier corrected. “And he told me he’d love for us to move in just last week. He was already planning on turning the guest room into a nursery when you got pregnant.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Fuck,” she whispered.

Javier frowned, wondering if she thought the nursery was too much.

“He’s just excited to finally become an abuelo (grandpa), and even if we weren’t moving in, he wanted to make sure he’s got shit for the baby when we visit—he said it’d come in handy ‘cause he’d be happy to babysit anytime we needed him to. And if we do move in with him, he’ll already have a space dedicated to our kid.”

“Right,” she said the word slowly, like she was thinking it over. “Yeah, that’s great he cares so much, and it’s so sweet. We, um, just need to make sure he’s prepared for a newborn, like the crying and all that…”

“He is, and he’ll love having us there with a baby.”

“How do you know?”

“Promise me something,” he said.

Her eyebrows creased. “Okay?”

“Promise me you won’t get sad with what I’m about to tell you.”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

He sighed. “Fine. Promise me you won’t mention it to him.”

“That’s something I can do.”

“Since mi mamá passed away, Pop has been really fucking lonely living in that house alone, but there’s no way in hell he’d ever think about moving. He hates being by himself out there, and he’ll probably work until the day he dies to spend as little time in it as possible.”

Tears were brimming in her eyes. “That’s so fucking sad, Javier.”

“Yeah, and I was a fucking asshole who came home from Colombia twice and fucked off almost as quickly as I arrived.” She was about to say something, and he stopped her by continuing. “He loved when I finally moved back in for good, and he’d love more than anything to have us there with him, including our child—especially our child. You know, just as I do, that he’s gonna love our kid more than us.”

“That’s so true,” she giggled.

He smiled, “Yeah, it is.” Hope felt like a ball in the middle of his chest. “So, uh, does this change your maybe?”

“Tío!” Olivia shouted as she came running into the room, and he sat up in his seat.

“¿Sí, tesorito (Yes, little treasure)?”

She rounded the couch and jumped onto it next to him, sitting on her knees with a big smile, missing some baby teeth. Her brown hair was almost the same color as his, falling in loose curls past her shoulders, her bangs on either side held back by blue flower clips.

“Se me olvidó preguntarte algo (I forgot to ask you something).”

He smiled. “¿Qué querías preguntar (What did you want to ask)?”

“Cuando tú y tu Cielito se casen (When you and your Cielito get married), ¿puedo ser la niña de las flores (can I be the flower girl)?”

It made him pause because it’d be up to his fiancée-to-be how they were going to get married, and he wasn’t sure if they would have a traditional wedding. If they did, pretty much all of the guests would be his friends and family, while she’d have maybe a handful of friends—there wouldn’t be anyone from her family she’d want to invite with how they disliked Javier and thought he wasn’t good enough for her.

He knew Cielito would be okay with his answer before he said it. “Bueno, si tenemos una boda, claro que puedes ser la niña de las flores, y tus hermanos pueden ser los portadores de los anillos (Well, If we have a wedding, of course you can be the flower girl and your brothers can be the ring bearers).”

“Sí (Yes),” the future bride said. “Si tenemos una boda, tú y tus hermanos tienen que estar en ella (If we have a wedding, you and your brothers have to be it).”

“Yes!” the girl shouted, clapping her hands.

Javier leaned forward with a groan to grab his beer and sat back, bringing it to his lips as he took a long pull of the lukewarm drink.

“¿Te vas a casar porque tu novia tiene un bebé en la barriga (Are you getting married because your girlfriend has a baby in her belly)?” Olivia asked.

Beer came spraying out of his mouth as he attempted to cover it with his hand and started coughing.

“Oh, no,” Cielito said, patting him on the back. “I’m gonna go grab some paper towels.” She got up and left, and he saw the liquid from his mouth on the coffee table.

“¿Estás bien (Are you okay)?” the child asked.

He’d stopped coughing, wiping his wet hand on his jeans.

“Sí, estoy bien (Yes, I’m okay),” he answered, looking over at her. “¿Por qué crees que nos vamos a casar porque ella tiene un bebé en la barriga (Why do you think we’re getting married because she has a baby in her belly)...?”

“Oh, tengo un amigo en la escuela y su papá se casó con su niñera porque ella tenía un bebé en su barriga (Oh, I have a friend at school and his dad married his babysitter because she had a baby in her belly).”

Javier’s eyes widened. “Eh, mi Cielito no tiene un bebé en su barriga (Uh, my Cielito doesn’t have a baby in her belly). Nos vamos a casar porque nos amamos como tus padres (We’re getting married because we love each other like your parents).”

At the mention of them, Steve and Connie came into the room with his wif-girlfriend rushing to wipe off the table for the other woman to set down two photo albums, and he’d been given a paper towel to wipe his face with. Nate was in his dad’s arms, and Stevie had walked in by himself, going over to where he’d been playing to pick up a Ninja Turtle action figure.

“We heard Olivia is asking questions,” Steve said, smiling and taking a seat in his recliner with his youngest son. Connie sat down on Olivia’s other side.

The girl turned her attention to her father. “Daddy, they said if they have a wedding, I can be the flower girl, and Stevie and Nate can carry the rings!”

Steve looked at his daughter. “They’re called ring bearers, sweetie.”

She looked confused. “They’d be ring bears?”

The adults all laughed. “No, ring bearers,” he said slower.

“Ring bearers,” she repeated. Her head turned to Javier. “¿Los portadores de los anillos significan (means) ring bearers?”

He smiled, nodding. “Sí, asi es (Yes, that’s right).”

Cielito had gone to throw away the dirty paper towels, including the one he used, and returned a minute later, taking her seat next to him.

“I thought the future Mrs. Javier Peña might like to see some pictures of you through the years,” Connie said. She pointed at the albums. “The top one—” It had a forest green cover. “—has photos from when we lived in Colombia before we adopted Olivia. The majority are Steve and I, but there’s a bunch of Javi, too.”

Cielito leaned forward to look past him at the other woman with a smile. “I’ve seen the pictures you sent to his parents!”

“Oh, yes!” Connie smiled brightly. “I was aware he talked to them weekly, so they knew he was okay, but I wanted them to be able to see it, too.”

“Thank you, Connie,” he whispered, his throat feeling tight at his friend caring about his parents so much.

“You’re welcome, Javi.” She patted his knee. Stevie was trying to climb into her lap, and she helped him up. “I loved talking to them—your mother was wonderful, and I was sad when she passed away.” Sadness laced her tone. “I wished we could’ve gone to the funeral, but we didn’t have documents for Olivia yet to take her out of Colombia. I still talk to your dad every once in a while—not as often now that you’re back in Texas, and he doesn’t need me keeping an eye on you.”

His head snapped toward her. “You talked to my parents? How in all these years didn’t I know you talked to them and still talk to my dad?”

Neither of his parents had ever mentioned being in contact with Connie, aside from his father saying she sent them pictures of Javier while he was in South America.

A sad smile was on her face. “Your mother swore me to keep it a secret.”

“My mom?” he said the words so quietly.

“Yes. Your mother was a very smart woman and used the number you gave her to your office in case of emergencies to get a hold of Steve so she could get our home phone number and call me. She just wanted to make sure you were okay, and I understood where she was coming from as a mother—I didn’t have kids at the time, but even then, I knew if my baby was on another continent, I would’ve done the same thing, and it really was no problem. As I’ve said, I loved talking to your parents.”

His eyes were burning with unshed tears at the lengths his parents went to in order to check up on him. Cielito took the beer from his hand and put it on the table so she could tangle her fingers with his, cuddling into his side, and he was thankful for the comfort.

Javier was a terrible son.

He put his parents through so much over the years, and what for?

What did he accomplish?

Yeah, he helped bring down Pablo Escobar and got the Cali Cartel fuckers, but like some mythical monster, you cut off one head, and two take its place—they took down Escobar and the Medellín cartel, and before they knew it, Cali and others had taken over.

It was a never-ending cycle: wash, rinse, repeat.

He’s known it since he made the decision to resign from the DEA: The War on Drugs would never end. From his current job as a drug enforcement consultant, he knew that sentiment was confirmed with the rise of the Mexican cartels becoming major players.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

And all of this showing him he wasted years of his life fighting an unwinnable fight and causing his parents nothing but pain and misery. He was their only son, su bendición (their blessing), and he’d risked his life so many fucking times for what? It felt like it was all for nothing.

Not when he thought about the precious time he lost with his mother, or his father living in that old house all alone, or how he wasn’t getting to start his family until now and really love his life.

Years wasted.

Shame, regret, and remorse were heavy in his head and heart, and he wished he could apologize to his mother—he needed her forgiveness and his father’s, too.

“I appreciate that, Connie.” Getting the words out around the lump in his throat was hard. “I, um, I’ll be back.”

“Are you okay?” Cielito asked, concern evident on her face when he met her eyes.

“Yeah,” he answered, untangling their hands. “I’m okay.” He attempted a reassuring smile that she didn’t believe one bit. “Look at the pictures, baby, and I’ll be right back.”

Her mouth was turned down in a deep frown. “Okay.”

Without another word, he got up and quickly went through the dining room to the hallway, heading for the guest bedroom.

He didn’t lock the door once he was inside.

He didn’t want to worry Cielito more than she already was.

His cell phone was on top of the dresser, and he picked it up, the numbers glowing green as he pressed the number to speed dial his dad.

Ring.

Click.

The recorded message started playing, hearing his mother’s accented voice say in English, “You have reached the Peña residence—” Tears began falling down his cheeks. “We’re sorry we could not make it to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number, and we will get back to you. Thank you!”

Beep.

Javier cleared his throat, the emotion making his words come out thick, “Hey Pop, it’s me, Javi. You’re probably working—” He checked his watch, seeing it was a little after three in Laredo. “—Yeah, you’re working. Uh, we made it to Miami safe, and everyone loves mi Cielito. We knew they would. Um—” He took a deep breath, pacing slowly back and forth. “—I know I’ve apologized before, but I’m so fucking sorry for being gone for so long and making you and mi mamá worry so much. Connie told me about talking to you guys and I,” his voice cracked on the one syllable. He cleared his throat again. “I feel like shit for what I put you through, and I just hope you and mamá can forgive me for all of the pain I caused. I hate that I wasted so many years away from you both that I can’t get back. I’ll—” More tears were falling down his cheeks. “—never see or talk to my mom again, and I miss her so fucking much. I wish I could tell her I’m so close to starting my family. Cielito just wants to talk to you first about us moving in—”

“Javi?” His dad answered the phone, and Javier stopped moving, standing still. “¿Qué pasa (What’s wrong)?” He sounded concerned. “Acabo de entrar y te escuché hablar de tu mamá (I just came inside and heard you talking about your mom).”

“Hola, Pop (Hi, Pop). Perdóname por molestarte (I’m sorry for bothering you).”

“No me estás molestando, Mijo (You’re not bothering me, Mijo). Dime qué pasa (Tell me what’s wrong).”

Javier inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. “He sido un hijo terrible (I’ve been a terrible son).”

“¿De qué hablas (What are you talking about)? Eres un hijo maravilloso y estoy muy orgulloso de ti (You’re a wonderful son and I’m very proud of you). Tu madre también estaba mui orgullosa de ti (Your mother was very proud of you, too).”

“No, no lo soy (No, I’m not). Te preocupé tanto que tenías a Connie vigilándome (I worried you so much that you had Connie watching me).”

“Ella no te estaba vigilándo (She wasn’t watching you). Ella solo nos ponía al día sobre cómo estabas (She was just updating us on how you were doing).”

“Todavía te preocupé lo suficiente como para que mi mamá le pidiera que hiciera eso (I still worried you enough that my mom asked her to do that).”

His dad huffed out a breath. “Javi, te acuerdas bien como era tu madre (Javi, you remember your mother). Ella era sobreprotectora contigo (She was overprotective of you). Llamaba a Connie de vez en cuando cuando estabas en Miami y me aseguraba de que estabas bien porque ya tenía su número de teléfono (I called Connie from time to time when you were in Miami and made sure you were okay because I already had her phone number). No eres un hijo terrible (You are not a terrible son). Eres trabajador, comprometido, testarudo, pero no terrible (You’re hardworking, committed, stubborn, but not terrible).”

He spoke quietly. “¿Me perdonas por todo (Will you forgive me for everything)?”

His father sighed. “Mijo, no hay nada de que perdonarte, pero si te hace sentir mejor, sí, te perdono, y tu madre te perdona también (Mijo, there is nothing to forgive you for, but if it makes you feel better, yes, I forgive you, and your mother forgives you, too). Ahora, ¿qué decías acerca de comenzar tu familia en el contestador automático (Now, what were you saying about starting your family on the answering machine)?”

The sudden change of topic made Javier chuckle, his free hand wiping at his wet cheeks. “Of course, that caught your attention.”

“Yes, it did.” The smile was clear in his voice. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay first. Am I finally getting my nietos (grandchildren) soon?”

Javier smiled. “I’ll say it was a great idea to bring her here where there are a bunch of kids—she needs reassurance from you that you’re really okay with us moving in while the house is being built and won’t mind a baby. I think the plan is to talk to you in person at my birthday dinner,” he sighed.

“Of course, I won’t mind a baby!” It was obvious he was excited. “Mi primer nieto (My first grandchild)! I’ve already told you I’d love to have you all here! I’ll have your primos (cousins) start helping me clear out the guest room this weekend so I can begin working on the nursery. This is the best news! Are you sure she doesn’t want to talk to me right now?”

He turned to look at the closed door and was tempted to take the phone to her.

“She’s out in the living room with the family looking at pictures of me.” His fingers slid through his hair. “If I can convince her to talk with you over the phone, I’ll give you a call.”

“I’ll stay home from work for the next two days, just in case.”

“You don’t have to do that. We can leave a message, and you can call us back.”

“No, I need to be here to answer the call. It’s important.”

His eyes were watering at his father’s love for them. “Thank you, Pop.”

“No, thank you, Mijo. I can’t wait to have you all here. Go convince her to call me—I’m not getting any younger.”

Javier laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll do my best.”

“And you better call me when you propose.”

His mouth was turned up in a smile. “You’ll be the first person to know.”

“Good. Javi?”

“Yeah, Pop?”

“I love you, Mijo, and I’m truly proud of the man you are today. I can’t wait to watch you become the incredible husband and father I know you will be.” Javier couldn’t stop the tears, his throat feeling like it was closing up. “Your mamá might be gone, but I know wherever she is, she’s happy her son has found so much love and happiness. It’s all we ever wanted for you. We love you, Javiercito.”

“I love you, too.”

“Now, go work on making me an abuelo and tell mi nuera (daughter-in-law) I love her, too.”

He chuckled. “I’ll tell her. Bye, Pop.”

“Bye, Mijo.”

The call ended, and he put the phone back on the dresser and walked into the en suite to stand at the sink. The skin on his cheeks was glistening in the lights of the bathroom, his eyes red-rimmed, and his nose a little runny.

No matter how many times he apologized to his father for his past sins, it never felt like it was enough—it would never feel like it was enough. He knew his father forgave him long ago, and with how much he’s groveled, he’s become a broken record.

If he really thought about it and looked deep down into why he felt the need to apologize so much, it was because he hadn’t forgiven himself. He wasn’t even sure what it would take to forgive himself. It was obvious his dad was tired of him apologizing and wanted him to focus on his future.

His future.

Cielito was his future.

Their children were his future.

A memory came to him of their second date, hearing the woman he was going to marry clearly in his brain:

“...you feel like you need to atone for everything you’ve done, but you really don’t. You’ve done enough, more than enough. The past hurts, but you can either run from it or learn from it…”

When he first got back from Colombia, he ran; he hid away here in Miami with his friends and their family until he got scared he was going to lose his dad and went home. That was when it hit him: he didn’t want to waste any more time away from his father, and he finally stayed. The most important thing to him now was his family: his dad, Cielito, and their future children; they were what mattered.

One day, he’d forgive himself, and he had a feeling it’d happen when he finally had a parent’s perspective…

Turning on the faucet, he splashed some water on his face, drying it off with a small towel he got from underneath the sink. Any sign he’d been crying had been washed away, and he made his way back to the living room feeling a little lighter and determined to keep his focus on moving forward—engagement, marriage, children.

He found his future wife had moved over on the couch to sit closer to Olivia and Connie with a photo album open on her lap and angled for the other two to see, the older women having a conversation. Stevie stood on the couch next to his mom, pretending his Ninja Turtle action figure was walking on the back of the sofa and on Connie’s head, quietly talking to himself. His little blue eyes landed on Javier, and he smiled.

“Tío’s back!” he shouted.

Javier smiled back. “I am, buddy.”

The women paused, Cielito’s head turning to watch as he walked around the couch to sit beside her.

Immediately, she leaned into him and whispered, “Are you okay?”

He rubbed circles over her spine. “Yeah,” he answered. “Pop says he loves you.”

Realization dawned on her, and he could tell she worked out he’d gotten upset over what Connie had revealed and needed to talk to his father.

She softly smiled. “Hopefully, he knows I love him, too.”

A small smile turned up on his lips. “He knows.”

“Good.”

Her attention went back to Connie. “Sorry,” she said. “So, Texas has a lot of nursing opportunities, and I was over being in a big city—I did my schooling at a university in a somewhat big city, too—I looked into other places around the state hiring and interviewed at a bunch, and out of the offers I got, I liked Laredo the best.”

“I bet the smaller hospital is a breath of fresh air,” Connie replied.

“It is! And working in the ED (Emergency Department) in Dallas was exhilarating until it got exhausting and depressing.”

A solemn look was on the other woman’s face. “I know exactly what you mean. If you think it’s bad here, in Colombia, it’s much worse, and drove me to switch to L & D (Labor and Delivery) when I came back to Miami.”

“I can imagine, based on what I’ve heard. I actually thought about going into L & D, too, but I was offered the PACU position in Laredo.”

“What does PACU mean?” he asked.

Both women looked over at him, saying in unison, “Post Anesthesia Care Unit.”

“Oh, okay…”

“I haven’t understood half the stuff they’ve been talking about,” Steve said. “Connie’s having the time of her life being able to talk shop with someone.”

She looked at her husband. “Let me enjoy this. It’s nice being able to talk to someone outside of work who understands.”

“Hey, I’m happy for you, baby,” Steve replied, holding up a hand in a placating gesture. “Now I know what you feel like listening to Jav and me talking about work.”

“Exactly.” She faced his fianceé-to-be again, smiling. “I love helping bring new little lives into the world and teaching new parents how to care for their babies—most of the time, my job is wonderful. I’m sure Javi hasn’t told you, but remind me to tell you the story about Nate later.”

The tale of how Steve and Connie got Nathaniel wasn’t fucked up like his sister’s; it was just sad.

The youngest Murphy’s birth mother, was a girl not even out of high school, who came to the hospital alone and left alone. She brought no identification with her and refused to give her real name, telling people to call her Sam—the girl had been scared out of her mind, so Connie stayed with her the entire time and discovered she had hidden the pregnancy from her family because if they found out, she would’ve been disowned and thrown out on the street. Sam had begged Connie over and over again for her to find her baby a loving home, that she did love him and wished she could keep him, but they wouldn’t have anywhere to live if she did, and that she wanted him to have a good life.

His mother only held him once, right after she’d given birth, and refused to give him a name.

Connie was the one to take the baby to the nursery to have him measured, weighed and to take his vitals. When she returned, the new mother was gone—she vanished. Security couldn’t find her, and with how quickly she disappeared, Connie suspected a friend or her boyfriend picked her up.

Over the years, Steve and Connie had wanted a third kid, however, they struggled with getting pregnant and had to get help from doctors in order to have Stevie. So, when Connie found herself spending more and more time in the nursery with the tiny, abandoned newborn, she realized he was the third child they’d been hoping for, and her husband was fine with bringing him home—they both agreed on naming him Nathaniel Samuel Murphy.

“I will,” Cielito said.

Out of the three children, Nate was the most easy-going of the bunch. He was content to sit cuddled in his father’s lap, sipping on his sippy cup of water and watching everyone else in the room with his big, dark eyes.

“Mommy?” Stevie was patting his mother’s shoulder as he got her attention.

“Yes, baby?” She looked over at him.

“I want juice.”

“How do we ask for things?”

“Can I have juice, pleeeeassse?” he drew out the last word.

“Okay, let’s go get some juice.”

Nate’s cup left his mouth as he said, “Juice?”

“You want some juice, too, kiddo?” Steve asked him, bending to kiss his hair.

“Juice!” the toddler exclaimed.

His dad chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Can I have a Capri Sun?” Olivia asked.

“Of course, honey,” Connie answered.

Steve groaned as he got up from the chair with Nathaniel still in his arms. “Murphys report to the kitchen for juice!” he said.

“Yay!” Stevie yelled, getting down from the couch and running out of the room.

“Y’all want anything?” Steve asked Javier and his future wife.

“I’m good,” he responded.

“I’m good, too,” Cielito added.

His friend nodded and followed his wife and daughter to the kitchen.

“Thank god, we’re alone,” Cielito whispered, flipping through the pages, looking for a specific picture. “I need to ask you about something.”

He didn’t even know what pictures were in this album since he’d never seen it before and was curious about what caught her attention.

“What is it?”

She found what she was looking for, moving in her seat to show him a page with a picture of him holding a bulky satellite phone to his ear, his other hand flipping off Steve, who was taking the picture.

He couldn’t even remember when it was taken. The sleeves were rolled up on his maroon button-up shirt to bare his forearms, and he was wearing an army green tac vest over it, the bulge from the tightness of his dark wash jeans showing he was dressing to the left while his aviators were on—he could admit he looked pretty good.

“Do you have one of these at your office?” she asked.

“One of what?”

“The vest thingy.” She pointed at it.

“The tac vest?”

He met her eyes, seeing her smiling. “Yeah. Do you still have one?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t see any action and don’t need one.”

Her shoulders slumped, frowning, and he perked up at the reaction.

“Can you… get one?” She chewed on her bottom lip, and he smirked.

His voice went lower. “You like the vest that much?”

“This whole look.” She circled the photo with her finger. “The clothes, your grumpy face, the vest—it’s awakened something in me, and I need to, um, see it in person for reasons…” Her eyes darted away.

He leaned in closer, gently taking her chin between two fingers to make her look at him as he quietly rasped, “Are the reasons for me to fuck you looking like this?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“In that case, I’ll borrow one from work and bring it home.” He winked.

“God, I love you.” The album was left in her lap, her upper body twisting in his direction, pressing her fingers into his hair as her lips crashed against his. His arm wrapped around her back, the other hand holding her cheek, kissing her hard.

He was more than happy to wear whatever she wanted—he was always happy to wear what she wanted, and this look wouldn’t be too hard to replicate. His mind was playing out them doing a scene where he stripped her of her clothes and ‘searched’ her, which would end with him bending her over and fucking her…

“Oh, gross!” Olivia shouted.

They separated so quickly you’d think they were burned.

“Gross!” Stevie echoed, not knowing what was going on.

“What were they doing?” their father asked as he walked into the room holding a new beer, Connie behind him with Nate in her arms, the toddler holding a green sippy cup.

The oldest of the children had walked around to sit on the opposite side of the couch to them, drinking from a yellow straw in a silver pouch. Stevie had a red cup that matched his brother’s and came to Javier, who picked him up to sit on his thigh.

The straw left the girl’s mouth, her face contorted in disgust. “They were kissing.”

“That is gross,” Steve said, taking a seat in his recliner, and Connie sitting on the other side of Javier’s soon-to-be-fianceé.

He sighed.

“Oh, stop that, Steve,” his wife scolded.

“Yes, dear,” his friend replied.

Nathaniel wiggled away from his mother to sit in his big sister’s lap, Olivia putting an arm around his middle while her other hand held her juice and it warmed Javier’s heart that they clearly had a bond—it made him happy they all had bonded and loved each other.

Connie’s head turned in the direction of Javier and Cielito. “Do you want to look at the other album since we finished the Colombia one?”

“Sure!” Cielito answered, closing the album in her lap, leaning forward to put it on the coffee table, and grabbing the other.

“You know, Jav,” Steve started, meeting his eyes, a brown beer bottle held in his hand on the recliner’s arm. “I once said you were gonna be a lifer with the DEA, and I’m glad I was wrong.”

He could recall when Steve had said that, and at the time, he agreed, his work was his life, and he didn’t think he could ever leave his job—he never fathomed it. Interestingly, the longer he worked there, the more disillusioned he became until he realized all of it was pointless, and he finally resigned. He just wished he would’ve figured things out earlier.

“I think being domesticated suits you better,” his friend continued. “You sure as heck are happier, and isn’t that all that matters?” He raised his beer before taking a drink.

“Yeah,” Javier said. “This life is definitely better.”

“Most of the pictures in this album are of Olivia because it’s one we have of her and before we had the boys,” Connie told them, bringing his attention to the open photo album on Cielito’s thighs. “But it was during a time when Javi stayed with us for a while, so he’s in there.”

Steve had turned the television onto a cartoon channel with the volume not too loud for the kids while they flipped through pages of pictures of Olivia, who was about five years old in them, and Connie telling them stories behind some of them. Stevie leaned back against his chest, holding his sippy cup to his mouth while watching the TV. The first photo Javier appeared in, they were at the zoo, and it was taken from the side, the grinning little girl on his white, button-up-covered shoulders with him pointing at something, his head turned and tilted up as he talked to her, his eyes shielded behind his sunglasses.

There were more pictures of them at the zoo, some from different beach trips, and a lot at the Murphys' home, Javier smiling and laughing in many of them.

They were looking at one Connie clearly took of him and Steve standing in the ocean up to their stomachs, across from each other, laughing, while Olivia was mid-air between them, having been thrown by one man to the other when Cielito looked at him.

“I’m really mad that your dad doesn’t have any of these and that you made me cry the first time I met him because the only pictures he had of you as an adult were of you miserable in Colombia. Where were these, Javier? All the smiles and laughs!”

He grimaced. “I didn’t know they existed…” That was the truth. Sure, he knew his friends had taken photos, but he always assumed they were of their kids. He didn’t realize they included him in so many.

Her eyes narrowed. “Uh huh, right, then explain this!”

She went back a few pages to a picture she had proclaimed was her favorite a little while ago—he was wearing a light blue button-up and jeans, a bright pink feather boa wrapped around his neck, and silver tiara on his head, looking like a hulking figure sitting on the tiny child-size chair at the tiny child-size table. Olivia was sitting across from him in a pink frilly dress and gold tiara, holding an itty bitty teacup, another three in front of her guests on the table, the other two seats occupied by a teddy bear and a The Little Mermaid Ariel Barbie.

What the woman he was going to marry found hilarious was he was dressed like that with his knees practically against his chest and was trying to look menacing as he glared at the camera with a hand up to hide from the little girl that he was giving the bird to the person taking the picture.

“You obviously knew they were taking this picture of you!” She poked it hard.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “But I figured Steve was just taking it to give me shi-crap later. I seriously didn’t know about the others.”

“Fine.” She looked at the other woman. “I really am going to need a copy of this if it won’t be too much trouble.”

Connie smiled. “I’ve got a duplicate somewhere. I’d just have to look, and I’ll send it your way.”

“You are amazing. Thank you so much! Are there, um, any pictures of Javi with the boys as babies…?”

Javier’s ears perked, his heart speeding up, hoping they did.

“That’s a great idea,” Steve said. “We gotta show her the photos of Javi with Stevie, Con.”

His best friend winked at him, and he decided at that moment he was going to make a run to the liquor store later to buy Steve an expensive bottle of top-shelf whiskey for being his wingman.

