#apart from Francesca M
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More alyxposting, idc if it flops I’m looking for the two other Alyx stans in existence…..where are you guys please I’m so lonely
#apart from Francesca M#you know who I’m talking about#hl#hl alyx#alyx#alyx vance#half life 2#half life fanart#I love you Alyx but not in a weird way#alyx fanart#half life
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(N)SFW PROMPTS BASED ON MY FAVORITE SONGS
rules: send in a song title from this list with one of the characters from this list
“ribs” - sharing a bed with your friend for the first time. they’re just a friend, right?
“cause for concern” - god, you hate them. but you’re stuck together. might as well fuck their stupid face, right?
“like a prayer” - fucking them in a church. just straight up
“505”- you show up at your ex’s door, you had nowhere else to go.
“maroon” - you can’t help but think of your first love, even with someone else.
“tear you apart” - you were sent here to kill them/they were sent here to kill you. tensions rise to the bed.
“from eden” - both of you have resisted for too long, finally giving into temptation.
“tongues and teeth” - you can’t wrap your mind around why they love you when you find yourself so unloveable.
“enjoy the silence”- a confession interrupted by a kiss.
“cinnamon girl”- soft sex with two traumatized messes.
“i melt with you”- soft 80s au.
“dream girl evil”- mean female dominant in a m/f relationship.
“francesca”- post break up reunion sex.
“it will come back”- you swore there would be no strings attached until one started showing up.
#steve harrington x reader#tasm x reader#dick grayson x reader#peter b parker x reader#peter quill x reader#robin buckley x reader#nancy wheeler x reader#astarion x reader#shadowheart x reader#karlach x reader#poison ivy x reader#harley quinn x reader#adrian chase x reader#hobie brown x reader#matt murdock x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#fav songs
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Which Hozier Song is Your OC
Hello I have come back from the abyss to of course do this uquiz. Thank you @corvosattano for tagging me. I tried to do as many ocs as I could manage (it ended up being 12 so my bad) and then included a lyric that I felt related to the oc(s) so apologies for the length. Sending tags out to @belorage @florbelles @unholymilf @adelaidedrubman @heroofpenamstan @confidentandgood @strafethesesinners @deputyash @leviiackrman @jackiesarch @shallow-gravy @shellibisshe and uh anyone else that wants to!
Anthea (ffxiv/bg3)
Wasteland, Baby!
it's the end of the world, but the beginning of something that will outlive us all. you might like my tag #growing through solastalgia on tumblr. just because the world is falling apart doesn't mean we can't find peace.
"And the day that we'll watch the death of the sun/That the cloud and the cold and those jeans you have on/Then you'll gaze unafraid as they sob from the city roofs"
Catlina Rojas, Carly (fc5, bloodlines/ffxiv)
NFWMB
oh, it is a privilege to be loved by you. you'd break the world for the person you love. we all want a love like that, i think. we all want such utter devotion. save it for someone who deserves it, though, because not everyone does.
"If I was born as a blackthorn tree/I'd wanna be felled by you/Held by you/Fuel the pyre of your enemies"
Siberite Akagane (ffxiv)
Abstract (Psychopomp)
i mean, the world is so broken. and yet it's so beautiful it makes you want to cry. what can you even do with a feeling like this?
"Darling, there's a part of me/I'm afraid will always be/Trapped within an abstract from a moment of my life/The weeds up through the concrete/The traffic picking up speed/All my love and terror/Balanced there between those eyes"
Demos Reyes, Conner Enache (ffxiv, bloodlines/ffxiv)
Would That I
morning dew, shifting grass, foxglove growing by an old fence post. woods, thick and old. and then: the joyful spark of a flame. i hope you get to lie down in a dewy field sometime soon.
"True that I saw her hair like the branch of a tree/A willow dancing on air before covering me/Under cotton and calicoes/Over canopy dapple long ago"
Sahar Mahin (m*rvel)
Francesca
"i would do it again." honestly this song changed my life. i hope the people you love are worth suffering for.
"Darling, I would do it again, ah, ah/If I could hold you for a minute/Darling, I'd go through it again, ah, ah/I would still be surprised I could find you, darling/In any life"
Stasia (bloodlines/ffxiv)
Eat Your Young
you have strong feelings about the state of the world. i like your passion. plus, you know how to boogie to songs that would disturb your grandma if she listened to the lyrics too closely, which is always a plus. is cannibalism a red flag?
"Honey, I'm making sure the table's made/We can celebrate the good that we've done/I won't lie, if there's something still to take/There is ground to break, whatever's still to come"
Azatae (dnd/bg3)
It Will Come Back
why is it so hard to stay away? you might have a tendency to get addicted. and it makes sense. if you've always been starving, then any scraps look like a feast. but you really do deserve better than this. i hope you treat yourself with kindness.
"I know who I am when I'm alone/I'm something else when I see you/You don't understand, you should never know/How easy you are to need"
HK (dnd/bg3)
Work Song
i wrote a poem about this one once! devotion and the way it crushes you. the way it saves you. sometimes the only thing that can save your life is having someone to live for. and sometimes when you've found that person you would do impossible things to stay by their side. i like the way no grave can hold your body down. it's neat.
"I didn't care much how long I lived/But I swear I thought I dreamed her/She never asked me once about the wrong I did"
Chance Ruicknar (fc5)
From Eden
you might like the game slither.io. also, you're a bop. have you seen Good Omens? there's this snake demon you might really enjoy.
"Babe/There's something lonesome about you/Something so wholesome about you/Get closer to me/No tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony/No 'who cares', no vacant stares, no time for me"
Lizette Rojas (fc5)
In a Week
have you ever thought about the fact that you have to kill other things in order to keep yourself alive? whether plant, animal, bacteria, or fungus, you're always killing things in order to eat. and in return, when you die, they'll get to eat you. the feast has begun.
"I have never known peace/Like the damp grass that yields to me/I have never known hunger/Like these insects that feast on me/A thousand teeth/And yours among them, I know"
#head still buzzing from seeing him live just a week ago so i am just !!!!!#but anyway the kids got some good good government assigned hozier songs#Shout out to Cat and Carly getting the same result so proud of soft tiny girl#Liz is interesting but you know what considering what could have happened if mom and dad hadn't shown up.....its fair#every time thea gets something about the end of the world i just :'))) because wow that really impacted you didnt it baby girl#tag games
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Heat Chapter 34: Worthy
My dear, patient sweeties~! So sorry for the sizable lull between posting. Life got insane. As a sorry, please enjoy this super-sized, fluff and smut-filled chapter 😁
Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida
Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.
Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞
Word Count: 21,500+
Summary: During the lead up to a happy life event, you are confronted with news that leaves you emotionally vulnerable. Javi supports you and finds himself longing to be your comfort, but will being shown what your life together could be encourage you both to seek it, or inspire other doubts to bubble up between you?
Warnings: Javier Peña being the God-level BAE. Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of oral (m+f receiving) and unprotected sex. Mentions of hurt/comfort, emotional trauma, toxic coping mechanisms, and adult situations. Descriptions of raunchy behavior, light dom/sub play, cum play, ass play, size kink, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to triggering events, familial strife, and emotional trauma. Some Protective!Javi, Dom! Javi, Sub!Javi, Sub!Reader, Soft!Javi. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.
Heat Masterlist
Previous chapter - Chapter 33: Amor
Chapter 34: Worthy
The jarring stunt via trigger object left on your desk aside, the rest of your week leading up to the wedding is one you expected to be filled with the silly stresses of errands needing to be run, arrangements requiring your attention, and plans to be made to fit everything within your hectic schedule.
You don't expect it to be the beginning to the series of massive changes that will alter all your current plans.
No. The only thing you were anticipating, that you are reluctant to look forward to – because frankly it breaks your heart – is saying goodbye to Francesca at the end of the week.
After you book tickets to fly to Medellín Friday night with Javi, you and Ellis agree to help her ship some stuff back stateside for her and to meet at the airport to see her off. You tell Javi the plan later that night when he comes home and finds you finishing up with the laundry.
Javi knows how sad it makes you, so he spends the time alone together making you happy. He even surprises you the next night when he comes home while you're making dinner and shows you a collection of apartment listings that the embassy's housing division had available up at the HR office's information desk. He hands them to you with a cool remark about looking at the options so you both can check some of the places out, as he pulls you into his arms and kisses you sweetly.
It helps you fall back into the settled serenity of only yearning to love and live together that you'd both agreed to before the recent tumult.
And by the time the middle of the week rolls around, you've checked off several items on your to-do list for the weekend, except for getting a dress. So, you decide you need to take a trip to the mall on your lunch break, and call Anita to see if she'd like to come with. When the receptionist at the school says she's out sick, you find it odd, so you go into Ellis' office when he comes back from his recent meeting to check in.
"Hey, is everything alright? I was going to check out a dress store at the mall and called Anita to see if she wanted to come, but the school said she's out sick?" you inquire as you loom in the doorway. Ellis looks at you with the same tense, albeit guilty look he'd had a couple of weeks ago, and it reminds you that you had meant to question him back then, but then forgot all about it with everything that had happened since. So, you walk into the office, shut his door, and march up to his desk with your hands on your hips. "Out with it, Rose! What's going on?" is your bossy questioning.
He deflates into his chair before forcing himself up to lumber towards the small couch in his office, gesturing for you to have a seat too as he muses, "Alright, girlie. There are a couple things I gotta tell you…"
Surprised by how serious he's become, you sit on the edge of the cushion and wait for him to join you, but he instead paces, as if trying to decide what to tell you first. Once he seems to make a choice, he sits next to you and stares openly into your expectant expression.
"…So, Anita's been feeling a little queasy on and off, and today was particularly rough, so she's home resting," he begins to parcel out, and when your brows arch up, he scoffs and lightly slaps himself on the cheek in order to gather his courage. "Anita's pregnant."
Your expression blossoms from bemusement to excited joy. "She is?! Oh my god, that's great!" you throw your arms around his shoulders and hug Ellis tight, beamingly exclaiming, "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you, that's the most amazing news, you dork, so why're you acting so squirrelly?!"
He exhales derisively and hugs you back, smiling with genuine affection as you sit back and gesture for him to come out with it. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he sighs and declares, "Because, well…when we found out, Anita pushed to get things moving on the immigration stuff…in order to be moved out of Colombia before she's in her second trimester. And, I have a job offer back in Tallahassee, but the immigration people," he pauses, and diverts his gaze when your eyes shone with unshed tears. "They're not guaranteeing that they'll be able to process everything for Anita and her parents this year. Florida's seeing an influx of immigrants from Central and South America, so the process is backed up."
Your heart aches with pangs of emotion, but you shove it down and put on a brave, selfless face as you grab his shoulder and give it a shake. "Ellis, did you not tell me sooner because you were worried I'd be upset?" you ask, and when he frowns and looks bashfully down to his knees, you huff and pat his arm. "Hey, I'm happy for you. And I want to help you and Anita, so...let's figure out some alternatives – come up with ways to get things expedited, so you all can be somewhere better before the baby comes."
Ellis looks up into your eyes, and the palpable relief that crests through his expression helps keep your sadness at bay the rest of the conversation. So much so, that by the time you both come up with ideas and agree to pursue them in order to have a plan in place once the ambassador is back, you're able to keep a cool demeanor the entire time you go down to the garage to get in your car, still intending to head to the mall to look for a dress. But the moment you're sitting inside your hatchback, you finally come apart, weeping into the sleeve of your taupe charmeuse blouse.
Your cell phone starts ringing in your purse, and you dazedly reach in and answer it after sniffling to clear your tears and regain your composure. "Hello?"
"Hey. Did I mess up the time?" Javi's voice rumbles affably in your ear. "Was our coffee date a little later than now?"
"Oh! No, I'm sorry – I completely forgot. I actually just got in my car," you answer, sounding harried. "I don't know where my brain is—"
"What's wrong?" Javi asks, picking up on the tension in your voice. And when you hesitate to come up with an excuse, he rumbles, "I'll come down right now—"
"You don't have to, Javi. I'm sorry for being a flake. I don't want you to waste any more time—" you begin to fret.
"It's not a waste. I'm in the elevator. Be there in a couple of minutes."
You scowl at yourself when you lean your head back against the headrest and catch your reflection in the rearview mirror. Hurriedly returning your phone to your purse and retrieving a tissue to dag at your eyes and cheeks, you try to not look like you'd had a little cry session in your car. Your nose is a bit rosy, so you powder it with your little foundation compact and rush to put it back in your purse when you notice Javier's exited the building and is striding across the garage towards the spot your car is parked in.
He looks so dashing – all broad-shouldered and handsome in the dark gray suit and pressed dress shirt, even with that necktie with the silky oblong colored stripe pattern you teased him over this morning. His hair is sleekly combed, ruffling a bit now from his brisk pace, and his moustache is neatly trimmed, but his stubble is starting to shade his cheeks and jaw. Your heart skips a beat as you continue to fawningly stare at him while he looks around whilst he strides over, making sure no one's lingering around before he hustles over to the front passenger door and gets in.
"Hey," he greets as he leans over and gives you a quick peck on the lips before his brown eyes survey you.
Trying for easygoing, you begin to dismiss, "You didn't have to come down, babe—"
"Cariño, c'mon…just talk to me," he presses gently as he wraps his fingers to clasp the nape of your neck. He intended for it to be a tender gesture, so when you almost dissolve in harried relief, his other hand reaches for yours in order to caress his thumb reassuringly along the back of your palm. "Hey, what's wrong? Did something happen?" When your eyes crinkle and you sigh, despite yourself, he gets wound up and asks, "Don't tell me that motherfucker did something—!"
"No! It's nothing like that," you assure him and stare into his tersely etched features as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. "Ellis just dropped a couple of bombs on me, and I got all flustered…" You proceed to tell Javi everything, and while you explain, he visibly relaxes and listens intently. "…I feel so silly for being all emotional about it. It's not like they'd changed plans. They've wanted to leave Colombia since before Escobar got taken out. I guess I just…I just thought since things were different now…" you trail off and turn your face from him when you feel another bout of tears tangling in the back of your throat.
Javi's warm hand caresses your trapezius and gives it a fortifying squeeze before he leans close and presses a kiss to the side of your head. "It's not silly. That's all great news, but it's natural for you to be a little sad at the same time," he husks sympathetically and cups your chin when you turn your face back to look at him. "Were you going to the mall alone, then?"
You nod, and lean into his touch when his palm caresses your cheek. With a weary hum, you murmur, "I still need to get that dress, so I was going to just go during my lunch break, but got all flustered and came down here early. I'm sorry I forgot about coffee—"
"That's alright, querida," he assures, quelling your ruffled energy with a soft kiss to your lips. Smiling, you pull away, visibly more relaxed than you'd been. "So…I got an hour to kill. Want some company?" he charismatically rumbles, brushing some rogue strands of hair behind your ear as he husks, "I could help you pick out a sexy little dress."
Your smile is brilliant as you snicker and lightly shove him. "You want to come to the mall and watch me try on dresses, fresco?" is your flirtatious heckle.
"Yeah. I think I'd like that," he drawls with feigned coyness, but his smirk gives him away. "Let's ride together in my car, though. That way you don't have to stop at the security gate and expose our relationship," is his sarcastic musing, to which you snicker and agree.
A few minutes later, you're both driving to one of the malls closest to the embassy while you're filling Javi in on some of the ideas you have for helping Ellis and Anita get things with the immigration office fast-tracked. After he enters the plaza and finds a spot, he parks and escorts you across the lot and into the main promenade. You take his hand and lead the way through the mall to the dress store you'd walked by plenty of times on previous outings with Anita.
It's a chic boutique, with the old-fashioned fitting rooms where you can walk out and look at the dress you've tried on in front of a 3-sided mirror. It even has a little divan for guests to sit at while someone is behind the curtained-off stall. Javi can't remember the last time he'd even been in a women's clothing store, let alone sitting out by the fitting room area.
He wracked his recollections, and only vaguely remembered being bored senseless while his mother and aunts had perused the giant dress shop on Main Street for what felt like hours. How he'd been the only boy kid for a while, and would hide in the circular clothes racks, and play with his army men while his cousins looked for him around the store. The scolding he'd get when he'd whine to his mother about being bored and how he'd rather do chores than watch them shop all day rang in his head and made him smile a little.
But this? You were the most expert shopper he'd ever seen. You weren't toddling around from rack to rack. Nope. You were on a mission, and since the store was empty, you'd gone direct to one of the boutique's salesladies and given her exactly what you were looking for in a dress. Even went as far as to convivially take the end of his tie and hold it up to point at the kind of shades of blue you were looking to try on.
The woman had chuckled and ushered you over to the area of the shop housing the dresses with the specifications you'd outlined. Three options selected and a few minutes later, Javi's sitting on a velvet cream divan while you're behind the curtain of a fitting room.