Connie frowned, her head turning to her husband. “But I haven’t put them in an album… They’re all loose.”

“That’s fine,” Cielito said a little too quickly, making him grin that she wanted to see him with a baby so badly.

“Yeah, Connie,” Javier added. “We don’t mind.”

“Oh, alright,” she said. “I’ll put these albums away.” She took the one his future wife held and closed it, getting up and grabbing the other on the table. “And I’ll get the other pictures. Be back in a jiffy.” She left the room.

Cielito looked at him, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Is this a bad idea?”

“For your self-control?” he replied just as quietly, parroting back what she’d said earlier in the day. “Yes. For me getting that thing I want really bad? No. I think it’s a great idea.”

“Of course you do.”

He frowned, something in the back of his mind needing him to ask the next question.

“Am I pushing too much? Do you need more time?”

She pulled back to meet his eyes, her voice quiet enough for only him to hear.

“The first question, no. You’re just excited. The second, yes and no. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“Oh.” A surprised look came over her face before she was looking to her other side. Javier leaned forward to see what got her attention and found Nate had crawled over and was sitting on his knees with his sippy cup in one hand and the other on her arm, clearly asking to be picked up. “Hi, buddy,” she said, immediately lifting him and getting him situated so he was half cradled in her arm and sitting in her lap, his curious eyes staring up at her face and tiny chubby hand reaching to touch it while he drank from his cup. “Hi, there,” she cooed, gently rubbing the arm he had held up. “I’m your tío’s girlfriend—”

“You’re his tía,” Javier corrected, feeling so soft at watching her interact with the little one he feared he might dissolve into a puddle.

“Sorry, I’m your tía, and you’re a cutie pie.” She softly poked him in the belly.

“Daddy,” Olivia said. “Look, Nate likes tía!” She was pointing at them beside her.

“He sure does, baby girl,” her father replied. “Isn’t that something?”

Stevie wanted to be a part of what was going on and moved to look into Cielito’s arms, letting his cup fall into Javier’s lap. “Nate likes tía!” The three-year-old hugged her arm. “I like tía, too.” Javier sucked in a breath. “She makes yummy cookies.”

“I like you, too, Stevie,” she told him, and Javier ruffled the boy’s dirty blonde hair, making him laugh. “And I, of course, like you, also, Olivia.” She glanced over at the girl. “I’m excited that you’re gonna be a paleontologist one day so you can show me real dinosaur bones.”

“I will!” The girl nodded, grinning.

He loved seeing her holding the toddler and talking to the other children, unable to keep the smile off his face as he watched and imagined what she’d look like with their own baby. Her answer to if she needed more time worried him a little, and he hoped they could talk about it soon so he knew what she meant. He was ready—more than ready, but he didn’t want to rush her if she wasn’t, and they’d figure this all out later.

Looking at pictures of Javi with a baby Stevie was absolutely a bad idea.

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him holding a baby before; he had a lot of cousins, many of whom had children under the age of two, that you’ve seen him interact with, and always caused you to have the same reaction of feeling like your ovaries were going to explode.

But these loose photos were on a different level.

He went through the stack of pictures that had combinations of Stevie with his sister, parents, and Javi, the latter being the ones you were most interested in—seeing Javi feeding the baby in his high chair, your future husband sitting in a rocking chair with Stevie cradled in his arm as he held a bottle, one of him on the couch with the baby in the crook of his arm and Olivia on his other side while he read them a children’s book, a photo of Javi passed out on the sofa with a protective hand on Stevie asleep on top of him, a candid shot of the man you were going to marry playing peek-a-boo with the baby, and the one that made your breath catch in your throat was Javi standing with Stevie strapped to his chest as he carried Olivia in his arm like it was no big deal.

There were others, and along with the pictures you saw earlier in the album, each and every one was like a glimpse into your future, showing you the type of doting, loving father he was going to be. What had heat crawling up your neck and heart racing was if this was what he was like with kids he considered his niece and nephew, then most likely he’d be like that but times a thousand with his own children.

He was going to be such a good dad.

Why had he ever thought he didn’t deserve to be one? Or that he’d be a bad father?

The thought that your future kids would be so loved made your eyes burn. They were going to have two parents who loved them all so much, and there wouldn’t be any favorites.

Seeing all of these photos and watching Javi interact with the Murphy kids—Stevie was sitting with him and pointing at the pictures, excitedly saying who was in them while the man you loved softly encouraged him and told him what a good job he was doing—had that ancient, primal part of your brain acting up again, this time screaming in the back of your mind that you’ve found the perfect mate to father your children, and it wasn’t wrong; it was exciting and really revving your engines.

There was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Obviously, Javi was jonesing to get going on the babymaking and had even gone so far as to figure out a place to live while your house was being built. You’d think with that problem solved and the assurance you’d be married before a baby was born, you’d be ready to go for it. Well, as much as you wanted a child, you were a little scared about the prospect of being pregnant and pushing a tiny human out of your vagina. You were a nurse, you knew the odds were in your favor that you’d be okay, but you were a nurse, and you also knew the things that could go wrong—Javier’s difficult birth that almost took his mother, coming to mind.

When it was something that was going to happen in the near future, everything was fine, and you were excited about starting your family; however, now that it was on your doorstep with your boyfriend banging on the door, you were kind of freaking out. You should’ve talked to Javi about this earlier when you were having your doubts and needed his reassurance, but at that point, you didn’t know his dad had already given the okay for you guys to move in.

The current climate in your head was that you loved the idea of having a baby with Javi and finally making him a father; looking at all of the pictures and watching him with the children was really doing it for you, and you couldn’t wait to be alone together later that night. The reality of actually going through with it and getting pregnant, carrying a child, and giving birth made you feel uneasy.

It was very confusing to want something yet be scared of it at the same time.

Javi stuffed the photos back into the big envelope the drug store put them in after they developed the film, setting it on the coffee table when he was done.

“Thank you for letting us look at all those pictures,” you said to Connie beside you with a smile. “It was nice seeing Javi so happy with the kids.”

Nate held your thumb in his little hand while his attention was on the television where cartoons played. Stevie was talking to Javi about something you weren’t paying attention to.

“You’re welcome.” She patted your knee. “When we still lived in Colombia, I swear the only time I ever saw Javi smile was when he held Olivia or played with her. He’d buy her toys, and when he’d come over for dinner, he’d take her for a bit to give me a breather. I’m not saying he was as playful and happy as he is now, but there was a difference between the Javi we knew and the Javi Olivia knew, which is still kinda true today.”

“Yeah, he’s sweeter with the kids.”

“And you.”

“And me,” you giggled.

“Just so you know,” Steve started. “Our kids could use some cousins—especially some bilingual ones. We want the boys to be fluent in Spanish like their sister, and it’d be nice for them to have more people to talk to.”

“Because you didn’t bother learning Spanish while living in a Spanish-speaking country for how many years?” Javi asked.

“Hey! I speak enough of it to get by.”

Javi leaned forward to look at the other end of the couch. “Olivia, ¿qué tan malo es tu papá para hablar español (How bad is your dad at speaking Spanish)?”

She grinned. “Él es muy malo (He’s very bad). Él apesta (He stinks).” She plugged her nose with her fingers.

“Hey!” Steve exclaimed again. “You guys know it’s against the rules to talk shit about me in Spanish.”

“Daddy said a bad word!” Stevie gasped. “That’s a bad word.”

The blonde man’s eyes widened. “Oh, sorry, kiddo. Daddy didn’t mean to say that.”

“It’s a dollar in the swear jar, Dad,” Olivia said.

The swear jar was a big pickle jar they repurposed that sat on top of their fridge and was filled halfway with a mix of green bills and loose change.

“I’ll put it in there when I get up,” he sighed.

“You lost a dollar, and you don’t even know what we said,” Javi said, looking a little too delighted.

Steve was frowning, his eyes narrowed. “I know malo means bad, and the two of you were making fun of my Spanish.”

“¿Él realmente sabe o lo está adivinando (Does he really know that, or is he guessing)?” you asked the other two Spanish speakers.

“Él probablemente podría entender algo de lo que dijimos, pero creo que en la mayor parte, está adivinando (He could probably understand some of what we said, but I think for the most part, he’s guessing),” Javi answered.

“Solo entiende el español muy básico (He only understands very basic Spanish),” Olivia said. “Es muy gracioso (It’s really funny). Tío y yo podemos hablar de cualquier cosa y papá y mamá no entienden lo que estamos diciendo (Uncle and I can talk about anything and dad and mom don’t understand what we’re saying).”

“Oh god, Connie,” Steve said. “Now there’s three of them talking about us while we’re right here.”

“From what I’ve gathered, it’s just about how we don’t understand much, and I don’t think anything bad…” Connie replied.

“You’re right, Connie,” you told her. Looking between Javi and Olivia, you asked, “A ustedes dos les encanta hacer esto para volverlos locos, ¿no (You two love doing this to drive them crazy, don’t you)?”

“Sí (Yes),” they answered in unison with big smiles.

It was adorable.

“Y su papá tuvo tiempo más que suficiente para aprender el idioma, así que es su culpa que aún no lo entiende (And her dad had more than enough time to learn the language, so it’s his fault he still doesn’t understand it). Traté de enseñarle (I tried to teach him),” Javi said.

“Van a odiar cuando sus tres hijos hablen en un idioma que no entienden (They are going to hate when their three children speak in a language they don’t understand),” you replied.

“No puedo esperar (I can’t wait).”

“Estoy emocionado de que mis hermanos aprendan (I’m excited for my brothers to learn),” Olivia said. “Será como si tuviéramos un lenguaje secreto (It will be like we have a secret language).”

You looked at her, switching to English, “That will be really cool. Do you want to learn any other languages?”

“Ummm, I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“And that’s okay.”

Connie looked at the watch on her wrist. “Gosh, I better get started on making dinner.”

“Do you need help?” you asked.

Her eyes met yours. “Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to help. You’re on vacation and were sweet to make cookies with our kids.”

“I insist,” you said. Turning your head to Javi, you continued, “Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you take Nate? I’m gonna help Connie make dinner.”

“Yeah.” His attention went to the toddler sitting with him. “I gotta move you, bud.” As he said, he moved Stevie to his other knee, then easily took Nate from you, who was so engrossed in the TV that he didn’t make a sound of protest.

For dinner that evening, Connie was making spaghetti. You followed her into the kitchen, making small talk before she showed you what the sides would be. You offered to make the salad, getting set up at the counter with a cutting board, knife, box grater, and all of the veggies—romaine lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, and a long carrot (no onions because the kids hated them).

There was a lull in your conversation while you diced a tomato, the salad bowl already containing the chopped lettuce, and Connie was in the process of browning the the meat for the sauce.

The last thing she said was that she bet Javi would keep the two boys occupied for maybe another ten minutes before they wandered into the kitchen to find her. You thought it was adorable, making you wonder if your future children would love you that much, leading you to think about how ready Javi was to start a family and your slight hang-up.

“Hey, Connie?” You kept cutting the tomato.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a kinda personal question? I, um, don’t have many friends who’ve given birth, and my relationship with my mother is a joke, so I’m hoping you could give me some insight…”

The meat had finished cooking, and she added canned tomato sauce, tomato paste, and seasonings with a bit of water.

She put a lid over the pan as it simmered and turned to face you. “Ask me anything, honey.”

You smiled, beginning to dice the next tomato. “Okay, were you scared at all about any aspect of pregnancy or childbirth?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s pretty common. I see it all the time in L & D. With mine, I had a lot of fear while I was pregnant because I was so worried something was gonna happen to the baby—we had trouble conceiving. Are you scared?”

“Yes,” you sighed.

“About which part?”

“All of it…”

“Well, here’s what I’m gonna tell you: it’s weird as hell to have a human growing inside of you, but the moment you register it’s your baby—your child, everything kinda changes, and you fall in love with this tiny person. You’ll worry about their health, you’re probably gonna feel like shit, and childbirth is scary, but I’m telling you, when you get to the point you’re ready to pop, you’re gonna want them to get that baby out of you as quickly as possible. And all of it is worth it when you finally get to hold that little human you shared your body with for nine months. Except, it’s really freaking annoying when you do 99.9% of the work, and the baby comes out looking exactly like their father. What’s up with that?”

She sounded so annoyed, and it made you laugh.

“I would actually love it if our kid was a little Javi clone,” you said, glancing over at her. “I’ve seen pictures of him growing up; he was a cutie.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think my husband is extremely attractive, and I know I’m lucky, but it feels like a betrayal that I grew this baby from nothing, and he got none of my genes—not even my eyes!” She threw up her arms. “The only baby I will ever have, and he’s mini-Steve, which, just so you know, we picked out his name before he was born.”

“You jinxed yourself,” you giggled. “He took Steven Murphy Jr. literally. Ooh, I wonder if we’re ever having a boy if Javi would agree to name him Javier Jr.”

“Since you’re fine if he comes out as a mini-Javi, you should go for it. How cute would it be if our minis were best friends?”

“God, that would be so cute.”

Just the thought had you feeling soft.

“Still scared, sweetie?” she asked.

You smiled. “I guess no more than I should be and a bit nervous, but you made me feel way better about everything. Thank you, Connie.”

“You’re welcome, and know I’m here if you have any more questions or just need to talk—Javi’s family, and that makes you family, too.”

Looking over at her, emotion was making your throat feel tight. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”

All that Connie said really had helped you feel better, knowing it was normal to have some fear, and like she said, in the end, it would all be worth it when you finally got to hold your baby.

As the mother predicted, the two toddlers arrived in the kitchen, Stevie’s steps more sure-footed than Nate’s toddling, the youngest going straight to grabbing Connie’s leg.

Javi followed them in, and you weren’t sure if he was just ensuring they’d gone to find their mom or if he wanted to see you, but with how his arms wrapped around your middle from behind, and he kissed just below your ear, you thought it was probably both.

Nathaniel was on Connie’s hip as she cooked, the woman not hindered by holding a child.

“What are you doing?” Stevie asked as he stood beside you, looking up.

“I’m making a salad,” you answered.

“Can I see, pleeeasssee?”

“Uh.” There was no way you could use a knife or the grater while holding a wiggly kid, and it seemed a bit dangerous, but he was staring up at you with those big round blue eyes, and you didn’t want to tell him no.

“I’ll show you, buddy,” Javi said, moving to bend over with a wheeze to pick up the toddler and straighten. He stepped away from where you were working so the child couldn’t reach but could still see what you were doing. The man pointed at your chopping board. “She’s cutting up a tomato.”

At him saying that you went back to finishing dicing the second tomato, quickly working the knife in practiced motions.

“What color is the tomato?” he asked Stevie in a gentle tone.

“Red!” the little one answered.

“Good job. Red is my favorite color. What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue! My blankie’s blue.”

“It is.”

“You like red.”

“I do.”

You finished the tomato and grabbed the cucumber.

“What’s that?” Stevie asked, pointing at it.

“A cucumber,” Javi answered.

“What’s that?” he asked again, looking at the man holding him this time.

“A vegetable. They’re yummy. Do you want to try it?”

It was killing you how cute their conversation was.

“Yes.”

“May I please have a slice, mi amor (my love)?” Javi asked you.

You stopped cutting, picking up a thin slice between two fingers you held up to him. “Here you go.”

“What do we say?” Javi asked the child as he carefully took it from you.

“I love youuu,” Stevie replied.

You giggled, Javi chuckling. “We do love her,” Javi said. “But since she’s nice and gave us something, we thank her. Do you wanna tell her thank you?”

“Thank youuu, tía. I love youuu.”

A smile was on your face. “You’re welcome, Stevie—I love you, too.”

“Here you go, bud,” Javi said, holding the piece of cucumber up to the toddler’s mouth. “It’s yummy.”

The child chomped down on it, humming happily as he chewed.

“Is it yummy?” you asked.

He nodded, taking what was left of the slice from Javi in his little hand and munching on it until he’d eaten the whole thing.

In less than half an hour, dinner was ready, their six-seat dining room table big enough for everyone to have a seat—Nate in a high chair next to Steve sitting at one end of the table, Olivia at the other, Stevie in a booster seat beside Connie, and Javi and you on taking up the two seats opposite them.

When your boyfriend was planning the trip, he made sure you both were on the same page about the limited time you’d be visiting and asked if on the first or second night, you wanted him to take you out to dinner or dancing since it was Miami, after all. Your answer was you were there to visit his best friends and their family, so you wanted to spend as much time as possible getting to know them—going out on the town wasn’t important for this trip, and you only hoped there’d be a chance to go to the beach.

You didn’t need him to wine and dine you—you were more than happy eating a homemade meal with the Murphys, laughing and chatting between bites.

Javi and you cleaned the kitchen without being asked after dinner, everyone having milk and cookies before it was time for the kids to go to bed.

Their bedtime was at eight o’clock, and Connie and Steve were double-teaming the boys’ bathtime. Olivia was old enough to care for herself, even though she tried her best to get her parents to let her stay up later. She did ask for Javi to tell her a story before bed, which he agreed to, leaving you alone in their family room watching a rerun of The Brady Bunch.

It gave you time to think, sitting there on the couch, chewing on your thumb.

Even with your fears, the baby fever was strong; all day, as you watched Javi with the kids and looked at pictures, you kept having thoughts about what he’d be like with your own children and feeling this overwhelming need to have a baby with him. There was something really hot about a man who was good with kids, and add in the knowledge you knew for a fact he would be a great parent and partner, had you feeling some type of way...

It was horny; you were so insanely horny over imagining him as the father of your kids.

It didn’t help that he kept giving you material for your imagination to run wild, like him playing with the children and the scenes in the pictures, or when he held Stevie in the kitchen while you were helping make dinner—his free hand had been on your back and he’d pause his conversation with the three-year-old for a second to kiss your hair a few times, easily envisioning him in the same situations with your own kids. Or during dinner with everyone sitting down to eat, and without them knowing, his hand going under the table to ghost his fingers along your jean short-covered thigh until it found its home on your inner thigh, wedged a little in the crease where your leg met your hip, Javi talking to everyone like he couldn’t feel the warmth at your center and thinking he’d absolutely do that at dinner with your own little family. Or there was how he gave you a hug and kiss before he went to tell Olivia a bedtime story, knowing that would be a daily occurrence when you had kids.

God, you wanted him so bad, having to rub your thighs together to ease the ache between them.

From the looks he’d been giving you throughout the day, you were pretty sure he wanted you just as much.

Could he really get you pregnant in a month?

Were you ready to go for it?

It felt like butterflies were fluttering around in your tummy at the thought.

There wasn’t any doubt for you about Javi saying his dad wanted you to live with him, but it felt kind of rude not talking to Chucho yourself before making this huge, life-altering decision that would affect him. You checked your watch, seeing it was almost eight in Laredo. He’d still be up. You could call him and talk it out.

“Hey,” Javi’s voice made you jump in your seat, your heart thudding rapidly. “Sorry.” He came around the couch, standing before you, your head tilting up to look at him.

“It’s okay,” you said.

He had a hand on a hip, smiling down at you with his eyes crinkled in happiness. “You ready for bed? We’re getting up early.”

You started moving to get up, and he put out a palm you took and helped pull you up while you said, “Um, yes. I am very ready for bed. Steve and Connie aren’t gonna miss us?” You were toe to toe with him when you stood.

“No.” He shook his head. “They know we’re getting up early and are exhausted from our long day.”

“Yes, we’re very exhausted from the long day,” you said in a monotone.

His tongue peeked out to swipe over his bottom lip. “Let’s go.”

He turned to grab the TV remote on the coffee table and clicked off the television before it was set down again, and he took your hand, leading you out of the room and toward the guest room, running into Steve and Connie in the hallway who whispered ‘Good night.’

In the bedroom, Javi locked the door, and with all the pent-up tension inside of you, it was surprising he didn’t kiss you immediately; instead, he started working open the buttons on his shirt as he walked over to his duffle bag, shrugging it off when he got to it, and getting out his toiletries bag that he took with him into the bathroom.

To be honest, you stood by the door completely confused while you watched him do all of this and only snapped out of it when the bathroom door closed halfway behind him.

From the sounds of the toilet flushing, then the sink continuously running, he was really going through his bedtime routine, probably washing his face at this moment after he cleaned his hands, and it annoyed you he was doing that instead of fucking you right this second. Your socked feet didn’t make any noise on the hard stone tile as you stomped angrily to your suitcase and got into it, quickly stripping out of your outfit and keeping your underwear on out of spite, covering them with sleep shorts and putting on an oversized t-shirt, you knew he’d hate since he didn’t like you sleeping in clothes.

You softly knocked on the bathroom door as you asked, “Can I wash my face and brush my teeth?” Your stuff was already in there for that.

The door was pulled open as you spoke, Javi standing there in just his unbuttoned jeans, it taking everything in you not to glance down at the trail of hair below his belly button. His face was freshly washed, and a red toothbrush was in his mouth, saying around it, “Yeah.”

He finished brushing his teeth as you walked in, wiping his mouth with a towel and giving you a kiss on the forehead before he went out to the bedroom.

You went through your own routine, the bed squeaking loudly, telling you he had gotten into it.

When you came out, only his bedside lamp was on, and he’d taken the side furthest from where you were standing, lying under the covers with his head propped up on his arm, where he could see you enter the room.

He was smiling up until you pulled back the blankets on your side.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting into bed.”

“Yeah, but what are you wearing?”

The sounds the bed made as you crawled in made your jaw clench, all high-pitched and awful.

“Clothes.”

“Why are you wearing them?”

You both usually slept naked.

You turned your back to him, the bedframe squealing softly as you got comfortable.

“‘Cause I feel like it.”

He sighed, metal screeching with every move he made to end up with his naked body flush behind yours, his arm going over your middle, his mouth at your ear as he spoke softly, “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m annoyed with you.”

“What did I do?”

“It’s what you didn’t do.”

He sighed again. “What didn’t I do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s not like you’ve been driving me crazy all fucking day with your sexy DILF energy, and I couldn’t wait to be alone with you so you could give me some good dick or anything.”

He snorted, and it made you grind your teeth.

“I’m sorry I upset you with the lack of good dick and for driving you crazy all day.”

“Apology accepted.”

“But you said earlier you’d talk to me later about how you needed more time, and I thought that discussion was more important than sex and what we were going to discuss when we got back to the room tonight...”

Your stomach dropped, eyes widening.

“Oh. Oh god.” You didn’t even care about the horrendous noises as you flipped over to face him, your hand going to his cheek. “I’m a horny asshole.”

He was frowning. “You forgot.”

“Actually, it wasn’t that I forgot; it was that between then and now, Connie was a gem and gave me some insight to help me work through my shit. Also, she is really mad about Stevie being a carbon copy of Steve.”

“I know—what shit did you need to work through?”

“It’s so dumb, but when you told me you actually talked to your dad about us moving in, it made things real, and I started panicking about the reality of pregnancy and childbirth—which I know most likely everything will be fine, but I was freaking out. Connie talked me through it, though, and let me know it’s pretty common to have some fear, and now I think I’m okay; nervous and a little scared, but okay.”

His fingers ghosted along the skin of your cheek to cup your face, speaking so quietly, “I don’t want you to be scared.”

“I mean, wouldn’t you be a little scared about growing a tiny human inside of you and then pushing them out of your vagina? And don’t say you don’t know because you don’t have a vagina” You poked him in his bare chest. “You practically live in my pussy—imagine a baby coming out of it.”

“...Okay, yeah, I can see how that would be scary. Jesus, I can barely get my dick inside it…”

“Yes, Javier, you have a big dick.” You rolled your eyes. “Is your ego stroked enough?”

He pinched your hip, and you giggled. “I just mean my dick barely fits inside your pussy. How the fuck is a whole baby gonna come out of it?”

Your eyebrow lifted. “Are you being serious? Do you need me to explain the magic of childbirth?”

“No. It was a rhetorical question.”

“Thank god.”

The look on his face changed, seeing the hope glimmering in his chocolate-colored eyes, his hand rubbing your side over your shirt.

“Is this a yes to a baby?” he asked.

“Before I answer.” You pressed your finger to his lips. “I need to talk to your dad just to make sure we’re all on the same page.” He nodded his head. “But, once I talk to him and everything’s peachy keen, it’s a yes.”

A surprised gasp left you when you suddenly found yourself on your back with a very happy man on top of you, slotting his naked hips between your thighs and pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, moaning when his tongue licked into your mouth to tangle with your own, feeling his cock beginning to harden.

There was a throbbing ache in your core, wanting, no, needing, him to fill it in the only way he could, stuffing you full with his dick, then his come. Your fingers slid into his hair, nails lightly scraping against his scalp, the bed complaining with every minuscule movement you made.

SCREECH-Screech-screech. Javi sat up on his knees, the blankets falling down behind him. His eyebrows were pulled together, and his mouth was turned down in a frown as he grabbed the hem of your t-shirt. “If you were naked—” The bed squeaked as your upper body rose for him to tug your shirt off, it getting tossed to the floor. You laid back down, the frame screeching loudly again. “—you’d already be coming on my fingers.” Your cunt clenched hard around nothing at his words.

“I’m sorry!” you harshly whispered. “I was mad.”

He moved back on his knees, causing more ear-splitting noises, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts and underwear. “Yeah, you kept your fucking panties on.” His face scrunched in confusion. “Why would you make it harder for me to fuck you?”

“Because: how annoyed are you right now?”

Squeak. His jaw ticked, and you knew he was irritated. “Between this fucking bed and having to waste time I could be fucking you, undressing you? I’m pretty fucking annoyed.” He pulled off your remaining clothes in one go, your ass rising, then falling back onto the bed and bouncing twice to the tune of the worst high-pitched sounds that could rival nails on a chalkboard. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he seethed.

You grimaced. “I am so sorry, babe. Can I make it up to you? A sloppy blowjob? I can sit on your face? You can play with my ass?” He always loved that.

He moved to lay on his side beside you, the journey plagued by ungodly noise, looking at you with a grumpy expression—someone pounded on the wall connecting your room to Steve and Connie’s master bathroom, Javi’s face turning red and eyes flashing with anger.

“Fuck this,” he growled.

He tossed his pillow and yours to the floor next to you and crawled over you to get off the mattress, the bedframe singing the godawful song of its people as he went, Javi pulling the comforter off the bed to fall on the floor. He groaned as he bent down to situate everything, ending up on his knees atop the spread-out blanket when he was satisfied. His arm went over your belly, using his strength to get you to the edge of the bed in a chorus of squeaks and grunts, and let you get on your feet on the ground before he dragged you down to lay on the comforter with your head cushioned on a pillow.

Javi was back to lying on his side beside you, holding his head up on his arm to look at you with irritation written on his features, his other hand smoothing down your belly to the apex of your thighs, the slide of two thick fingers through your slit making your breath catch in your throat.

“You wore clothes to annoy me.” He pouted.

He gathered some of the wetness pooling at your opening and used it to easily swirl his digits over your sensitive clit, sparking pleasure in your belly.

“Yes,” you gasped.

“You know all the little shit that annoys the fuck out of me—like the fucking underwear and shorts.”

He was fine if you wore underwear to bed, but underwear and sleep shorts? That was too many layers for him and, frankly, you, too. His preference was for you to be naked—he loved skin-to-skin contact and having easy access when you wanted him or when he wanted you.

“I’m sorry.” You loudly gulped, the beginning of your orgasm starting to make itself known. “Please let me come.” He seemed annoyed enough. You could imagine he’d draw things out and make you beg.

His expression changed to confusion. “I’m gonna let you come, baby.” He removed his hand, a pitiful sound leaving you as you watched him suck his fingers into his mouth, hearing the swish of saliva—they came out from between his plush lips, glistening in the low light of the room, and you moaned when without any preamble he pressed those two digits into your wet entrance.

He quietly shushed you. “Gotta be quiet, Cielito,” he said. You bit your bottom lip, reveling in the slight stretch of his fingers as he pumped them slowly in and out, your eyelids fluttering shut. “You also know all the little things that make me happy—like how I prefer Mexican Coca-cola, and you do shit like make me stop at that corner store on our way to Pop’s every week to pick up three bottles.” He started moving faster, and it made you whine at how good it felt. “You love me, you care about me, and make me so fucking happy—I was really fucking happy about your yes.” He crooked his digits, sliding the pads of his fingertips along your upper wall until he hit something divine that made you gasp. “There it is.” His focus went to that spot, making sure to press against it every time he pushed inside, your vision dotting with stars at the intense pleasure. “I was really fucking happy about your yes,” he said again, the added friction of his thumb rubbing your clit, rocketing you to your end, the knot in your belly winding up so tight it was close to snapping. “Then the clothes and the fucking bed—”

“Threw off your groove,” you panted, grabbing at the blanket for something to hold onto.

“Threw off my fucking groove and pissed me off.”

“I’m sorry.” You felt so bad but were also so close to coming.

His head came forward to kiss you tenderly. “Quería hacerte el amor (I wanted to make love to you),” he murmured into your lips, and you clenched around his fingers. “Quería hacerlo bien suave, dártelo despacito (I wanted to do it softly, give it to you slowly).” His hand sped up, hearing the wet slide of his digits fucking into you, the pleasure making the muscles in your stomach tighten and tighten. He nipped at your lip. “But I’m too worked up,” he rasped. “So, now, after you’re my good girl and you come on my fingers, you’re getting put face down, ass up, and I’m gonna give you that good dick you’re entitled to as my future wife and mother of my children—and next time you’re gonna ask for it instead of pulling the passive aggressive bullshit you did tonight; I love you more than anything, but I can’t read your mind.”

“Oh, god,” you moaned, wound up so tight you were dangling on the edge.

He kissed your cheek, trailing his lips down to your ear, his words coming out deep and husky with a slight edge that brooked no room for argument, “Javi,” he corrected, “the man you’re gonna marry, who's gonna make you a mother, and right now, come.”

The tension inside you snapped, the order doing you in as you came with a loud moan Javi smothered with his mouth pressing to yours. Euphoria pulsed out from your center while your pussy squeezed his fingers hard enough that they stopped moving, his thumb gently stroking over your sensitive bundle of nerves to help you ride out your high.

He was languidly kissing you, your body pleasantly relaxed and feeling amazing.

It was wetter between your legs, your slick drenching his fingers. You slid your hands into soft strands of his hair, kissing him harder, and he groaned, grinding his hard cock into your hip for some friction, his precum streaking on your skin.

Javi pulled back, and you chased his lips. “You good?” he asked.

Your eyes opened, seeing his plush lips were red and shiny from spit. “Yeah.”

His head nodded, his loving gaze admiring every inch of your face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You smirked. “...and I love that I’m entitled to your good dick.”

His mouth curved in a crooked smile, removing his hand from between your legs to grab your smaller one and press it to his hot, throbbing length. “It’s yours,” he said, “and only yours, so yeah, you’re entitled to it, mi amor (my love).”

You took the girth of him in hand, and his mouth fell open as you stroked the velvety soft skin. “God, you’re so fucking hot, and you were exceptionally hot today. Like, thank you for making me come on your fingers, but I’m afraid I am going to die if you don’t put this thing inside me where it belongs.”

His dark eyes got darker. “Flip over,” he ordered.

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” you said, immediately turning over onto your stomach and getting on your knees. You leaned forward to rest your arms and head on the pillow, keeping your ass up in the air.

Pained groans sounded from Javi as he moved, knowing being on the stone-tiled floor was probably fucking up his knees and back. You grabbed the extra pillow beside the one you were on and held it back behind you. “Use this as a knee pad.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was frowning. “What about your knees?”

“You’re a sweetheart for worrying about my knees, but they’re fine. I want you comfy while you fuck my brains out.”

A loud sigh left him. “I should be fucking you in a bed—” There was anger in his tone, snatching the pillow from you. “—not the fucking floor.” You could feel the air moving behind you as he situated himself on the pillow. “You deserve better than the fucking floor.”

You frowned. “If you’re this mad about it, we can fuck on the chair again? Or you can bend me over the bathroom counter?”

“No.” He had shuffled close enough that his body heat was radiating against your skin, hearing him spit on his fingers, followed by wet strokes as he slicked up his cock. “This is how I want you.”

Your head was resting on your crossed arms, and you wiggled your backside. “You did say you were gonna give me that good dick while I was face down, ass up.”

His big hands grabbed your asscheeks and spread them. “Yeah, I fucking am.” A soft moan fell from your lips when you felt warm saliva land on the skin between your asshole and pussy, one of his hands sliding the tip of his cock through the spit to notch at your entrance. “I need you to be quiet.”

“I can be—” The sentence ended with you shoving your face into the pillow to muffle your moan as the tight walls of your cunt were stretched and filled with his hard, thick cock, pushing in so deep he kissed your womb.

He bottomed out, his hips connecting with the plump flesh of your ass, and it stole your breath, your head going dizzy with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he whispered, digging his fingers into your hips. “Fucking perfect.” He pulled out halfway and pushed back in. “The perfect pussy.” Now, he was rocking into you, keeping as much of himself inside you as possible while still getting some friction. “God, I love you.”

Your head turned to speak quietly, “Are you already pussy drunk?”

He swatted your asscheek. “Don’t give me shit,” he grumped. “You weren’t the only one driven crazy all fucking day.”

“I’m not giving you shit—it’s making me feel really good about myself.”

“Yeah?” His hands were gripping the globes of your ass. “You love knowing what you do to me?” he asked, sliding his dick out until just the tip was inside. He thrusted forward hard, your eyes rolling back in your head and a gasp leaving your lips. “You love the power you have over me?” he questioned, pulling out to the same point. Thrust. “That not even a second inside you, and I never wanna fucking leave.” He kept that slow, hard pace as he spoke, moving in and out. You reached one of your hands between your legs, spreading two digits around where he was spearing into you to feel how he was stretching you open. “My favorite place to put my dick.”

It was taking everything in you to hold back your moans, whimpers slipping from your throat instead from how fucking good it felt. With the way you were positioned, his cock was sliding against those spots that made your toes curl and your vision blur, having a hard time thinking, let alone speaking—his last comment somehow caused you to blurt out, “Liar.”

He was softly grunting behind you, his fingers tightening on your ass.

His pace didn’t waver. “What am I lying about?”

He really wanted an answer? It took a lot of effort for you to reply, a thin layer of sweat forming on your skin, swallowing hard before you spoke. “Your favorite—” He pushed into you, and it hit so good you moaned. “—fuck,” you tried again. “Your favorite place is my ass.” His rhythm stuttered, and he kept his groan low.

His voice was rough, “No, it’s not. That’s my second favorite—fuck, you feel so good—so fucking wet. This pussy is my favorite.” You could tell he was exciting himself. “Fucking love it—can never get enough of it.”

The swing of his hips sped up, fucking into you faster, your ass jiggling as his body collided with yours. This new tempo had you putting your face back into the cushiony pillow to dampen your moans, your fingers moving to rub at your clit, causing fire to ignite in your belly; soft grunts coming from behind you, hearing the slap of skin on skin, and the sounds wet where he was working himself into your cunt, a steady stream of your arousal dripping down his shaft to his balls slapping against your digits.

The heat at the base of your spine was growing, his dick pounding into you at a punishing pace, mewling incessantly from the onslaught. Each thrust had you seeing stars, the pleasure building you higher and higher, your belly clenching in anticipation for your impending orgasm.

It didn’t even surprise you how quickly he was working you up with the way you were pent up from watching him all day—how tempting it’d been to haul him away and fuck him, and he wasn’t disappointing you now, truly giving you the good dick you’d wanted.

The muscles in your stomach were beginning to tighten, so fucking lost in what he was doing to you and your fingers, you’d forgotten to control your volume, a big hand squeezing its way between your face and the pillow to cover your mouth.

Javi came down over your back, holding himself up on an arm while he kept fucking into you, dipping his upper body low enough his lips grazed the shell of your ear, feeling his hot, panting breaths.

“Such a good fucking girl taking it,” he breathily rasped into your ear. “Am I fucking you good? Is this the good dick you wanted?” You moaned into his palm. “Your needy little pussy just needed my cock?” He was pounding into you hard enough to make your thighs jiggle and ass shake like jello. “Turned you on watching me today? You love knowing that I’ll be a good father? That I’ll actually give a shit? That you just, fuck,” he groaned. “That you just have to say the word, and I’ll fuck a baby into you?” He was moving faster. “I’ll give you a baby—I’ll keep your perfect little pussy stuffed with my come to make sure it takes.” The sentence made you clench around him, so close to your climax you could taste it. “Is that what you want?”

You couldn’t speak, not with the way he was fucking you, unable to articulate words as he impaled you on his dick.

“Are you cock dumb, Cielito?” he asked through heavy breaths. “Am I fucking you too good? I know you’re close. Give me another, and I’ll fuck you full of me.”

Your body was trembling, right on the cusp of coming.

“Come all over my cock, baby, and I’ll fill you up. Just think, after my birthday, when I fuck my come deep inside you, I could end up knocking you up.”

Finally, you were cresting, your cunt clamping down on him hard enough, he slowed as you came with a whine, and tears leaked from your eyes. Pleasure exploded out from your core, feeling it in your fingers and toes, your mind going pleasantly blank while your chest heaved and your heart raced.

“My good girl.” He sounded pained, rolling his hips to extend your high. “You’re so fucking good to me—I fucking love you.”

He pulled out of you and removed his hand from your mouth, and you hated how empty you felt.

Groaning, he sat up on his knees.

He tapped your hip. “I need you on your back.”

His hands were gentle as he helped you in your fucked out state to get onto your back with him in the space between your spread legs. He ended up over you, with an arm beside your head, the other guiding himself back inside you in one smooth thrust that made you whimper.

Your eyes were closed, but you could feel how he surrounded you—the mass of him on top of you with those broad shoulders you loved so much.

When he started moving, he didn’t go slow, nor was he going the typical speed to chase his own high—it was something in between that had him slickly sliding in and out of your drenched pussy, hearing the wet suck of each stroke.

First, his lips found yours, kissing you while his hands sought out your own, interlacing your fingers together as he held them above your heads. Your bodies were glistening and hair damp with sweat, not caring how the skin that came in contact stuck together.

You were still feeling good from your orgasm and loved how he felt inside you, knowing this was how he originally wanted to fuck you.

“Te amo (I love you),” he said into your lips, sounding wrecked. “Te amo tanto (I love you so much). No puedo esperar a verte usando un anillo (I can’t wait to see you wearing a ring on your finger). No puedo esperar a verte embarazada (I can’t wait to see you pregnant).” His pace was quickening, his words getting breathier. “No puedo esperar a que seas mi esposa (I can’t wait for you to be my wife). No puedo esperar a que seas la madre de mi hijos (I can’t wait for you to be the mother of my children). No puedo esperar a vivir en la casa de tus sueños contigo (I can’t wait to live in the house of your dreams with you). No puedo esperar a pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you). Te amo, mi Cielito, mi amor, mi vida, mi alma, mi todo (I love you, my Cielito, my love, my life, my soul, my everything).”

“God,” you softly moaned. “This is what you meant when you said querías hacerme el amor (you wanted to make love to me).” This was the only way you were okay with the phrase—it sounded very romantic in Spanish. “How do you make me fall more in love with you?” You kissed him. “It’s not fair.” Your words were muffled. “I want to be married to you and have your babies.” Your legs went around his hips, digging your heels into his flexed asscheeks to pull him closer to you each time he pushed in. “Fuck a baby into me, Javi.” He groaned at your words, his hips moving faster, finally working toward his end. “I want one so bad—I’m hoping I can get rid of my birth control tomorrow.” Which was true.

The sound he made, you’d think he’d been wounded, his strokes getting jerky, his face going into your neck as he breathed through his bared teeth until he was pushing in all the way, biting into your shoulder to muffle his ragged moan as he came. You felt as his cock thickened and pulsed, spurting hot come as deep inside you as he could get, your cunt clenching around him.

This was what you had needed all damn day, finally feeling sated at being full of him, all of him—his dick, his come—sighing happily.

He let go of your hands, and you found yourself under the comforting weight of the man you’d one day marry and have children with, sliding your fingers into the soft, thick, sweat-damp strands of his hair, making him hum and nuzzle into your throat as you lightly scratched at his scalp.

Nothing mattered when you were like this; no one else existed. There was only Javi and you, you and Javi. He was what you could feel and what you could smell. When you opened your eyes, he was what you could see; his heavy breaths were what you could hear—he was everything.

He was your everything.

Javier Peña was your today, tomorrow, next week, and next year. He was your present and future, the one you were meant to spend the rest of your days on this planet with and haunt all of eternity in the afterlife with. He was your person, the love of your life, your soulmate, and most of all, your best friend.

You were going to marry and start a family with your best friend, the man who knew you better than anyone else and loved you more, too.

Why were you ever scared about having a child when you knew he’d be by your side every step of the way and take care of you?

Because you’ve never had this kind of support or been loved like this before. You were in new territory and treading carefully, learning as you went—both of you were learning to live this new life together and figuring things out. As Javi said earlier in the day, it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. You were going to have your ups and downs, but all that mattered was you stuck together through the good and the bad because you truly loved each other.

Time passed, the minutes going into the double digits before either of you spoke, content in your cocoon.

“Did you mean it?” he said the words into your skin.

“Did I mean what?” It took some head-turning and neck stretching to kiss his forehead.

“You wanna get rid of your birth control tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Your fingers stroked through his hair. “I was gonna call your dad right before you came and got me for bed, but now it’s too late. I’ll leave a message on his answering machine in the morning since he’ll be working to give us a call on his lunch break so I can talk to him.”

Javi’s head popped up to look you in the eyes with a grin. “He’ll answer the first time you call.”

You frowned. “He’ll already be working by six… He won’t be home.”

He was practically vibrating with excitement. “Trust me, he’ll be home.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What do you know that I don’t know?”

“Nothing that you don’t already know—Pop really wants to be an abuelo (grandpa), and he’s on our ass about grandkids all the fucking time.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain him being home tomorrow…”

“Oh, yeah, I talked to him earlier and mentioned you wanted to talk to him before we finally went for it, and he got so excited, he said he’d stay home the next couple of days in case you called.”

That sounded like something Chucho would do if he knew there was a chance it’d speed up him getting his grandkids, and it warmed your heart, making you smile. “He’s the best—I love your dad.”

“He’s your dad, too—he already calls you his nuera (daughter-in-law).”

“Sure, but it feels a little sweet home Alabama saying, ‘I love our dad’ with your dick still inside me.”

A high-pitched sound came from air escaping between his lips, which he was struggling to keep closed, it sputtering into a full-on laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges in mirth.

“That’s fucked up,” he wheezed.

You were smiling, pushing his bangs away from his face. “It’s the truth. The sentiment is sweet, but the phrasing is a real boner killer.”

“I love you.” He was calming down, adjusting his weight onto one arm in order to cradle your face in his other palm.

“I love you, too.”

The smile on his face was big and bright, a joyful chuckle leaving him as he leaned in to kiss you—something sweet, and tender, feeling his happiness with each press of his plush lips to yours.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” he said between kisses.

“I’m not pregnant yet.”

“You will be soon.” And he said it so matter of factly, with such surety, it had pleasure shivering down your spine, your cunt clenching around his softened cock, making him hiss from the overstimulation.

A shift happened, the kisses turning more fervent before he was pulling out of you and making a journey with his lips down your body, to between your legs, where he worshipped you with his mouth and tongue, your fingers tugging on his hair, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet.

After he pulled another orgasm from you, he finally seemed satisfied, and a quick shower was taken to wash the sex away from your bodies. Javi was so pissed off about the bed he refused to sleep in it how Steve had intended and instead quietly moved the furniture around, pushing an end table and the bedframe closer to the closet to give him enough space to put the mattress on the floor. It was going to be an absolute bitch to get up from in the morning, but your future husband was pleased with himself for getting around his friend trying to cockblock him, and you both were happy you weren’t plagued with any more godawful noise.

This time, you were naked when you crawled into bed with Javi, and he immediately pulled you into his arms, tangling your legs together. Exhaustion caught up to you from the long day, sleep making your eyes heavy, smiling when he kissed your forehead, then your lips, his nose nudging yours as he whispered, “I love you.”

Your thoughts had become slow, so comfortable and warm, feeling so loved and happy, you were drifting off, mumbling as you went, “I love you, too.”

The bright teal walls and floral artwork hanging on them let him know he was standing in the hallway at the back of his father’s house—his mother had chosen each piece, and his dad had hammered each nail they hung from in the spots she’d decided. In all his years in this house, he’d never seen these walls bare and loved even after all this time since his mom had passed away, his father hadn’t changed a single thing she decorated; not in this hallway, not in his parent’s bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, the entryway, the guest room; they all had a touch of her, little traces of her memory with the pictures she chose to display or the knick-knacks she left on shelves or decorations adorning the spaces.

Sounds were coming from the kitchen that told him someone was cooking—a tune he couldn’t quite make out but somehow knew playing on his mother’s favorite Spanish radio station, something frying on the stove, the dings and scrapes of cooking utensils against pots and pans—the familiarity of it making him wonder what his Cielito was making, and feeling like he was floating across the floor with how smoothly he walked toward the noises.

One moment, he was walking, the next, he was in the kitchen beside the table. His vision was soft around the edges and unfocused, but he knew the woman whose back was to him wasn’t Cielito—it was almost like she was a shadow; the shape of an adult human female with no details.

The dark figure’s head turned to look over their shoulder at him, and even without a face, he could tell they were smiling.

“Ah, mi Javiercito, estoy muy feliz de que estés aquí (Ah, my Javier, I’m so happy you’re here)!” His vision focused as she spoke and filled in those details that were missing, his mother appearing before him with her brown hair that matched his beginning to grey and the same lines on her face that were in the photo taken on his parents’ 35th anniversary. “Te he echado de menos, nene (I’ve missed you, baby boy).” She turned to face him, wearing her light pink, rose-printed apron with the ruffle trim and two big, solid dark pink pockets on the front. “Ven a ayudar a tu mamá a abrir este frasco obstinado (Come help your mom open this stubborn jar).” She held it up, and he was so transfixed with her he didn’t care to see what was in it.

“Amá (Mom),” he whispered, trying not to cry. “¿Eres tú, amá (Is that you, mom)?”

“¿Estuviste ausente por tanto tiempo que te olvidaste de tu pobre madre (Were you away for so long that you forgot about your poor mother)? Sí, soy yo (Yes, it’s me). Ahora, ayúdame a abrir este frasco (Now, help me open this jar).” She lifted the glass again. “Tu papá está trabajando y tengo que terminar de hacer la cena (Your dad is working and I need to finish making dinner). Es una gran noche para todos nosotros (It’s a big night for all of us).”

Javier took the jar and easily got the lid off with a pop as he removed it.

His mother was much shorter than him, and she reached up to grab his face, pulling him down to kiss all over his cheeks like he was a child before she held them and looked him in the eyes.

“Gracias, Javiercito (Thank you, Javier),” she said. “Estoy muy orgullosa de ti y del hombre increíble en el que te has convertido (I am so proud of you and the amazing man you have become). No sabes lo feliz que estoy de ver hacia dónde se dirige tu vida (You don’t know how happy I am to see where your life is going). No mereces nada más que felicidad (You deserve nothing but happiness). Hablando de eso, ¿cuándo llegará mi nuera favorita aquí (Speaking of which, when will my favorite daughter-in-law get here)?” She patted his cheeks. “¿Dónde está tu Cielito (Where is your Cielito)? Ella necesita estar aquí para la celebración de que tu padre y yo finalmente vamos a ser abuelos (She needs to be here for the celebration that your dad and I are finally going to be grandparents). Estoy haciendo su receta favorita de mi caja de recetas (I’m making her favorite recipe from my recipe box).”

It was so hard to speak when it felt like there was a lump in his throat.

“¿Por qué estás haciendo su receta favorita (Why are you making her favorite recipe)?” he asked thickly. “Soy tu hijo (I’m your son).”

His mom smiled. “Porque ella es la mujer increíble que hizo sonreír a mi hijo de nuevo, y lo ama tanto, sé que finalmente tendrá la vida feliz que tanto se merece (Because she is the incredible woman who made my son smile again, and loves him so much, I know he’s going to finally have the happy life he deserves).” Her smile turned mischievous. “Además, ella es mi hija favorita que nunca tuve y la madre de mis futuros nietos, así que le haré todo lo que quiera (Also, she is my favorite daughter I never had and the mother of my future grandchildren, so I will make her anything she wants.”

Suddenly, consciousness was crashing into him as he woke up, gasping on a sob, his eyes wet with tears. The room was pitch black when his eyelids lifted, lying face up atop the mattress, Cielito’s back pressed to his side with his arm draped over her bare middle, the ache in his heart making his shoulders shake as he cried away the sadness.

What he’d give for that dream to have been reality.

He couldn’t recall the last time his mother had visited him while he slept. For years after she passed away, the only time she appeared in his dreams was when he relived the last time he saw her alive as she lay on her deathbed. Over and over again, he’d sit on the edge of the hospital bed with her frail hands gripping her rosary between his, begging him to take it for her, and Javier always telling her he would and how much he loved her. Sometimes, he’d say more—he’d beg for her forgiveness for being away for so long, tell her he couldn’t live without her, and plead with her to stay a little longer because he wasn’t ready to let her go.

What he dreamt this evening was different than anything he could remember. It was jarring how real it felt, which made it hurt so much worse. He wondered why his brain chose tonight of all nights to have her visit him and say things he’d needed to hear. Maybe it was all of the big changes taking place in his life—he was moving forward, and it was a reminder she’d always be with him. What he knew for sure was it made him miss her so fucking much and hate that she wouldn’t be with his dad when he and Cielito called him this morning to tell him the news they were engaged and wanted to start their family.

Thinking about his plans for that morning, he moved his arm from over his future wife to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks and carefully sat up so he didn’t wake her, the blankets falling to pool at his waist. He twisted his upper body to look over his shoulder at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table pressed against the mattress-less bed frame. The alarm he set would be going off in ten minutes, so it looked like he was getting up. He leaned back and stretched his arm to turn off the alarm.

It was a smart move to put the mattress on the floor with how he was able to quietly get out of bed, his knees complaining when he stood up and made his way in the dark to the chair by the bathroom door where he set out his clothes the night before.

He’d get dressed in the bathroom, brush his teeth, do his hair, and shave. Then, he needed to do some other things before it was time to wake up the woman he loved.

His head was running through the list of shit that he had to get done, and something he kept thinking about, and he knew wasn’t rational, was how the dream felt like his mother saying hi and giving him her approval of who he was going to marry from beyond the grave.

As he said, it wasn’t rational, but it made him really fucking happy.

The tickle of his mustache as he kissed along your shoulder had you waking. His warm hand was rubbing along your arm while he whispered into your skin, “Wake up, Cielito. It’s time to get up, mi amor (my love). We gotta get going, baby.”

“Mmm,” you hummed with a smile. He was on top of the blankets behind you. “What time is it?” you murmured.

“Half past five.”

“In Laredo or Miami?”

You could feel him smile. “Miami.”

The answer made you groan. “That’s four-thirty at home—why are we waking up at five-thirty on vacation?”

“If you get up, you’ll find out.”

You were frowning. “Is everyone else getting up, too?”

“No.”

“What, are you making me breakfast before they wake up or something?”

“No.”

“Are we going someplace at the asscrack of dawn?”

He huffed out an amused breath. “Yes.”

That had you wondering where in the world he’d take you so early.

“Will there be food?”

“Yes.”

He probably wanted to take you alone to some local diner he used to go to when he’d visit, so it was best to leave while everyone else was sleeping.

The thought of coffee and breakfast had you saying, “Fine, I’m getting up.”

“Thank you, Cielito.” He placed one last kiss on your shoulder and moved to get up with a groan. You stretched under the warm covers, blinking open your eyes to see the bathroom light was on with the door cracked, and Javi was fully dressed, yawning as you threw back the blankets.

He helped pull you up from the mattress, and as you walked toward the bathroom, you asked, “Will leggings and a t-shirt be okay, or is there a dress code?”

“Whatever you’ll be comfortable in is fine.”

“Mmkay.”

After taking care of your needs in the en suite, it took some minutes to get ready, ending up in some black leggings and an oversized coral-colored t-shirt with minty breath and your hair done.

The two of you were quiet as you made your way out of the house, stopping to put on your shoes and Javi locking the front door with a key on his keyring as you left.

The sky outside was dark, the street lights offering an orangish glow. Javi was wearing a white button-up under his black leather jacket and jeans, and you were still feeling a bit groggy when you got in the SUV, unable to keep from yawning. He laced his fingers with yours on your thigh, and even though there was a center console separating you both, you leaned your head against his arm as you hugged it, street lights and the headlights of morning commuters passing you as you made your way down the roads with the radio softly playing.

Between the signs on the highway and glimpses of the ocean, it wasn’t much of a surprise when Javi pulled over to the side of the road near a beach access point in Miami Beach forty-five minutes later. It still wasn’t clicking what you were doing there so early in the morning, though. A big bank of dirt covered in bushes kept the water out of view, with some palm trees and a street lamp standing high above near the entrance.

“I thought you said there’d be food?” you said, not even attempting to keep the confusion out of your tone.

“Trust me.” He kissed your hair, untangling your hands as he put the vehicle in park and switched it off.

“Okay… I didn’t bring a jacket.”

Javi met your eyes, the overhead lights coming on when he removed the keys. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, mi amor. Now, come with me, please.” He didn’t even look tired, his gaze bright and hopeful.

“Okay.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, and he smiled, doing the same.

What was a surprise was when you went to see what he was getting out of the trunk, and he pulled out a big bundled-up blanket and full tote bag that clinked as he moved. You closed the back of the SUV without him having to ask.

“Javi?”

He had started walking, and you followed, the air surprisingly warm for how early it was.

“Yes, Cielito?”

“Did you bring me to the beach for a breakfast picnic?”

“Yes.”

You followed him down the path lined with tall grass, bushes, and trees, your feet sinking into the sand as you walked, hearing the waves in the distance—on the beach, you looked around, not seeing any other people, just miles upon miles of sand, and wondered to yourself with how sweet this whole thing was if Javi would let you suck his dick. Thankfully, he didn’t make you walk far, taking you to a circular alcove at the base of the hill where it indented in, the grass and raised land along the sides shielding you from view at those angles.

He set down the bag and spread out the blanket, stepping onto it, and you watched as he lowered himself down to sit on his ass with his legs spread a little out in front of him. He made you giggle when he tugged you by the arm and pulled you down into his lap, ending up across it, his head turning to look at you with a smile, the same expression on your face.

“You stupidly romantic man,” you said, stroking your fingers over his smooth cheek.

“You love that I’m stupidly romantic.” He kissed your palm.

“Yes, I do—like, if you wanted me to, I’d suck your dick right this second. A beach breakfast picnic deserves an out-in-public blow job.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re gonna get us arrested.”

“Hey, I can’t help that it makes me horny when you’re stupidly romantic. My only complaint is how early it is. Aside from that, everything else is lovely.”