"Gave me so much grief over this tie, and look how much it came in handy," Javi quips as he rests his elbows over his knees. He's much too tall for the low-seated settee, but he doesn't mind it, especially when you snicker at his tone and open the curtain to reveal the first of the dress options. His brown eyes flare with intrigue as you come out and check yourself out in the mirrors. "That…I like that," he gravels hoarsely while his gaze fixates on the swell of your ass in the snug-fitting mint lace dress with the off-the-shoulder ruffle.
You smile at him in the mirror. "It's a little tight. And while pretty, I don't think it'll work for all the dancing we're gonna do. And it might be too casual for the church," is your objective review before turning to face him and winking. "And yes, your ugly tie was super helpful, considering it has the entire pantone variations of blue in it," you tease before hustling by him and into the fitting stall, maneuvering out of reach of a possible pinch to the bottom when Javi squints and grunts at your sassy tone.
"It's not an ugly tie," he laconically drawls as you shut the curtain and hurry to put on the next option. "You just love being a criticona," he accuses, smirking when you scoff in outrage on the other side of the dense, opaque cream curtain.
"Fine. It's only not ugly when you wear it," you razz, smiling when you hear him chuckle. Dutifully zipping the next dress shut, you emerge once again from the stall and pose coquettishly for him before doing a slow spin. "Well? What about this one?"
The glittery aqua tulle dress has thin shoulder straps and a pleated bodice, with a skirt that flounces about with your movement.
Javi realizes you're going to look drop-dead gorgeous in everything you try on, so he's absolutely going to be no fucking help. "That looks really good on you, hermosa," is his rumble, and the way his eyes rake up your body and stare hungrily at you? It makes your core tingle. And him grunting a velvety hum as he rubs his fingers idly over his mouth now before he husks, "It'll probably look even better on the floor after I take it off of you…" only sets that tingle into a thrumming pulse down into your pussy.
With a cunning smirk, you snootily lilt, "You're not going to be any help, are you," before turning to the mirror and examining your appearance.
"Hey, it's not my fault that I never see any fault in what you put on, bravita," he chuckles and crosses his arms before checking his watch. "But you still have to get shoes, right?"
"Yeah," you answer and lope back to try on the remaining option. "This one's a little too frilly. Need something a little less busy and fussy-looking," is your assessment as you shut the curtain.
Javier hums at that and idly digs in his blazer pocket for his packet of nicotine gum. Unfortunately the packet is empty, so he huffs and digs into his opposite pocket in the hopes he has a spare. He produces a wrapped breath mint instead, so he grunts and unravels it, popping it into his mouth and toying his tongue along it. "Then third time's gonna have to be the charm, no?" is his quip before crunching down on the mint to help curb his desire for a cigarette. The cool spearmint soothes his mouth and dances on his tongue, flavoring his mouth pleasantly.
"Yep! And I expect you to be more help when I pick out shoes, chavón," is your deriding jibe as you emerge from the curtain in the lovely teal V-neck and beaded bodice, knee-length chiffon dress with a flared waistline. The beading of the top gives it a chic shimmer while still remaining elegant. As you preen across from the reflections, you chime, "Ah, I really like the fit of this one! How do I look?"
Javi's jaw is dropped, coffee-brewed eyes roving your form while you admire yourself in the mirrors. "Fuck. That's it. Get that," he blurts, tone canela-brined as he stands and comes up behind you. Your giggle is charmed, smile sultry when he encircles your waist and whispers in your ear, "It looks fucking stunning on you. So much so, you're gonna have to wear it for me later. That way, I can condition myself to seeing you in it so I don't have a hard-on the entire fucking time on Sunday."
You gasp at his brazenness and whirl to playfully swat his chest, but end up staring into his expression with delight before leaning in and kissing him. His fingertips brush covetously along the back of your exposed nape and pull you in against him while his other hand cups the small of your back. You hum and wrap your arms around him, slinking up against his broad frame and getting lost in the moment with him.
Just when he deepens the passionate kiss and things begin to get sumptuously torrid, the boutique attendant clears her throat and startles you both to break apart.
"I take it we have a winner?" she quips, and Javi coughs bashfully into his fist while you beamingly smile and declare you'll be taking the teal one. The saleslady immediately beams and pulls you over to look at their selection of clutch purses that could be a match, and you select one with a detachable chain shoulder strap and pretty sequins that shine in a myriad of blues when they catch the light.
Ten minutes later, and you're emerging from the boutique with the dress and purse secure in the garment bag and shopping tote, with Javi at your side, handsome features still pink in the cheeks from getting caught. He behaves himself at the shoe store, and when you decide on the nude sling-back heels you try on, he just nods when you say you'll take them to the salesperson. He's too busy picturing you in them and nothing else – stretched out on his bed, to contribute an intelligent retort.
With the shopping pilgrimage successfully completed, you both head out across the promenade. Before you exit, though, you grab a pamphlet that contains a map of the entire metropolitan area of Bogotá from an informational kiosk's gondola as you walk by it. You tap Javi's arm impishly with it as you return to his car.
"This'll be helpful for when I map out those listing options," you remark jauntily as you get in the car.
Javi smiles, feeling a wave of pride crest up in him as he drives out of the mall.
Deciding to take advantage of the time still left to stop for a quick lunch at a quiet café, you both enjoy the meal and converse more about what will need to happen now that Ellis will be leaving. When your gaze gets a bit sad, he changes subjects to plans for this weekend. You're still discussing it when you exit the café and head back to the car. It's a lovely, balmy day in the capital, so there's a lot of foot traffic in the plaza as you walk together. The quaint tranquility of it makes you feel content, so you take his hand again and give it an affectionate squeeze as you stroll.
Once he's driving you both back to the embassy, your conversation switches to what his wardrobe options are, and the kind of outfit you think would work best.
"—So, you were serious about the 'no plaid or jeans' thing, huh," he can't help goadingly drawl and shoot you a mischievous look.
You laugh and snap tauntingly, "Well, if that's how you want to dress? Fine. Just don't expect me to let you pick out what lingerie I wear under my dress. As a matter of fact, I might end up never being in the mood to wear a single nighty for you ever again—"
"Shit, alright. I get the point. Scratch everything I said. I'll wear a three-piece tuxedo with penguin tails and white gloves if that's what you command, malvadita," Javi cuts in brashly as we turns into the embassy's security entrance and breezes through.
The mental image of such a ridiculous outfit on him has you giggling effervescently all the way down to the garage, and Javier feels content as he fondly steals glances, loving how you laugh until that discordant little sigh flits out of you.
After he parks, you lean over and kiss him, not even caring to spare a scanning glance around your surroundings before doing so.
"So, would you be opposed to going over to Ellis and Anita's tonight for a little while? I want to congratulate her properly on the news," you ask him as you collect your purchases and hop out of his car in order to drop them off in yours.
"I wish I could, but I have a call with stateside end of day," Javi laments as he exits and follows you to your hatchback so he can open the backdoor for you.
"Ah, no worries. I'll pick up something for us to eat for dinner after, then," you remark as you shut the door and lock up before snagging Javi's blazer lapel and towing him closer so you can steal a tender kiss from his lips.
Your boldness has him smitten, but he quickly recovers in order to nuzzle you sweetly and husk, "You're getting quite daring, director. Breaking your own rules?"
Pursing your plush lips, you adjust the strap of your purse higher onto your shoulder and wink at him as you muse, "I guess someone's shamelessness has been rubbing off on me."
"I'd prefer to say 'rubbing up on you,' but sure," he raunchily jokes and smirks when you snicker and swat his shoulder. "I'll call you if I'm going to leave later than I expected," is his remark as he slips his hand to the small of your back when you both start walking from your car towards the building.
You nod, and internally frown after Javier drops his hand from your lower back when the sound of an approaching car hums closer up from the garage's entrance ramp. It stuns you how much you long to be publically amorous with him at work. The mere thought of it prior would've unnerved you, so the desire being suddenly so strong left you incredulous as you entered the elevator and parted ways once it stopped at your floor.
"Have a nice afternoon, director," he mutters in farewell, and you can't help shoot him a sublime look, catching how his shoulders broaden out while he puts his hands in his trouser pockets as the elevator doors slide shut.
Your heartthrob of a lover has you girlishly swooning the rest of the day, even while you're making a covert phone call, and arranging for something top-secret to be mailed to your contact helping you on the matter. After the task is done, you reach out to some contacts at the DOS office in D.C. to put out feelers for Ellis. You end up catching up with the director there and learn about the general turnover in certain field offices, and he asks if you'd be interested in moving back.
"—There's a position in the New York office they're looking to fill. And oh! With the new administration in Puerto Rico, DOS is going to expand down there and bring on lots of staff—"
"I really appreciate it, but I'm very happy where I am currently. Can you let me know if there's movement on openings in Florida? Or if you can think of anyone I could reach out to and put in a good word for my deputy?" you politely intercede; keen on keeping the attention on your friend.
"I'll see who I can put you in contact with, but I think Florida's going to be a slim shot. And with the immigration needs you mentioned? Not just the wife, but her parents as well? There's definitely a huge backlog. Anyway, I'll be in touch!"
It's not what you were hoping for.
Once you've wrapped up the day in the office, you follow Ellis home and spend some time gushing happily with him and Anita about the baby news. Even though she's a bit queasy still, her heart-shaped face is glowing, and she excitedly tells you about how happy her parents and Ellis' family are from the news, and how eager everyone is for them to move out of Colombia.
"—The hassle is, the company that made me the offer said they need me there before the end of the fiscal year, but the immigration agent helping me with everything doesn't think that's likely," Ellis is sighing now, and Anita frowns from her cozy spot cuddled up next to him on the couch. "I'm just worried that if they don't want to wait, having no job lined up will end up with them dropping us back to the bottom of the pile…"
You pout and cross your arms as you lean forward in your seat. "Well…you might have better luck applying for a job in the government—"
"There aren't any openings in Florida right now. The closest would be Virginia, and well…that ain't a very diverse area. At least not for her parents to acclimate to," Ellis sighs before rubbing at his eyes. "Sorry. I sound like such a damn brat—"
Anita pulls the throw blanket more snugly around herself self-consciously as she laments, "No, you aren't. You're just trying to appease me. If we just have to wait, that's what it will need to be, sweetheart."
You feel sad, but then the tactical part of you perks up and has you blurting, "Would it need to be somewhere in the states? What about a U.S. territory?"
Ellis and Anita exchange looks of curiosity, so you go on to explain that Puerto Rico is a commonwealth of the United States, and as such, Puerto Ricans are U.S. citizens. That there's a U.S. federal government presence, which means several agencies and federal departments have field offices there. You also mention what the director had shared about how DOS is adding staff and expanding their presence there. "—Maybe you can apply for a job at the department there! It's basically Florida, just without rednecks," you lobby and joke, to which Anita giggles and Ellis contemplates it seriously. "I mean, your parents wouldn't have to deal with a language barrier," you pause to look over at Ellis as you add, "And the majority of people are bilingual, so you won't be as lost as you are here. And, I'm sure the immigration threshold will be way more lenient for someone getting a federal government job on the island. If you want, I could get in touch with my contacts there to see if there are any openings?"
"Would you be ok with that?" Ellis asks Anita. "It wouldn't be Tallahassee, but I doubt any of my family will complain about visiting a tropical island over trudging up towards the Mason-Dixon line," is his quip.
"I think that would be amazing! It wouldn't be so different to here, but still be like living in the states," Anita beams, excited by the prospect, so you happily agree to put some feelers out and see how quickly the process would be for them to migrate to Puerto Rico.
You're in such a great mood when you get home to Javi's place, that you juggle everything in and place takeout on the counter before hurriedly draping the purchases onto the bed so you can shed your shoes and purse to retrieve your phone and call your grandmother. You gush about getting the dress and shoes, tell her the good news about Ellis and Anita, and listen as she celebrates the happy news and fills you in on the latest on her end.
"—Oh, by the way. I spoke to your father. He's not going to be able to make it to the wedding—"
"Hmph, what a surprise," you deadpan, tone laconic as you snipe, "It was a wasted invitation to begin with."
"Well, your tía and prima wanted to be polite. He'll be traveling overseas," your grandmother muses, before adding gently, "He asked how you were—"
"I meant to tell you not to mention everything that happened to him. Ever," you cut in now as you sit on the couch and pinch the bridge of your nose. "Please tell me you didn't—"
"Of course not! There would've been no point, other than to upset him," she scoffs, and you sigh in relief. "…I did mention you were seeing someone…"
"'Buela!" you hiss in appalled haughtiness. "That's none of his business! I don't want him digging up information about Javier or trying to recriminate me—"
"You don't even speak to him, lindita! I hardly think he'll be able to recriminate you, unless he becomes a telepath," your grandmother scathes with a snarky huff. "Anyway, he took it well. I didn't give him any details. He's likely learned his lesson on keeping his opinions to himself—"
"Yeah, right," you grumble before tucking your legs under yourself and leaning into the armrest of the sofa grumpily. "So, want to hear how cute Javi was today when he came with me to help me shop for the dress?" is your goading purr, to which you get a delighted chuckle and eager cajoling from your grandmother.
By the time Javi gets home about an hour later, he's wiped after his call with leadership in Washington, and begrudgingly finishes his cigarette before stubbing it out in the receptacle by the elevator in the garage. He pulls the knot of his tie loose as he rides up to his floor, rubbing absently at the back of his neck to ease the tension there. With a tired huff, he exits the elevator and strides down the hallway to his door, and unlocks it, expecting to find you reading or typing away on your laptop while sat on the couch.
He instead walks in and finds you in mid waltz around the living room, wearing the blue dress and nude heels you'd purchased earlier in the day, as you hum a Blondie song under your breath to yourself.
His jaw drops at how lovely you look, and when you pause in mid spin at being caught, he feels his heart skip a beat at how cute you look when you bashfully sober in your silly prance.
"No, don't stop on my account. Keep going, gatita," Javi purrs as he locks the door unseeingly behind himself before unloading his belongings onto the credenza and shedding his blazer. You exhale a goofy huff and lope over to him, and he pulls you close, admiring how slight and elegant you look in his arms. "Fuck…you look gorgeous, baby," he murmurs puckishly and leans down to kiss you.
Your toes curl at the compliment, womb tingling from the flutter of arousal his warm, smoky scent and embrace stir in you. When you brush against his hard-on, though, you snicker and pull away. "Oh no, you have to behave when I'm in this dress!" you admonish sultrily as you scamper backwards out of his reach when he grunts and tries to possessively loop his arms around you. "Nope! You said you have to learn to control yourself while I wear it? Treat this as a training exercise, agente," is your flirty lilt as you smoothen out the wrinkles at your hips primly and smile at him.
"You're a relentless tease," he grumbles ruggedly and yanks his tie undone, shedding it from around his shirt's collar as he bounds past you for the bedroom. You daringly pinch his ass once he passes you, and chuckle when he yelps. "Bien chingona y malvadita," he complains mirthfully over his shoulder while he removes his shoes and belt, rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows as he saunters back to glibly stare you down with his hands haughtily perched at his hips.
You innocently stand to lean against the lip of the kitchen counter as you hold up the containers of food from the tapas place he likes – having just heated them up before he came home, eyes angelic as you bat your lashes at him. "Come eat, gruñón. I want to show you something," you chime silkily and gesture for him to go sit at the dining table.
Intrigued, he does so, and finds that you've unfolded the map contained in the pamphlet you grabbed at the mall and have used sticky notes to denote the areas certain apartment listings are located. Each note includes a descriptor of how many rooms, baths, and amenities were referenced in the listing, and you've drawn little stars next to the addresses you think sound the best.
Javier's impressed and leans over to look at the ones closest to the embassy but in that sweet spot you'd mentioned wanting to be in where you could still go to your favorite coffee shop and restaurants. His smile is rugged and gloating as he sits and pats his thigh for you to come sit on his lap.
You place the plates of food on the table and sit sidelong on his lap when he drawls in a honeyed tone, "Which do you think we should check out first?"
You point out two you think sound promising, and caveat that they don't mention whether the units are pet-friendly. "—If it's a really great place that checks off everything else, though, I'll definitely reconsider having a pet—"
"Nope. You want an annoying cat, so wherever we consider has to allow for it," Javi quips in a chivalrous tone before nuzzling into the back of your neck. "Let's make appointments to check them out next week?"
Your heart does a summersault in your chest as you nod and turn to shower him with affectionate kisses before shifting to stand and grab the cutlery, napkins and pouring drinks for each of you. "Rumor is Crosby should be back two weeks from now. You think things with Cali will get fast and furious once he's able to sign off on things?" you find yourself asking as you set the map aside and sit next to him to eat.
"It's going to have to. With the leak, I've told my guys to just observe comings and goings of the place we think Miguel Rodríguez is holed up in. I don't want to risk disclosing any info to the government that could make it to the cartel and compromise our informant. Things have been really quiet, though, so no one's wanted to rock the boat, which has been an advantage of sorts," Javi tells you as he eats, undoing the next top two buttons of his collar before he reaches for the whiskey you served him. "If we can catch the fucker, that'll put some pressure on keeping both brothers in jail. We just have to not fuck up this time…" he mutters before taking a long pull from the glass of amber liquid.