His lips dipped into a frown. “I’m, uh, sorry I can’t make the sun rise later…”

Your eyes rounded. “Oh my fucking god,” you breathed. “We’re here to watch the sunrise. I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Why else would I get you up at the asscrack of dawn?”

“Sex,” you answered immediately.

His eyebrow went up. “Did we fuck?”

“No.” You shook your head. Warmth was moving through your veins, feeling the fuzzy happiness. “Because you brought me to the beach for a breakfast picnic and to watch the sunrise!” Moving, you straddled his thighs, taking his face in your hands as you crashed your mouth to his, kissing him like your life depended on it. His arms went around your back to pull you into him, his mouth opening when you eagerly pressed your tongue inside to slide against his, rocking your hips.

The need to breathe became too much, and his lips went to your chin to travel along your jaw in wet streaks.

“I love you so much, Javi,” you panted. “I wish I could do something as special as this for you.”

“You did.” He sucked on your neck, and you moaned.

“I did?”

His head came up to meet your gaze. “Yeah, when you learned how to make mi mamá’s tamales.”

“Oh.”

“You’re stupidly romantic, too.”

It never crossed your mind that making him his mother’s tamale recipe would come across as stupidly romantic—you’d just wanted him to have some comfort on his tough first day at his new job.

“Well, fuck, we’re both a couple of stupidly romantic fools.”

He smiled big as he laughed, giving you a quick kiss.

“Yes, we are. Turn around, baby, and watch the sunrise.” He nodded toward it.

“Bossy.” You gave him a peck on the lips and turned around to sit between his legs, with your back to his front.

A cool gust from the ocean hit you, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin and making you shiver; staring off at the horizon and the dim sky colored in a fiery red where it met the water, lightening to yellow, then a soft blue as it rose.

Javi’s upper body was moving behind you. “Lean forward a little,” he said.

You tilted forward slightly, and he placed his leather jacket on your shoulders, feeling the weight of it and warmth on the inside from his body heat as it covered your arms and back.

Leaning back with your head on his shoulder, you turned to kiss his jaw. “Thank you.”

He hugged around your belly, shoving his face in your neck. “You’re welcome.” His words were muffled.

“What’s in the bag?” you asked.

He squeezed you a little tighter for a second.

“Thermos of coffee, some coffee cups, croissants, donut holes, berries, and cut-up pineapple.”

It was getting brighter, and you were enjoying watching the waves rolling.

“How in the world did you prepare all of that?”

“Connie—she bought everything, had the coffee pot set to be ready when I got up before you, and all I had to do was cut up the pineapple and pack everything.”

“Connie’s the best.”

His chin was resting on your shoulder.

“She is. Are you enjoying the trip?”

“Yes,” you answered truthfully. “Your friends are great, and I’d love to visit again.”

“Good.”

The sky had erupted in bright yellows, oranges, and reds the closer the sun got to appearing.

“It’s so beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he said, taking your left hand in his, his other arm staying around your middle.

In the past, if he said such a thing, you’d snort or deny the compliment, but you’ve been with him long enough to know it wasn’t just him saying words—he meant it. If you asked him if he’d rather watch the sunrise or look at you, he’d choose option two because he was so unbelievably in love with you there was nothing or nobody more beautiful to him; he didn’t even look at other women, or if you pointed out one was attractive, he sounded so uninterested, with his, ‘Sure,’ or, ‘I guess,’ before he got flirty and told you how you were hotter.

This man was obsessed with you, and it was the greatest feeling in the world to feel so wanted. Your insecurities would never disappear, but he did his best to ensure you knew he loved all of you, including your flaws and the things you hated. He was perfect, and sometimes you couldn’t believe he was yours.

You grabbed his hand on your stomach. “My sweet man, I’m literally the happiest girl in the world. I don’t know how I got so lucky meeting you,” you said, sighing wistfully. “You came into my life with those beautiful brown eyes, that perfect mustache, and those tight-ass jeans, and I was a goner. You take up my every thought, and second, and hour, and everywhere I look, it’s you who comes to mind—it’s always you. God, I get lost in your eyes, your smile, and your voice. I get lost just thinking about them. I am so in love with you, Javi, that I miss you constantly. You can be in another room, and I miss you. You can be sitting on the other end of the couch, and I miss you. What I’m trying to say, Javier, is that I love you and am as obsessed with you as you are with me and that I know, to you, I am more beautiful than what we’re looking at.”

Emotion made his words rough. “I’m happy you finally believe me.” He kissed your hair.

“I do. I definitely do.”

He cleared his throat. “Can I say my stupidly romantic shit now?”

You laughed, the sun just beginning to peek in the distance, the colors of the sky reminding you of the opening scene in The Lion King. “Yes,” you answered.

He cleared his throat. “Mi Cielito, eres mi primer amor y mi último, mi media naranja y la mujer con la que voy a pasar el resto de mi vida (My Cielito, you are my first love and my last, my soulmate, and the woman I am going to spend the rest of my life with). Yo te pertenezco (I belong to you). Todo de mí es tuyo (All of me is yours). Mi presente, mi futuro, te pertenece (My present, my future, belongs to you). Eres con quien quiero compartir mi vida, y con quien quiero pasar por los buenos momentos y malos (You are the one I want to share my life with and the one I want to go through the good times and bad with). Me haces un mejor hombre y me haces querer ser un mejor hombre que merece a alguien tan increíble como tú (You make me a better man, and you make me want to be a better man who deserves someone as incredible as you).

“Sabía que eras la unica desde el momento en que nos conocimos (I knew you were the one from the moment we met). Sentí una conexión contigo (I felt a connection with you)—por la primera vez, sentí paz y sé que era mi alma encontraba su pieza faltante (for the first time I felt peace and I know it was my soul finding its missing piece). Sabía que iba a casarme contigo en nuestra tercera cita mientras bailábamos en tu cocina, y si soy honesta conmigo mismo, sabía que te amaba entonces, también (I knew I was going to marry you on our third date while we were dancing in your kitchen, and if I’m honest with myself, I knew I loved you then, too)—las palabras estuvieron pegadas a la punta de mi lengua durante semanas antes de que las dijera en voz pero supe durante tanto tiempo que tú eras para mí (the words were stuck to the tip of my tongue for weeks before I said them out loud, but I knew for so long that you were it for me).”

Tears fell down your cheeks, hearing and watching the waves crashing, the sun rising in the flaming sky as the backdrop.

“It’s not fair your stupidly romantic shit is making me cry,” you sniffed.

He kissed the side of your neck, his right hand on your tummy moved up to cup your left cheek, swiping at some of the wetness with his thumb.

“Lo siento por hacerte llorar, pero no he terminado (I’m sorry for making you cry, but I’m not finished).”

“Please continue. It’s not like you’ll make me cry any harder.”

You could hear him smiling when he started talking again. “Mi sueño para donde estaremos en cinco años es que estemos casados, viviendo en la casa de sus sueños que he construido para ti, rodeado de tantos niños como quieras, que estemos criando juntos (My dream for where we’ll be in five years is that we’re married, living in your dream home that I’ve built for you, surrounded by as many kids as you want that we’re raising together). Quiero eso (I want that). Quiero que eso se convierta en una realidad (I want that to become a reality). Quiero hacer mis sueños realidad y convertirme en tu esposo (I want to make my dreams come true and become your husband).”

Gasping, your head turned to look at him, his hand leaving your face, realizing this was a proposal.

“Javi,” you whispered, your breath stuttering as teardrops streamed down your cheeks, your lip trembling. “Are we practicing?”

There’d been a few practice proposals, the rules for the real thing being that Javi had to do it, and there needed to be a ring. Being on the beach, with the rolling waves and the rising sun, made this the perfect location and time for him to do it, but there didn’t seem to be a ring…

“Sigue mirando el amanecer, mi amor (Keep watching the sunrise, my love).”

With a nod, you faced forward again and immediately jolted in shock, your palm covering your mouth, stifling your loud gasp.

In front of you, Javi held up with one hand an open white leather ring box containing a gold band with a decent-sized princess cut diamond in the middle and two smaller ones on either side.

It was beautiful.

And he was actually doing it.

This was the real thing.

It was finally happening, and your body was shaking with sobs, the tears from earlier turning into full-on ugly crying because you were so happy and overcome with emotion.

“Te amo tanto, para siempre no sería suficiente tiempo para pasar contigo (I love you so much forever wouldn’t be enough time to spend with you),” Javi continued, sounding choked up. “Soy tuyo hasta que respire por la última vez, y seguiré siendo tuyo cuando mi alma deje esta tierra (I am yours until my last breath, and I will still be yours when my soul leaves this earth). La muerte no nos mantendrá separados (Death won’t keep us apart); Nos volveremos a encontrar (We’ll meet again). Buscaré en el cosmos y en los cielos hasta encontrarte porque no puedo vivir sin ti (I will search the cosmos and the heavens until I find you because I cannot live without you); eres mi otra mitad, mi media naranja, y me haces completo (you are my other half, my soulmate, and you make me whole). No hay yo sin ti (There is no me without you).”

“Me haces feliz de una manera que nadie más puede (You make me happy in a way that no one else can). Me haces sentir amado (You make me feel loved). Te preocupas por mí, y por todo eso, tienes todo mi amor y total devoción, y quiero dedicarte cada pieza de mí mismo, cuerpo y alma a ti (You care about me, and for all that, you have all of my love and total devotion, and I want to dedicate every piece of myself, body and soul, to you). Mi Cielito, mi amor, mi vida, mi alma, mi todo ¿me hariás el hombre más feliz del mundo, te casarías conmigo (My Cielito, my love, my life, my soul, my everything, you’d make me the happiest man in the world, will you marry me)?”

Nodding your head, you answered through tears, “¡Por supuesto que sí (Yes, of course)! ¡Un millón de veces sí (A million times, yes)!”

He paused for a second. “Really?” he asked softly.

His surprise sobered you up to the point you frowned and stopped crying, shaking off his hand holding yours to turn around, sitting on your knees between his legs.

His eyes were rimmed with red, tear tracks streaking beneath them down his cheeks. You held his face in your hands, your gaze on his.

“Now, you listen here, Javier Jesús Peña López: I. Am. Marrying. You. You proposed with a ring, and I said yes. I. Said. Yes.” You poked him in the middle of the chest. “We’re getting married. I want to marry you, so please put that gorgeous fucking ring on my finger so we can make out.”

“Right, shit,” he said, fumbling to take the ring out in front of you, the box falling once he had it between his fingers. He grabbed your left hand, sliding the ring onto your ring finger, and it fit perfectly.

You were staring at it, the diamonds sparkling in the early morning light.

“It’s so beautiful,” you said, your vision muddled from the water brimming in your eyes.

“It was my mom’s.”

Your gaze snapped to his. “Your mom’s?”

He was smiling softly. “Yeah. She would’ve wanted you to have it, and Pop agreed; he had it cleaned the day after he met you.” His hand held yours, sliding his thumb over the ring, and you wept, the teardrops slowly falling. “He gave me his blessing to have it altered because the original center diamond was very modest—he worked on the ranch for the previous owner in high school to help out mis abuelos (my grandparents), and once he realized he was going to marry my mom, he started saving a little bit of his paychecks for years until he had enough to buy her a ring he felt proud about her wearing; he wanted me to feel proud when you showed it off, too. The rest is the same aside from being adjusted to your size.”

You were looking down at where his thumb was moving over each diamond, back and forth, knowing the ring's history making you feel incredibly emotional.

“She wore this?”

“Yeah.”

Your shoulders shook. “It’s perfect,” you said. “She’ll always be with us.”

Javi had tears wetting his cheeks as he smiled. “Yeah, she will.”

The sentiment had the floodgates letting loose and made you start to bawl, throwing your arms around his neck and shoving your face in his throat as you hugged him, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close. He comforted you while you happily sobbed.

You were just so unbelievably happy with everything that happened—the proposal was better than you ever could have dreamed, and the fact he’d done it with his mother’s ring was making you an absolute mess. It meant so much to you that Chucho and Javi felt Antonia would want you to have it, silently promising her as you held her son that for as long as you lived, he would be loved, cherished, and you’d take good care of him.

When you finally started calming down, you said into his skin, sounding stuffed up, “There’s not this much gross crying when people get engaged on TV or in movies. Like, who’d wanna make out with someone whose face is wet from snot and tears?”

He chuckled, rubbing a hand along your spine. “I would.”

Sitting up, you met his eyes with a frown. “I feel too icky.”

“Hold on.” He leaned to dig into the tote bag beside him and brought out a small square box of tissues, presenting it to you.

“Connie?” you asked as you pulled two from the top.

“Yeah.”

You were wiping your face. “We should get her a fruit basket—one of the fancy chocolate-dipped ones.” The tissues were discarded for another to blow your nose, thinking this had to be the peak of romance.

“We’ll do that. I was gonna get Steve a nice bottle of whiskey, but with what he did to the bed, he’s not getting shit now.” The box of tissues was set down.

You snorted, your face finally clean and hands free. “You’ll get back at him somehow. Now—” You moved to straddle his lap with your arms going over his shoulder and fingers threading into his hair. “—I’d like to make out with my fiancé.” His white collar caught your attention. “I’m surprised for such a special occasion, you didn’t match your shirt to mine.”

He was smirking, his hands coming up to slide along your cheeks before cradling them. “It’s because—” Gently, he pulled you forward, kissing the tip of your nose, then nuzzling it with his own. “—I’m wearing the same outfit I wore on our first date.” His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, remembering him sitting in the bar on your first date in his white button-up under the black leather jacket and jeans, and that it was exactly what he wore here—all of the thought he put into this morning making you go so soft you were practically goo as you melted into him, pressing yourself closer, and allowing his tongue to plunder your mouth.

Happiness was wafting off the both of you, the sun shining in an orange glow behind you as the waves crashed and rolled.

Javier Peña was your person—he was the love of your life, your soulmate, your best friend, and his newest title, your fiancé.

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roanniom · 2 years

Text

Being Good

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Request: Riding a pillow while jerking Steve off ;p - anon

Note: Wrote some of this drunk in the back of an uber on the way to meet up with friends for a party, so I like to think this is a very organic piece lol. If you saw that I posted this accidentally before it was finished, no you didn’t lol

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, pillow riding, masturbation (m & f), alcohol consumption / drunkenness, brief fingering/fondling, dirty talk, Steve is a consent king and wants to do right by you so bb boi does his best to be good, even though you make it hard. So very hard.

When you stumble through your front door after the party, you yank Steve in with you. Hands on his chest you slam him up against the adjacent wall after he barely manages to get the door closed, attaching your lips to his in a particularly lewd, loud kiss. His back arches against the wall.

“H-hold on, baby,” Steve chuckles, pulling you off him and breathing heavily. “Slow down.”

“I don’t wanna,” you argue, peppering kisses on Steve’s jaw and neck when he won’t let you attack his mouth again. He chuckles and allows you to maul him with affection, pushing him toward the couch, but he grabs your wrists when you start to unbuckle his belt.

“Woah woah woah, none of that.”

“Why not?” You ask, so indignant that it’s kind of cute.

“You’re wasted, baby,” Steve explains gently, but not without a little chuckle. You shake your head too vehemently, throwing off your own balance a bit.

“No. No I’m not. I’m tipsy, promise!” You grab at his sleeve and try to pull his body back against yours but he holds you firmly by the forearms.

“You’re drunk, so no funny business.”

“But…but ‘m really…” you look around as if to make sure nobody’s listening even though you’re alone in your own apartment. Then you whisper. “‘M…really horny, Stevie.”

Steve’s eyes widen rapidly but then he barks out a laugh before kissing you fondly on the forehead.

“Now I know you’re drunk.”

“Whyyyy?” you whine out.

“Because for starters, you’re calling me Stevie -,”

“I call you Stevie a lot!” you interrupt, but he shakes his head.

“No, you call me Stevie when you’re drunk, my love.” Then he cocks his head to the side as of thinking before continuing. “And when you’re cock drunk, although I guess you could say that’s the same thing.”

“Stevieeee. Don’t say things like that if you’re not gonna…put it inside me…” you say the last part in a dramatic whisper. Steve starts to walk away, shaking his head incredulously, though you follow hot on his trail.

“Which brings me to the other thing indicating how drunk you are - you’re talking very dirty.”

“Y’always tell me to be more v-vocal,” you hiccup, almost offended.

Steve wanders into the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes.

“Yeah I do and it’s always like pulling teeth. Your inhibitions are obviously lowered if you’re telling me to ‘put it inside you’.” He says the last part in a mocking tone, mimicking your delivery. You frown and watch him straighten back up into sitting position before bullying yourself into his space and straddling his lap.

“But c’mon Stevie. I…I want you so bad. It’ll feel soooo good.” You do your best to entice him, arms wound round his neck, nose skimming his jaw. You swivel your hips to grind against him sloppily and he groans. “Can’t tell me you’re not turned on, too. I feel you. He wants to come out and play.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking killing me,” Steve chuckles, stopping your hips with a firm grip.

“No you’re killing me. Please. Fuck me.” Your words are desperate and your face is even more so. All doe eyes and parted, wet lips. If Steve wasn’t able to detect the haziness in your gaze, he might have relented. Might have fucked you right then and there. But you sway in his lap as you try to wriggle against his hardening cock and he shakes his head.

“No can do, sweetheart. I want you all there when I fuck you. Need you to start off with brains if I want to fuck you brainless.” He chuckles at his own uncouth comment but you pout, pulling your arms from his neck to fold them petulantly across your chest.

“We have sex when we’re both drunk all the time.”

“Well not all the time. And that’s when we’re both drunk, baby. Right now it’s taking advantage of you.”

“No it’s taking care of me,” you argue, grabbing his hand and pulling it between your thighs. Steve rests his forehead against yours patiently.

“Why don’t you go wash your face, get changed, and get to bed. I’ll take care of you however many times you want in the morning.”

“But I’m wet noooow,” you cry out. Steve’s eyelids flutter as he tries to keep from reacting to your whine and your words. He pushes you up to standing and guides you to the bathroom where he leaves you frowning at him.

“Fucking Christ,” he says, heading back to the bedroom, rubbing his face roughly to try and get a hold of himself. He’s trying his best to do right by you but you’re making it as hard as possible of course.

Steve undresses while you take your time in the bathroom, sliding under the covers in his usual pair of boxers. He has the lights low and by the time you’ve emerged he’s hoping your mood has muted.

But no such luck.

You appear in the doorway in a silk slip and panties, walking to the bed with purpose. Your face is freshly scrubbed, but the pout remains. Steve swallows audibly and clutches the covers closer to his chin, realizing that his struggle might have barely begun. Before he fully realizes what’s happening, you’ve climbed on the bed and grabbed a pillow, slotting it squarely between your thighs.

“What…?” Steve’s confused for only a second before he’s blushing a deep beet red.

You begin grinding down on your pillow, keeping eye contact with Steve as best you can.

“Sweetheart…” Steve groans and you shudder.

“If you won’t do it, I’ll make myself cum on my own,” you say, thrusting your chin up at him. Steve tries to look away, but apparently you’ve found the very edge of his self control.

The truth is that you’re not out of your mind drunk by any means, and he knows that. But Steve was once a pushy, pressuring boyfriend, and he’s long since promised himself that he would never find himself on the dubious side of consent with lovers ever again.

Your hips swiveling frantically down onto your little pillow though…that’s something you would have done without him there anyway, right? As long as he’s not doing anything, it isn’t taking advantage of you, right?

Meanwhile, you’re a vision as you work yourself up. Little pants fall from your lips, and a cute furrow forms in your brow from the effort. One hand fists in the front of the pillow for leverage while the other migrates, traveling up to grasp at your breast through the silk of your slip pajamas.

“Oh Stevie. I wanted you all night,” you whimper. Steve feels like he’s losing his mind, continuing to clutch the sheets up to his neck to keep from clutching certain parts of his anatomy.

“Y-yeah baby?”

“Yeah. You wore those jeans I like. It wasn’t fair,” you add, biting your lip. Steve smirks.

“My ass too much for you in those jeans baby?” he teases because it sounds ridiculous.

“Yeah but really it’s ‘cuz…” you screw yours eyes shut and shiver before opening them back up to stare at him longingly. “I can see the outline of your dick in them.”

Steve’s not ready for that. He hadn’t been exaggerating, you’re usually too shy for dirty talk. But now you’re speaking about his dick - you’d actively begged for it earlier - and he groans in agony. You take this as the positive sign it is.

“C-can I see now, Stevie?”

“See what?” he asks unnecessarily.

“Can I see it?” You tug at the sheets, and whether the tug was strong enough to yank them out of his grasp or just that his resolve was that weak, they slide down his body, leaving him in his boxers before you. And leaving his prominent erection clearly in view.

“Oh,” you say on an inhale. You start humping down into your pillow harder and faster and Steve groans, covering his eyes with a hand because you’re just too much at this point.

With his eyes covered he doesn’t notice you shuffle with your pillow up the bed. Doesn’t notice till your small hand wraps around his cock through the fabric of his boxers, stroking up the length of it.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Steve practically jumps out of his skin, yanking his hand away from his eyes and smacking it down on your hand to keep it pressed to the bed instead of his dick.

“But you’re…you’re hard,” you reply dumbly, the grind of your hips unsteady.

“Well fucking yeah. Look what you’re doing.” Steve gestures to your body and a shiver runs down his spine. “I’m…I’m trying to be good.”

Your eyes seem to melt in front of him. You twist your hand in his grasp so that you’re holding his now as you renew your grinding in earnest.

“You are good, Stevie. You’re so good.”

Your voice - hitched as it is with arousal - makes the praise inherently sexual, even though he’s pretty sure you mean it as reassurance. His cock twitches because, regardless of intent, you sound fucking sexy, and Steve’s other hand rushes to press into it, trying to keep it from visibly jumping again.

“Yesss, Stevie. Touch yourself for me,” you coo, noticing his hand on himself. You squeeze the hand you’re holding and squeeze your beast in tandem, letting out a luxurious whine.

Steve watches you get yourself off with hooded eyes. The lust is getting to be too much. He wants to do right by you, but how bad could this be? It’s jerking off, not taking advantage of you. He’s done this a million times before - gotten off to images of you - the only difference is you’re in the room this time.

And giving him visuals and sounds that are going to make him shoot his load harder than he ever would have alone.

“You’re a fucking menace, you know that?” Steve grunts, finally letting go of your hand. You squeal with excitement regardless. He sits up straighter against the headboard and strokes himself through his boxers a few times before yanking them down to reveal his cock, big and aching and leaking at the tip.

“Mmm Stevie look at it,” you moan out and Steve has to grip himself at the base to cope with the way you’re looking at him like you want to eat him up.

He does look at it. His cock is fucking throbbing. You were right. It does feel unfair to be this horny but unable to bury himself deep inside of you. When he looks back at you, you’re desperate, tongue poking out as you wet your lips and Steve’s had too much. He has to touch himself or he’ll combust. He raises his hand to his mouth but you speak up.

“C-can I?”

Steve reaches over to you and you grab his wrist, licking up the length of his palm. Steve groans. He’d thought you were just going to spit for him, and he’s still distracted by that when you suddenly push his hand between your legs. You have his fingers sliding through your slick folds before he can pull back and the sight of you rubbing yourself off against him, while simultaneously letting your eyes roll back in pleasure, has him gripping his cock violently with his free hand.

“Fucking - fuck! You can’t just - c’mon baby.” Steve’s voice pleads with you and you frown, letting go of his wrist begrudgingly. Steve yanks his hand away but does immediately smear your arousal across his aching cock, lubing himself up so he can fist from root to tip at a brutal pace.

“Stevie…” you whimper, watching the way he touches himself. “I want to do that.”

“You should have thought about that before taking that 5th shot with Robin,” he manages to tease through gritted teeth.

You lean forward and place a hand on Steve’s thigh, thrilled when he doesn’t move it. Your grinding becomes sloppy while you watch him jerk himself off.

“’m not drunk,” you hiccup ironically. Your hand squeezes his thigh. “If anything ‘m drunk on you.”

“Hands to yourself, baby. C’mon, stop making this hard.” Steve’s voice is strained as he practically begs you. Of course you don’t listen, instead sliding your hand up to cup his aching balls beneath the chokehold grip he has on his shaft.

“Don’t think it can get much harder, Stevie,” you tease with a cheeky smile and squeeze on his balls. Steve bucks into your hand and grunts, shutting his eyes against the image of your debaucherous need.

“Hands…off.” It’s more of a plea than a command, so you withdraw your grasp reluctantly. You grip the edge of your pillow yet again and shift your hips restlessly. You’re close, but getting more and more impatient for the end.

Steve hears your whimper and opens his eyes, taking in the way you hump your pillow with shaking thighs and glazed eyes. His hand blurs on his cock as he works himself closer to the edge.

“Fuck, baby. Can you play with those tits for me?” he asks, both for himself and also because he’s feeling guilty for not touching you when you so obviously need him.

“Anything for you, Stevie,” you whine, cupping your breasts together and squeezing. You gasp at your own touch and the way Steve’s eyes darken at the sight.

“You wreck me, you know that?” Steve practically growls. “Even when I can’t have you, you drive me over the fucking edge.”

“Want you, Stevie,” you cry out, rolling your nipples between your forefingers and your thumbs, riding your pillow with abandon. “Y’look so good right now. Wish I was riding you.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Steve comforts, not an ounce of edge or mockery to cloud his sincerity. “In the morning I’m gonna fuck you into next Tuesday. You won’t - fuck! You won’t be able to walk by the time I’m finished with you.”

“Mmm love when you talk like that,” you barely manage to say above your now open panting. You’re so close, and Steve’s words are sending you hurtling towards the end.

“Yeah? My shy baby likes it when I talk dirty?” And just like that the teasing is back. Steve licks his lips and slows his fist to a steady, agonizing pull. His tip is practically dripping with precum at this point but he watches you intently. “Enough to make you cum?”

“Oh god, can I, Stevie?” you whine. You’re breathless and postponing your hips into the pillow at this point. The straps of your slip have fallen down and you’re playing with your bare breasts, squeezing at them listlessly while you bounce on the cushion between your thighs.

“Do it, baby,” Steve encourages. And you break apart. You spasm over the pillow and drive your hips against it impossibly harder, collapsing forward with the force of your orgasm.

The image of you falling to pieces in front of him has a domino effect on Steve, forcing him to fall over his own great precipice. He calls out your name hoarsely ask he fists his cock, cum spilling out over his hand and onto his stomach. You look up, gasping, in time to watch the milky translucent-white spend paint his skin.

“Holy shit that…that was…” Steve can’t finish his thought because he’s unable to catch his breath, so he leans back against the headboard to try and collect himself with his eyes shut. As such he doesn’t catch you before you launch yourself at him, gripping his sides and dragging your tongue across his abdomen to collect all of his cum. “Jesus fucking - sweetheart, stop it!”

You lift your head up at the admonishment, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and giving him a blurry, cock drunk - and drunk drunk - grin.

“Couldn’t let you waste it,” you say matter of factly with a shrug.

Steve stares at you for a moment before chuckling and dragging you up his body for a kiss. You melt in his arms and kiss him back, grateful to finally have his touch again.

You kiss for a long time. Languid and slow at first but then increasing in intensity until you’re lying on top of him, grinding your soaked panties down against him.

“You’re hard again,” you gasp into his mouth when you feel his erection pressing expectantly into your abdomen. Steve shakes his head and then - only then - shifts you so that you’re lying on the bed beside him. You grumble at the loss of contact but watch him hungrily as he clambers out of bed and stumbles out of the room.

When he returns, Steve’s got a full glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. He comes to your side of the bed and offers you the glass.