"So then, disclosing things at the embassy is going to take a backburner until you're done with that," you state rather than ask as you finish your dinner serving and take a sip of your drink.
Javi's brow quirks – the rest of his expression is hidden behind his glass. He drains it and sets it down before eyeing you as you dab at your lips with a napkin.
"I'd tell Crosby the minute I'm in his office," Javier remarks aloofly as he sits back in his chair casually. "I've wanted to make it public—"
You sigh and stand, collecting your dish and glass to head to the kitchen. "I know, Javi. But it's never been the right time to do that, and I don't think it's a smart move for you to do that while you're literally going to need him to back you up on the Cali stuff," is your mild musing as you place everything in the sink and run the water, preparing to do the dishes. You hear his chair slide back and his footfalls under the clatter of his plate and glass before he presses in behind you, places everything in the sink and shuts the faucet. "Javier—" you begin to protest.
"You're gonna get the dress dirty," he murmurs as he gently nudges you away from the sink. "I'll do this."
Drying your hands on the dishtowel, you turn and see he's avoiding your gaze. You frown, knowing he's taken your point of view to heart, and it upsets you, so you sidle up to him and loop your arms around his torso for a hug. He stills, hand hovering over the knob to the faucet.
"We're going to look at apartments next week, you dork. Obviously if we find something we like, we'll have to move quick on it, which means we'll have to put in with the housing division to move into the same location, requiring disclosing to HR and Crosby," you tell him wryly, smiling when he turns in your arms and gives you a dopey look, so you snicker and kiss his cheek before you add wittily, "It'll be all over the embassy before we've even finished telling him – thanks to Dotty being a gossip." When he snorts amusedly, you add with gusto, "I'm kind of looking forward to the look on his face when we tell him we're together."
Javi exhales derisively and shakes his head at you. "He's going to throw something at me," is his snarky joke, and you laugh as if scandalized by the suggestion. "I'll put money on it. He's going to look at you like you've gone insane, and then he'll throw something at me if he's behind his desk. If not? He'll strangle me—"
"Christ on the Cross, Javi! That's not going to happen," you exclaim irreverently between your peels of laughter.
He affectionately cups your face with his damp digits and tows you close to meet his kiss, making a silly grunt against your lips before he pulls back and drawls, "At the very least, he's going to hate it."
"I'm sure, but if he starts bullying you, I'll straighten him out," you chide deviously and pinch his sides before slinking back to avoid his retaliation as you nimbly strut on your sling back heels out of the kitchen en route for the hall whilst you call out coquettishly, "I'm going to strip out of this dress now, stud, and come help with the dishes."
He watches you go and feels that heated delight coil in his chest. Looking at the dishes in the sink, he abandons them, packs up the rest of the takeout, and stores it all in the fridge before pushing the chairs back into the dining room table and retrieving the map so he can glance over it one more time before he shuts the lights off and goes to the bedroom.
You've just finished placing the dress in the garment bag and hanging it up in the closet when he walks in and finds you still wearing the nude heels and only your white lace bra and panties as you turn while your hands gather your hair up to be fastened into a messy bun.
Javier's hungry stare as he stands in the doorway makes your heart skip. You're internally amused at him clearly having had different plans to yours. In particular, you'd intended to strut back into the kitchen in your revealing state of semi undress and used 'needing to break in the new heels' as an excuse for still having them on, but now that your plan of sensual instigation has been thwarted, you feign demureness as you cross your arms and lean your weight onto one hip.
"What happened to doing the dishes?"
"I decided to do you instead."
You snicker and go to reach down in order to yank your left heel off when Javi grunts at you to pause before he lopes forward to gather you against him. "Keep 'em on," he huskily purrs as he caresses a luscious trail of kisses down your neck to your shoulder. "But everything else is coming off."
Breathily, you lean into Javi and let him kiss you passionately, almost like he's resuming what you'd both started in the fitting room before you'd been interrupted. He picks you up and allows you to loop your arms and legs to cling to him while he multitasks unhooking your bra as he carries you to bed.
The lacy bra goes flying to the floor while he suckles greedy kisses along the valley between your breasts as his fingers peel your panties off and pull them down your thighs. You fidget to shift your hips up so you can help him remove the skimpy garment without getting them tangled in the heels. The moment they're discarded, Javi bows his head between your legs and licks the gathered arousal from your folds before nuzzling with unabashed want into your cunt.
Your back arches off the bed and you moan a reedy whimper as you grip the comforter and try to keep your legs from clinging too hard over his shoulders, for fear you'll accidentally dig the points of your heels into his back. But when he suddenly twirls his tongue up over your clit and purses his mouth over it, you cry out in pleasure as you writhe with desperate need, begging, "Oh, oh my god—Ja-Javi!" and bury a hand in the crown of his dark hair as your pelvis pivots up and seeks more.
Javier loves it when you get desperate for it like this, so he flicks the tip of his tongue into a rhythmic pattern that has your belly tensing and thighs quaking before he swirls it possessively over your pleasure point. It sets velvet fire over your senses and makes you keen breathily, body needy as his mouth claims your center.
He shifts his hands to fondle up your curves and cup your tits in order to tease your nipples in time with his greedy oral havoc thrumming molten pleasure over your pulsing bud – making your toes curl from his husky moan he presses against your flesh.
You whimper and clamp your thighs impulsively around him as you come with a silky cry of his name. The flood of pleasure heats your countenance and wrings the clutch of your pussy to honey over, dripping warm slick to coat Javi's mouth and chin as he prolongs your ecstasy with his lapping tongue before he shamelessly rubs his nose against your still tingling clit with a primal hum of accomplishment. You let out a fluttery exhalation and melt into the bed, completely turned to putty, to the point he keeps your legs from butterflying off of his shoulders as he shifts back to stand. He surveys how glorious you look stretched out naked and sated like this, and drunkenly decides the real thing trumps the filthy fantasy he'd conjured earlier.
"Mmm, you look so fucking sexy, querida," he rumbles hoarsely as he shifts your legs down to bend over the edge of the bed so you can relax while he hurriedly unbuttons his shirt and yanks it loose from his trousers. "Be a good girl and get on your hands and knees for me, baby," is his rough grouse as he sheds his shirt, then unfastens his gray slacks.
You're trembling when you scamper to roll and tuck your knees onto the bed while being mindful of your heels not catching or digging into the bedding as you prop yourself up on all fours for him. You mewl when he leans over to brush teasing, damp kisses down your spine before you sense him kick the rest of his clothes off and out of the way just before he licks you from the back.
The sweep of his warm, wet tongue from your still rippling cunt up through the cleft of your ass to lick over your tight ring of muscle has you keening and bowing your face into the bed with delirious pleasure. And when he slaps his palm down over your right buttock and gives the plump flesh a squeeze, you gasp and mewl, "Ja-Javi. Mmph!"
While he watches you writhe and your pussy clench around nothing, Javi scrubs his other hand over his mouth, gathering the dewy slick of your climax that clings to his moustache and chin in order to fist it around his cock and give a few lubricating tugs.
"Spread your knees more for me," he orders huskily before dipping his fingers to rub between your thighs over your warm cunt. You gasp and obey, planting your knees further apart. An excited little mewl fizzles out of you when Javi presses his palm on the small of your back and nudges you to arch down into the bed while still keeping your ass high and right for him.
He groans and fondles his hand from your lower back to knead the globe of your ass cheek before he hitches up against you and guides his cock to rut against your drenched folds from behind. "Wish you could see how hot you look in just these heels. Pussy drenched, pink little hole of this fine ass all cute and tight," is Javi's filthy growl as he curls over you and nips at the side of your neck when you whimper and buck back against him, features burning with how your arousal floods your pussy. Gravelly hum purring enticingly in his chest, Javi croons, "You like that, corazón? You just got my cock all wet—"
You blush and stretch yourself forward to rock your pussy against him. "Yes, Javi. Please, mi amor. N-Need you," you breathily plead, groaning when Javi grabs your hips and yanks them so that you're pinned from rutting over him, allowing for only he to set the pace of how his cock drags along your yearning cunt.
"Tell me what you need, preciosa," he husks in a low register that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end and thrill swirling in your core. And when he dampens his thumb in his mouth to then swirl it teasingly around the rim of your ass, you keen a breathless sound and writhe in pleasure at the filthy combination of stimuli. "Mmm, c'mon, guapita. Tell me." Javi revels in how you whimper frustrated mewls and wring your hands in the bedding while you squirm under him – looking ready to pounce if you don't get what you want soon.
"Need you inside me, Javi. Want to feel you deep inside—need to be yours," is your smoky petition, control fizzling under the strain of your desire bubbling up in you. "Please, Javi."
He can't deny either of you when you beg like that, and really, he's been pent up with need since you flounced out of that fitting room. So, with a show of dominance, he nudges a kiss to the back of your ear before adjusting his stance and gathering you up to rock back against him as he notches the head of his cock to your entrance and starts shoving into you.
Crying out at the delicious stretch of your walls giving way to him, you relish the carnal burn of your muscles pulling taut as the thick of his cock matched by the pressure of bowing deep against the bed settles a pulsing ache in your core. But it's when Javi plants a hand to the bed and angles his next thrust to slam into your g-spot that you feel aflame with incandescent need.
You moan and instinctively reach a hand backwards to cling to his wrist as he thrusts home into you with a gruff groan before grabbing fast at the back of your shoulder to steady himself on his next stroke out and slam back into you. "Fuck," he growls when your tight sheath clamps around him possessively. "Goddamn, querida—"
The embarrassment you should feel at being already so close after being worked up and edged by him in such a short time doesn't come, but the huffy whine you let out is quickly followed by a pressing, needy whimper of, "Need it, Javi. Please! N-Need to come."
Knowing he's had such an effect on you floods him with savage pride and spurs him to completely dominate you now, imposingly crowding over you to fuck into you with wanton abandon as he loops his arm around your torso while the other jams between your thighs and teases your clit.
To say that you fall apart with pleasure and dissolve into sobbing moans would be an understatement for how searing and visceral your orgasm is, cunt becoming a silken vise around Javi's throbbing cock as wave after wave of your climax zings through him and propels his own desire. It burns through him before he erupts with a guttural moan into the back of your neck. His hips rock mindlessly against you as he fills you with the swell of his spend, leaving him light-headed when your sheath greedily clutches him as you murmur his name over and over again in your delirium.
Left writhing, tangled heaps, you both recover your senses and bask in the afterglow together. His sweet kisses to your overheated skin and your content sighs anchor each of you to come down from the high before Javi shifts so that you both can spoon and decompress. The cool chill in the air-conditioned room lulls you to dreamily turn your head to seek his warm, sweaty skin, nose pressing into the spot under his jaw that always makes him weak as you curl a hand to bury into the back of his hair.
"Can I take these heels off now?"
He cracks up, baritone laugh endeared and velvety as he nuzzles you and nods before sitting up so he can reach your feet and remove the slings from your heels and slip the shoes off for you. Enchantingly sated, you let out a delicately relieved little noise and roll to curl into his chest.
He noses into the top of your hairline before cooing, "You up for a quick shower, tiernita?"
You nod and kiss the hollow of his throat. "Five more minutes though," is your honeyed whisper as you hook your leg around his hip and press flush against him, not looking to part with his heady, salty scent or the post-sex musk that clings to him and makes you buzz elatedly.
Javi cuddles you, more than content to agree to that.
Once you do manage to get a hot shower in, you go through the rest of your night routines, sharing the vanity mirror over the sink to brush your teeth before you take up some time doing skincare. You even impishly rub the excess moisturizer over Javi's brow and cheeks before he scoffs and hastily hangs up his towel to make his retreat to the bedroom.
He's just tossed the comforter back and sat to lounge back into the pillows in his loose dark blue pajama bottoms when you scamper in naked and grab for your fluffy robe, slipping it on and bundling yourself in it before humming at being enveloped by the soft warmth.
"I'll turn the thermostat down," Javi chuckles and goes to get up from the bed, but you tut and shove him back down.
"Nope, it's alright. I much rather have you parked where you are while I do some crucial work here," you deride as you prance towards the closet, enjoying the dull ache of your muscles after the hot shower loosened the coital-induced soreness out of them. "After all, I need to assess your entire wardrobe and see what will work for Sunday, chulito."
Javier scoffs glibly and sits with his weight balanced sidelong on a propped arm. "I have plenty of good options," he states cockily, and grins when you comically snatch a shirt out of the closet and hold it up for scrutiny. "Yep. That's a spiffy choice—"
You shake the 70's-inspired white and yellow patterned vertical striped guayabera and give him a drawn out, aghast huff. "This…is atrocious," you heckle and hold it up in front of you. "When was the last time you even wore this viejera?!"
"Such a criticona," he huffs amusedly and sits with a leg tucked under himself so he can cross his arms and squint at you. "But fine, I can't recall when I last wore it," he says around a yawn before musing in a taunting drone, "Can you skip the fashion dress down and just see what you think is most worthy?"
You grunt impishly and return the guayabera to the closet before sifting through his suits. Picking out a light gray one, you peruse his dress shirts and find a nice light blue and white dash stripe one that'll stand out with a bit more style than the typical work dress shirt. You turn and hold the suit and shirt up.
"Well, Mr. Centerfold? Will these work for you?" is your teasing lilt as you arch a brow sassily at him. Javi showily rubs his fingers along his jaw before humming and tapping them over his mouth. "If not, I have an idea of maybe mixing light slacks with a darker blazer—"
"Nope. I like it," he declares with an easygoing drawl and leans back on his splayed arms. "No tie?"
You smile and arrange the shirt and suit to hang next to your garment bag as you shake your head and retort, "Doesn't need it. The shirt is nice enough to go without a tie. Just keep the top two buttons undone, and," you pause as you spot a brown belt and matching leather loafers before holding them out as you continue, "Voila! You'll look quite dapper."
Javi has to admit you have an amazing sense of fashion. He doesn't think he'll look half-bad. "Now, commando under?" is his rambunctious drawl as he bounces his brows and tries to suppress his goading smirk when you whirl around after setting the belt and shoes aside to be packed.
"You would go sin pantaletas? In church?!" you faux-chastise, hands going to your hips as you sneer goofily, "For shame, Javier."
"I'm only asking because you haven't shown me what underwear you've picked out for me," he razzes cockily and stretches out on his side across the bed and gestures with the point of his chin to the dresser. "Hurry up and pick so it can be my turn to peruse your lingerie," is his purring order.
Snickering, you go to the dresser and look through the drawers, picking out a nice blue and white dash-patterned pair of socks and the navy boxer-briefs you love seeing on him. You even fold them into a cute square and place them daintily on the dresser top before climbing the bed to slink over and peck him on the lips.
"Alright. Go ahead and pick something. But please, be kind and select something halfway comfortable, hermoso?" is your flirty petition.
Smirking, Javi gets up and fishes through the drawer with your undergarments and nightgowns, and plucks up a pair of red lace thong panties, hooking them to his forefinger and presenting them with triumph to you.
"Javi," you scoff sardonically. "Harlot red? Really?"
"Why not?! C'mon, it's not like your dress is sheer enough for people to see the color—"
"But a thong? It's going to be so uncomfortable and give me a wedgy all day—!"
"Yeah, and they'll taste great when I put my mouth on them at the end of the night," Javier raunchily lobbies and spins the panties around with his finger, but you shake your head bossily, so he pouts and tosses them back into the drawer. "Fine. How about…hmmm, these?" he rumbles as he pulls out a French pink lace hip-hugging panty and holds it up while he gives you his puppy-eyed look.
You begrudgingly deflate and huff, "I have a matching bra to go with that one, so, yes."
He gives you a smug smirk and places them aside so he can locate the bra and hold it up. "Mmm, yeah, these will look real nice after I get you out of that dress—"
"Alright, beyako. Quit plotting and come to bed," you jeer humorously and slink up to the pillows before tucking your legs under the covers and removing your robe.
Javi snorts and places the garments down on the dresser before going to his side of the bed, switching the lamp off, and crawling under the comforter with you.
You sidle up against his warm frame and kiss him tenderly before cuddling up and sighing, "I love you, even though you're a shameless fresco."
He chuckles and caresses your warm, nude curves as he murmurs, "And I love you, even though you're an exacting little criticona."
Your laugh is like sweet wine, making him feel heat pool in his chest and zing to his belly as he tucks you into him and makes sure to keep the chill away.
The next day goes by in a whirlwind.
You spend it running around at work, helping Ellis pick up Francesca's things and ship them to her parents' home in California, then do an impromptu conference call at the end of the day with the director of operations overseeing the staffing effort for the expansion down in San Juan. He likes what he hears so much that he requests for Ellis to fly down and interview for one of the top positions on the technology implementation division. It's all going so quick, and while you're excited for your friend's prospects, you feel a little sad that you'll end up without him a lot quicker than you'd anticipated.
You've been so caught up with the arrangements, errands, work, and now possibly losing Ellis that you completely missed that you're on the week you get your period, so you huff when you use the restroom and rationalize that hormones have been the cause for why you've been so emotionally sensitive. It's days like these that you wish Javi's place had a nice soaking tub, but you settle for a hot shower and some ibuprofen before slipping into a house dress and the fluffy robe as you make dinner and crave chocolate.
Javier comes home and finds you napping on the couch with the TV on the early evening news. Quietly locking the door and divesting of his things, he goes to strip his blazer, tie, watch, shoes, and belt. He can't help notice that the ceramic holder with your tampons is set out on the back of the commode when he passes the bathroom, and instantly understands why you're tuckered out on the couch.
You stir when you hear clattering coming from the kitchen, so you sit up and look over to see Javi with his sleeves rolled up as he serves dinner into a plate and turns at your yawn.
Sweetly, he brings dinner to the couch and you both eat and watch TV while you chat idly about your days. And once you're done and head into the bedroom after cleaning the kitchen, you both pack your bags for the weekend and set everything aside before Javi takes you to bed and loves on you.
He massages your lower back, kisses on your neck and makes you feel so good that you decide to take a quick trip to the bathroom, and emerge naked with a towel you toss next to him on the bed before shoving him onto his back and working to strip him of the rest of his clothes. All the while his dark chocolate eyes smolder with want and his sexy smile softens his full, delectable lips.
Finally getting to 'try that side saddle business,' you and Javi share a shower and end up spooning in bed after, content and both excited for the weekend.
By the end of the Friday workday – which had included the news that Ellis is flying out next week for a couple of days to interview in Puerto Rico, you and Javi are driving to the airport together, and once parked, you take your things and wait at the check-in counter for Ellis to arrive with Francesca. It's bittersweet, and it takes all your effort to keep a stiff upper lip as she comes in and you watch her say goodbye to Ellis before you hug him.
The three of you enter the terminal together and sit at the bar chatting for the time before her flight starts boarding, and once you walk down to the gate with her, you hug her tight and make her promise to stay in touch.
"—Thanks for everything, boss lady. I'm sorry for all the hassle at the end there," she's telling you as she sniffles and gives you a crooked smile before she turns to Javi and shakes his hand firmly as she beams, "And thanks for the chocolates! I'm glad you weren't a blockhead for long and fixed things."
Javi snorts and pulls her in for a friendly hug to conspiratorially mumble, "Thanks for the assist with the intel."
You get misty-eyed when you watch her bound with her carry-on to queue up for boarding and she turns to wave enthusiastically at you both before heading through the door and onto the plane.
You're sure your heart would feel heavy and melancholy would've dragged you down, if not for Javi being by your side and ushering you to the end of the terminal to wait for your Medellín flight to board. After settling into seats to wait at the gate, Javi produces the bag of coffee candies he'd pocketed from his cluttered desk. He opens it and offers you the snack, and you smile ruefully before taking a few and savoring the chocolate-coated coffee beans with gusto before he tosses a few into his mouth. After they start to board, Javi chivalrously takes your things and keeps his comforting touch always near; an arm is around your shoulders, or a hand is on your waist, the small of your back – always seeking to comfort you and hold you close, even when you're in your seats and you end up falling asleep with your head on his shoulder.
By the time you arrive at the hotel in the rent-a-car, you are eager to just curl up and sleep in Javi's embrace. So you're a bit disarmed into silly surprise when he incredulously stares at the front entrance of Hotel Las Margaritas and swears, "Fuck me, I didn't expect to ever be back here," and at your curious look, explains that this is where he'd once done surveillance while the early members of the Medellín cartel threw a party on the rooftop terrace.
You defensively quip, "I mean – it's one of the nicest hotels in the city! And my wedding gift is going to be the honeymoon suite. I also reserved a room for the bridal party to get ready in before the church, so I figured it'd be good to stay in the same hotel to make sure I made the right pick." Javi's expression gets flinty, and you immediately read it as unease, so you pause in getting out of the car and assure, "If you don't feel right about being here, we can spend the night somewhere else—"
He shakes his head and leans over to kiss you before dismissing chivalrously, "No way! It's fine, querida—"
"Javier," you cup his cheek and gaze into his eyes, showing him your open, understanding tenderness as you murmur, "We can go somewhere else. I'm sorry—I should've mentioned the name of the hotel and made sure it was ok—"
Javi exhales and takes your hand from his cheek to clasp it in both of his. "The hotel is fine. It's just…the last time I was here, Steve, Carrillo and I were staking out the entrance from that window over there," he explains and points to the front entrance at a window on the second floor over the carport's awning. "Steve took photos of all the narco fucks who pulled in. I…I had an informant who went up to the party that night. She got in too deep, and…" he trails off, and diverts his gaze.
You can feel how heavy his retroactive guilt is as he lets it fill the space. So, with selfless grace, you lean forward and rest your forehead to his. "Come back to me, mi amor. I'm here. I am not going anywhere, and you do not have to be burdened by it," you whisper gently, and when Javi exhales a gruff, terse snarl of frustration with himself, you wrap your arm around his shoulders and squeeze your hand in his. "I'm not going to let you beat yourself up, Javier."
With a shuddering breath, he shifts to rest his head on your shoulder, and you wrap him up in a protective hug, nuzzling him and rubbing soothingly at his back.
That's when he tells you what happened. How Helena hadn't checked in. The panic and guilt he felt. How he'd made Carrillo go with him to go looking for answers. The way he'd found her. How fucking horrible he'd felt for a long time after. That eventually, he'd gotten her and her daughter a visa out, but stressed how it'd done nothing to scrub the shame and guilt from feeling responsible for her being put in danger.
He'd never told you about Helena before. You knew about that Gabby, and of course you'd never forget that bitch Vanessa, not to mention that wannabe guerillera Elisa, but this one had clearly rattled something in him. He carried it like a knot that was wrapped up in the tangle of his self-loathing, and you needed to find a way to excise it.
So, with a deep breath, you just say it.
"I love you, Javier. You're an amazing, kind, and good-hearted man. But if you don't stop beating yourself up for the decisions and choices of others, I'm going to lose my damned temper with you."
He leans back and stares with stunned awe at you. Your tone was loving but resolute, and the way your eyes bore into him has something unfurling in his chest.
"You didn't tell her to do what she did. And as far as I'm concerned, you avenged her and everyone else those fucking assholes ever hurt, with interest," you declare exactingly, and cup his face in your hands as you emphasize, "Le diste plomo al asesino cabrón ese. Acabaste con ellos. Ahora, te toca estar bien, mi amor."
Javi has never had someone tell him so concisely where things stand for him with such depth and clearheaded factualness. You telling him, 'You took out that fucking murderous asshole. You finished them off. Now, it's your time to be all right,' – and to mean it with such conviction? It's like you're the beacon of light in the darkness of his lonesome self-degradation. It makes it easy for him to see his way back – to shed the angst and acrimony and let himself have some peace.
You feel it when he leans forward and kisses you with a passion that rivals the sun, searing and all consuming until you're breathless and have to break apart to catch yourself from the burn.
"Thank you for not losing your damned temper on me, bravita," he husks coyly, and you snicker and pull him close for another hug. Then, he kisses a hungry trail from your jaw to your ear, and purrs hoarsely, "I'm going to properly thank you once we're in the room…"
Needless to say, you both check in and get to your hotel room in no time, tossing things on the dresser before getting tangled up in a heated make-out session against the wall by the bathroom. You break the kiss in order to instruct him to put the 'Do not disturb' sign out on the handle while you go freshen up and run the bath, convincing him that you need a nice long soak together.
Said soak together turns into you straddling him and having amazing sex while enveloped by the warm, soapy water as Javi clutches you against him and groans devoted praise into your ear.
You are both positively tuckered out by the time you get in bed, sleeping soundlessly through to the early morning.
With a busy itinerary, you each get ready and drive to your grandmother's, where you settle in and help with the women while Javi and Miguel talk about the plan for getting around, what the fellas will be doing while the women are at the hotel getting ready, and going to get the liquor for the bar that'll be at the reception. The day flies by thanks to spending it making the preparations, putting the table arrangements together, going to the reception hall behind the church's chapel to set things up for the party. And once it's all set, you dish a bit more with your cousin about everything you have reserved for the morning while Javi and Miguel tuck the last of the liquor stash under the bar his parents had rented for the occasion.
You both are wiped out by the time you get back to the hotel, and are full from your grandmother spoiling everyone with her cooking, so sleep is all you two are looking forward to after you shower and slide into bed together.
When you and Javi meet everyone in the lobby the next morning and the girls part ways from the boys, you can't help feeling that pining delight from how he kisses you goodbye and laconically purrs, "Don't go bragging about how whipped you got me, now," before pinching your ass and striding off like the fucking stud that melts you down to the core he is, wedding outfit packed and in his duffle he's got in his grip and tossed casually over his shoulder as he heads out to the rental so he can follow Miguel. Once you see his cute jean-clad ass and broad red-collared-shirt drape shoulders turn out of sight towards the parking lot facing the hotel's outside fountain at the entrance, you practically float along to show your cousin and her bridesmaids up to the spacious suite her beautician friends are already set up at.
While Javier goes to hang out with Miguel and his buddies, who're getting ready at the groom's apartment, you and the girls change into your dresses and take turns getting hair and makeup done until you're all properly dolled up and enjoy a couple of sips of champagne to toast your cousin.
A few hours later and Javi's picking you up in front of the hotel once you've seen the bridal party into the town car you'd surprised your cousin with to drive them to the church. He stares at how gorgeous you look with your hair done in elegant finger waves, with the dazzle of your emerald and diamond earrings twinkling in the sun as you turn to smile, bounding over towards him. The lovely makeup accentuating the alluring smolder of your eyes and plush pillows of your lips has him punch-drunk, so much so that when you slip into the passenger seat and smile at him, he wars with pouncing or just worshiping you before the honk of the car behind yours snaps his dumbstruck gawking away.
"Oh, don't you look bien guapísimo," you lilt, as you give him a peck on the cheek and then swipe your thumb to remove the rosy lipstick print you left.
"You look stunning," is his rumble before he huffs and tears his gaze away with such exasperation that you giggle as he grumbles with a surly edge to his baritone, "Fucking hell, I'm gonna be in trouble…" and starts driving en route for the next destination.
"Mmm, we're going to pick up my aunt and grandmother now, babe, so pórtate bien," you chide playfully as you buckle your seatbelt and pat his leg affectionately. He grunts at that, so with a flirty sweep of your palm to squeeze his thigh, you lilt provocatively, "And my 'visitor' is officially gone, so tonight? I'm going to fuck your brains out and not have an ounce of shame while I do so."
Javier's eyes flare with awestruck wonder, his desire searing into his loins and making his cheeks flush. He licks his lips and presses them together in surly frustration as he exhales out of his nose and grips the steering wheel. "Cristo amado, woman. You can't say that to me while we're on the way to church—"
"Technically we're making a pit stop to 'Buela's, so you have until then to calm your libido," is your brazen retort as you place your hands primly in your lap over your little chic clutch purse, batting your lashes angelically at him when he scoffs and shoots you a smoldering look.
"Such a wicked little tease," he grouses to himself as he drives, having to think of all the things that turn him off to stave off his semi.
Once you pick up your tía and abuela, you behave the rest of the ride, and are nothing but an enchanting dear as you all enter the church and find seats on your cousin's side behind your aunt's placement in the first pew. Javier escorts you on one arm and your abuela on the other, and is nothing but a genuine sweetheart once sat together, as he chats away with her while his hand affectionately interlaces his fingers in yours. She's telling him the significance of the church. About how it was a small chapel, but so many in the neighborhood had gotten married before the rich shimmer of the stain glass window at this very time of day so the light from the sun could catch the colored glass just right and shone brilliantly in the space.
Javi is impressed when the ceremony begins and your cousin walks in just as the sun comes through that window, bathing the room in colors and giving her pearly-white dress a resplendent sheen. He puts his arm around you when you lean your head fondly against his shoulder, lost in the whimsy of how love-struck Miguel looks as he watches your prima walk down the aisle towards him and the priest.
It's simply romantic.
You smile when they take their vows, and look over at Javi when they part from their first kiss as husband and wife, surprised to see his brown eyes already looking at you.
Unbeknownst to you both, your grandmother is watching the way you're looking at each other, and the delight she feels is enough to bring a tear to her eye as she hides it by smiling while dabbing her kerchief when her sister-in-law turns in her pew to gush happily as everyone claps for the now-married couple when they stride hand in hand out to the front of the chapel. After hugging the newlyweds and posing for some pictures – which you grab Javi and drag him into in order to stand next to you when the photographer sets up a big group shot for in front of the iglesia's flower bed-rimmed fountain – you all file down the side arch towards the cobblestone courtyard that leads to the reception hall at the back of the chapel.
The reception is an exuberantly fantastic party. The hall is filled with white and pink flowers accented by vibrant hibiscus that give it the tropical vibe carried over into the table settings of seaglass-and-seashell-filled-terrariums that act as the centerpiece for all the tables. The bride and groom have a little table next to the pretty wedding cake adorned with the miniature wax figures to match them, and they're situated in front of the dance floor. The catering buffet takes up an entire wall across from the bar, and is the first stop for many as they serve themselves and find a seat.
Javi can't get over how much food there is, and how jovial everyone is as they shake his hand or kiss his cheek in warm greeting, as if they've known him for years.
You're just as overawed, since your side of the family is quite small. But it endears you to see the big family your cousin has inherited now. Miguel has so many relatives, and his siblings have kids, and his cousins are funny and boisterous as they set up the DJ table and play music that has everyone in great spirits. On top of that are all the friends, acquaintances – it felt like a throng of people just milling convivially around the happy couple.
Once you've found a table to sit at with your meals, you get to people-watch as the newlyweds work the room for a bit. You and Javi sit at a table with your grandmother, aunt, and Miguel's sisters and their husbands as they field their kids to go eat, to stop fighting, to quit messing around and stay where they can be seen – the whole nine yards of rowdy family dynamics you hadn't had the joy to grow up with.
Javi and your grandmother are thick as thieves – joking and telling stories while they eat. She ends up telling him practically the entire family's life story – how she'd met your grandfather when her heel had broken and she'd toppled into him on a street in Medellín, had instantly fallen in love, settled in Bogotá and owned one of the last cobbler and apparel stores that catered to the businessmen and elite of the capital. Javi listens, riveted, and when you leave the table to chat with the bride and her friends, your grandmother tells him more – confiding some of the more delicate aspects of the family history. The ones she discerned you'd not told him, out of concern for keeping those matters private. He hears about your uncle – your mother's younger brother – who'd died in a car accident, on how it'd broken all their hearts, until your mother had married your father, and had you soon after. She tells Javier because she trusts him, and after observing him with you? Not to mention his selfless devotion to getting you back from having been snatched up? She believes he loves you with profound conviction. As far as she's concerned, he's family now, so, he should know.
Javier is touched by her candor and grace – both things you've clearly inherited from her – and tells her about his family.
You're none the wiser as you look over and see them chatting. And by the way your grandmother smiles and affectionately pats his arm, you know they're convo is something meaningful, so you find yourself slipping away from the girl-talk to rejoin them at the table. Just as you do, you overhear Javi telling her about how he was a runaway groom, and you gasp.
"—I actually saw her at my cousin's wedding, and she was gracious, all things considered," he's telling her, and you balk at him, having not been told that part before, but then he leans over and smirks at you when he says, "Even though she totally rubbed in my face how much better off her life had turned out from dodging the bullet in marrying me, so, you've been forewarned, querida."
Scoffing, you nudge him playfully by the shoulder and deride, "You hear this, 'Buela? As if I haven't thrown enough caution to the wind to be with him already—"
Javi snakes his hand around your waist to give you a cheeky pinch that earns a squeak from you before you dissolve into giggles as you rambunctiously slap his hands away. Your grandmother chuckles at the display before playfully grabbing Javi by the ear like you would a precocious child. He laughs and immediately lets go of you to shoot a pleadingly cute puppy-eyed look at her that has her fawningly cooing, "Ay bendito, que carita," before patting his cheek goofily.
Silly display quelled when the rest of the table comes back to sit, you can't help smile as Javi glances at you and winks before he leans over to you and asks, "Want something from the bar?"
Nodding, you chime, "My usual, and she'll have a copita de vino."
"Lindita! Don't tell him my vice," your grandmother chuckles and grins when Javi bounces his brows conspiratorially at her. "Oh, alright. Charming men are my real vice anyway. Go on, mijo."
He chuckles and goes to the bar, and you move seats to sit next to her so you can confide, "When she said Miguel's family was huge, I was a little wary. But everyone is so nice."