“Drink,” he orders. You haul yourself up into sitting position and giggle, pointing at the still very prominent tent in his boxers.

“But he still wants to play,” you argue, reaching for his election. Steve grabs your hand to keep it from making contact and wrestles the water glass into your grip.

“You’re fucking insatiable. What am I supposed to do with you?” he groans, but you notice the flush warming his cheeks and neck, even as you dutifully gulp down some water. Steve turns off the lights and climbs back into the bed beside you then, settling in under the covers. You frown.

“So you really aren’t gonna fuck me?” you ask, defeated.

“For the love of god, drink,” Steve grumbles, gesturing to your water before burrowing down into his pillow. He’d tossed the pillow that you’d humped over the edge of the bed to be dealt with tomorrow, so you settle against the remaining sham.

You take another sip of your water and whine petulantly.

“Why?”

Steve sits upright abruptly and grips your chin to look you directly in the eye in spite of the darkness in the room. You swallow audibly and he speaks.

“Because,” he responds, his thumb rubbing over your wet bottom lip. “Tomorrow morning I’m going to do what I said and fuck you till you can’t walk. And I was good tonight, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be as patient tomorrow. So I’d rather you not be hungover as I make you take my dick over and over. What about you?”

You practically douse the bed with water with how fast you try to down the rest of the glass in a hurry.

Steve just laughs and kisses your forehead before laying down and willing himself to sleep, trying to ignore his hard on while you work your way into his arms and immediately fall asleep in his hold.

~*~

Tag list (sorry if you don’t want to be tagged for Steve, I’m having trouble keeping track so just let me know!!): @millenialcatlady @theoncrayjoy @sacklerscumrag @boomhauer @copycatkillerfics @theshoehanger @zegrasbabyy @notafinalgirl @amelialupin-black @wroteclassicaly @peeaachyyyyy @thegirlwiththatolduglybookshelf @marvelwomen3000 @miraclesabound @thatstoomuchman

#steve harrington x reader #Steve harrington x Fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington one shot #stranger things smut

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aajjks · 10 months

Text

yandere!BTS: you say you don’t love them.

disclaimer: this post contains dark heavy content, it is filled with themes that can be triggering for many, so viewers discretion is heavily advised. This is purely fictional and this does not represent bts members irl.

warnings: YANDERE CONTENT, crying, extreme jealousy, profanity, degradation, emotional manipulation, guilt tripping, obsessive behaviour and unhealthy relationship dynamics, mentions of punching someone.

note: BACK IN MY 2020 ERA HAHA. share your thoughts n feedback, after so long I’m finally writing for other members too, it felt really nice!!!! ENJOY!!!

Jimin:

You won’t even look at him.

“YN, look at me.” He has been begging you to look at him for the last couple of days. He feels like he will go insane if he doesn’t feel your gaze on him any longer.

Jimin knows you are upset. And you have every right to be, he’s always doing something to make you hate him even more. Why can’t he just learn to control his jealousy?

“YN please! I’m sorry!” He scoops in closer to you, he is so distraught, how can he fix this, this time he knows he fucked up bad.

Insulting your friends was a stupid thing to do, he’s learnt that by now, if only he wasn’t so blind with his jealousy.

“Fuck off, Jimin.” You groan at him, your face is tilted towards the other side and his hands grab your shoulders, but you are stubborn. “P-Please I’m sorry I told you I’ve realised my mistake!” How can he get you to forgive him?

“I hate you! You’re fucking immature and stupid!” Your words are like bullets to his chest, but he maintains his composure, he cannot start crying right now because he doesn’t want to prove you right.

“YN- I-I know… I’m sorry I fucked up bad, but p-please don’t say you hate me!” Jimin gasps in surprise as you finally turn towards him, your gaze settles on him.

“Y-YN!!!!! Thank God baby!” He leans in closer to hug you but you immediately stop him. “No. I’ve had enough, I need a break.”

His whole world crashes down in front of his eyes.

“W-What do you mean!?” His eyes are wide and glossy already, he cannot believe this, you are going to leave him? Just because of your shitty friends?

“Yes you heard me, I need space from you- fuck I don’t want to look at you!” You stand up and glare at him. “This is not the first time you’ve crossed a line Jimin!”

He follows you, “YN THIS IS ABSURD! I TOLD YOU THAT IM SORRY! Y-YOU CANT LEAVE ME! Not over s-such a small issue!”

“SMALL ISSUE? Oh God… why am I even trying with you! You’ll never understand!” You try to move past him but he is quick to block you, “n-no you can’t leave me! YOU LOVE ME!” His crescent eyes look back into yours with a dark hue in them.

You laugh, “I-I did love you but I don’t think that I love you anymore.”

“Y-You don’t mean that!” Jimin breaks down at your words, fat tears start rolling down his eyes, it always ends like this.

He always manages to make you feel guilty.

But this time you’ll stand to your ground. You have to leave him.

“YES I DO. And you can’t stop me anymore Jimin.”

Taehyung:

Taehyung is glaring at you.

“Quit being a brat already.” He rolls his eyes but you don’t respond, it irks him so much, he doesn’t like your silence.

Taehyung doesn’t know how to handle you, or himself if he’s being truthful. Your relationship with him is fragile, he knows, he can see it breaking into pieces that he won’t be able to pick up.

But he can’t let that happen.

“YN.” He calls out your name, “you know that I won’t let you go out so why are you even trying huh?” He grabs your face and caresses your skin gently.

It makes you sick, how can such a monster like him even try to act gentle with you.

“Don’t touch me.” You slap his hand away, he sighs softly, his eyes make you nervous, you know he’s holding back his anger.

“You know, you always manage to test my fuckin patience.” He laughs, you look at him with no emotion, he doesn’t mean anything to you, you don’t care about him, you don’t love him.

You’ve never loved him, you’ve always feared him.

“You’re so lucky that I love you YN, but you always have to act like an ungrateful bitch, don’t you?” His words are harsh just like his soul.

How can anyone ever love him.

“Taehyung I don’t love you.” You stare back at him with equal anger, “what? Don’t act like you didn’t know.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes at him, he’s biting the inside of his cheek.

The satisfaction of hurting his feelings washes over you, the man doesn’t move an inch though, his eyes are empty.

“Well you better start loving me or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Jungkook:

It’s eating him up, you’re fuming with anger.

He doesn’t know what to do, it’s too late anyways.

He already fucked up.

“FUCK YOU!” You spit at him, he can’t even look at you, his heart is thumping loud. Your voice is so loud that he cringes at the vibration. “YOU ARE FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE TO BE WITH!”

He doesn’t feel guilty about it though, he just feels guilty about the fact that it happened in front of you. “SPEAK NOW! You don’t shut the fuck up when you should and now you’re fucking quite!” You cross your arms to your chest and stand in front of him.

“YN I’m sorry to disappoint you but I don’t regret it one bit.” He looks up at you and confesses, you study him and yes it’s true.

There’s no regret in his eyes.

“Of course.” Your voice is breaking. He can never change, and it hurts to realise that. “HE FLIRTED WITH YOU RIGHT INFRONT OF ME!”

He’s screaming at you, it’s scary how he doesn’t realise his actions.

“You fucking punched him. That’s it I’m DONE.”

You are crying at this point, “I th-thought that you could change, Jungkook but you can’t. And I can’t take this anymore, your behaviour is starting to make me hate you.” You start to move back from him as he moves closer to you.

“Y-YN you love me and I love you! That’s enough for us, a-and I only protected our love!” You are too slow to get away from him and he grabs your body,

“What love? This is not love at all, I should’ve realised that way before but I chose to ignore my instincts! I don’t think I love you anymore.”

“You are impossible to love, Jungkook.”

“W-What?” Jungkook looks broken, his hands leave your body finally, he falls down to the floor of your bedroom, his tears don’t escape his eyes.

He feels numb.

Just like how you’ve been feeling this entire relationship, you both are toxic for each other, you bring out the worst in him.

He needs to let you go.

“I-I love you- YOU LOVE ME. I won’t l-let you go! I WONT! No matter what you say!”

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #yandere taehyung #yandere jimin #bts smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #yandere x reader #yandere au #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #bangtan #yandere smut #smut

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hoshigray · 10 months

Note

i’m not sure if you’re currently writing for ushijima but if you are/will, could u write something smutty about reader telling him that they have an oral fixation 🤞 (i haven’t really seen any of your works for ushijima so i’m quite curious about how you write him. love your toji works, btw! <3)

Mouth on Body Experience

Oml you're my first HQ!! request, noonie! :00 Tbh with you, I never posted any of my HQ!! works because it was during a time when I was on and off with writing (not to mention it was chara x chara stuff bc I wasn't into x reader stuff back then), so this surprised me when I saw it in my inbox, lol. But I love Ushijima sm, like he's so cool and is definitely one of my top characters in the entire series!! Hope I did him justice in my writing since it's been so long, ty for this prompt! o(≧▽≦)o

Also, s/o to my wonderful mootie, @cu7ie, for helping me out with this!! I hope your day is going swell and wish nothing but good vibes your way~~ ☆ mwah-mwah!!

Cw: Ushijima x reader - explicit content; minors DNI - oral (m! receiving)/blowjob + handjob; implied first time giving him a bj - teasing; biting/sucking on the body (reader exploring Ushi's body with their mouth) - humping + grinding - tiny overstimulation for Ushi - pet names (baby, love) - kissing/makeout session - minor ball worship - Ushi is a bit confused but supportive - will proofread later :P. Wc: 2.6k

You peek through the door to the bedroom, taking the silence into account despite knowing someone is occupying the space. He prefers silence anyway, so it's no surprise that the television isn't even on. The only things that bring life into the room are the warm colors of the sunset painting the walls and your boyfriend sitting on the edge of his bed.

Having Wakatoshi Ushijima as your boyfriend is one of the many mysteries to the world and you. As many outside observers would think, being in a relationship with the guy has been quite a journey. Not to say that is a bad thing, though. If anything, it's been going rather well.

Going into the relationship knowing you'd be dating one of the world's Olympic powerhouse volleyball players was intimidating enough. Yet, it's a different story actually meeting and talking with him in person, his fierce aura adequate to suffocate you then and there. But as the days go by and things calm down, you two slowly but surely feel comfortable in each other's presence. You start acting like a couple and expressing your love naturally.

You knock on the door, waiting for his permission before proceeding inside. When you hear his voice call to you, you move past the entrance and enter his room.

On the edge of the bed sat Ushijima in his usual comfortable house wear comprising of a plain white tee and sweatpants. His eyes focused on the item in his hands, a book that his eyes diligently skimmed from page to page. His concentration doesn't hinder until he notices you walking up to him, his face lifted slightly to look at your figure entirely.

"Hey," you greet him, to which he returns with an incline of his head. "What're you reading?"

"It's the book you left here last night," his deep voice still has you hard to believe, but it's become a welcoming timbre in your everyday life and is now something you love to hear. "I saw the reviews on the back and it had me interested."

You lift a brow. "You read the reviews on the cover?"

He lifts a brow in return. "Are they meant to be ignored?"

The giggle is stifled, trying to exit your lips. So thorough. "No, no, you can read them. Most people will read because of a cover or if the writer is their favorite." Your boyfriend watches you sit beside him, leaning against his shoulder as he returns to his reading. I bet he's gonna read the author's notes at the end when he's done.

You chuckle at your own joke, but Ushijima doesn't pay any mind, just putting an arm around your waist to keep you close to him. The two of you relish in each other's company; the warm hues peeking through the window blinds cover your backs with an imperceptible blanket of warmth.

With the rise and fall of his shoulder, you bask in the sun's dying glow while your breathing syncs with the man next to you. This moment almost fills you with peace, embracing the domestic feel within this space between you and your boyfriend.

But, again, it almost does the job. Because you remember why you even came into his space in the first place and the butterflies in your stomach party to your dreadful dismay.

You peer up to look at Ushijima, who keeps reading until you call for his attention. "Hey, Toshi?" His olive eyes flicker to you when you use his nickname, and your heart skips a bit when he immediately shifts his engagement to you. "C-Can I kiss you?" You don't know why you stammered around your words; it was a simple request, nothing too extreme. It's not like you two have never kissed before, but the idea in your head makes it nerve-wracking.

The tall man displays no reaction outside of a slight lift of a brow, but no words are needed when he places the book down by his side and his hand rest on your soft cheek. Your eyes instinctively close when his face decreases the gap between you, and firm, smooth lips land on your plump own. Just when you would sink into his touch, he withdraws himself from you, leaving a tiny whimper to exit your mouth.

"Can..." Your hand finds its way to the big one on the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek's surface. "Can I have another?"

Again, he doesn't use his words, just inclining his head towards you to kiss you. It's a few seconds longer than the last before he removes himself again, only for you to grip his shirt to restrict him. "Another, please..." your voice dials to a whisper, and a soft moan is shared when his lips return to yours. He retires again. "Anoth—"

Before long, Ushijima shushes your pleas with kisses without further approval. His hands bring you closer to him, and — before you know it — he's now on his back to the bed with you straddling him. Large palms roam around your waist and hips while you kiss him back, slowly venturing further down with each hump of the hips to gently grasp your ass.

There's no point in restraining the moans that naturally flee out of your mouth. This is what you wanted; this is what you came to the room for.

Well, to be specific, it's leading to what you came here for.

Throughout this relationship, you have yet to disclose your oral fixation. Perhaps it's because being with a man like Ushijima still intimidates you to share your sexual interests with the man. Nonetheless, it's something you've been longing to share with him. There have been instances where it would sneak in through your intimate moments, yet you choose to stop yourself and not ruin the atmosphere with your boyfriend.

So you've resorted to relinquishing this craving with activities to keep you busy: the usually chewing gum, biting or sucking on your tongue, or chewing on your nails.

Regardless, today is the day you try to initiate this part of your being with Ushijima. You've been dying to have your mouth on his body for the longest time — especially with how attractive and well-built the man is has been driving you crazy.

It all excites you, enthralls you. However, you snap back to reality when you hear a hot groan from the man you're straddling, realizing you're still kissing him. To your horror, finding yourself sucking on his tongue, you quickly exit off the bed. Heavy pants from the two of you fill the bedroom, and your wide eyes look into his hooded dirty gold ones.

"I-I'm so sorry, Toshi!" You're quick to throw apologies his way. "I got a little ahead of myself!"

"Mmm. It's fine." He nonchalantly reassures you, wiping the spit on his lips with the back of his hand.

Yet, you continue to ramble on. "No, really, sorry about that! I got a little carried away. I was thinking too much..."

"Thinking about what?"

Oh shit.

Now why the hell would you put yourself out like that? "Huh?" You try to play dumb despite understanding it won't work on him.

Ushijima exhales through his nose before hoisting himself up from the bed. "It's pointless to back out of something when you're the one who's done it." His blunt words hit like knives to your figure, internally groaning as he stands up in front of you. "What's on your mind, Y/n?"

Oh fuck, I've done it now. There is no way out of this; you'll have to tell him what's been troubling you recently.

"I...I wanna—Okay. So, I have this thing with my mouth, right?" You can tell the expression on Ushijima's face doesn't coincide with the supportive nod. "It's like...It's a habit of mine where I use my mouth on stuff to stimulate myself?" At this point, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Just get this over with, me! I can't take it!!

"So, I've been thinking of...you know," your mind and gut are doing gymnastics, toying with your uncomfortableness to this entire situation. "I want to use my mouth...on your body...."

Olive brown brows furrow and you quickly sprout more nonsense. "Th-That's unless you're okay with it! If you don't think you're okay with it or you feel discomfort, then I won't be hurt in any way! It's totally up to you because I can just—"

"Y/n." Your rambles are muted by the use of your name, his brows still scrunched with an indistinct expression. "I'm not following: why would you want to use your mouth on my body?"

"Well, because," your face gets hot by the second: not just from you revealing your secret, but also your boyfriend asking questions. "I like your body, Toshi. Especially with how nice your physique is, I just kinda want to...play with it a little? Make you feel good..."

Ushijima's facial expression molds to a softer tone when you confess to him, and his eyes drift to the side as if he's searching for the right words to say. It makes you anxious with how in-depth he's taking this into heart, so you squeak when his goldish orbs return to you. "Is it something that I can help with?"

"Umm, yes, yeah!" Confirmation stammers out your lips. "I mean, as long as you're up for it."

He places his hands on your waist to bring you close to him. "I am."

He looks at you with hooded eyes, and the romantic tension from before fills the room. "Yeah?" Your voice winds down to a murmur.

"Yeah." His voice lowers as his head comes down to you, and your lips once again welcome the feel of his.

And with that, Ushijima finds himself back on the bed with you on top of him. You carry more confidence than previously as your kisses become more passionate and hot, teeth bumping into each other and you nibbling on his lip, resulting in abrupt groans.

Your hands venture down to the hem of his shirt, hesitantly raising it inch by inch. And Ushijima notices your desire for access, and a big hand engulfs yours and lifts the shirt to reveal his abdomen and pectorals.

Kisses from the mouth trail down to his neck and clavicle, and he tries to stop himself from moaning to your sweet touches. Your lips pepper all that's exposed to you, quick licks onto his pecs, and gentle bites on his nipples. It's evident now that the man is enjoying your actions, limiting the pleasure in his voice while his hands stick to your waist as his hips rock with yours.

Your hand sneaks down from his well-defined abs to his pelvis, fingers intruding under the band of his sweatpants and brushing against the soft material of his briefs that shield his now erect cock from your mere fingertips. Ushijima hums with his baritone voice, large palms dare calm down to your butt and knead the flesh, and you purr to his firm grasp.

"May I use my mouth?" It was a tiny suggestion, yet there was a distinct connotation. You haven't ever given your boyfriend a blowjob before, so this was new waters you were treading cautiously with. Nevertheless, he surprises you with a nod, egging you on to resume. A feeling of giddiness corrupts your senses, placing chaste kisses on his nipple down to his abs, and Ushijima has his hand on your head the further you go to his lower region.

You're now on your knees on the floor as you pull his sweatpants and underwear to his thighs, and the image of his erection springing out in front of your eyes has you practically drooling in anticipation. Every crevice, every dent, and every vein of his dick is mesmerizing to the eyes, and your curiosity gets the best of you when his body jerks at your hands grazing his balls. How vulgar.

"Hmmm, Y/n, love," he calls to you with whimpers — a rarity to hear but beautiful to the ears. "Go easy on me..."

And you just give him a lovely smile before you move a hand on his cock, stroking the length in a slow but firm motion. He jolts to your grasp, throwing his head back and sinking into the mattress as your palm slides up and down his limb. It gets worse for him when he feels your tongue flicks on his balls, sucking on his sack prompts moans of bliss to substitute the silence of the room.

The summer sun continues to descend, the waning heat losing its touch in the room. But the warm sensation of your mouth on his shaft has Ushijima's skin hot to the touch, his hands gripping the comforter beneath him. And he hisses when he senses the work of your tongue on the tip of his couch, lapping on the sensitive glands while simultaneously stroking him and massaging his sack.

Your cheeks go hollow when you take the head to your mouth, relaxing your jaw as you gradually suck all of him at your own pace. Your boyfriend has to bite on his lip and try to not buck his hips toward you. But it feels so fucking good when the velvety walls of your throat accommodate his girth and size; your wet muscle on the underside of his dick sends electric waves every time it brushes up and down from your bobbing gesture.

As for you, it feels like you're under an ecstatic spell as you work your way to the base of his cock with every suck. The cockhead hits the back of your throat at a delicious angle that you mewl on the member, eyes shut to fully enjoy the experience and commotion between your lips. Tears start to prickle, spit and drool coat his shaft, and your brain goes foggy when his musk blocks your nostrils. The throbbing sensation between your legs gets unbearable by the second, and you grind your thighs together to ease your lust.

Ushijima has done well trying to maintain his steel composure; however, no matter how he tries, he soon succumbs to the warm and pleasurable feeling of your throat when he thrusts into your oral cavity at a reasonable tempo, going faster and faster when the notion of his release crawls up within him.

"Haaaah, ahhhh—Mmmph!" Moans fly out from his mouth, no longer attempting to keep this from escaping. "Dove, I'm about to cum in your—Hnnngh!! Ahhh, shit, shit," and he grabs your head to keep you steady as he ruts into your throat. The orgasm hits the both of you, and a few deep strokes result in him shooting his load inside you, forcing you to drink all he gives you.

And you happily do so, waiting for his thighs to stop jerking as you take in every bit of his essence. Once he's done ejaculating, you slowly remove yourself from his sock, a soft pop evidence of you two no longer connected. You swallow and gulp any remainder of his load before climbing back onto the bed to lay beside Ushijima, who turns to his side to survey you thoroughly with half-lidded eyes.

You sigh with a smile. "Enjoyed yourself?"

While his hand caresses your cheek, he hums as his response. "Did you?"

"Yes, very much so. Thank you, Toshi." You start to feel drowsy as the room becomes dark, the warm colors of the sunset dulling as the moon sheds light.

"Of course, dove."

914 notes · View notes

chrzzboo · 3 months

Note

Hii! I saw that you’re new to the space! Welcome ☺️

I’ll request a Gavi fic where he is a secret admirer to Y/N who is an influencer online. One day in the locker rooms the boys find Gavi looking through her TikTok’s or instagram page & he immediately shuts his phone off not wanting any of them to know his little crush (or have any of the guys know who she is bc he wants to keep her all to himself and gatekeep her bc he knows how the guys are) but they see enough to know who she is!

The guys realize how serious he is about his crush on her so they always tease him about her. One day when the team is training Y/N goes live and the guys immediately log into their fake accounts and start commenting on the live asking “what do you think about Pablo Gavi” “do you like FC Barcelona” and questions like that. Gavi goes livid lmao and Y/N reads and answers the comments since there’s so many comments flooding in her comment section bc of the whole team commenting.

Thank you 🩷🩷

My fanboy

Summary: Pablo’s teammates find out about his crush and can’t stop teasing the poor boy.

Reader x Pablo Gavi

Note: Thank you so much for welcoming me and thank you so much for your great request. I absolutely loved your idea! Hope you guys like it! 🫶

Pablo was visiting his parents in Sevilla since he had a break from football. He was in the living room watching whatever was displayed on the tv. His sister was sitting next to him watching something on her phone. Pablo was kinda invested in whatever was playing on the tv but he couldn’t concentrate since the volume of his sister’s phone was way too loud. “Aurora can you lower the volume I’m trying to watch something” He groans at his sister. He frowned when she didn’t reply too invested in her phone. “Aurora?” He tried at least two more times but still no reply from her. Annoyed he took the phone out of her hand. “Pablo what the hell? Devuélveme mi teléfono!” (Give me my phone). Still with her phone in his hand Pablo moved away so she couldn’t grab it. “I have been calling you for the past 5 minutes to lower your volume but you were too invested in whatever you’re watching on your phone” Aurora smiles sheepishly. “Ow my bad I didn’t hear you, but give me my phone back I will lower the volume estúpido.” Pablo gave Aurora her phone back but can’t help but ask what had gotten her attention so bad that she isolated herself from the real world. “What were you even watching that was so interesting that you didn’t even acknowledge me calling you?” “I’m watching y/n’s live” “Who?” Pablo asks. “Y/n, she’s a famous influencer living in Barcelona I absolutely love her. She shares makeup tips, fashion tips and she’s just so down to earth. I absolutely adore her!” Aurora scoots a bit closer to her brother showing him what she was watching earlier. “Look this is her isn’t she gorgeous?” Pablo looked over to his sister’s phone, his eyes widening. He would have sworn that he had never seen such a beautiful girl. He was mesmerised by her gorgeous smile. “She’s very beautiful indeed.” Pablo mumbled quietly. “What was that Pablo?” his sister asked, not catching his words due to his low volume. “Nothing” Pablo added fast. His sister shrugged not really interested in what he said since she wanted to carry on and watch the live. Pablo looked at his sister’s phone one more time and immediately took his phone to search for you on Instagram. He started scrolling through your posts, and boom just like that he became obsessed with you and your content.

That was several months ago, his little crush grew day by day. He's so invested by everything you do and post on your socials. I guess you can call him a fanboy by now. He would comment on all your posts leaving sweet messages and compliments, he would watch all your video’s and live's obviously with his fake account. Even though Pablo is pretty famous he was too scared to shoot his shot with you so he thought it was better for him to crush on you from a distance.

Currently Pablo was sitting in the locker room, noticing that he still had 10 minutes left until his training started. So he took the time to check your socials to see if you had posted anything. Pablo was too busy scrolling through your posts that he hadn’t heard some of his teammates enter the locker room. His peace was quickly disturbed by Pedri grabbing his phone out of his hands. Just now Pablo noticed that some of his teammates had entered the locker room. “Pablo we have been calling you for 10 minutes.” Ferran exclaimed. “What were you even doing on your phone that you didn’t even acknowledge us?” Fermìn added. Before Pablo could even come up with an excuse Pedri started talking. “I know exactly why he wasn’t paying attention, it looks like our little Pablo has a crush” Pedri smirks and turns Pablo’s phone to the rest of the boys so they could see what Pedri meant. “Isn’t that the influencer y/n or something like that?” Balde says. “She’s very fit and beautiful my sister adores her.” Was heard from Ferran. “Well she’s certainly very beautiful but it’s clear that Pablo has a crush on her.” Pedri smirks earning laughs from the rest of the boys. Pablo took his phone out of Pedri’s hands and started denying everything since he didn’t want to tell his teammates and since he wanted you all to himself hence that’s why he didn’t like how the boys were talking about you earlier. “That’s no one, I don’t even know anyone with the name y/n” Pablo says with flushed red cheeks. The rest of the boys started laughing hysterically. “Pablo do you seriously think we would believe that, you were literally blushing like a little girl when we mentioned her” was heard from the younger one Lamine. “Nah for real hermano you can’t fool us! Have you tried shooting your shot perhaps?” João added with a teasingly tone. Pablo didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to answer but as if his prayers were heard Xavi came into the locker room calling everyone over for training. Pablo let out a big sigh knowing that he had a long day of training a head with lots of teasing from his teammates.

The boys didn’t stop teasing Pablo, they took every opportunity to embarrass him with his little crush. If Pablo didn’t do well or missed a shot his teammates would say stuff like: “If y/n saw how you missed that goal she would block you on all her socials.” Or “He wouldn’t miss this if y/n was here.” Or “Pablo you need to train well for the next match because maybe y/n will be there”. The teasing went on and on the entire training long. At the end all the teammates picked up on what was happening and also started teasing Gavi. It was safe to say that Pablo would never be left alone. During the break Pablo and some of his teammates went to the locker room to cool down for a bit. Pablo’s phone was on the bench next to him when his phone suddenly lit up. Before he could grab his phone Fermìn who was sitting next to Gavi took his phone and shouted for the rest of the boys to hear “Oehhh would you look at that Pablo’s crush is live on instagram.” Pablo groaned to himself forgetting that he had his post notifications on for you. “Should we go into her live and ask her a bit about our little Pablito?” Ferran said which the rest of the boys agreed to. Pablo knew that he couldn’t tell them off because they wouldn’t listen to him anyway. In the meantime all the guys went on their fake accounts to comment on your live. Pablo saw all of them on their phones and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t shitting it right now. He watches you on his phone reading the comments. “Do you know Gavi?.” You read out loud. Pablo froze not knowing what to do or think. “I do know him he plays for FC Barcelona right?” “Oi Pablo see she knows you exist.” Was heard from Balde. Pablo rolled his eyes at him but couldn’t hide his excitement knowing that you knew who he was. “Do you find Gavi handsome? Would you go out with Gavi? Would you date Gavi? Alright guys I don’t know what’s going on or what the hype suddenly is about commenting about Gavi but let’s just keep it with the main topic of this live which was: what is the best makeup primer.” Was heard from your live. Pablo looked at his teammates annoyed. “See now you guys have scared her away.” “No Pablo we’ve only helped you now you know that she knows you.” The rest of the guys agreed to Pedri’s words. Rolling his eyes Pablo left to the field again.