"I know. It just wasn't in God's plan for us to have a big family, so it would seem. But I wouldn't trade any of it for the world," she gushes and pats your hand. "He's a good man, lindita. Your mother would love him. And, I think even your father would come around, too. Albeit mercurially so," is her jibing remark, smiling brilliantly when you snicker and shake your head.
When Javi comes back with the drinks, a jumping salsa song comes on and a lot of the crowd heads for the makeshift dance floor, so he grins and holds his hand to you as he drawls, "May I have this dance?"
You smile and take his hand, heading out into the center of the crowd. Affably, you let him lead you in the dance, smitten and effervescently giggling as he spins you around and tucks you against him with aplomb before stealing a kiss from your lips.
The two of you dance and dance for several songs, and when a merengue up-tempo song comes on, your eyes light up with glee, and Javi tries to cut away, but you grab his hand and spin him, laughing vivaciously as you try to get him to keep step with you, but he quickly breaks a sweat along his brow and looks comically over for the DJ to switch the track before he keels over. Then, a kid that must be no more than fifteen-years-old taps Javi on the shoulder and asks to cut in.
He gives you a 'I tap out!' gesture and let's the kid take a shot, to which you smirk and happily accept your new dance partner. Javier saunters off the dance floor expecting to turn and see the kid struggling to keep pace with you, but when he looks back, the little merenguero is spinning you expertly and leading you like a cocky dance phenom.
Your hair is whipping around you jubilantly as you laugh and dance, smiling at the teen who's barely taller than you as he leads you into a series of spins and tucks before he dips you at the end of the song. The crowd erupts and cheers with claps and exclamations as the kid swings you back and showily points to his cheek in unspoken petition for a kiss.
Javi is grinning – unable to hide how impressed he is by the kid's level of cojones as you peck the teen on his cheek and tell him how good he is. Once he bows goofily and goes to get a soda, you flounce towards Javi with a silly chuckle as you loop your arms around his neck and tow him down to meet your lips.
"You're lucky I've been working on not being so celoso," he mocks as he escorts you back to the table.
"Hah! If that's the case, it should be safe to mention that he asked for my number, then?" is your aside, and when Javi's eyes crinkle and he looks around for the kid, you cackle and elbow him playfully. "I'm kidding!"
"Oh, just for that, I'm going to ask someone else to dance now," Javier sulks in a goofy tone as he pulls your chair out for you to sit in before he turns and offers his hand to your grandmother. "Would you do me the honor and join me for a dance?"
She scoffs and muses coyly, "Ah, you wicked man! You really are a charmer—"
"He's a lambe ojo, is what he is," you mutter daringly and wink at your grandmother. "Let him take you for a spin!"
She laughs, and takes Javi's hand.
Your smile is pure delight as you watch him escort her to the dance floor and lead her in the slow-tempo ranchera ballad, feeling enlivened and settled in the charming moment.
You sip your drink and enjoy the whimsy of watching everyone dance, celebrate, and be overall merry. It keeps you from stressing about the week to come, or fretting about losing Ellis and Anita.
No, you want to live in the moment, and right now, watching Javi laugh at something your grandmother tells him while he waltzes with her is one of the highlights of your day.
And when the DJ transitions the slow song to a Puerto Rican merengue song by Grupo Manía, you grin as she purses her lips and wags her finger in a, 'Oh, not happening' gesture before waving you over to come cut in.
You strut over and relieve her, smiling when Javi encircles your waist and takes your hand in his before he leans in to whisper, "Is this song about you?"
"Oh my god, you're such a dork for using that line!" you haze him derisively as you take the lead and show him how to properly side step and let the rhythm guide him to two-step forward and two-step back in synchronization with you before you sway in for him to spin you.
"This one's not as sped up," he remarks as he swings you back around and pulls you close to playfully dip you. "I don't feel like I'm going to drop dead—"
"Aww, te tengo que entrenar," you tease before caressing a hand to just behind his shoulder while he leads you some more to just dance close. "This is one of their slower singles. They have songs that will make you want to fall over once you're done," is your musing as you stare sultrily up into his handsome face and smile when his brown eyes smolder with something goading. "What?"
"When are we gonna perrear?" he purrs brazenly and brushes his nose against yours in a sexy show of dominance.
"I am not going to dance like that with you in front of everyone here, you beyaquito!" you hiss flirtatiously and segue into the cumbia song with him.
"So I gotta take you to a low-down, grimy club full of strangers to have you grind that sexy ass against me?" he instigates in a drawn out rumble and gets lost in how you giggle and cup his cheek affectionately.
"How 'bout just somewhere they're actually playing reggaetón and where my grandmother isn't watching us from 10 feet away, you fresco," you counter sassily as you brush your fingers over his forehead to comb his rogue curls back for him.
"…Fair point," is his raspy concession before he kisses you.
You both sway for a bit, then Javi ushers you off the dance floor once the song ends and the vallenato beat of the next one starts, deciding to spend a good amount of time recovering over drinks and conversation at your table until they announce it's time to do one of the wedding traditions your cousin and Miguel picked for the occasion.
Since the ceremony got moved up so last minute, they pared it down considerably and chose to have their first dance together to their favorite song while everyone watches. Once the romantic song ends, they bring out a chair to the dance floor for your cousin to sit in while she fluffs her dress' hem out as the DJ announces for all single guys to step forward and pass along one of their shoes to be placed under her dress.
Javier's never heard of this custom, so he looks over at you with big, curious brown eyes.
"Go, mijo! And give your right shoe over," is your grandmother's enthusiastic instruction while you shake your head sardonically.
Wanting to be a good sport, Javi does so and lines up with the other dozen so guys who are removing a shoe and passing it over to the groom, who places each under the bride's dress. Once Javi is stood off to the side while your cousin covers her eyes with her palm, the shoes are piled at random under her dress before Miguel stands back and counts down.
When he reaches 'one,' your prima blindly reaches under her dress and rifles through the shoes until she selects one and pulls it out.
"Who's shoe is this?" she calls out impishly and waves it around her head.
Javi raises his hand, utterly confused, and looks over at you when everyone cheers and whistles boisterously at him to see your reaction.
You're covering your mouth in comical shock and blushing, while your grandmother beams next to you and your aunt claps merrily.
Miguel comes over and claps Javi on the shoulder and returns his shoe. "Looks like you'll be the next one to get hitched, compa!" he exclaims jovially and grins when Javi's cheeks turn pink from flustered surprise.
"Yay! You better make an honest woman out of my prima," your cousin proclaims cleverly as she comes over and pulls him into a hug before the other single guys breathe sighs of relief and pat Javi on the back as they make their exits off of the dance floor.
As they move on to cut the cake, Javi wanders back to the table with his shoe still in his hand, and you feel like this is probably the last thing a guy like him would want to be prompted with. When he sits down and good-naturedly chuckles at your grandmother hugging him and kissing his cheek, you pass him his glass of whiskey and scrunch your face goofily at him.
"You've never heard of that tradition, have you?" is your musing drawl.
He shakes his head and exhales amusedly out of his nose while he puts his shoe back on. "Never. Guess that's like catching the bride's garter belt?" When you nod and hide your lopsided grin behind the back of your palm, he chuckles warmly, then leans over to whisper in your ear, "I guess I'm the marrying kind now."
Your heart trips, catches itself, and then palpitates a frazzled staccato beat at his honeyed timbre, and the way his coffee-brewed eyes hold you in a soulfully, albeit genuine, stare? It makes something stir in you, and before you can place what it is, one of Miguel's little nieces toddles over after her mother set her down to grab her fussy son and sit him to eat, and the few seconds is enough for the curly-haired little girl to stray around the chairs in search for someone to give her attention. And when a piece of cake is placed between you and Javi by one of the bridesmaids, you finally notice the little girl when she ambles over and stares at the frosted dessert before she leans over your lap and points.
Javier watches as your lips twitch into a little half-smile as you ask her, "Want some cake?" The little girl vigorously nods, and you glance over to Javi tentatively, as if unsure what to do.
With a gentle tone, he leans close and tells her, "You'll have to ask your mami if you can have some cake, ok?"
She pouts, as if that's the last thing she wants to do, so you pick up a little spoon and scoop up a flourish of icing dolloped on the slice and hand it to her before winking conspiratorially at her. Triumphant, she smiles and pops the spoon in her mouth before scampering away when she sees her father come back from the bar. You watch him scoop her up and carry her in his arm back to their side of the table. While you watch her enthusiastically prattle to her father about the cake, you're unaware that Javi's fondly gazing at you, admiring how you handled that.
His mind chooses now to recollect your comment weeks back during movie night. Something about watching a movie with rambunctious, wild children 'being free birth control' as far as you'd been concerned? He's about to lean over and teasingly ask you if you intend to spoil your kids like that, when the photographer comes over to your table and asks for everyone to pose for a picture.
You scoot your chair closer and pull your grandmother in as Javi puts his arm around you and leans close before you all smile for the photo.
Shared slice of cake and some jovial conversation around the table later, the time for the newlyweds to depart for their honeymoon arrives, so you all rush out to line up along the cobblestone path that leads to the waiting car. Once they come out arm in arm, you all cheer and toss the handful of rice up in the air as they run through the lane of smiling cheerful folks, and you fondly watch as they get in the backseat of the car and wave in farewell before it pulls out of the driveway and cruises out of the church's compound. Your aunt is tearfully smiling as she says goodbye to all the guests, and after the bulk of the partygoers have departed, the bridesmaids help take everything down while the groomsmen see to helping pack your rental with the gifts.
Saying goodbye to the new in-laws, you all depart, driving your aunt and grandmother to her house and helping to bring in the gifts before she makes you both promise to stop by for breakfast before you leave for the airport the next morning.
By the time you arrive back at the hotel, it's just started to drizzle, so you and Javi run hand-in-hand across the parking lot to the lobby, eager to get up to your room. The ride up to your floor is filled with stolen glances and alluring touches, so once you're both hurrying to the door, it's a seamless entry and putting out of the 'Do not disturb' sign before Javi tosses his duffle aside to literally start undressing you with pent-up haste. You give a sultry chuckle when you pull him towards the bed as you shove his blazer off and help him shimmy your dress down your arms and work the bodice off to shove the garment down your hourglass figure.
Before you let him unfasten your bra, you kiss him hungrily as you unbutton his shirt and unbuckle his belt while sitting momentarily to yank your heels off and toss them. His hands covetously fondle your curves when you stand back up to tug his shirt loose from his waistband, pulling your hips into his when he hums and possessively kisses down your neck to your shoulder.
"Fuck, I've been dying to have you all day," he huskily growls as you peel his dress shirt off of his broad frame and work his trousers undone, shoving them off his hips and groping your hands over his blue-boxer-briefs-clad ass while you suckle kisses along his collarbone.
"Mmm, I should get this makeup removed and shower first to rinse the sweat off," you dazedly remark as you let him pick you up to be taken to bed.
Javi hastily kicks his pants off of his ankles to freely maneuver clambering up onto the bed on his knees while you wrap your legs around his waist and loop your arms at his neck to anchor yourself to him as you kiss along his jaw. Groaning, he lays you over the bedding and unfastens your bra with one hand while the other props him up to loom over you as he husks, "No. Shower later. Love your scent when you're all sweaty—"
"Ewww," you playfully giggle as you stretch out under him and bury your hand into the back of his hair to pull him down to lie on top of you while your other hand trails down his back when he retaliates with cheeky kisses along your neck until he suckles that erogenous spot under your jaw by your ear. "Uumph, Javi," you murmur on a heated sigh when his warm skin and masculine scent have you tingling, and his clothed cock grinds into your aroused center.
He strips your bra off and discards it to the floor before igniting a trail of velvet fire with his mouth worshipfully kissing and suckling down your chest, tongue flicking over your nipple before pursing his lips over it while his hand fondles and toys with the other. You're dripping into your panties by the time Javi kisses his way down to your apex and bows his head between your thighs to breathe in the womanly, heady tang of your wet pussy before he licks you over the damp garment and kisses your mound.
Your needy whimper shoots arousal straight down to his throbbing dick, making it impossible for him to help himself any longer, so he peels your lacy panties off and stares at you while he licks and sucks your slick off of the panty gusset. Enthralled, you blush at the lewd yet erotic sight of him savoring your tangy desire shamelessly, shivering with how it turns you on. Javi watches your eyes lower alluringly as you spread you legs more and show him how much you're yearning for him, so he hums at the sight and settles between your thighs to kiss along the smooth, supple skin before nuzzling into your pussy.
Arching off the bed and angling your pelvis for more, you toss your head back into the pillow and whine his name as you buck against his mouth when he sucks tingling pressure over the hood of your clit.
The pitter-patter of the rain intensifying outside into a deluge that batters the window almost mimics the way your pulse is pounding in your ears from how quickly Javi drives you close to the precipice of an orgasm. You feel it scintillating across your nerve endings and thrumming over your heightened senses as he eats you out like he can only express how much he loves you with the talent of his tongue and the devotion of his lips.
Feeling like you're going to burn apart from how carnally overwhelmed by him and this pleasure he has set loose has you, you start to mewl, "Oh god! Ja-Javi, need you—d-don't wanna, nngth—s-slow down. Let me t-taste you before, 'fore—"
"Shh, it's ok, corazón. Let me make you come first," Javi croons with calm confidence and soothingly caresses your thighs before returning to his oral havoc, burying a throaty groan into your pussy for good measure.
You are flung into rapturous pleasure when he concentrates on flicking his tongue the way you like over your pulsing clit while two thick fingers plunge into your tight sheath and pump deftly before curving up. The ecstasy singes through you and has your toes curling and body arching taut as you climax on a strangle cry of his name, head tossed back while your hands grip the bedding in the throes of your bliss. You flood Javi's mouth and chin with your orgasm, which unleashes savage delight to coil in his belly and flare pride in his chest.
You're reduced to a panting, chest-heaving bolt of melted sinew, so you take a beat to pull yourself together, glossy eyes focusing to watch Javi sit up and ruggedly wipe the back of his hand across his mouth and chin. The sound of the rain registers to you, but you can only care about the handsome man prowling over you to nudge a doting kiss into your neck and caress your cheek.
There's nothing more satisfying than seeing you blitzed out, naked and glowing with sensual euphoria before him like this. Your hair is flung about in luscious rivulets, with those eye-catching emeralds in your earlobes, twinkling in the scant light that catch in the facets while you stare sultrily up into his handsome regard. To him, you resemble a goddess like this, and your dazzling smile and caress of his cheek makes him feel so worthy, so he intends to bask in the moment, but you have other plans.
You manage to roll him onto his back and pin him down, and when he grunts in surprise, you gaze sensuously down at him as you slink over him to strip him of his underwear. Wearing only his socks now, you spare him a sultry once over before stripping those too for him before caressing your hands up the planes of his muscularly lean thighs. His breath catches in his chest as you sprawl out on your tummy so you can stroke his aching, straining cock before pursing your mouth over the tip to lick and suckle the pre-cum coated expanse of it, sweeping your tongue greedily and moaning around him.
"Jesus Christ, mmph!" Javier groans and arches, one hand curling into a fist on the bed while the other buries into the back of your tousled hair. Growling your name, he hoarsely orders, "—Come on up and ride me so I can come in your pussy." When you make a little defiant sound and just keep sucking his cock – hollowing out your cheeks around him for good measure, Javi moans, clutching your shoulder warningly, and resisting bucking up into your mouth for more. You let his length bob free from your mouth on a gasp and stare salaciously up at him as he groans, "C'mon, querida, need you on me. I've had to control myself all fucking day, but I won't be able to last if you keep teasing me."
The way your flushed features soften with your sexy smile is something that has arousal zinging in his apex and throbbing in his loins. Said visceral allure only heightens when you sit up to crawl over to straddle him. "You're the one doing all the teasing today, bebito," you purr as you angle your pelvis and guide his throbbing cock to align with your plunging roll of your hips, burying him inch by exquisite inch into your yearning sheath. Javier moans and grips your waist, and you grab onto his wrists and hold on as you set a molten pace of undulating your core and clenching your floor muscles around him. "You like making me tingle for you? Getting my heart racing while surrounded by people like that, mi cariñito?" are your silky charges as you ride him now.
Javi's thoughts are sluggish with the syrupy pleasure your domination has him sinking into, so it's only when you squeeze his pulse points on his wrists that he realizes you expect him to answer. "I-I, fuck, I don't know, baby," he stammers as you stop undulating your hips and just clutch his cock in the vise of your sheath. He huffily drags his bottom lip between his teeth before grousing, "Y-Yeah, I do—I do like driving you wild. But you do the fucking same thing to me!"
You reward him by planting your palms over his broad pecs and bucking down on his cock with a provocative hum before leaning down to lick his lips. "Oh, yeah? Besides teasing you a little in the car, what else did I do to get you wound up and pulse-racing, hmm?" you goadingly counter and keep riding him, letting out little grunts and mewls of effort as you plunge onto his cock over and over again.