After training it was time to go home but obviously not peacefully for Pablo with all the teasing. Pablo was getting dropped off by Pedri since his car was at the garage getting fixed. He was sat in his former designated seat next to Pedri. Pablo knew that Pedri was going to say something about his crush. And boy he was right. “So hermano it seems like you like that girl a lot.” Pedri says with a teasing smile on his face. Gavi sighs “To be honest I don’t think it’s a crush anymore.” Pedri smile drops realising that Pablo’s feelings are actually more serious than a small crush, now he was starting to feel bad for all the teasing. “What do you mean by that hermano?” Pedri asks even though he knew exactly what Gavi meant. “You know exactly what I mean cabrón.” “It started of with a small crush but afterwards I started realising that it was more and I know it’s weird since I’ve never spoke to her and don’t even know her properly other than her social media personality.” Pedri looked at him with wide eyes not expecting his best friend to be so serious about it. “Have you tried messaging her, I mean there is no way that she doesn’t know you.” Pedri exclaims. Pablo sighs “I haven’t, I’m too scared to do since I’m not made for rejection.” Pablo laughs. Pedri looks at him knowing that Pablo doesn’t want to continue this conversation so he changes the subject but promised himself to take matters in his own hands.

The next day Pablo was sitting in the locker room getting ready, he was pretty early so not everyone was around. Only Pedri, Ferran, Fermìn, Balde, Lamine, Frenkie and João were present. The same boys that were the first ones to tease Pablo about his crush. Pedri had told the rest of the boys about the conversation he had with Pablo and the boys felt bad for teasing him so bad yesterday so they wanted to help Pablo shooting his shot. On the other hand, Pablo was actually kind of confused since the guys hadn't teased him or said anything about his crush on you. But those thoughts were interrupted by Ferran. “Yo Pablo hermano can I use your phone real quick mine needs to charge I just have to search something up.” Pablo didn’t think much of it and gave him his phone. Ferran took his phone and started typing. Pablo grew suspicious after the rest of the guys joined Ferran and started whispering stuff to each other. “Alright you guys what is this all about and why are you being so suspicious.” The guys quickly shut their mouths and Ferran gave Gavi his phone back with a light smirk. “Hermano don’t be mad but we couldn’t stand seeing you like that.” Pedri says with a smile. Gavi looked at him in confusion but that was quickly replaced by fear. He knew exactly what these guys were up to. Pablo opened his instagram and went straight to his dm’s, and boy he was right they did exactly what he thought they would do. But before Pablo could even get mad at them the guys ran away to the field. Pablo was left sighing to himself, what was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t just delete the message because then he would be called a coward by everyone. So he left it, hoping for a reply from you.

Y/N'S POV

I was currently setting up everything that I needed to film a new GRWM and Q&A video since my fans asked for it. I love my job, I was so greatfull for everything that I achieved and all the support I’ve got. Sometimes I still can’t believe that I’ve gotten so big on social media but regardless I’m so proud of myself. While I was doing my makeup and looking through the questions I’ve found a comment asking me if I preferred Pedri or Bellingham. I wanted to answer by saying none of them I would rather pick Gavi since I’ve always found him attractive and had a crush on him. But I decided not to use that in the video since I didn’t want to embarrass myself or cause any controversy. After I was done filming the video I immediately started editing the video since it’s a lot of work and since I’ve wanted to upload the video later tonight.

It’s been 5 hours and I’m finally done editing. I always forget how much time it takes to edit. Walking out of my office and grabbing my phone I walked to the kitchen to get something to drink. While I was pouring my drink I noticed that I hadn’t checked my phone yet so I wasn't really surprised to see some new messages since I wasn’t on my phone for a good 5 hours. Scrolling through my notifications there was one message that caught my eye. “No way this can’t be.” I looked at the name with wide eyes. It was Pablo fucking Gavi that had sent me a message. Not wasting anytime I replied to him.

BACK TO GAVI

Pablo was back home now, he totally forgot about the stunt the guys pulled on him earlier. He was planning on having a chill night, doing nothing and just relaxing in his sofa. His peace was quickly disturbed by his phone making noise notifying him that someone sent him a message. Not thinking much of it he grabbed his phone but he nearly dropped it seeing that you had replied to him. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The y/n had replied to his text. Pablo was over the moon by this but he quickly composed himself and replied to your text.

Y/N’S POV

Ever since Pablo reached out to me we had been texting and FaceTiming non stop. We have so much in common it’s actually crazy. Whenever I talk to him it feels like we’ve known each other for a very long time but in reality it has only been 4 months. Now I’m getting ready to go on a date with Pablo. I’m very excited but also nervous it’s been a while since we’ve gone out mainly because of our busy schedules but we’ve both made time for each other and I couldn’t be happier. Adding some finishing touches to my makeup and clothes I get up to grab my purse and head downstairs. I check my phone noticing that Pablo had sent me a message.

Walking to his car I see Pablo patiently waiting for me. He looks so handsome. I quickly shake those thoughts out of my head and enter his car. “Hola Pablo!” “Hola mi estrella!” Mi estrella a nickname he gave me because in his eyes I’m the star of social media. That nickname never failed to make me blush. “Te ves hermosa esta noche” (You look beautiful tonight) I swear if I was standing I would’ve folded right there, but I composed my self. “Thank you Pablo, you look very handsome as well!” I could see a little blush forming on his cheeks. He cleared his throat trying to sound as normal as possible. “Are you ready to go mi estrella?” “Yes let’s go!”

We’ve arrived at this beautiful restaurant, we were sitting in a hidden corner so no one could notice us and so we could have some peace and quiet. The date was amazing, we’ve talked for hours, shared some dumb jokes and we talked about what we've been doing for the past few weeks as if we hadn't talked about it every day on FaceTime. But regardless it was amazing and I had a great time. After we finished our food we decided to go for a little walk since the weather was perfect for a walk. Pablo showed me some nice places since he knew Barcelona better then me. And that’s how we ended up in this nice park sitting on a bench near the water enjoying each other’s company. I’ve never really realised until the last few weeks that I’ve actually fallen in love with Pablo but I was too shy to tell him about it so I just kept it to myself. It was quiet until Pablo started speaking. “You know, I’ve been following you for a long time even before we started texting.” I looked at him in shock I didn’t expect him to know me way before we started talking. “You did? How come you never told me?” He stared at me for a few seconds before talking again. “I mean I didn’t want to scare you away since it sounded kinda weird.” I looked at him confused. “What do you mean weird? There is nothing wrong with that, I mean I’ve been following you way before we started talking as well.” Now it was Pablo’s turn to look at me in shock. “You did? Wow, I didn't know. If I had known that before, I wouldn't have been a coward and would have sent you a message myself. I looked at him confused. “Pablo what do you mean by that?” Pablo looked at me with wide eyes forgetting that he didn’t tell you about the actual story of how he messaged you. “Well you see like I mentioned earlier I knew you way before I sent you a DM, the reason was because I had a crush on you and I was basically one of your fanboy’s.” He admitted shyly. I could see him turning red I couldn’t help but laugh at him, not believing that he actually had a crush on me. “That’s very cute Pablo but that still doesn’t explain what you meant earlier, something along the lines of being too coward to text me.” He looked at me before explaining further. “Well my teammates got to know about my crush and wouldn’t stop teasing me about it. One day they asked me if I had tried shooting my shot with you but I told them I didn’t because I was scared of rejection. So they took matters in their own hands and tricked me by asking me if they could borrow my phone and without me knowing they had sent you the DM.” I looked at him with wide eyes not expecting all this. “Before you say anything I just wanted to tell you that I’m very grateful for that.” My heart started beating faster when he suddenly took my hands in his much larger ones. “Because if it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t have met such an amazing person like you. Y/n I mean it when I say that I’ve never felt something like this to any other girl. You’re kind, beautiful and on top of that very talented. In the past I was a coward and I’ve learned to not be one anymore so I just wanted to let you know that I’ve fallen in love with your beautiful personality, your gorgeous smile and just you in general. Y/n you don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel the same way but I just wanted to get it off my chest.” I looked at Pablo with big glinstering eyes, I couldn’t believe this. The guy I’ve fell for has feelings for me? Without any thoughts I did the first thing I could think of. I grabbed his face in both my hands and smashed my lips on his. This kiss was amazing, it felt as if we were the only people in the world and nothing else mattered. The kiss was slow, gentle and most importantly full of love. This moment simply felt magical. We pulled away both catching our breaths when Pablo looked at me and started talking again. “So does this mean you will be mine from now on?” I smiled at him looking into his beautiful eyes. “I would love to be yours my fanboy.” Who would’ve imagined that the teasing of Pablo's teammates would bring us together.

The end.

#gavi x reader #gavi imagine #football imagine #gavi fanfic #gavi x you #gavi fluff #gavi x yn #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi fluff #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi fanfic

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

Text

Hollywood is the single best example of mature labor power in America

This afternoon (May 6), I’ll be in Berkeley at the Bay Area Bookfest for a 3:30PM event with Glynn Washington for my book Red Team Blues; tomorrow (May 7), it’s an 11AM event with Wendy Liu for my book Chokepoint Capitalism.

Weds (May 10), I’m in Vancouver for a keynote at the Open Source Summit and a book event at Heritage Hall and Thu (May 11), I’m in Calgary for Wordfest.

The Writers Guild is on strike. Hollywood is closed for business. The union’s bargaining documents reveal a cartel of studios that refused to negotiate on a single position. This could go on for a long-ass time:

https://www.wga.org/uploadedfiles/members/member_info/contract-2023/WGA_proposals.pdf

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/06/people-are-not-disposable/#union-strong

The writers are up for it. A lot of people are saying this is the first writers’ strike since 2007/8, but that’s not quite right. That was the last time the writers went on strike against the studios, but in 2019, the writers struck against their own talent agents — within the space of a week, all 7,000 writers in Hollywood fired their agents. They struck against the agencies for 22 months.

https://deadline.com/2023/04/hollywood-strike-writers-guild-studios-talent-agencies-1235333516/

The agencies had consolidated down to four major firms, two backed by private equity who loaded them up with debt that could only be repaid if the agencies figured out how to vastly increase their profits. They did so, by unilaterally switching the way they did business with their clients. Instead of taking a 10% commission on the creative wages they bargained for, the agencies started to take “packaging fees” from the studios for putting together a writer, director, stars, etc. These fees came out of the same budget that the talent got paid from, so the higher the fee was, the less the talent made. Soon, some showrunners were discovering that they were getting 10% and their agents were getting 90%!

The agencies weren’t done, either: they were building their own studios, and planning to negotiate with themselves on behalf of their clients. The writers said fuck this shit. They issued a code of conduct ordering the agencies to knock all that shit off. The agencies swore they’d never do it. Why should they? Every job these writers had ever done came through an agency, and the agencies were staffed with the toughest, most obnoxious negotiators on the planet.

They were sure the writers would cave. After all, the top tier of writers had been handled with kid gloves by the agencies and not ripped off to the same extent as their jobbing, workaday peers. They’d break solidarity and the union would collapse, right?

Wrong. Twenty-two months later, every one of the agencies caved on every single point. Bam. Union strong.

(Want to learn more? Check out Chokepoint Capitalism, Rebecca Giblin’s and my book about creative labor markets:)

http://chokepointcapitalism.com

Now the writers are back on strike and it’s triggered a predictable torrent of anti-worker nonsense (“striking writers will lead to public indifference to torture!) (no, really) (ugh):

https://www.readtpa.com/p/on-the-tv-writers-strike-dont-fall

One common theme in these bad takes is that writers aren’t real workers, like, you know, coal miners or Starbucks baristas. They’re coddled intellectuals, and haven’t the intelligentsia been indifferent to proletarian struggle since, you know, time immemorial?

This is wrong in every conceivable way. For starters, it’s ahistorical. Lord Byron and innumerable other toffs and poets and such were right there with the Luddites, demanding labor justice during the Industrial Revolution, as Brian Merchant writes in his outstanding, forthcoming history of the Luddites, Blood in the Machine:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/20/love-the-machine/#hate-the-factory

But you don’t have to look back to the stocking frame to find this kind of solidarity. As Hamilton Nolan writes in his newsletter, “Hollywood is the single best example of mature labor power in America”:

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/the-coral-reef-of-humanity-encircling

The entire Hollywood workforce, from grips to carpenters, costumers to plumbers, teamsters to medics, is unionized. That includes writers and actors (I’m a member of IATSE Local 839, AKA The Animation Guild). I live in Burbank, the entertainment industry’s company town (fun fact! The “Hollywood” studios are largely over the city line, in Burbank). Walk down Burbank Boulevard, Magnolia Boulevard, or any of the other major roads, and you’ll pass many union halls.

Burbank is a prosperous place. That’s thanks, in part, to the studios, whose entertainment products are very profitable. But working in a profitable industry is not, in and of itself, a guarantee that you will get a share of those profits. Some of the most profitable industries in the world — e-commerce, fast food, logistics — have the lowest paid workforces.

Burbank is prosperous because the unions made sure that everyone — the grips, the costumers, the animators, the actors, the writers, the teamsters and the pipefitters — gets a decent wage, decent health care and a decent retirement. My pal the set-dresser who worked crazy hours shlepping furniture around sitcom sets for decades? All that work did bad stuff to his joints, which meant that he needed a hip replacement in his forties — which was 100% covered, including his sick leave while he recovered. He was able to take early retirement in his late fifties, with a solid pension, with his health in excellent shape and many years of happiness with his partner stretching before him.

That’s what unions get you: a good job that might be hard at times, and the costs of your work are borne by the employer who profits from your labor. As Nolan writes, the point of unions is to “make sure that people! Are! Not! Disposable!”

Unions deliver the American dream. As Pete Seeger sang in “Talking Union Blues”:

Now, if you want higher wages let me tell you what to do You got to talk to the workers in the shop with you You got to build you a union, got to make it strong But if you all stick together, boys, it won’t be long You get shorter hours, better working conditions Vacations with pay. Take your kids to the seashore

http://www.protestsonglyrics.net/Labor_Union_Songs/Talking-Union.phtml

We tend to focus on wages in union discussions, but unions aren’t merely about getting better pay, it’s about making better jobs. When LA teachers went out on strike in 2019, wages weren’t at the top of their list — they bargained for greenspace for every school, replacing rotting portables with permanent buildings, ending ICE entrapment of parents at the school gates, social workers and counselors for schools…and wages.

I really like how Nolan puts this. The way that the studios make money has changed: streaming is clobbering ad-supported TV and movie theater tickets. The studios are adapting. The workers want to adapt, too. The studios would rather “treat[] their work force as a disposable natural resource to be mined, used up, and then abandoned, as business dictates.”

A union gives workers “the same ability to adapt to changing industries that companies already have.” The studios want to leave workers behind. Unions give workers the collective power to say, “No. You’re taking us with you.”

Union workers are wealthier than their non-union counterparts, but that’s not just because of higher wages. As Nolan writes, “Unions make sure that the people get to adapt to changing industries, and not just the investors and the business owners.”

[Union workers] have a far greater ability to build coherent, long-term careers, as opposed to a constant treadmill of unstable short-term gigs. In non-union industries, businesses can just act like ships cutting through a desperate sea of workers, scooping up whoever they want and then tossing them overboard as soon as it’s convenient. In a union industry, though, the companies are forced to deal with the labor force as an equal. The workers have their own damn boat.

Advocates for market capitalism insist that market forces increase prosperity for everyone. They say that, in the end, having corporations serve their shareholders results in corporations serving everyone.

But a comparison of unionized and nonunionized industries reveals the hollowness of that prospect. Hollywood is wildly profitable and it pays every kind of worker well. That’s because workers have solidarity across sectors and trades. Striking writers like jonrog1 are calling on supporters to donate to the Entertainment Community Fund:

https://twitter.com/jonrog1/status/1654168529728307204

The Entertainment Community Fund supports everyone else who is affected by the work-stoppage, all the other creative and craft trades whose work has been halted by the writers’ struggle. If you want to support these workers, make sure you select “Film and TV” from the drop-down menu when you donate (we gave $100):

https://entertainmentcommunity.org/

Because all the workers are in this together. As Adam Conover explains in this amazing CNN clip, David Zazlav, the head of CNN parent-company Warner-Discovery, made a quarter of a billion dollars last year, enough to pay all the demands of all the writers:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aL-YwKO81go

And Carol Lombardini, spokesvillain for the studio cartel AMPTP, told the press that “”Writers are lucky to have term employment.” As John Rogers says, she “wiped out the doubt of every writer who wasn’t sure this negotiation really IS so important, that it actually IS about turning us into gig workers.”

https://twitter.com/jonrog1/status/1654506611086606336

The stakes in this strike are the same as the stakes in every strike: will workers get a fair share of the value their labor creates, or will that value be piled up in the vaults of $250,000,000/year CEOs? It’s not like the studios especially hate writers — like all corporations, they hate all their workers. The same tactics that they’re using to make it so writers can’t pay the rent today will be turned on every other kind of Hollywood worker tomorrow — and when the writers win this one, they’ll support those workers, too.

There’s a lot of concern about AI displacing creative labor, but the only entity that can take away a writer’s wage is a human being, an executive at a studio. As has been the case since the time of the Luddites, the issue isn’t what the machine does, it’s who it does it for and who it does it to.

After all, as Charlie Stross points out, a corporation is just a “Slow AI,” remorselessly paperclip-maximizing its way through the lives and joy of the flesh-and-blood people who constitute its inconvenient gut-flora:

https://media.ccc.de/v/34c3-9270-dude_you_broke_the_future#video&t=3478

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Berkeley, Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: Animators walk the picket-line during the Disney Animator's Strike in 1941.]

Image: LA Times https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Screen_Cartoonist%27s_Guild_strike_at_Disney.jpg

CC BY 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #slow ai #luddites #solidarity #unions #writers strike #wgaw #labor

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joels-darlin · 1 year

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I Need You

Pairings: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Warnings: mention of mental health/anxiety and panic attacks, some fluff (pls let me know if I missed any I'm new at this)

Summary: You turn to Pedro in a time of need.

Word count: 522 (ish)

Author Note: Just a small Pedro drabble that came to mind. Apologies if my Spanish translations are terrible, I will try to get better. Also, this is the very first fic I have ever posted on the world wide web (always written stuff but it's never seen the light of day) Pls be nice and any feedback is really appreciated, hope you all enjoy <3

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It was early hours of the morning when you paced the living room floor of your flat - a panic attack imminent. Tears streaming down your face, the stress of everything finally getting to you. Picking up the phone you knew who you needed and without even thinking dialled the number. “Hey…” he breathed “...everything okay querida?”. You swallowed harshly “P…I’m sorry….could you come over...I need you” choking between tears. On my way was all you heard before the click of the call ending.

It wasn’t long before he let himself in the front door, not even giving you a chance to sit down. Taking in your broken form he raced to where you stood to which you leaped into his arms. “It’s okay I got you cariño, breathe” he soothed pulling you towards the couch collapsing in a heap. You lay with him, sobs echoing off the walls. Doing what he could to comfort you - holding you tight, stroking your hair. His heart breaking as every sob raked through your frame.

It took a couple of hours before you finally calmed down, eyes red raw and tears drying up. “Baby girl, you with me” he said softly stroking your cheek tilting your head to look at him. “I think someone needs a cup of tea” he said, flashing you the softest smile to which you nodded in response. He was only gone for a couple of minutes but you felt lonely without the comfort and warmth.

“I hate seeing you like this...” he placed the cup on the table and took a seat on the couch “...come live with me I can keep an eye on you, friends are supposed to look out for each other right” you paused for a second to think. Would that be a bad option? Well maybe for the fact that you were head over heels in love with your best friend and that he had literally no idea. “I...I...can’t” you stuttered. “Why not?” He pressed. You sighed, mind wandering elsewhere. “I know by the way...I heard what you said to Oscar” he spoke after a few moments of silence. Feeling your muscles tense up you turned to face him but you were unable to form any words, processing that he knew your deepest darkest secret. “Sweetheart it’s okay I feel the same way, but I think you need to focus on yourself first” he said softly, reaching out to lace your fingers together. “Okay” you croaked.

Everything fell into place after that. Giving up the lease for your flat and moving into Pedro's spare bedroom. You got your mental health into a good space with thanks to him, helping you when he could in between jobs. It was that one night over dinner at home where you shared your first kiss, the feelings you both had for each other never lost and only growing stronger months down the line. One date after another led to sharing his bed the spare room that was once home forgotten, now that you were finally in his arms. He was always there when you needed him.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic

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emberfrostlovesloki · 7 months

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Life Can Be Terrible, but at Least You're In It [Hotch x Reader]

Prompt: This is a mix of two of @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute writing challenge dialogue prompts. I’ve mixed the two prompts: “Do you believe in Fate” and “This was way too cliched” to write this fic.

Category: Angst/Comfort/Smut

Word Count: 9.2K

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, U.S. police, hatred/violence against a religious group, light drinking, mention of self-harm (cutting - healed scars and one instance of open scars in the past), brief mention of childhood abuse, sex (oral -- fem and masc receiving, p in v).

A/N: Oh boy, I have lots to say. To start, this is another @imagining-in-the-margins inspired fic for her Meet Cute writing challenge. Moving on from that: first off, this is an 18+ story, minors DNI. I love engagement, but if you’re a minor this is not for you. Thank you for respecting this boundary. Second, this turned into a bit of trauma dumping for me. I’ve been having some thoughts about my past choices and decided to write them out with Hotch as a character (you know he’s a great listener.) Third, this is my first time posting smut, if it’s not great, please forgive me. I hope to get better at it as I keep writing for Aaron. Last, this turned out wayyyyy longer than I anticipated. As I’ve stated before, I find it hard to characterize Hotch if I’m not writing a ton which is evidenced here.

Please, please, please read the content warnings. If reading about scars and past self-harm might trigger you, please pass this one by. If you are thinking about engaging in self-harm, please reach out to a loved one or someone you trust. You deserve support. If all else fails, here is a support number you can call to get some help: Self Harm Crisis Line.

On a more positive note, If you enjoy this fic, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. I hope you all have a great night.

List with all stories

y/n = your name

_y/b/f_ = your best friend

_y/f/a_ = your favorite author

_y/f/f_ = your favorite flower

_f/c_ = your favorite color

Aaron was nervous about tonight. It was the first time that y/n was coming over to his place before a date. Normally he would offer to meet her at her apartment and they they would go out from there, or just hang out around the warm space doing something relaxing like cooking dinner or watching one of their favorite movies or TV shows. But last Thursday she had shown an interest in seeing his place and honestly, he didn’t have a valid excuse for why she shouldn’t come over. He kept his space neat and clean, he just thought that it didn’t have that much personality, but it would have to do and he knew she wouldn’t judge him if his taste was metrosexual. y/n had given her care and affection to him, not his apartment.

He hadn’t meant to have feelings for his newest agent. In fact, he made it a point to not fall in love with any of his agents or the women at the bureau as the idea of mixing work and pleasure felt all too unsure. If something went bad, or the relationship faltered, the fallout to the team would be immense, and he didn’t want to risk his own career for the sake of his team. However, when y/n had hastily been added on after a case that required a domestic terrorist and cult specialist, y/n had joined the team for what Aaron had assumed would be just the one case. He was hesitant to add someone new, but Strauss had him cornered on the issue and he agreed because he didn’t have a choice. He was weary of y/n -- not willing to trust someone he hadn’t vetted or already knew. However, y/n had sat back and didn��t assume a commanding role at all during the case. She paid attention to the facts and then looked at them from her lens of expertise. When she needed help she had asked JJ or Emily, and one time when it had only been him and y/n at the precinct, he had asked, “How are you feeling?” y/n had looked up and faced the intensity of his gaze and said, “I’m a bit lost, to be honest. I didn’t know it was going to be like this, but I think I’ve found some things that match the preliminary profile that would confirm the unsub was the leader of a religious cult with white Nationalist ideologies.” Hotch nodded. He might have been weary of y/n but at least she was honest and hadn’t done anything foolish or detrimental to the team yet. He pulled his eyes away from her gaze and moved closer to her saying, “Show me what you have?” He could see her physically relax as if she was expecting a reprimand instead of him wanting to listen to her, and he wondered if this was the natural response he got from most people who didn’t know him. At this, his internal monologue answered, “How can people get to know you, Aaron? You don’t open up.” Hotch pushed the thought aside and nodded that he was ready to hear what she had.

y/n observations had been instrumental in finding the unsubs and his compound's location. y/n just didn’t know how to slip her information in with the current profile. When the case was finished, Aaron sincerely extended a hand and said, “Thank you for your help, y/n, your insight was needed in solving this case. I may call on you again if another case like this comes to our team.” y/n had taken his hand and given in a firm shake, slightly awed by what she assumed was praise coming from someone as important and well-known as Agent Hotchner. She had replied, “It would be my honor, Sir.” With that he let the woman leave the tarmac. Once y/n was inside the bullpen, she checked to make sure Agent Hotchner wasn’t nearby, and she approached Emily, who was packing to go home. Emily looked at her and smiled, asking, “What’s up y/n?” y/n faltered for a second before saying, “Is Agent Hotchner always that, intense?” Emily smiled softly and replied, “Yeah, pretty much.” The brunette added, possibly because she was working through her own feelings for the team's enigmatic leader, “But he’s a good man and a good leader. In the end, he puts this team above everything else.” y/n blushed, realizing this was more than just a simple observation about Agent Hotchner. At this point, Aaron returned to the bullpen after calling Hailey to let her know that he was back and would be home that evening. He nodded at Emily and when she nodded back, y/n couldn't help but turn and see who Emily was looking at. Once she realized it was Agent Hotchner she snapped back to looking the other way; something Aaron hadn’t missed.

Aaron had called y/n for two more cases over the next three and a half months. y/n was a quick learner and during the next case, she was more prepared and tried to participate with the team more, willing to offer a comment that she thought would be useful. She still stood in the background most of the time, but it was clear she had improved from the first time she was on the team. When y/n and Derek were standing by the coffee pot at the local precinct, Morgan said, “y/n, I notice you’re a lot more on top of things this time. You’re doing a good job, that’s not always easy on a team like this.” y/n smiled and replied, “Well I did sort of research the team after the first case. You know not like stalking you or anything, I just read over a few of the previous major cases and stuff.” Derek nodded his approval and said, “Well it looks like the work is paying off.” While y/n thanked Derek, Aaron was standing a few feet away in the hallway and had heard the entire conversation. It wasn’t uncommon for people who spent a brief time on the team to do this. He got emails all the time from those who had had their brief stint on a case asking for a transfer. He also got emails from agents that had never set foot in the bullpen and to those he sent an automatically generated reply and then he would delete the email. Those who had worked for the team before might come back for a case, but rarely did he find them improved. Aaron realized that this felt callous maybe, but it was his job to have a cohesive team. A team that worked together in the worst possible circumstances and he wasn’t going to throw that away just because someone wanted to work with him or the team. However, Derek was right and he took a moment to look over at y/n wondering if just once, he was going to be proven wrong.

The third case Aaron called y/n into was a bad one. A group of domestic terrorists were kidnapping, torturing, and killing men from Middle Eastern countries, particularly those that were influential in the Islamic religion. The police were stumped, but y/n immediately said, “This is probably extremism based off of post-9/11 sentiments. The two-year anniversary is coming up and this could easily be someone affected on the ground or someone that got sent back from Iraq during Desert Storm.” The New York Police had a lot of opposition to the idea, but Aaron was aware that they would be very biased in their opinions on the matter as it was so close to home. He assuaged their fears, but later he pulled y/n and Spencer aside and told both of them to keep running with y/n’s initial theory. As it turned out the call was coming from inside the house, or rather the police station as the unsub was one of the officers on staff at the station. He had spiraled quickly as the team got closer and closer to finding him. As a last desperate act, the officer, Monroe, had found another victim and pulled them to the station, threatening to bomb a religious building in the city and shoot the innocent victim if the BAU didn’t find someone else to blame for his crimes in an hour. y/n had been in the lady's room as this unfolded in the main lobby, but she heard the gunfire and quickly and quietly moved closer. She overheard the last of the unsubs plan. As Spencer tried to talk the man down, y/n had slipped her sidearm out of its holster and removed the safety. She looked into the mirror that showed the main room to pinpoint the location of Officer Monroe. For a moment before she made the final move into the open space, she looked to the side and caught Hotch’s eye. He gave her a minuscule nod, telling her to go ahead. Aaron jumped and pulled Spencer to the ground and the millisecond they were both in the clear before the unsub could figure out what was happening, y/n shot the man’s right hand which was holding his sanctioned firearm, and then y/n shot his shoulder, fully incapacitating officer Monroe. When this was done, Derek rushed forward and pulled the unsub away from the victim. Emily and JJ moved toward the victim and after she had re-engaged the safety and put her gun away, y/n helped Hotch and Spencer to their feet.

Aaron looked over y/n for signs of shock or distress given that she had just been in a highly dangerous position and that she had just shot a man twice. He didn’t see any of those signs in her as she let go of Spencer's hand and moved toward JJ and Emily to provide some help with the victim who was now in hysterics. Instead, Aaron saw a steely calm resolve in y/n’s demeanor, indicating that this was hardly the first time she had been put under this kind of pressure. As Hotch moved toward the cuffed unsub he noticed the clean shot to the hand and shoulder, not meant to kill but incapacitate the unsub. Officer Monroe was screaming a stream of obscenities and racial epitaphs at anyone in earshot but mostly directed at the victim and y/n. Aaron and Derek roughly grabbed the man’s arms and moved him to another room. As they walked, Aaron turned to the man and said, “Shut up, or I’ll wait to call the paramedics until it’s too late to save your hand.

A few hours later after the unsub had been transferred to the hospital in custody he overheard some of the officers speaking negatively of the team, and particularly of y/n who had been the one to originally spot the ‘bad apple’ among their ranks. Aaron was overly familiar with the police and justice system and he knew that the police unions and members were a big boys club where they would do almost anything to protect their paychecks, reputation, and each other. Bitterly he thought, 'Well if you’re so concerned, maybe stop perpetrating injustice.’ As Aaron entered the room with the officers he realized that y/n was in the same room speaking with JJ. The officers had been speaking just loudly enough for y/n to overhear their comments. Something in Aaron twitched uncomfortably. Maybe it was the fact that y/n wasn’t even a real member of the team and was being villainized, or the fact that there was nothing he could do to stop the officers from their conversation. When he passed by the men he frowned at them, and for a moment they grew silent as he passed. As he approached the two women, they made space for him to stand, and he turned his gaze to y/n saying, “Good shooting today. Especially given the fact that you only had that mirror to guess your angles and distance. A lot of innocent people would be dead if it hadn’t been for you.” As much as Agent Hotchner’s complement burned her insides in a pleasant way, she replied in a controlled manner, saying, “I was just doing my job, Sir.” Aaron nodded slightly and he intentionally caught her gaze and when he was sure he had it, he looked over to the men who had been making vitriolic statements toward her. y/n followed his eyes and when he was looking at her again she just gave a small shrug of the shoulders, as if saying, ‘Yeah, I heard, but what can you do?” This response tugged a small smile from him, and he cleared his throat and turned to JJ to ask her a question about the media response. Although y/n and even Aaron might not realize it, y/n had passed most of his internal tests for the Agents he allowed on his team.

When y/n received an email from Hotch asking her to meet him at his office two days from now, she worried that something had happened. That she had made some kind of error. y/n arrived at the Bureau at the designated time and knocked on the door that was slightly ajar. Hotch called her in and said, “Take a seat, Agent y/n.” y/n did as asked and felt an uncomfortable churning in her stomach. After a moment of silence, y/n couldn’t take the anticipation anymore, making the first rash move she had while being around the BAU team and Agent Hotchner in general. She asked, “Have I done something wrong Agent Hotchner?” Again there was a lingering silence that felt like it lasted ages before Aaron replied, “If I sent you a transfer request to the BAU to join my team, would you accept?” The words took a moment to register, and y/n’s eyes went wide. It took all her strength from not letting her jaw drop at the very suggestion. Needing another moment to let the words process, she gave the throw-away comment, “Sir?” Aaron knew she had heard him and if there was one thing about him, it was that he didn’t repeat himself if he knew the other party had heard him. Even for someone as new as y/n. There was yet another silence and finally, y/n had the brain function to say, “Well if that transfer request were to happen, then I would have to have the sad and uncomfortable conversation with my own unit chief and let them know that I would be accepting a new position in the Bureau.” Hotch caught onto y/n’s hypothetical language but could see in her eyes that she would accept his offer. He cleared his throat and pulled an unnecessary piece of paper in front of him for some reason, moving his eyes to the random form in front of him. He looked back up and there was that kind of shocked look that people got around him sometimes. It was odd for him to see this one y/n’s face, but he couldn’t blame her. Offers like his came once in a lifetime. Less than that really. He gave her one last look before stating, “You’ll receive an email from me on Monday.”

The transition from the terrorism unit to the BAU was good for the team as a whole. Having a new set of eyes on the cases and a new dynamic shook up the team in a way that reinvigorated their brains. y/n wasn’t perfect. She made mistakes and she owned up to them. Hotch reprimanded her like he would any old or new member of the team. With time she became an integral part of the unit. And in that time Hotch couldn’t help but be drawn to her. It wasn’t like a magnet or love at first sight; he was far too cynical to believe in things like that, but Hotch had paid attention to her in a way that he hadn’t with the other team members. Maybe it was because he hadn’t needed to train and mentor a new member of the team since Emily had joined and he had told himself, ‘There isn’t a valid reason for you to not pay closer attention to y/n.’ As it would turn out, this would be a recurrent theme with him and his thoughts toward y/n.

The first time Aaron knew he was in trouble in regard to y/n was after she had been with the team for a few months. She had started to do this ritual where after each case when each member of the team had gotten home, she would text them all individually simply asking, “Are you doing okay?” Or some variation of that simple, yet loaded question. The first time Aaron had received that message he was confused for a second, but simply responded, “I’m fine.” To which y/n had simply replied, “Good.” The second time it had happened Aaron realized that she was being very intentional with this message, both in its simplicity and when she was sending it. Often after a case, even up until the team had arrived back at the emotions and adrenaline ran high, either because of the excitement or sheer rush of feelings that could overwhelm someone when dealing with such difficult circumstances. But getting a message like that after a few hours, after getting to a safe space and the real underlying emotions had a chance to set in allowed the team members to give an honest response - not one based off of heightened states. Similarly, the simply worded message allowed for a range of responses from a two-word sentence to full-fledged conversations if wanted or needed. After two more cases, Aaron indulged in the possibility of opening up.

Hailey had recently left him and y/n was the only one who seemed, even if not directly relating to his recent separation, to provide a space for him to open up. He replied, “I’m home safe. I have some conflicting feelings about the outcome of this case. I don’t feel the closure that I sometimes do when we finish with a case.” Aaron sent the message and wondered if this sounded desperate? If his own personal experience was on clear display, and if it was, how _y/n_ was going to respond. He didn’t have to wait long as his phone pinged and he read y/n’s reply “It’s good to know your home. Would you like to talk about the case? It was a rough one, even by the team's standards.” Aaron slumped down onto his couch letting out a long breath. If y/n had read deeper into his personal life, she hadn’t highlighted it and was still providing space for him to continue talking either about what this was really about, or the case itself. Aaron realized that he needed to take a deeper look at himself if a case and Hailey leaving was having such a profound impact on him. He realized that y/n’s checking in was very likely a way that she coped with the horrors she saw on the job, and he didn’t want to burden her with his personal problems along with the darkness that their work included. He typed out, “No. Not really,” and sent that message out to the ether. Aaron closed his eyes as he waited for a response. It came in a few minutes, and he looked at his phone. The message from y/n read, “Okay. Take care of yourself, please.” Hotch’s heart gave a tiny tug that she would say something so candid and caring toward him. He typed out, “Thank you, y/n,” and his thumb ghosted over the send button before he changed his mind and deleted the message and typed out instead, “See you on Monday, y/n.” Aaron realized that if he sent the other message the hint of feelings that he was just becoming aware of might bubble up bigger than the tiny drip they were at now might emerge. Hotch stood and undid his tie and the buttons on his shirt. A last ping of his phone made him look at it one last time with tired, blurry eyes. The response read, “See you Monday, Hotch.” Aaron clicked his phone off as he pulled off his shirt to go and take a hot shower. Again there was that nagging tug at his heart because in her letting him go for the night, she was also trying to give him what he wanted, space.

But texting wasn’t the reason that he was now straightening the pillows on his couch and, God knows why, moving into his bedroom and smoothing the sheet and comforter on his bed. He didn’t expect them to end up there at the end of the night, in fact, he expected that y/n would go back to her place and he would stay here, missing her. Anyway, he did it just in case. As he reflected back to the moment that had really made him start having serious feelings for y/n was when she called him and used his first name for the first time. It had been a bad case. A case involving kids being killed and manipulated by the unsub. After not taking the deal with Foyett, Aaron’s brain constantly swirled with thoughts of his son, and any case involving kids made him tense up and made him question his choices. Anytime he had interacted with the children who had been affected and traumatized by the unsub he saw Jack’s face there. He was overwhelmed with emotions, anger, fear, and sadness. It was all too much for him. When the team arrived home after the case and he had made his way to his apartment he fell into bed exhausted. He had forgotten that y/n would text and he was even more surprised when he was woken by his phone ringing. He clicked answer and pulled it to his ear. With a gentle voice, y/n had said, “Hotch, Aaron. Are you going to be okay?” Hotch’s sleep-addled brain took a moment to register his first name on y/n’s lips, but the feeling it provoked was still surprising. Not that he was unaware of his growing feelings for her, just that he had been suppressing them; holding them tight to his chest in his innermost being. He realized after a moment that he hadn’t responded to y/n’s question and finally, he said groggily, “Sorry, I was just taking a nap.” There was a pause and then y/n replied, “No, I’m sorry. I can let you go.” Without even thinking Hotch with a note of desperation said, “No, please. I, I’d like to talk.

Hotch couldn’t see it, but on the other end of the line, y/n moved to her couch and sat down, doing her best to be present with Aaron through the phone. She could tell that this was different. He was being real with her. This wasn’t, Agent Hotchner, leader of the most important team in the FBI, this was just Aaron. She took a moment to think of what to say. She knew what this was all about and decided to share honest thoughts and said, “Hotch, you’re a good father.”

Hotch blinked surprisingly at y/n’s choice of words, and the honesty in them. Incredulously he replied, “On who’s authority?” There was a sigh on the other end of the line and he wanted to hear what _y/n_ was going to say. Her response was, “I mean, I’m not a parent. Maybe it’s not my place to comment on parenting, but I see how you interact with Jack. When you’re with him you give him everything that’s in you. You don’t even notice that you’re doing it Hotch. And yeah, nobody’s perfect, not even you, but when you’re with him -- it’s all I can see. You’re doing the best with what you have, financially and emotionally and that’s all anyone can ask for. People like to say that you can give a hundred and ten, a hundred and twenty percent to people and relationships, but I just don’t think that’s possible with people. And in our line of work, it’s hard to give seventy percent to anything other than the job. But, Jack, Jack always gets a hundred percent from you.” y/n realized that she was being highly personal with her words, to her boss. She stopped what might have been a rambling mess of words and bit the inside of her lip. Maybe she would get a real reprimand from Hotch for this. He had corrected her before in his stern authoritative manner, but he had never really been mad at her. She also tried hard not to think about the fact that she wanted to give him a hundred percent too. She knew she couldn’t have that. She could never have that.

In the lingering silence between y/n’s comments, Aaron closed his eyes and tried to see it from her point of view. Was she really looking at him that closely so that she could catch all of these things? He knew she was speaking honestly, she really spoke from a place of untruth, and she did that only when she had to on cases. He wondered if people ever threw her honesty in her face. As someone so closed off, it was hard for him to believe her in a way. With a hint of hesitation, he asked, “Do you really think so?” A second later, y/n said, “Of course. Of course I do, Aaron.” He relaxed further in the bed as she used his first name again. It sounded so lovely coming from her. They spent another half hour talking, more about the case than his parenting, and when Aaron hung up, he felt decidedly lighter than he had when he had originally come here.

The next Monday, when Aaron found a quiet moment in the office where the rest of the team wasn’t paying attention, he moved to y/n’s desk and she looked up at him with a smile. Aaron clenched his hand before releasing the final tension he felt in what he was about to do. He raised his hand and placed it on her shoulder. That familiar warmth they both felt when they came into close contact seeped through both of them. All Aaron said was, “Thank you, y/n.” With that, he removed his hands and walked up to his office. He knew that his actions weren't profoundly romantic or anything. He hadn’t swooped down and kissed y/n and pulled her body close to his, but in his actions, he had opened the floodgates for what might come.

It happened slowly, like most things in his life. Both because y/n and Aaron needed to be cautious for work's sake, but also because neither of them could really believe it was actually happening after so long. The first almost date had been when she got two tickets to see her favorite author do a reading with her best friend. Unfortunately _y/b/f_ had to cancel two days before. y/n was really bummed about it and Aaron could tell. He had approached her and said, “Would you like me to come with you? I don’t really know anything about _y/f/a_, but I can tell that it’s important to you.” Her eyes glistened at the idea and she said, “You’d do that?” Aaron let out a laugh and said, “Of course if you want me to.” y/n had beamed at him and for a moment he felt stunned at how beautiful she looked when she was this happy. He wished he could see her like this more. The reading was great, y/n had cried and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, letting her feel her emotions. They had gotten coffee after and as he walked y/n back to her apartment, she stopped at her door and turned. y/n went out on a limb and stepped closer to him. She was close enough to feel the heat emanate from his body. With a last moment of deliberation, she closed the gap and wrapped her arms around him, tucking her head into his chest. Aaron tensed for a moment before he let his body naturally respond. He gently wrapped his arms around his form and held her close to him.

Oh God, it felt so good to have her that near to him, to be able to actually hold her. Surprisingly it had been Derek who had encouraged him to make the leap of making y/n a more permanent fixture in his life. The team had all been at Rossi’s for dinner and y/n and Emily were at the wine bar pouring themselves another glass of red. Aaron was unknowingly looking at y/n longingly and Derek sat down next to him with a shot in his hand. The younger man said, “Are you ever going to tell her how you feel?” Aaron was pulled from his thoughts and looked over to Derek saying, “Sorry, what was that?” Derek chuckled and said, “Hotch, you deserve to be happy after everything you’ve been through.” At this Aaron made a face, but Morgan kept talking saying, “If you’re afraid that she’s not going to reciprocate your feelings, I see the way she looks at you. She likes you too.” Aaron let out a sigh and Derek put a hand on his shoulder saying, “Just think about it. A lot of people would be happy to have y/n, but she’d be happy to have you.” That evening as y/n dropped him off they had kissed for the first time outside in the parking lot.

The light knock on his door pulled him from his memories, and he stood and neatened his trousers and shirt as he opened the door for y/n. He opened the door and let y/n in. She smiled at him handed him a wrapped bouquet of hyacinth and baby breath and said, “For you, Aaron.” He smiled and leaned down giving her a kiss. He had brought her _y/f/f_ when she had first invited him to her apartment and she was returning the gesture. As he found a vase to put the flowers in, he offered her a chilled glass of water, and y/n moved around the space observing his neutral-toned apartment. After he set the flowers on the table, he came up beside her and slipped his hand around her waist. He was looking at his wall full of pictures. They were mostly of Jack, but there were a few of him and Hailey and a few he had taken on an old camera that was still around the apartment somewhere. She turned to look at him and said, “Jack’s grown up so much since some of these were taken.” Aaron hummed in her ear and said, “It’s crazy to think about. He’s going to school and making friends. When I talk to him on the phone I can hear him becoming his own person.” y/n turned back to the photos and found one where Hailey was particularly radiant, and she commented, “She looks so…” There was a pause as beautiful seemed to fall flat as a superlative. y/n finished the sentence with, “luminant here.” Hotch’s eyes moved from her to the picture and back to her. He deeply appreciated that y/n included Jack and even Hailey in her consideration of him and his life and happiness. Her comment made him look over y/n in her _f/c_ turtle neck and back corduroy skirt and said, “You look lovely tonight, y/n.” The flush on her face always made him feel a certain way, and as she turned to look over the space again she said, “I like it, Aaron. It’s calming and I think almost anyone could feel safe here.” Hotch hadn’t particularly decorated the space with that in mind, but again he didn’t have the eye for fashion or design that y/n had. He simply said, “I’m glad you like it, and that you feel safe here.” He took a breath and then asked, “You ready to head out, or do you want to sit for a bit?” y/n took his hand and replied, “Let’s head out, our reservations are in a half hour, and just because it’s Friday night and there might be traffic.” Hotch nodded and he moved to the counter and grabbed his coat and car keys. They headed out to the wine tasting at a jazz club that they both liked.

The date went well and as they arrived back at Aaron’s place he got out of the car and opened the door for y/n. They were both slightly buzzed, but not inebriated or without their wits. As y/n got out of the car he asked, “Would you like to come back inside for a bit or do you want to get back to your place?” y/n smiled and said, “I’d like to be with you for a while longer?” They left the crisp autumn air behind as they reentered Aaron’s apartment. He grabbed them both a glass of water and they sat on his couch y/n turned her head to him and he leaned down kissing him. His lips were so soft and warm on her mouth. The taste of him was a craving, a desire she couldn’t easily let go unless they were like this. Aaron could feel her love and longing in the way she moved her mouth over his. He wanted more, needed more of that feeling that he had been missing for the last few months. He slipped his tongue out of his mouth and over her bottom lip. y/n sighed, surprised by this new action from him, but opened up to his request. Aaron moved into the space, moving his tongue over hers and the contours of her mouth. As he explored this new space, y/n let out a small moan into his mouth. She moved her right hand to his thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze letting him know that she was enjoying this moment. Her hand on his leg, so close to his groin made his cock twitch and he felt embarrassed for a second because something as small as her hand on him had elicited a response. y/n felt Aaron’s body tense under her hand and could imagine what had happened with this body. When they broke apart for air, y/n shifted from his side and moved so her legs were straddling his on the couch. She didn’t put any weight on him, wanting to make sure he was comfortable with this. Hotch’s eyes widened at the change of position and he sucked in a deep breath, his body already flushing. y/n placed her hands on the couch just above his shoulders. Her eyes glistened in the soft light of his lamps and she asked, “Is it too fast for you Aaron?” Hotch made a small sound, it was so quiet that it was almost unnoticeable in the space. He nodded his head no and replied, voice low, “No. It’s not. As long as you're comfortable with what we’re doing. We can take it at your pace. I want you, y/n.” At hearing his words and seeing the hunger in his eyes, she lowered her body until it was pressing close to him.

Her skirt was short and fitted and as her knees spread to sit on him it shifted up to her waist. Aaron was a bit too preoccupied to notice this yet as kissing him again; first on the mouth and then his earlobe sucking and lightly nipping the soft flesh. He let out a groan that was louder than he was expecting. His body was really reacting to her touch. What had been a twitch in his pants was now throbbing against the waistband of his pants. y/n felt his erection growing under her. While she moved to his jawline and began half-open-mouth kisses and licking the area, she shifted her weight again and moved her hand to the buckle of his dark brown belt. She fumbled with the metal as she continued her work on his face. She similarly undid the button and pulled down the zipper of his pants. Once his member was freer, y/n pressed against him providing him with some much-needed friction. Again made that low noise that made her core tingle and burn at the same time. At this, Aaron couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to be touching her. Aaron shifted strongly but carefully picked y/n under the thighs and he moved so that they switched spots. Now that he was the one above her, he moved to pull at the edge of her shirt. y/n raised her arms for him and the fabric came easily over her head. He leaned down and kissed her hungrily. His hands found traction on her waist and the warm feeling of them resting there made y/n make a small sound into his mouth. Aaron moved his mouth away from hers and placed a hand over her _f/c_ lacy bra. Her breasts and nipples were visible to him through the semi-sheer fabric and lace and he marveled down at her form laid bare to him. He gently massaged the right breast in his hand and he felt her nipple harden under his touch. For the first time that night y/n whispered his name in a way that made Aaron feel more alive than he had in a long time. With his other hand, he took y/n’s left hand and slowly started kissing up the side of her arm. He looked over the litany of healed scars crisscrossing the warm skin under his mouth.

He had noticed them the first day he had met her. Although they weren’t pronounced as they were old and healed, he still saw them. How couldn’t he see them running up her arm and under her three-quarter sleeves? He was a profiler after all. He never said anything about them. He’d never heard the team talk about them either. It would be rude to of course, and really it had been none of his business at the time. But not that he could see them so clearly running up her arm he had to wonder. He sucked on the hollow spot of her elbow joint, and y/n bucked slightly, moving her hand down to this clothed groin. He let out a gasp as her hand began moving over his hard penis. Her hand traced the line of his arousal and he had to hold back from bucking under her touch. He kept moving as her hand worked over him. As he moved up her arm to her shoulder and collarbone, he moved his other hand to her left breast, massaging the tissue with his deft hand. With his other hand, he pushed down the strap of her bra and again started kissing her chest. Once more he kissed over her chest and noticed that the scars weren’t only endemic to her left arm. They were scattered haphazardly over her shoulder and collarbone. These marks had healed darker than the ones on her arm. He realized that if he paid close attention to his mouth, which he was, he could feel the difference between the smooth skin and that which had been opened many years ago. They were both making soft, needy noises and their movements grew more urgent. Aaron was now moving himself along her hand and y/n tipped her head back and said, “Aaron, please. I need more. I need you.” Hotch nodded and again, he stopped his frantic body and hooked his arms under her legs, now picking her up and moving into the bedroom. She clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck. He set her gently on the bed and almost immediately pulled at her skirt. She rested the heels of her feet on the mattress and lifted her hips, so he could get rid of the fabric now bunched around her waist. Once the skirt was discarded, Aaron pushed her back onto the mattress. He also pulled off his shirt and discarded his pants in two fluid motions. y/n looked at the bulge in his briefs and smiled to herself. She knew he must be impressive, but being so close to seeing it in full confirmed her assumptions. Hotch leaned down and began sucking at the soft, flushed skin of her thigh.

The fact that Hotch’s mouth was breathing hot and loud against her leg and that he was moving steadily toward her center, made her arch her back in pleasure and the feelings of warmth continued to move through her. As Aaron’s mouth got closer to her black underwear, he was faced with the presence of scars once more. There were less of them here on her thigh, close to her center, but these seemed deeper, more deliberate. He wanted to kiss these, to continue the path of pleasure he was on, but it felt wrong. For him to be doing this without acknowledging something, to check in with her before he continued. y/n could feel his hesitation. She saw how he had paused each time he noticed a new area affected by her prior self. Her voice cut through his fog as she said, “I’m not embarrassed by them anymore you know. I used to be, but not now.” Hotch lifted his body and chest upright looking deeply into her eyes. He knew this was important to her, but also to him. For him to understand if she wanted to talk about it. He shifted and placed a hand on her thigh, just below her panty line, indicating that he wasn’t finished yet, just taking a break. All he could think of saying was, “I’m sorry.” y/n scoffed at this, not at him but, more at the idea. She placed a hand on his cheek and said, “You know no one ever talks to me about them. Not even when they were red and bleeding did anyone say anything. I thought certainly my parents, or teachers, or friends would say something, but they didn’t because they didn’t know how.” y/n looked away and removed her hand from his face saying, “Sorry. I’m kind of being a buzzkill, aren’t I?” Aaron’s eyes deepened, and he took both her hands in his and said, “No, no it’s not to me. Please, you can talk to me if you want.”

She looked back to his face and it was clear to her that his desire for her wasn’t ebbing with this conversation. He was still Aaron, the Aaron she had spent months with, but this was different and she knew it. y/n let out a breath and said, “I got so good at hiding them that when I stood naked in front of a mirror I would flinch at my own reflection.” Hotch nodded slightly and asked, “Did they hurt you a great deal?” y/n took her bottom lip in her mouth for a moment before replying, “Not really. At least not until the next day. I was just looking for a release you know? Something to distract me from what was happening.” Aaron’s hand on her thigh gently started tracing over the scarred tissue with his thumb and he said, “Well I’m still sorry that you felt you needed to do that. Even if it was to protect you emotionally.” y/n gave him a small smile. She looked up at him with her large eyes, sincere in their clarity as she said, “You don’t have to apologize, Aaron. I’ve forgiven the younger version of me that made the choice to hurt herself. She was scared and angry and didn’t understand what was happening to her.” Aaron could ask about what exactly had been going on in her younger years. But he didn’t. He wanted her to be in control of this conversation, and a moment later, she said, “Plus, there are better ways to find release than when I was in high school.”

Aaron flushed and felt his erection which had gone semi-soft twtich again. He reached out for her and said, “Are you sure? We can stop for tonight if you like.” y/n shook her head no and replied, “No, I want to keep going. I want to go all the way with you, Aaron.” Aaron nodded and pulled her close again, embracing her mouth with his. His right hand slipped behind y/n’s back and he deftly undid the clasp of her bra. He pulled far enough away to pull the intimate article off, and he said, “Just let me know if you need me to stop, alright. At any point, we can take a break.” y/n hummed her agreement and threaded her hands through his short hair. Aaron moved his face lower and he breathed warmly over her right breast. The warm sensation over her sensitive skin caused her nipples to grow taught again. Aaron leaned in and took the tissue in his mouth. He swirled the nipple with his tongue and y/n let out a sound so desperate and beautiful that he grew rock hard again in an instant. He kneaded the other breast with his hand and his left hand slipped under the waistband of her panties. She was desperately wet as he moved his pointer and middle fingers over her folds and heat. After a moment of this, Aaron pulled his face from her chest, wanting to get more of those sounds from her mouth. He got her out of the last piece of her clothing and he looked over her bare sex for a moment before diving in with his mouth. The taste of her on his lips was intoxicating, more intoxicating than the wine they had imbibed earlier that night. He moved over her wetness with an urgency. Again, y/n spoke his name with a need he didn’t know he needed to hear. She arched her back against his strong and accurate tongue. Hotch pressed her stomach back flush with the mattress and he reveled as her body twitched beneath his hand. As his tongue began entering her most intimate area, she moaned. She could feel herself coming close and wasn’t ready for the feeling to stop. She called his name and he stopped immediately, checking in with her. He looked up at her and his face and nose were wet with her excitement. “What is it, y/n. Do you want to stop?” He said it rather breathlessly as he had been very intent in his work. y/n replied, “Far from it, but I want to taste you too. I want you in my mouth.”