"Jesucristo amado—mmph, d-don't make me think right now, mi vida," Javi whines gruffly and licks his lips as he starts guiding your hips over him. When you snicker an effervescent sound at his answer, he gives you a fierce look of want and defiantly pivots up to roll you both into flipped positions – with you on your back and him looming over you as he starts fucking fast and hard into your rippling heat. You gasp and cling to him, lighting up with pleasure at his assertive, sexy growl of, "You being fucking stunning all damn day—every look, the way you smiled, your kisses—fuck, how sweet you were. Fucking everything about you had me hot."
It's like a divine tether being grounded within you to hear him say such things, because you felt the exact same way about him. His every glance, the way he'd smile at you, his protective presence being never too far, the way he'd got on with everyone, and how gleefully joyful you felt seeing him with your grandmother throughout – it'd all made you hot for him, and left you eager to revel in how in love you are, which also slightly mystified you to find there's no end to how enamored you could be with Javi.
He kisses you now, ravenous and incandescent as you both get lost in the throes of making love while the world around you flints away.
When he thrusts up into that devastatingly amazing pleasure point in you and nuzzles his moan into your neck, you are made electric flesh – a mere phenomenon of ardent passion as you hitch your knees up to clutch at his sides while your nails dig into his back as you cry, "Ah, Ja-Javi! Right there, right there—"
"Yes, mi amor. Come for me – fuck – come for me," Javi rasps in a reedy groan, already on the edge of orgasm, but desperately chasing stealing yours first. When you mewl in response and he can feel you right at the point of falling apart, he husks, "Love you to my very soul. Just want you. Give it to me, baby. Let me have it—"
You cry out and climax on his words, so bowled over and astounded by the fierce bliss that washes over you as you flutter around him and flood over with your orgasm that tears spring up in the corners of your eyes as you gasp and ride out the pleasure.
Seeing you dissolve in ecstasy so ferociously sets Javier's own pent-up orgasm to singe through him, unearthing the fire of his desire and snapping it loose with the pounding of his thrusts into you as he comes. You both moan as his cock erupts the warm bloom of his cum to fill your quivering sheath and seep tingling delight up into your womb as he empties his bliss into you before shuddering and burying his face in your neck on a spent groan.
The exquisite feeling of being filled with his seed and buzzing under his warm, quaking form lulls you into prolonged bliss as you both lie on the bed under the dim stormy night glow coming from the window adjacent your sated bodies.
Javi's nuzzling kisses into your neck and relishing your satiated little sighs, so when you whisper, "I love you hasta mi alma también, if you were wondering," he feels grounded and worthy as pride burns admiringly in his chest.
He huffs a wry chuckle and shifts so he can gaze down at you. Even with your lashes sticking together from the tear-streaked mascara, you look bewitchingly beautiful, so his eyes go from smolderingly dark to that gentle, soulful stare that makes you feel the most seen and deserving. Javi kisses you sweetly then, and you melt, content to bask in the post-coital lethargy of being draped over his chest in sensual repose once he pulls out of your addictive heat and adjusts to lie next to you before tucking you to rest against him.
Once the post-sex high dissipates, you both shower together, and while you're in a snug bathrobe drying your hair in front of the vanity mirror, Javier dutifully packs both your things in your bags in preparation of the early checkout the next morning. When you emerge from the bathroom fresh-faced and glowing, he's just pulled the covers back and turned out the bedside lamp. He's in a black pair of boxer-briefs now, looking relaxed and sexy as ever, so you shut the bathroom light off and scamper over in the chilled room to get in bed with him.
Javier watches you strip the robe and slide in under the sheets in the nude, thanks to the twilight of the rainy night beyond the window providing the scant light for him to admire your supple, nubile form. You smile and slink up against him for a chaste kiss before turning over to stretch out and lie on your stomach to face the window. His eyes longingly stare at the relief of your dimly lit form as you tuck your head on your pillow and let out a sublime little sigh.
Your lips crest softly when his fingertips trace the contour of your shoulder blade after he's shifted to lie sidelong next to you.
"What's on your mind, chulito," you murmur sleepily, but remain in your relaxed pose, enjoying the way he's gliding his gentle caresses along your nude back.
"Just…wondering something," he mumbles, and when you hum for him to elaborate, he exhales and leans down to brush a kiss over your nape. "Do you like kids?" he blurts out curiously.
That's not what you expected, but you resist the urge to turn over and stare at him. Instead, you tuck your legs up and get more comfortable as you gaze across the way at the window. "I like them well enough, I suppose," you retort simply, before querying, "Do you?"
"I-" Javi pauses to give his answer some more thought before he finally replies, "I don't mind them. Just never had the time to really consider thinking much on it – on having kids," he pauses to see if you'll say something, but you don't. So, he inquires, "Have you?"
You're quite surprised by this topic of conversation coming up now. So much so, you're pondering over what could've prompted it from him. Had your abuela said something to him? Did someone at the reception give him the impression it was something you two needed to discuss? Or with all the talk of looking at apartments together, was Javi thinking further ahead? Thinking about long-term plans and what it would mean for your relationship?
With all of that swirling in your mind, you find yourself replying neutrally, "No. Never really given it much thought, other than making sure not to get pregnant, I mean."
Javier hums pensively at that, so you finally adjust to turn your torso to face him, while still remaining on your stomach. He didn't seem to have expected your sudden shift, so he grunts and dismisses, "Forget it, querida—"
You caress your hand up his chest to rest at the side of his neck, surprised to find his pulse racing under your touch. "What're you really asking me, chavón," is your teasing drawl. When he hesitates, you sigh and shift to lie on your side, pillowing your hand under your cheek in order to prop your countenance up more. "Did someone hassle you today about 'making an honest woman' out of me or something? Was it 'Buela?"
Huffing wryly out of his nose, Javi snickers, "No. Your cousin did make a crack about 'making an honest woman' out of you, but no one brought up kids—"
"Ok, so then…what—you just want to know if my biological clock is ticking?" you cut in glibly before laconically musing, "Because it isn't, so nothing to worry about—"
"So you don't want to have kids at all," Javi ruminates out loud in an unreadable tone, eyes crinkling as he stares into your disarmed features. "I only mean, well—we've never talked about it—"
"Did we have to talk about it?" you remark and shift to prop yourself up onto your elbow to match his eye-line. "You were a field agent when I met you. I know they don't like assigning anyone to the DEA down here that has family – no one with kids. Not after what happened to that agent in Guadalajara. So, since you've been here so long, and, well – with your previous extracurriculars, I figured you didn't want kids. Which, was fine," is your analytical answer, completely free of umbrage as you detail the basis of your assumptions. When Javier just raises his brows at you, and seems to need to hear the unspoken part said out loud, you sigh and roll back over to lie on your stomach, facing the window as you add dispassionately, "I'd make a terrible mother."
Javier's shoulders slump hearing you say that, and really, he's not sure completely why. After all, he's never thought about having a family. At least not in the conventional sense of having kids; in becoming a father. But listening to you seem so…apathetic to it? His mind flashes to how sweet you were with the little girl, albeit reserved, and it makes something in his chest twitch with longing.
"That's not true. I think you'd be great at it," he finds himself countering, fingers absently sweeping through the back of your hair to fan it onto the pillow and expose your back to his meandering caresses. "And sure, I haven't given it much thought, in all honesty, but if it happened? We'd figure it out together. You would be an amazing mother—"
You scoff a humored laugh and shake your head before glancing dubiously over your shoulder at him as you deride, "Do you remember how freaked you were when the condom broke that one time?" Javi's brows knit together and his lips part, but an answer doesn't come, so he just presses them together. "C'mon, Javier. That's your worst nightmare, just like it's mine, so, don't worry or feel like you need to assure me—"
"I'm not," he interrupts and rests his hand to your hip. "And to be fair, that was a different time—"
"No, it wasn't. You're not a field agent anymore, and I'm not slogging it in Clerical Operations, but we both still have plans like we did then. Even more so now," you insist as you roll back over to face him before finding yourself blurting, "And if a condom breaking, or being late is enough to settle cold terror in us rather than happiness or excitement at the prospect then we don't have any business talking about having kids."
As soon as the words leave your mouth, you regret them. And when his expression etches in that bewildered way, you know you've messed up.
"You were late?" Javi carefully asks, sharply focusing on your expression with his intensifying gaze.
Reluctantly, you nod before succinctly explaining, "Only once, and it was just a false alarm. I changed birth control and it hasn't happened since—"
"When?" he asks in a hushed murmur, feeling guilty for having been oblivious.
You sigh, and idly caress the hand he has on your hip as you reply, "After the time you came to my door late at night, all upset?" When his eyes shone with recall, you add, "Well, afterwards, we didn't see each other for weeks until you dragged me out of that club, so…figured it wasn't worth mentioning."
You expect him to be mad, but instead, Javier exhales through his nose and rests his head on the pillow next to yours as he gazes over at you and asks haltingly, "And that moment, when you didn't know, you were terrified…by the thought that you could be?"
Meekly, you nod as you clarify, "It was more of a dread—"
"Because that's any better," is his snarky snort as humor quirks his mustachioed lips.
"It is! Regardless of my personal feelings about it, can you blame me for dreading the prospect after how you reacted that time? I mean, c'mon, you were terrified when that condom broke, Javi. I thought you were going to get down on your knees and pray to not have knocked me up," you counter sarcastically back, giving him a lopsided smirk when he scoffs and drags his palm across his face in self-disgust. "I don't know when you were the most relieved: when you found me at the bus station, or when I told you I was on the pill," is your goading jibe as you snicker at his surly grunt when he buries his face in his pillow in mortification.
"…I was a fucking jackass for that," he mumbles gruffly as he cuddles you close and rests his forehead to your cheek. "Be that as it may, though…I need you to know that…it'd be different now. That's all I'm going to say," is his careful murmur.
It's the right thing to say. His husky rasp warmly conveyed his meaning and instantly quelled your unease, making you feel off the hook to continue this tenuous topic.
You loop your arms around him and kiss his brow lovingly. "Good to know, hermoso," you croon and smile when he snickers and encircles your waist to pin you against him after you purr affectionately, "Now, behave and go to sleep."
He exhales a mirthful grunt before settling down with you and feeling lulled into slumber once you've drifted off yourself.
Early the next morning, you get ready, leave a nice note and tip on the little desk in the room, and head down to the lobby to check out. You both head out with your bags across the rain-soaked parking lot to your rental, and are soon parking in front of your grandmother's to have breakfast before heading to the airport.
She's ridiculously giddy, doting on Javi and enjoying how your aunt merrily recaps all the wonderful moments of the day before over coffee. And of course, when you were just feeling nice and content, she has to mention, "—Oh, and so many of the gifts were just thoughtful! Your father had a courier deliver a registry certificate from that big department store in the city, so they can go and get anything they'll need for when they find a house together. Isn't that wonderful?"
Javi watches as your expression cools at the mention of your father, so he clears his throat and replies, "And are they looking for a house, or will they wait until Miguel comes back from his training?"
Your grandmother covertly winks at Javi for changing the subject over the rim of her cup while your aunt blithely retorts, "Ah, they're going to wait. For now, she'll move out of her little apartment and into his—"
"Javi and I are going to look for apartments together," you remark aloofly as you stir your spoon in your coffee. "We're looking at a few this week."
The clattering of your aunt's coffee cup and your grandmother's dish from their surprised reaction to your glib musing weigh their silence, while Javi incredulously glances over at you. He's overawed that you would volunteer that, and just as he coughs tensely and spares a meek look over at your grandmother, your aunt hums before evenly remarking, "It's a shame you would live in sin by moving in together before getting married—"
"Well we've been living in sin since the night I picked him up at an embassy event, so there's not much sinning left to do but to shack up together," you barb cavalierly and smile proudly at her.
Javier's internally jaw-dropped at your answer while your grandmother amusedly shakes her head at you before patting her sister-in-law on the shoulder and musing, "She's only teasing you, dear. And anyway, these are different times and they're quite grown enough to live together," she pauses to look between you and Javi curtly as she pipes, "Just as long as you take care of each other and love one another, I'm glad for it."
Deciding that's the best way to end breakfast, you primly announce you and Javi should be heading out to the airport and say your goodbyes to your aunt before your grandmother sees you and Javi out.
You say your farewells, and when you hug her, she snickers, "You're such a provocadora! Teasing your tía that way, just to be an alborotadora—"
"I was just stating facts! I didn't say anything that wasn't true," you glibly retort, winking deviously before you kiss her cheek. "Love you. I'll call you later!"
Javi shakes his head sardonically at you and hugs your grandmother tight before pecking her cheek sweetly and smiling when she squeezes him and whispers conspiratorially, "Watch out for my little troublemaker, mijo."
"I will," he promises and follows after you. She watches from the porch as you both get in your rental and pull away with a parting wave.
"You technically fibbed back there, querida," Javi rumbles as he drives out of the neighborhood, giving you a sidelong glance when you hum in question. "The one who did the picking up that night was me," is his cocky charge.
"Well, maybe technically. But I did trip on the top step running up that morning because I got distracted checking you out," you admit without an ounce of shame as you comb your hair behind your ear and give him a flirty look before sticking your tongue out at him, snickering, "Not to mention burned my damn hand with the coffee for the trouble. If that hadn't happened, you wouldn't have thought you could pick me up that night. So, that was all me who initiated it."
Javier gapes at your rationale before a slow, pleased smirk crests his handsome features. "Well, shit. How can I argue with that," is his charming drawl as he winks at you.
You both make it to the airport with plenty of time to drop off the rental car, check in and get your boarding passes. Over an hour and a half later, you're both landing in Bogotá, and driving to the office in Javier's SUV, with no one the wiser that you two had absconded out of town together, save for Ellis.
"Can we spend the night at my place? I want to do laundry and water the plants," you ask Javi as he pulls into the embassy's underground garage and backs into a parking spot.
"Sure. Call me when you're ready to leave," he rasps in a smooth gravelly tone and leans over to kiss you chastely on the lips once he's turned the engine off and taken his seatbelt off. "Grab dinner on the way home?"
You nod and affectionately comb your fingers through his wayward wisps of hair that are curling over his forehead, brushing them back for him. "Love you, chulito," is your affectionate purr before you undo your seatbelt and collect your things.
But before you can hop out of the car, Javi pulls you close and murmurs, "Love you too, mi media naranjita." He brushes his lips over yours, and you melt despite how corny you should find the affectionate term.
Javi fondly watches you go as you strut across the parking level towards the building, waiting a few minutes before exiting his SUV to go in. By the time he's getting off the elevator on his floor, you're getting comfy in your desk chair as you boot up your laptop.
You're pleased to see an email from Francesca assuring you she made it home ok, and once you've closed it out, you spot a confirmation email that you quickly skim and get a cool sense of satisfaction over before closing out your personal email account and logging into your work one while you reach into your purse and pull out the apartment listings you wanted to make appointments to tour.
While you call the first listing on your cell phone, an exhilarating sense of hope settles in your chest, leaving you buzzing and eager to move forward on building the life with Javi that you're both on the same page about wanting together.
Little do you know how much of that will fall apart before it ever had a chance to form.
But, for now, you look forward to it, with heart in hand and mind clear of any doubts.
________________
Read Chapter 35: Spoil
Spanish-English Glossary:
Cariño = Darling/sweetheart
Querida = Affectionate term for a female, akin to expressing one's want and desire
Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy
Criticona = critical woman; hypercritical; nit-picker
Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)
Bravita= Tough girl; feisty girl
Chavón = a man that's pestering you
Canela = Cinnamon
Malvadita = Wicked little girl
Prima = Cousin (female)
Tía = Aunt
'Buela = short for 'abuela', aka grandmother
Lindita = little cutie; pretty little girl
Gatita = Little kitten
Bien chingona y malvadita = Real badass and wicked (woman)
Gruñón = Grumpy man
Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone
Mi amor = My love
Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious
Guapita = sassy/foxy/daring/testy (female)
Tiernita = Tender little girl
Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie
Viejera = Old relic; something very dated
Sin pantaletas = Without skivvies/panties
Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"
Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy
Guerillera = Guerrilla fighter (woman)
Le diste plomo al asesino cabrón ese. Acabaste con ellos. Ahora, te toca estar bien, mi amor = You took out that fucking murderous asshole. You finished them off. Now, it's your time to be all right, my love
Bravita = Tough girl; feisty girl
Bien guapísimo = Super handsome
Pórtate bien = Be good/Behave
Cristo amado = Christ beloved
Iglesia's = Church
Ay bendito, que carita = Oh, blessed simple soul, what a [cute] face
Copita de vino = A small cup of wine
Lindita = little cutie; pretty little girl
Mijo = short for "mi hijo", a term of endearment akin to "my son/sonny"
Merenguero = Expert at menrengue dancing
Cojones = Balls; guts
Celoso = Jealous (man)
Lambe ojo = Puerto Rican slang for a kiss-up; aka an ass kisser who's charming someone to get their way or be well-liked
Te tengo que entrenar = I gotta train you
Perrear = Doing it doggystyle, aka referring to sex
Beyaquito = Little naughty perv
Compa = Short for 'compadre', which is a term of friendship and mutual attachment, usually through marriage or baptism
Bebito = Little baby (male)
Mi cariñito = My sweet little darling
Jesucristo amado = Beloved Jesus Christ
Mi vida = My life
Hasta mi alma también = To my soul too
Chavón = a man that's pestering you
Provocadora = Provoker (female)
Alborotadora = Troublemaker (female)
Mi media naranjita = Coloquial term for 'you're my other half', but said in the diminutive with affection
Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful.