Aaron stilled for a moment and said, “You're sure?” y/n smiled mischievously and said, “More than anything.” He felt a growl in his throat and he finally took off his briefs, freeing his cock. y/n looked him over for the first time, apparently impressed with him. He was slightly happy about this reaction, but the feeling of being pushed back and y/n taking his tip into her mouth instantly stilled that inner voice. ‘Oh fuck,’ he thought as she swirled her tongue over him in one direction for a bit, and then the other, and finally across the top. This sensation alone was enough to bring some pre-come to the tip. Aaron watched as she sucked it off quickly and then moved back onto him with her mouth. The very sight of her working over him nearly sent Aaron over the edge. His size was impressive and y/n wondered if she would be able to take all of him in her mouth. She worked fervently over him, taking more and more of his length each time she moved her head up and down him. She ran her hands over his balls as she did this, and she could feel him throbbing in her throat. Meanwhile, Aaron’s body was twitching with bliss and anticipation, and he said her name like a prayer as she finally got to the base. She continued to work on him as she sucked and licked his cock. She ran her tongue all the way up the vein running on the underside of him and again, this nearly ended him. This time it was his turn to ask her to stop, which she did. He knew that if he came now in her mouth he might not be able to do it again as intensely as the first time. Could he come again? With her, absolutely, but this was their first time and he wanted to give her his best. Breathlessly he said, “I need to be in you if you’re open to it. Please.” He realized that he was begging, but he couldn’t stop the urgency in his voice.

y/n agreed, at this point their bodies were aching for release and she wanted him in her as badly as he wanted to be in her. She asked, “Can I be on top please?” With some vulnerability, she added, “It’s been a while since I’ve been intimate with anyone.” Hotch nodded, knowing the position would give her more control in regard to the depth and pacing. He said, “Of course. Whatever you want love.” He sat up a bit, leaning back on his palms. As _y/n_ got ready to straddle him again, he asked, “Are you on the pill, or should I get a condom?” He hadn’t made assumptions about her sexual life until recently, and asking something like this felt inappropriate unless in this very situation. y/n smiled and said, “I’m on the pill. We’re good." With this, she got back on her knees with Aaron underneath her. She used her hand to gently guide him into her entrance. She worked slowly at first. Even with just his tip inside her, Aaron had to stop himself from lifting his hips to get further inside of her. However, he kept still and let, y/n slowly take more and more of him inside her. He encouraged her saying, “That’s it y/n, your doing well. You feel so good around me.” She smiled at him and after a few moments, she was mostly seated over him. She was incredibly tight, and he was impressed that she had taken his member in as deeply as she had. There was only a tiny bit of his cock exposed. He felt her walls throb and tighten against him and he had to bite his mouth shut to stifle what he assumed was a scream of pleasure. She leaned down and took his mouth in hers, It was her turn to explore his mouth and he allowed her in easily. She was greedy with her tongue, and her breath was hot in his throat. After she pulled away for breath she assessed her comfort. Any pain that had been there when she was enveloping him had passed and she said needily, “You can move in me, Aaron. Please.”

Aaron moaned again as he followed her command. He shifted his hips up and the feeling of his cock sliding inside her was pure bliss. It was all he had imagined and more. He started slowly, but both of them had waited and built up for the other and it was time to get their reward for their patience. Aaron built up his speed and the stream of half-contained noise that y/n made only had him quickening his pace more. As his thrusts became more urgent he felt a slight sheen of sweat covering them both. He was close, so close and he raced toward the finish. In a final desire to have him closer and deeper in her, y/n placed her full weight on his hips and leaned back, supporting herself on shaking, shuddering arms. The final shift in position allowed him that last bit of room to fully enter her and she moaned out, “Faster Aaron. Please, I’m going to come.” At her words, Aaron placed his hands on her hips, guiding their shared movement. He thrusted even faster and only a few seconds later, y/n came undone. Her body shaked and clenched around him and that was all he needed to find his release. His seed shot out of him hot and fast and he kept thrusting a few times more chasing the high, heady organism she was giving him. They both made ungodly noises as they let go and y/n quite literally collapsed on top of him. He held onto her closely as their shaky breaths intermixed. As Aaron regained his breath, the words came unbidden and he said, “I love you y/n. Oh god, I’ve loved you for so long. I’m sorry it took me this long to say something.” y/n was still shaking with her orgasm, but she managed to strangle out, “I love you too, Aaron. A hundred percent.” Aaron registered her words from a few months ago and he realized that she had been longing for him for that long and that he was a fool for not noticing before.

Aaron was tired, but y/n was completely spent and he was still in her softening from his heightened state. With gentle strength, he grabbed her hips and lifted her off of his body. She made a small protestation at the loss of contact. However, he didn’t have any plans of letting her go soon. He pulled her to his chest and she settled contentedly next to him, her damp skin sticking to his. He was beginning to connect her comments about her scars to his own father's abuse. However, he didn’t have the head space for that rabbit hole right now. But he did say softly, “Do you think it’s fate that we met, y/n?” She chuckled into his chest and replied, “That’s too cliched coming from you Aaron.” He hummed and said, “Maybe, but am I wrong?” The question hung in the air for a minute before y/n said, “Maybe not. All I know is that life can be terrible. God knows we see the worst of it, but at least you're in mine.” At this, y/n settled closer to him; listening to his heartbeat consistently thumping in his chest. Aaron held her a bit closer. He would get up eventually to get her some towels to clean her up, but for now, having her in his arms was all he ever wanted.

Text Break Banners by @cafekitsune

#criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotcher #hotch x reader #aaron x reader #fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #hotch smut #reader x hotch #hotch drabble #reader insert #hotch blurb #mentioningmargins #long one shot #trauma dump #comfort fic #emily prentiss #spencer reid x reader #derek morgan

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just-another-author-i-guess · 2 years

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hi i really love how you wrote marshall lee!! i couldn't stop thinking about your writing, youre just truly talented!!! it was the dog reader personality that really made me weak at the knees. is it possible you could do a lambgirl reader? half girl half lamb? i saw this idea somewhere and this sorta dynamic with bad boy marshall makes me go😫😫!!! but you can push it down on the list if u want. no rush or anything! you dont owe us anything and remember to take breaks. love you❤️

I love you tooo ty for the encouragement <333

Ty for requesting, sorry I’m it takes me so long to get them done D:

I have recently started writing on ao3 so if you want to read what I have on there my name is just “justanotherauthorig”. Rn I only have a Heisenberg and a Hobbir fanfic so if that’s interesting to you pls check them out ^^ I will post more information soon

Marshall Lee x Lamb Girl! Reader

Tags: fem!reader, Marshall Lee is so hot bruh I can’t, reader is kinda stupid but it’s okay bc she’s nice, idk what to say about this, I didn’t edit it through but are we really surprised?, this would make a good smut :P sorry it’s kinda short tho

Authors note: this was fun :D I googled a bunch of adventure time slang and they’re actually so fun to use lol

Word count; 1,1k

I think he originally started flirting with you just to mess with you

Sure, he thought you were cute as hell

But he wasn’t really looking for anything but a good laugh

You hang out with Fionna and Cake a lot, both of them are very protective of you

The three of you and sometimes BMO have a lil girls night out

On this particular night, you went to the dark forest bc Marshall Lee was having a concert and Fionna really wanted to go

Not so much to hear Marshall Lee, but bc flame prince would be there lol

Anyways, you immediately caught Marshall’s eye as he stood on stage

Both Fionna and Cake had branched off, leaving you alone in the crowd

Your eyes glued to your feet, not even daring to look up at Marshall’s performance as you fiddled nervously with your sleeves

When he finally had a break from the stage, he soundlessly floated up besides you

I kid you not, you almost bleated when you turned around to find the vampire king right besides you as you turned your head

You jumped, scrambled to get away as your lower lip quivered, white ears flattened to your head

“Woah, woah. Calm down there, sweetheart,” Marshall laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender

You quickly realized that he didn’t intend to harm you and somewhat calmed down, still slightly worried as he flashed his shiny white fangs to you

Your brows furrowed, fists clenching your dress as you fought to keep back the angry tears

“I-I am calm! Have you not heard that it’s rude to go around scaring people like that?” You huffed, sending him the most intimidating glare you could muster which to Marshall Lee looked more like a scared bunny

He smiled wider. “Well, I’m not exactly known for being nice,” He said, voice slightly deepening

You felt threatened, he looked at you like a predator looked at it’s prey and you finally understood why Cake was always bad-mouthing him

“I only hang out with nice people, sorry.” You muttered, turning away from him just to get a break from his all-consuming stare

He laughed again, clearly finding your reacting to be the most hilarious thing he had heard in a long time

You jumped again when you felt his hand creepy up the back of your neck, lips ghosting over your pulse point

Your breath caught in your throat, tears springing to your eyes again at the thought of being bitten. “P-please don’t bite me! Fionna will get m-mad!” You hiccuped, twisting the fabric of your dress even more until it was wrinkled and warm.

He blew on your neck and you felt him pout. “Fionna, huh?”

He pushed himself away from you a bit, finally getting himself out of your close personal space as he floated around you to face you again

“Aw, baby. Don’t cry,” he grinned when he saw your flushed cheek and quivering lips. “I just wanted to have a bit of fun, can you blame me?”

You shook your head defiantly as an answer, making him laugh again. “I promise I won’t bite you, little lady. On one condition,” he said, placing a large hand on your head

You mentally slapped yourself for the way you wanted to lean into his hand, ears twitching ever so slightly as his cold hand touched them

You wrinkled your nose. “On what condition?”

“Sing the next song on stage with me.”

Your eyes widened comically. “No way! I- I don’t even know how to sing! And I don’t know any of your songs,”

Marshall pouted, dramatically holding a hand over his non-beating heart. “And here I thought you were enjoying my show! I’m hurt!” Then he winked at you. “But don’t worry, all you have to do is follow my lead.” And before you knew it, he had an arm around your neck waist and legs as he hoisted you up in his arms

He carried you to the stage, floating above the crowd as you clutched him tightly in fear of falling

He sat you gently down on stage, grabbing his axe-bass and the crown immediately erupted in cheers

You were frozen in fear, face caught in between an angry flush and hysteric cries as you stood before the crowd

You already hated standing down before the scene, with all the people pushing and shoving it quickly overwhelmed you

But standing in front of at least a hundred candy kingdom citizens and a bunch of princes topped the chart of things you hated

You desperately pulled your cardigan around you, attempting to hide as your tail twitched and your ears once again laid themselves flat against your hair

“Follow my lead,” you choked on a gasp when Marshall was suddenly besides you again, whispering in your ear with that deep voice of his

“Good little girl, always picking a fight with me, you know that I’m bad” Marshall hummed, hands leaving his bass for a moment to gently sway your hips

You turned at least ten shades redder, burning up as he made you sway sultrily in front of the mesmerized crowd.

Well, luckily he had picked a song you actually knew.

“But your spending the night with me. What do you want from my world? You’re good little girl,” his hands left you to play his bass again, you gently swayed your hips to the rhythm

You looked intently at Marshall, figuring it was better to look at the troublemaker himself than the large crowd

He made a motion with his head, signaling you to start singing

“Uh-“ you started, inhaling deeply to not stumble over the words. “B-Bad little boy, that’s what you’re acting like, I really don’t buy,” you had to yet again stop yourself from bleating again, taking quick breaths as your hands shook

“That you’re t-that kind of guy-y,” you closed your eyes tightly, hating the way you could help hiccuping up the words. “And if you are, why do you want to hang out with me?”

Suddenly Marshall was by your ear again, chuckling darkly. “You did so well, little lady.” He murmured, before floating away from you a bit to continue the show

“Hey! Isn’t that Y/n?” You breathed out heavily in relief upon hearing Fionna’s voice.

“Come here, sugar,” suddenly Cake enveloped you and you welcomed her happily, snuggling yourself into her warm fur

She stretched, setting you down on the ground besides Fionna before taking your place on stage, cutting Marshall Lee’s verse short as she started singing about hot tomatoes and good sauces

“Hey, are you okay, Y/n? You look pretty jacked up,” Fionna said, pulling you to her side

“Marshall Lee told me to sing with him or he would bite me,” you mumbled bitterly, leaning onto Fionna’s shoulders

She clenched her teeth, face flushing angrily. “That son of a blee-blob!” She hissed. “I’ll kick his buns,”

You smiled slightly. “I told him you would get mad if he bit me,”

“Of course I would! What a butt-guy..”

When the concert ended Fionna was quick to find Marshall and give him a piece of her mind, however the vampire king only laughed her off, telling her that next time he would you wouldn’t be so lucky

Both Fionna and Cake insisted you slept at the treehouse that night and you happily agreed

Of course, it didn’t take Marshall long to seek you out again

He honestly doesn’t have that much going on, a bored guy needs entertainment

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t my favorite little lamb,” Marshall grinned, suddenly appearing in a tree as you were walking home from one of Tree Trunk’s apple pie dinners

This time you pretended not to jump, huffing as you held your head high, refusing to look at him

“I-if it isn’t my least favorite vampire king,” you said, half of your words coming out as a whisper. You mentally slapped yourself, if you were going to give him a comeback you you at least sound like you weren’t absolutely shaking in your boots

“Now that really hurt!” Marshall pouted as he spoke, coming down from the tree to walk besides you “you smell like apple pie,” he noted, sniffing the air

You wrung your hands nervously. “Tree Trunks made me apple pie,” you muttered, still refusing to directly look at the vampire

He cackled. “Jeez. That must have been so boring,”

You frowned, even though your face was turned the other way Marshall Lee noticed, filled with glee. “Tree Trunks is really nice! And his apple pie is amazing,” you huffed, defending your dear friend

“Tree Trunk’s is bunk, dude. Let’s go somewhere,” He grabbed your shoulders and spun you around to finally face him. “Come with me to this undead party, it’s rad. I know you want to,”

You finally had enough, angry heat flooding your face. “L-Leave me alone! And stop acting like such a mr. cool-guy you.. you! Ding-wad!”

To your utter surprise, your little outburst just made Marshall laugh loudly. “I’m a ding-wad, huh? Alright, alright. Give me a chance to show you something cool and I bet you won’t think I’m a ding-wad after,” he grinned, cocking his head like a puppy

A very threatening puppy, in your opinion

You took a moment to regain yourself, noticing he was being somewhat sincere. The goodness in your heart won and you shyly looked at your feet. “A-alright. But no funny tricks,” you mumbled.

“You got it, sweetheart!” He said as he lifted you bridal-style, taking off into the air.

To your utter surprise, you ended up having a good time with Marshall Lee.

He took you to a party in a graveyard, ghosts was actually a lot more chill than most living ppl and you actually managed to socialize

When you got tired and socially exhausted all you had to do was gently tuck on Marshall’s sleeve and he happily flew you home

To his house, I mean. You protested at first, as you didn’t know him that well and it seemed like a pretty bad idea to sleep over at a blood-thirsty vampires house

But all your sleepy protests died down as he tucked you into his bed, gently wrapping you in the sheets and quietly humming as you drifted off to sleep.

As he watched you sleep, ears twitching and cheeks puffed out, he realize that what started as a joke had turned real pretty fast

He felt an overwhelming urge to protect you, not that he would stop mercilessly teasing you, but he quickly discarded the idea that you were just a new plaything

He was also pretty sure Fionna would actually skin him alive (or dead I suppose) if he upset you

When you hung out at the tree house the next day and told them about how you slept over at Marshall’s she was already pretty read to beat his guts

Slowly, and I mean slowly, bc Marshall is a huge tease and you couldn’t stand looking at him for more than 5 minutes without getting so embarrassed you could melt, the two of you eventually started dating

Rest assured, Fionna and Cake both threatened him on multiple occasions, making sure he was on his best behavior

Even Prince Gumball had a few choice words with him lol

Everyone is was extremely worried lmfao (with good reason)

Marshall can be sweet tho, he actually is sometimes

Especially in public, since he knows you get overwhelmed super quickly

All you have to do is look at him with those doe-eyes of yours and he gets the message immediately

Doesn’t matter if you’re in the middle of a fancy dinner in a castle or if he’s playing a concert, he will get you to a place with less people immediately

He really does love you lol

omg bc both of you are so emotionally constipated- like you’re too shy to express your feelings and Marshall has just been taught to believe that expressing feelings is a taboo

If he ever did anything to hurt you tho he would hate himself so much, you’re the purest person he has ever met and hurting you is just a no-no

Sure, he teases you constantly bc that’s just how he is

But if he ever sees upset for real, he will beat himself up over it for the the next decade or so

Fionna will not hesitate to let him know if he messed up either

As I said before, the vampire king will be on his best behavior

You’re his cute little girlfriend and he will treat you as good as he possibly can <3

Hiya ^^ I hope you enjoyed this, sorry it was kinda short D:

I have a confession.. I srsly considered making it into a smut but I stopped myself bc it’s 1 am and I have school tomorrow lol

Lemme know if you would like a part 2 smut version of this :D

Anyways, thank you for reading!

Love, author

#adventure time x reader #adventure time #marshall lee hc #marshall lee #marshall lee x reader #lamb girl reader #fionna and cake #prince gumball #flame princess #i love Marshall lee help #i need sleep #requests are open

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morrak · 2 months

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Untitled Wednesday Library Series, Part 142

I’ve been thinking a lot about criticism lately. It’s a thing I — we all — do often, of course, which probably makes it important. Some, but not all, kinds of criticism have traditions and vocabularies; you can (thought hardly anyone does) make a living writing about film or architecture or food. There are, on the other hand, some things about which a weekly column would have to get inventive. Spreadsheets. Individual songbirds. Tactile sensations. Rust.

I try pretty hard not to do the first kind of thing in these posts. Although that’s mostly because I fear committing to judgments on the record, it’s also (I think) an expression of sympathy toward the second kind of thing — not everything needs a critical tradition, but why not spread the attentiveness around, y'know? Maybe.

To such an end, posting about books is a pretty bad choice. You could argue that what I’m really reviewing isn’t the works themselves, but rather the choice to dedicate pieces of mind to them. I'm not sure why you'd argue that, but you could. If I’d thought this exercise through properly I’d have chosen some other thing I have several of, like 5V wall adapters or grains of rice.

Anyway, let’s talk about an art book.

Ben P. Ward’s 2021 I Dream of Dust, one of the four things Temper Books published before changing everything on their website to the past tense.

The How

From some small bookseller whose name I’ve forgotten and wouldn’t tell you anyway. A few weeks back, @krieper and I visited a printing studio that hosted some stuff — zines and local prints, mostly — on a self-service rack up front. All cool stuff, but this especially caught my eye.

The (Sub)Text

So, the Eastern Plains, right? This is about those, sort of. I broadly agree with the thoughts of this reviewer about the voice it delivers differing from Temper’s promise — yes, this is what Eastern Colorado can look like if shot competently, and yes, the meditation works for me, but no, I’m not sure it’s especially subversive.

The Object

I cannot offer you a good feel for these photographs or their printing here. Ward is on other social media, I’m told; you can also find some of these on his website.

This is a quiet project, which the printing respects. Thoughtful margins, easy blacks and whites, satin finish, more blank space than photo. Large format shots at this scale just work. I’m used to seeing posthumous collections or coffee table send-ups of painters, which are too often too full; this can breathe. Sensitive and inviting but only sparingly intimate. Glad for all that.

This first (and presumably final) printing comprised 500 signed copies in sewn hardcover bindings. Not unusual for a collection like this, but still nice to see and handle.

The Why, Though?

Because it mostly works for me, because it reminds me of other stuff than mostly works for me, and because the outing this came from involved talk of Colorado and Kansas and the Texas Panhandle, none of which I miss, I swear.

#images #untitled wednesday library series

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thebellearchives · 10 months

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Belle my BELOVED!!

If I may graciously request fluff prompt number 12 for our husband inumaki 🖤 maybe a friends to lovers situation bc I’m a whore for tropes (or quite literally any direction it inspires you to go- bc all your jjk writing it chefs kisses 🤌🏻)

Forehead kitheth for u bestie muah okaybye

𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

~ inumaki toge ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : this is it: the romantic movie night you once daydreamed about, so is it gonna go down as it did in your head days ago?

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff, sequel to the romance alley, friends to lovers, onigiri words are in japanese

‧₊˚ a / n : girl you’re in for a ride because this is the longest request i’ve written for now, like can you blame me? IT’S INUMAKI, of course I went overboard what were we expecting, i’m down bad for him ): Anyways, I know you loved romance alley so here you go, a second part 🫶🏻

i also got requests for this prompt with sukuna and gojo, so i’m gonna link those here for whenever i post them

Toge ver. || Sukuna ver. || Gojo ver.

prompt list

So there you two were. Just like you had imagined: sitting in front of your TV, lights off and a fluffy blanket covering you both. In the screen the lead protagonists were laying in bed in front of each other, trying to hold hands despite the girl being just a ghost. By then your eyes would’ve been tearing up like they always did whenever you watched this movie, but this time wasn’t like the others.

Ever since you and your friends had gotten back from the shop two days ago you and Toge had been in this situation where you’d glance at each other constantly and yet tried to play it cool in front of the others. Your touches would linger, the smiles were usually accompanied by a small sigh. But then you’d both quickly pretend everything was normal again. Your friends had probably caught up with the fact that something was going on anyways, but since no one had said a word you both didn’t either.

And now you were watching your favourite movie with him. In your couch, alone. So close you could reach for his hand like you had wanted to before that kiss at the shop.

And your eyes would wander from the bright screen of your TV to those soft, shiny lips and the way he’d use one of his fangs to nibble on the straw of his drink.

And your face would flush wishing he was nibbling on your lip instead.

Fuck, you looked away once again.

Your eyes felt like they were on fire by now, staring at the screen so hard that you could’ve damaged it permanently if they were daggers. But after a minute or two you looked at him again, this time staring at his eyes. Long, white lashes that framed his beautiful violet irises. He blinked once, twice, line of sight never moving away from the screen.

With a smile you went back to the movie. The protagonist was rushing through the streets in an ambulance, coming up with the most insane plan to get his lover back. Your favourite part was coming up soon, you glanced towards Toge once more just to find him typing away in his phone.

“Toge!” you frowned, then reached for a pillow to hit him in the head with it “what are you doing?!”

He giggled, shrinking in his own space in reaction to the hit.

“Tuna” he shook his phone in his hand and staring back at you as if the answer wasn’t obvious enough: texting.

“Who are you even texting?!”

Toge tapped the screen. Suddenly your phone ringed.

“You were texting me?” your eyes widened and your face turned red in embarrassment “… sorry”

Toge’s little snickers reached your ears as your hands searched across the blanket. While trying to find your phone the sound of the text notifications ringed two more times.

“I thought we were watching the movie, why are you staring at me so much?”

“ 'wHo aRe yOu tExTiNg ?! '

why do you wanna know? are you jealous (:? ”

“You idiot” you hit him with the pillow once again and he laughed out loudly this time “of course I’m not jealous, why would I be jealous?! don’t be ridiculous!”

“Shake, shake!” he fought off your pillow attacks with his arms.

“I just wanted to make sure you were paying attention to the movie!”

“Tch” he rolled his eyes and moved close to you “tuna mayo?”

The sorcerer pointed to you, then to your eyes and then at himself, raising an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t staring at you like that, i just wanted to see your reactions to the movie, obviously”

Toge snorted, incredulously.

“I’m telling the truth!” you tried to push him away but he caught your hand in his, bringing you even closer.

“Okaka” he shook his head.

He placed his index on your forehead, then on your lips, and then placed it over his own lips.

“You think I want to kiss you?” immediately a complicit smile brightened his face, he nodded and chuckled at how quickly you picked up what he meant “you’re becoming insufferable ever since you kissed me, you know that? where is all this confidence coming from?”

Toge rolled his eyes and then pointed at you once again.

“Duh”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Me? Oh I see, the moment I start sneaking glances at you throughout a movie you get all smug”

Chuckling, he ended up resting his head on your shoulder, his frame shaking from his laughter.

“Fine. Yes, I’ve been thinking about it the whole time” you whispered, smiling, he held your other hand too.

“Mhmm” he knew. He totally knew.

So he raised his head and placed a kiss on your cheek. Then underneath your jaw. Then on the corner of your lips.

“Toge!” giggling, you tried to pull back, but he squeezed your hands and made sure to keep you in place.

Until he finally kissed your lips, tilting his head slightly and pulling you close until your body was over his and his back was leaned backwards. His arms slithered their way around your waist and you clung from his shoulders, kissing him back.

None of you noticed, but in your TV screen the two protagonists shared a sweet kiss too.

#; fluffy belle #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen 2 #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #inumaki toge #toge inumaki #jjk inumaki #jjk toge #inumaki x you #inumaki x reader #inumaki x y/n #toge inumaki x reader #inumaki imagines #gn!reader

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holymaccaronii · 1 month

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AAAAAH okay okay, I decided myself to share 2 things in one in this post: the lore of my ihnmaims AU + a design I’m working on. To be completely honest, I’m not sure if I’ll want to develop this AU into a fic or anything like that, but for now I’ll use it as an excuse to draw and design characters. Note that I might come back to this post and edit the lore paragraph, as it is still a work in progress, though I am liking where this is going. Please PLEASE excuse my English, some things might not make sense without me noticing, but I tried describing the plot the best I could. *Ahem*, now, the lore:

“PLAN B”

The lore takes place after the bad ending in the videogame where the player is turned into the worm, yet still doesn’t allow AM to access and torture the humans sealed in the moon colony. Since the last humans had “failed” their mission to defeat AM, a “Plan B” was scheduled to happen. Unbeknownst to the humans of the colony, another AI was created and implanted within the moon, taking up almost all of the space in its core due to its large size. This machine had the sole purpose of ensuring the survival of those humans once AM was defeated, or not. Inside it were millions of plant seeds, animal embryos and frozen samples that would later be used to repopulate the earth, yet it also had defense and destruction technologies to be used in case AM was not defeated. This machine was perfectly calibrated to be able to overcome any adversity that arose, but of course, all that changed when one of the humans managed to wake up and leave their capsule. This human got to understand what all of this was about, though they did not like where this was heading one tiny bit, thus they used the time they had left before the last human on Earth was killed to change and mess it all up. Humanity's greed had claimed yet another victim, as this AI was torn apart piece by piece until it was completely separated and rebuilt into an insane amount of sentient robot models as the years passed. This human managed to transform their own body as well, rebuilding it just as a sacred temple in order to be crowned monarch of this new society now living in a city on the moon. Despite all this, the goal of bringing humanity back still remained, now with the small condition that this human had to be considered a savior and supreme leader to all. Once the last human on Earth had died, robotic troops began to be sent to Earth to study it in detail and plan attacks against AM’s systems, which were disadvantageously located deep underground. Many of these attacks resulted in large unnecessary losses as these robots were not calibrated to combat AM, but they still continued to upgrade themselves to increase their damage range over time. This continued on as a seemingly endless war that barely progressed.

Again, I am aware that maybe some stuff might not make sense (or maybe it does?), but this is basically a continuation of what happened canonically in the videogame. The name “PLAN B” also makes reference to my OC BE, thought that was cool :p. I’ll explain the events that happen here later on as well.

Many if not all of the robots I’ll design will include a whole lotta exposed wires + their outer shell/ body parts, as I liked this dynamic, and it will be important later. The “monarch” that I mentioned in the paragraph is turning out to be this guy down here. I based myself off from those ceramic sun decorations, and thought it would be cool to make his face switchable. In reality they have a body too but I jus like wire amalgamations too much + they’re easy to draw. I’ll continue workin on em :-)

Edit: [THIS LORE IS NOT UPDATED]