#Heat - Narcos fanfic#Javier Peña#Javi Peña#Javi x Querida#Narcos#Narcos fan fiction#Javi Peña fan fiction#Javier Peña fan fiction#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal characters#Javi Peña x Latina OFC
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I come to bring a compilation of information and yes all at once. The things here I took from old interviews so a lot could have changed throughout Luke's life (or not hehe) and other things are just my conclusions without confirmation (based on my searches on the internet).
Luke is a fun and intelligent person, a nerd full of charisma and style, loaded with the best British style he could have, a cigarette in one hand, a drink in the other, a smile and beautiful hazel eyes.
I hope you enjoy it because there are things about him that make me smile. :)
-> Luke Brandon Field (Luke Shoefield) was born on March 21, 1988 in Paddington which is a region in the City of Westminster, London, England.
-> His height is 1,83 m
-> He currently lives alone in an apartment in Los Angeles.
-> He is the son of Gary Shoefield and (probably and without confirmation) of Sharon Lorraine Price.
-> Luke is from a Jewish family. He grew up in a relatively Jewish neighborhood.
Here are some links about him:
IMDb | United Agents
Facebook 1 | 2
Twitter | Instagram | Spotify
-> Luke has as friends Daniel Sharman, Ian Bohen, Taika Waititi, Pamela Francesca and among others that I wouldn't know how to name, but to know more just visit his instagram. On his facebook there are very old and funny photos from the time when he studied. On instagram there are several pictures of him with his friends, his father and work. He was always fun and funny.
-> His name Luke is after Luke Goss, member of the English boyband Bros.
-> Luke's taste in music was influenced by his father from an early age, he was a fan of Glam Rock, Punk Rock and 70's Pop.
-> He is a fan of bands and musicians like Nico, David Bowie, Elvis, The Clash, Sweet, The Strokes, Lou Reed, T. Rex and others.
-> He has a band with Camila Gray called ROGUES.
-> Luke is an Arsenal fan.
-> Luke's godfather is an actor too and influenced him.
-> His favorite drink is Canadian Club.
-> Her idols are her father (Gary Shoefield) and Oliver Reed.
-> He went to drama school in New York when he was 18-19 years old (circa 2006) and had to live independently for the first time.
-> He went to Los Angeles in 2008.
-> Became the first person in England to be accepted by UCLA to study Drama & Film.
-> His first appearance in a film was in 2006 in 'Alien Autopsy'.
-> His first starring role was in 'Where the Road Meets the Sun' (2011) and here Luke won the Best Actor award at the Los Angeles Asian Film Festival.
-> He once said:
"I'd love to do a film set in the swinging 60's, a Michael Cane type role or a lower east side punk in 1970s New York. That would be fun."
-> He dreams of working one day with Woody Allen and Tom Hanks.
-> He grew up surrounded by Punk Rock, his home as a child was "two doors down where Marc Bolan lived".
Marc Bolan was an English musician, singer and songwriter. He was one of the pioneers of the glam rock movement in the early 1970s with his band T. Rex. (wikipedia) But Marc passed away in 1977 and Luke was born in 1988, but his mother was Marc's neighbor and grew up there in the 70s.
-> On the same street lived Paul McCartney.
-> At the age of 5-6 he was visited by Brian Connolly.
Brian Francis Connolly was a Scottish musician, best known as the lead singer of the British glam rock band Sweet.(wikipedia)
-> His father at that time (around 1994) was The Sweet's agent.
-> Luke's first show was when he was 6 years old with Gary Glitter and met him.
-> Luke was teased at school for being a David Bowie fan because everyone said he was too gay.
-> Luke has Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1973) as his favorite David Bowie album.
-> He was writing a book about Nico (originally it was going to be a screenplay).
Christa Päffgen was a German singer, songwriter, model and actress, better known by the pseudonym Nico.(wikipedia) And I couldn't find any other information about this, the interview I took this part from is 2016.
-> Luke describes Nico as "German goddess with an unusual voice".
-> When asked which song he would like played at his funeral, he replies: 'Afraid' by Nico or 'London Is The Place For Me' by Lord Kitchener (Aldwyn Roberts).
-> When asked if he would have a theme song he replies that it would be Reptilia from The Strokes.
-> He agrees that he looks like a vampire and that even people comment on it.
-> He says his reference for vampires is Bram Stoker.
-> When asked which he would prefer: Buffy or Angel, he answers Buffy. (All this part about vampires is from an interview for Muse by CLIO, where he talks about Lestat too.)
-> Luke's father worked in the entertainment business for 40 years, music, film, TV, aliens and holograms. Luke grew up with it so he frequented many studios and labels and was always on set or surrounded by notable actors or people.
-> In school he liked Shakespeare and musicals.
-> He would be a lawyer if he wasn't an actor, but he doesn't think it would suit him.
-> He returned to London after university and discovered a documentary that talked about fighting the remaining nazis that existed in London and this sparked his interest in their culture and religion. He spent a year and a half doing research and investigating, he discovered that his neighbor across the street (who was 91 years old) was part of this anti-nazi group and that even his late grandfather participated. He was greatly influenced by this story and it helped him rediscover his Jewish identity and feel comfortable with his culture.
-> Luke is not orthodox. When asked if all this helped him find a path to his religion, he replies:
"Exactly. I mean, I'm not Orthodox. But I feel peace of mind, a sense of... I've now found where I belong in some way. I'm sure it'll probably change in a year, but I feel good about it now."
-> He is the only member of his acting class from 9 years ago who managed to make a living out of it. He says:
"We've all come close, we've all been rejected. We all work hard. Nine times out of 10 you'll get losses, so it is for the thick-skinned. If you're not living, breathing, smoking it each day, it's not for you. I'm the only person in my acting class from nine years ago who makes a living out of this. If someone came to me at 16 and was like, "I want to act," I 'd be like, "Do it now. If it doesn't work out within two or three years, do something else you enjoy. Or find something to do and if you want to do it on the side, then great. Because if you put too much emphasis on it, it will hurt you."
-> Luke's father also lives in LA. Luke wants to stay close to his friends and family. He says:
"My dad lives in L.A.; he's my best friend. I step out of line, he'll tell me immediately. And I've got good friends."
And:
"I don't think I could ever get to that place because my friends, my family, are the most important, the most constant, things in my life. Apart from my football team, of course."
(when he says my football team he means Arsenal because he's a fan.)
-> Luke likes to be professional (and very responsible) when it comes to money. He says:
"As an actor, I'm a professional. As a friend, I'm a professional. I'm there to do my job. But I also need to be professional about money. Obviously you have an accountant, but you need to do your own checks and balances. Otherwise you can get into a lot of trouble."
-> Luke is a person who runs after opportunities, who creates them without waiting for them to knock on his door. He says:
"Because you can't wait for opportunities. You've got to do it yourself. Like how I found out about that story that moved me about Judaism. What did I do? I decided to do research, write and get it into the public. And I sold it to the BBC. I'm not saying it will get made or that I'll be in it, but at least I feel like I have some control over my artistic destiny, rather than waiting for a manager or an agent to tell me there's an audition next week, or I might get this role.
I think it's the same in any artistic pursuit. In music, you make a song, you try and produce it, you get friends to do it, you put it up on Spotify. If you want to do advertising, you come up with several ideas, then go to the agencies and pitch them. See if you can make that difference.
I don't really feel like opportunities come too often. You gotta make your own."
-> During the pandemic (in 2020) he:
read Brian Southall's Sex Pistols: 90 Days at EMI;
when asked what he was watching he replies:
"Just started The Spy on Netflix, which is very watchable. Started off in isolation watching the mandatory Love Is Blind and Tiger King, but have delved into my Criterion Collection subscription. Just finished watching Betty Blue—a masterpiece!"
*And here I open a parenthesis to talk about the day he and Assad posted about Betty Blue on instagram. Luke had already watched the film in 2020 and then became a fan. On the day in question he thanks a friend for the movie poster. Luke has a collection of posters in his apartment.
practiced 120 push-ups on a machine he successfully set up;
his hobbies (during the pandemic so I don't know if he still does) was learning to cook and learning Welsh.
-> When asked what was the best work email he received during the pandemic, he replies:
"Happy Birthday, you throw the best bday parties, this must really suck for you... hahaha."
-> Luke would like to play villains, he says:
"It's interesting that the bad guy don't think they are bad."
I hope you enjoyed this short summary of who Luke Brandon Field is and I hope from the bottom of my heart that he gets everything he ever dreamed of and deserves because he truly is an amazing person.
sources: models1 | ECFS | Please Kill Me | Muse by Clio\ 2 | PressReader | BCB CHAT EP 6
#luke brandon field#iwtv cast#iwtv#young daniel molloy#interview with the vampire#all about luke brandon field
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The Most Precious Jewel
by Mariposaxx
Kate has been told her entire life she would marry the Duke of Aubrey, she’d been raised to be his wife, told her favourite colour was blue, taught how to play Pall Mall which was the Dukes favourite game, she knew absolutely everything about this man apart from one simple fact. She did not know what he looked like.
The day before her wedding she stumbles upon a handsome gentlemen in the woods, they talk, flirt even and she goes home from the meeting resenting her father for promising her to, what in her mind she imagined, and old beast of a man.
What happens the following morning when she walks down the aisle to see that the handsome gentleman she’d met the morning prior is waiting for her?
Words: 6645, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/M
Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton, Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma's Father, Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma’s Mother, Mary Sheffield | Mary Sharma, Edwina Sheffield | Edwina Sharma
Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma
Additional Tags: Arranged Marriage, I've made Anthony a Duke, Kate is also of a higher rank, Love at First Sight, Idiots in Love, Frenemies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers
source https://archiveofourown.org/works/47834260
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A Break From Everything
Francesca wasn’t even supposed to be on this trip. But plans change when you catch your fiance in bed with another woman. A “break.” That’s what Francesca had called it. “I just need a break from everything.”
Her girlfriend talked this resort up for weeks. “I’ve heard it’s transformative,” Annette said with absolutely no sense of irony. Francesca didn’t care about transformations, she only wanted to rebound with some young himbo stranger.
“Don’t you think Peaceful Surrenders is kind of a creepy name for a resort?” She asked Annette, but her chronically incurious best friend reassured her with positive Trip Advisor reviews.
The resort was more beautiful than spring break in Mexico. Francesca found all the people there friendly and eager to socialize. There wasn’t a frown around the lobby. Everyone stood there with goofy grins on their faces. And there was the music; that smooth jazz playing quietly over the speaker that was so bad Francesca could swear that it was numbing her brain. She was eager to get into her room where she could escape those soft Kenny G. sounds. She was distraught to learn that the music didn’t stop when they entered their room.
“It’s not so bad,” Annette shrugged. “I think it’s kind of peaceful.”
Francesca quickly learned to block the music out. The resort wasn’t so bad once she settled in. On the second day she met a cute Italian man by the pool. They chatted about her own Italian ancestry as she resolved to jump him by the end of the trip. But time had a weird way of passing at Peaceful Surrenders Spa and Resort. She closed her eyes by the pool and as the music droned on, washed over her body and mind, Francesca found the day ending as quickly as it had started.
Unconsciously she’d begun to hum to that now all-too-familiar tune.
On the third day, Francesca was beginning to settle into a comfortable routine of breakfast, pool, lunch, pool, dinner, pool. That evening, however, the music stopped. Over the PA a voice announced: Annette Billings.
Annette rose from the bed and said, “I must go.”
“Okay,” Francesca replied absently, heaving a wanting sigh in anticipation for the music’s return.
Annette didn’t return to the room.
The next afternoon, Francesca searched frantically for her best friend. The most any of the resort staff offered was the same, porcelain smile.
“Don’t you get it?” Francesca demanded to the young woman at reception. “My friend is m i s s i n g.”
“No one goes missing at Peaceful Surrenders, Miss Tessio,” The girl said. “Miss Billings was simply selected for a special treatment at the spa. There is nothing to worry about.”
“Special treatment?” Francesca said, scrunching up her brow deep in thought. It sounded right coming from the receptionist’s mouth, but it felt wrong. “That doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand but…”
“You don’t have to understand,” the girl continued to smile, stepping out from behind her desk and taking Francesca by the arm. “I think what you need is a long, relaxing dip in the pool.”
Francesca blinked.
“Yes,” she said. “I would like that.”
The thought crossed Francesca’s mind a couple of times. Annette was missing. Why was she floating in the pool? Why did she feel so peaceful? And why was she naked. She struggled to account for a lot of her actions these passed couple of days. Any time she tried to piece the events of their vacation together, it would all just fall apart in her brain, replaced with that warm, soothing music.
Francesca Terrio.
The sound of her name over the PA made her shiver in instant submission. She sat up and obediently whispered, “Yes.” Even as her mind fogged over she could see it all clearly: her conditioning was complete, and now she was being summoned for her own treatment.
Francesca left her clothes by the side of the pool, her naked ass bouncing as she walked to the spa, joining Annette in peaceful surrender.
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A Break From Everything
Francesca wasn't even supposed to be on this trip. But plans change when you catch your fiance in bed with another woman. A "break." That's what Francesca had called it. "I just need a break from everything."
Her girlfriend talked this resort up for weeks. "I've heard it's transformative," Annette said with absolutely no sense of irony. Francesca didn't care about transformations, she only wanted to rebound with some young himbo stranger.
"Don't you think Peaceful Surrenders is kind of a creepy name for a resort?" She asked Annette, but her chronically incurious best friend reassured her with positive Trip Advisor reviews.
The resort was more beautiful than spring break in Mexico. Francesca found all the people there friendly and eager to socialize. There wasn't a frown around the lobby. Everyone stood there with goofy grins on their faces. And there was the music; that smooth jazz playing quietly over the speaker that was so bad Francesca could swear that it was numbing her brain. She was eager to get into her room where she could escape those soft Kenny G. sounds. She was distraught to learn that the music didn't stop when they entered their room.
"It's not so bad," Annette shrugged. "I think it's kind of peaceful."
Francesca quickly learned to block the music out. The resort wasn't so bad once she settled in. On the second day she met a cute Italian man by the pool. They chatted about her own Italian ancestry as she resolved to jump him by the end of the trip. But time had a weird way of passing at Peaceful Surrenders Spa and Resort. She closed her eyes by the pool and as the music droned on, washed over her body and mind, Francesca found the day ending as quickly as it had started.
Unconsciously she'd begun to hum to that now all-too-familiar tune.
On the third day, Francesca was beginning to settle into a comfortable routine of breakfast, pool, lunch, pool, dinner, pool. That evening, however, the music stopped. Over the PA a voice announced: Annette Billings.
Annette rose from the bed and said, "I must go."
"Okay," Francesca replied absently, heaving a wanting sigh in anticipation for the music's return.
Annette didn't return to the room.
The next afternoon, Francesca searched frantically for her best friend. The most any of the resort staff offered was the same, porcelain smile.
"Don't you get it?" Francesca demanded to the young woman at reception. "My friend is m i s s i n g."
"No one goes missing at Peaceful Surrenders, Miss Tessio," The girl said. "Miss Billings was simply selected for a special treatment at the spa. There is nothing to worry about."
"Special treatment?" Francesca said, scrunching up her brow deep in thought. It sounded right coming from the receptionist's mouth, but it felt wrong. "That doesn't make sense. I don't understand but..."
"You don't have to understand," the girl continued to smile, stepping out from behind her desk and taking Francesca by the arm. "I think what you need is a long, relaxing dip in the pool."
Francesca blinked.
"Yes," she said. "I would like that."
The thought crossed Francesca's mind a couple of times. Annette was missing. Why was she floating in the pool? Why did she feel so peaceful? And why was she naked. She struggled to account for a lot of her actions these passed couple of days. Any time she tried to piece the events of their vacation together, it would all just fall apart in her brain, replaced with that warm, soothing music.
Francesca Terrio.
The sound of her name over the PA made her shiver in instant submission. She sat up and obediently whispered, "Yes." Even as her mind fogged over she could see it all clearly: her conditioning was complete, and now she was being summoned for her own treatment.
Francesca left her clothes by the side of the pool, her naked ass bouncing as she walked to the spa, joining Annette in peaceful surrender.
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Tiny Dancer
Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader
Rating: M
Word Count: 1900
Warnings: some swearing, kisses, a tad of drinking, cute dad Frankie
Summary: Frankie comes home just in time for his daughter’s dance recital
A/N: So I’ve never written a fic before so this is my first one. Grammar and all that crap is probably wrong but whatever. I am no writer at all. If anyone does read it please be nice. It was just a cute little idea that popped into my head because the world needs more dad Frankie fics. Might write something else in the future in this universe if anyone reads this.
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“Mommy when daddy come?” your 3 year old pouts as you help her into her ballet outfit. You sigh and grab the 2 fuzzy yellow scrunchies off the bathroom counter and start parting her hair into two.
“I’m not sure Franny.” she frowns even more and wiggles are head out of your hands.
“I wike daddy do hair!” she screams and stomps her foot onto the bathroom tiles. You groan as you look into her teary big brown eyes. Frankie’s eyes. Frankie has been gone for 6 days and it was getting alot harder to deal with the mini Frankie. Francesca Morales was the splitting image of her father. Looks and personality wise. And she was the BIGGEST daddy’s girl. She’d been wrapped around his finger the second she came out.
“Daddy should be home soon and then you can show him pictures of how beautiful you look today.” her frown gets a tad smaller and she scoots back in between your legs for you to do her hair. “Maybe if you do your pretty toes so well we can get a treat after the recital?” you barely have time to tighten the last scrunchie as she whips around and crushes your neck into a hug.
“Yay mommy! Get pupcakes?! I so good at pwetty toes!” she skips around the bathroom practicing her pretty toes as you finish packing her little purple dinosaur backpack.
“Of course princess. Let’s get going before we’re late.”
__________________________________________________________
“Frankie you said you were done with this shit! I’m going to personality kick Pope’s ass.” you huff as you plop down on the bed. Frankie sighs and comes over, bending between you legs.
“It will be 3 days...max babe. We need the money. I’m doing this for you and Francesca.”
“Frankie...i swear to god if you don’t come home...i...i don’t know...”
“Hey hey hey everything is gonna be okay. Pope said there’s no way this can go wrong. It’s go in, get the money and we’re out home free. I promise.”
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“Do you want me to wait here in case she throws you out?” Pope snickers as he pulls up outside the Morales house. Frankie glares at Pope and smacks his hat off his head.
“Fuck off. If anything she’s gonna kick your ass.” Frankie mumbles as he gets out of the truck and runs up the front porch. He twists the doorknob and whacks his head on the door as he realizes its locked. “What the....” Frankie panics for a minute wondering why its locked. They only just moved into the house 2 months ago and hadn’t gotten around to getting a spare key hidden. Frankie wracks his brain for why you wouldn’t be home. There’s no way you left with Francesca was there? “Hey what day is it?” Frankie yells back to Pope who is still sitting in his truck.
“Uhhhh...Sunday June 12th?” Pope yells back and Frankie feels like he just got slapped in the face.
“FUCK!” Frankie yells and runs back into Pope’s truck. “Drop me off at the civic centre NOW.”
“What why? They’re not home?” Pope sputters as he rips the truck into drive.
“Today is Franny’s first dance recital and i think it already started. Fuck she’s defiantly gonna kill me now.”
__________________________________________________________
Pope doesn’t even have time to put the truck into park before Frankie is jumping out and running through the doors of the civic centre. He stops as he reads the sign looking for the room with the dance recital. Auditorium 5. He runs down the hallway and stops when he sees a table selling flowers.
“How much for all of them.” Frankie huffs as he grabs outs his wallet. The young boy stares at Frankie with a gaping mouth.
“Uhhhh.....they're’ a-a dollar a-a fl-flower sir.” Frankie nods and throws him a 10. The boy swallows his nerves and hands Frankie a bouquet of rainbow roses. Frankie murmurs a thanks and sneaks into auditorium 5. There’s no seats available so he just stands against the back wall. There’s a group of 2 year olds on stage at the moment attempting a hip hop routine and Frankie chuckles to himself thinking of how Franny would look hopping around to the upbeat music. He looks down at the program and sees that her group is next.
The hip hop group run off the stage and the crowd cheers for them. Two young girls come out and take away the previous props and set out 8 pairs of yellow pom poms. Walking on Sunshine starts to play as the 8 little girls coming skipping out to find their spots. Frankie’s face begins to hurt from smiling so much as he spots Francesca. Wearing her yellow dance onesie and yellow tutu with her hair up in two messy pigtails. She does the little 2 minute routine so well Frankie can feel his eyes welling up with tears. Fuck he’s proud of her. This is why he needed to get home. He couldn’t fathom missing another experience like this. You and Francesca were the reason he kept pushing though the hard days. You both were his entire world.
__________________________________________________________
The recital comes to an end and all the parents wait around in the main foyer waiting for their little dancer to come out.
Frankie fidgets with the bouquet of flowers in his hands as he looks around the crowd for a glimpse of you. He looks down at his watch and panics that he missed you guys and you went home, until......
“DADDY?!!!” You look up startled by your daughter’s random outburst and Frankie spins around as he hears his little girl screaming. He drops to his knees as Francesca comes flying into his arms. Frankie wraps his one arm around her small body and cradles her head with his hand and holds her close to him. The flowers drop to the ground long forgotten.
“Hi princess. I missed you so much. You did so good with all your twirls.” he whispered to her, smothering her head with kisses. She giggles uncontrollably and moves her head to kiss Frankie’s face all over as well. Making sure she kissed away the couple of tears away that snuck out. “These flowers are for you Fran.” Frankie smiles and puts the giant bouquet in her tiny arms.
“Woooow!! Mommy look!” Franny squeals and Frankie finally looks up and is met with your tear filled eyes. He stands with Franny in his arms and walks over to you.
“Hi.” he whispers. You gasp as you wrap your arms around the both of them. Frankie sighs as he buries his face into you hair, breathing in your scent. Fuck he missed this.
“W-when did you get back?” you sniffle and pull back to look into his brown eyes. Francesca looked between her parents confused and pawed at both their faces to dry their tears. Frankie chuckled at her gesture and tickled her side a bit making his favourite sound ring through his ears. A very high pitched giggle.
“Uhh...like 2 hours ago? I stopped at home first and then realized what day it was. I won’t miss this day for the world.”
“You shaved.” You said as you rubbed your hands over his bare jaw. You don’t think you’ve ever seen his face this bare before. You loved his patchy beard so dearly but you could probably get used to this face as well.
“Daddy no more pokey.” Franny scrunched up her face and placed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. You both laugh.
“Do you like it love?” Frankie questions.
“As long as your home and safe that’s all that matters to me.” you whisper as you lean in to kiss his lips.
“Ew yucky kisses!!” Franny squeals as she pushes your faces apart. Frankie chuckles as he moves his kisses to all over his daughter face. “Mommy we get pupcakes now?”
“Mommy promised you cupcakes?” Franny nods her head and Frankie looks towards his wife.
“Well i guess you did do an amazing job princess and i did promise this morning. She barely let me do her hair. Wanted you to do it.” you said rolling your eyes at Frankie. Frankie chuckled as you all walked out to the parking lot.
“I mean i would have done a way better job.” you rolled your eyes yet again and smacked his shoulder lightly as you unlocked Frankie’s truck. Frankie buckled Franny into her car seat and then shut the door. He turned and grabbed you in a bone crushing hug. “I’m so sorry it took so long love. Nothing went as planned and we didn’t even get the money. And I-I dont...”
“Frankie stop. You don’t have to talk about it right now. Let’s go get our little ballerina a cupcake k?” Frankie smiles and captures your lips in one last kiss. “I love you to the moon and back.”
“I love you to the moon and back even more.”
__________________________________________________________
“I think she finally crashed” Frankie says as he grabs a beer from the fridge and plops down next to you on the couch taking a big swig.
“I swear to god if she doesn’t sleep through the night again I’m gonna...ugghh” You mumble into your wine glass.
Frankie turns towards you and raises an eyebrow. “She hasn’t been sleeping?”
“Umm not since you’ve left. She wakes up around 2:30 every night crying for you. So i bring her into bed and she sleeps on your pillow with one of your shirts. It soothes her back to sleep. She also naps with one of shirts.” You sigh and look away from him, blinking back the tears. Frankie frowns, puts his beer on the coffee table and grabs your wine glass too.
“Cmere.....i’m so sorry i left babe. I didn’t mean for it to be so hard for you. I’m never leaving again.” You cry into his side as he rubs his hand through your hair.
“What-what happened Frankie....I know you’re not okay. You don’t just disappear off the face of the earth for a week. Pope said it was going to be okay....I wouldn’t have let you go if...”
Frankie shudders and looks up at the ceiling trying to blink the tears away. You sit up and grab his face gently in your hands, forcing him to look at you.
“I’ve got you honey. Whenever you want to talk i’m here.” you give a small reassuring smile and wipe the silent tears falling down his face. That breaks Frankie. He begins to sob and explain the terrible events of the last week. You hold him and listen.
When he’s finished you both just lay on the couch holding each other.
“When- when we lost Tom....all i thought about was you and Francesca and how I needed to get home. I swear to god I am never doing anything like that again. Pope said the money should free up by Wednesday so we’ll be good for a while. Will and I were thinking of opening up a shop, keep is busy for a while. I’m never leaving you guys ever again. We can take Franny to the shelter next week and she can pick out her dog finally.”
You giggle at the dog comment. That little girl has been asking for a dog the second she could talk and Uncle Benny put that idea into her head. “She’d really like that. And i’m also still kicking Pope’s ass next time I see him.”
Frankie laughs and kisses you head “Oh babe I’ve already warned him.”
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My Vision for the Ominous Babysitters Club
Based on this post.
Kristy Thomas makes a decisive move in founding the Babysitters Club, then continues to amass power, assets, and allies for most of the series (as well as sworn enemies). In #100: Kristy’s Downfall, she overplays her hand and is toppled from her position of power. She spends the last thirty-one books clawing her way back to the top, embittered and more tyrannical than ever.
Mary Anne Spier is a sensitive soul, more vulnerable than the rest of the club to demonic possession, life-changing encounters with eldritch beings, and the accidental acquisition of psychic abilities. Her false lover, low-level wizard Logan Bruno, senses her potential powers and jealously tries to keep her down through gaslighting. (Notable examples include his kidnapping of her cat, Tigger, and an incident where he swapped out two of her babysitting charges with eggs enchanted to look like real children.) After she gains confidence by getting a cute new haircut, she gets the upper hand in their relationship. She soon sees through his small-minded manipulations, but decides to keep him around...for now. She grows equally weary of Kristy’s authoritarian ways, leading her to mount an explosive counter-attack in #131: The Fire at Mary Anne’s House.
Claudia Kishi seems like a carefree, creative, junk-food-loving teenager, but in reality she’s a hostage to terrifying forces beyond her control. Her parents sometimes coldly refer to her as “the subject,” her older sister Janine is a sorceress of astounding talent and uncertain morals, and her old friend Kristy Thomas has threatened her into joining the BSC and letting the club meet in her room three times a week. Her only true friend is her grandmother, Mimi...until jaded city girl Stacey McGill arrives in Stoneybrook. Claudia tends to bury her head in the sand about the more uncanny aspects of her life, instead focusing on her art and more immediate threats, such as serial killers and murderous children. She’s forced to reckon with the supernatural, though, when she descends into hell in #106: Claudia, Queen of the Underworld. With the help of Janine, her eventual ally, she soon rejoins the living and embraces hedonism.
Stacey McGill flees a troubled past in New York City, only to become enmeshed in the byzantine schemes of the BSC in an attempt to help her new friend Claudia. As the series progresses, Stacey becomes more and more convinced that Kristy must be taken down, but her moral misgivings (as well as her string of dysfunctional romances, troubled relationship with her divorced parents, and struggles to manage her Type 1 diabetes) keep her from ever making a decisive move. In #83: Stacey Defects, she openly speaks out against Kristy and leaves the BSC. When life on the outside proves cold and purposeless, she hatches a scheme to ingratiate herself with Kristy again and bring her down for good. Her arc ends on an ambiguous scene in which she quietly enjoys some “cookies sweetened with fruit juice,” leading some readers to speculate that Kristy had her assassinated.
Dawn Schafer was originally conceived as a horror-movie Final Girl, a stalwart everyteen who defended her charges from Stoneybrook’s more prosaic villains (kidnappers, obscene phone callers, and a couple of masked murderers); she was meant to serve as a contrast to her eventual stepsister, the ethereal and insecure Mary Anne. As the series progressed, though, Ominous Ann M. Martin and her spooky ghostwriters ended up using Dawn whenever they wanted to try out cool new ideas. Although the results are often fascinating, the consistency of Dawn’s character suffers; however, some readers argue that Dawn’s unstable characterization is a deliberate choice that contributes to the uncanniness of the series. Her books can be split into roughly four types: straightforward slashers (#5: Where Are the Children, Dawn?); psychological horror with strong feminist/environmental/political themes (#84: Dawn on the Blacklist); creepy California-set stories with lots of drug imagery, macabre Hollywood history, and cameos from serial killers (#23: Dawn and the False Promise of the Golden West); and books that are completely dominated by Mary Anne (#31: Dawn’s Eldritch Stepsister). In one of the most optimistic books in the series, Dawn finally moves to California for good to escape Kristy’s influence and live that Francesca Lia Block life; less satisfyingly, she temporarily returns several books later, in an obvious attempt to get readers to check out the Ominous California Diaries, in which Dawn becomes an amateur sleuth who focuses on serial murders.
Mallory Pike is a combination Byronic-Kafkaesque heroine, simultaneously convinced that she is too brilliantly unconventional for normal society and that God personally despises her. She constantly rails against her cruel fate, which includes constant drudgery as the eldest of eight children, intermittent money troubles, the vicious snobbery and contempt of her peers, debilitating illness, encounters with the surveillance state, and the suspicion that she’s a talentless hack. Even when dealing with malevolent clones or a cursed book, the true horror of a Mallory book is always being Mallory. In #126: Never Look Back, Mallory, however, she breaks away from the oppressive environs of Stoneybrook to attend boarding school. Although she is terrorized and vilified by a duplicitous roommate, her problems are solved fairly quickly with the help of sympathetic classmates and reasonable adults. In her final scene, Mallory sits on her bed, beginning to question her long-held assumption that she is both destined for greatness and bound for hell.
Jessi Ramsey is a Faustian figure, always thirsting after glory and forbidden knowledge. Already a talented ballet dancer, she makes deals with various gods, demons, and other supernatural creatures to learn how to decipher runes, talk to animals, turn base metals into gold, commune with spirits, revenge herself upon her enemies, and fly. Her powers come in handy at her dance school in New York City, which is extremely cursed and haunted. Despite her towering ambitions, she is fairly easygoing, even managing to make friends with her sinister doppelgänger Jenni in #68: Jessi and the Shadow-Self. Towards the end of the series, she is faced with the choice of becoming a professional ballet dancer or obtaining the ability to turn herself into a beautiful Arabian horse at will (she is also a horse girl). She makes the mature decision to turn down both opportunities for the time being, instead opting to be a kid and experiment with necromancy, time-travel, fun doppelgänger pranks, and discussing equine literature with her best friend Mallory. In the short-lived Ominous Friends Forever series, though, she becomes a ballerina and (it is heavily implied) a were-horse, in part due to Mallory’s defection.
Abby Stevenson was introduced as an eleventh-hour interloper who switches between unhinged, corny-joke-filled attempts to turn Kristy’s life into chaos (much like the Joker in The Dark Knight) and unhinged, corny-joke-filled attempts to charm Kristy into being her girlfriend so they can be a terrifying power couple. Unlike with Dawn, her dual nature was a deliberate narrative choice; many later Ominous BSC books contain subplots that are just other club members wondering aloud what Abby’s deal is. Abby’s own books don’t shed much light on her motivations; she seems more preoccupied with ordinary adolescent concerns, like her upcoming bat mitzvah and her fraught relationship with her cryptic twin Anna (who only speaks in palindrome). Her last book, #127: The Twilight of Abby Stevenson, is a surprisingly sweet coming-of-age romance in which she and Kristy drop their hostilities and go to the movies on Valentine’s Day. Their relationship ultimately falls apart, though, thanks to Kristy’s unquenchable thirst for revenge on her enemies. Abby breaks up with her and gets really into David Lynch.
Logan Bruno is a low-level wizard who comes from the swamp and hates his father. As an alternate officer for the club, he sometimes babysits.
Shannon Kilbourne, the other alternate officer, is something of a blank, but she’s heavily implied to be a lost Dollanganger of some sort.
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Open Heart Masterlist
All Fics are from Open Heart (1 & 2) with Ethan x F!MC (Dr. Francesca Houseman)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ONE SHOT STORIES & COMPANION PIECES
--Book One & Book Two--
Another Option P1 & P2
--Book Two, Chapter Sixteen--
This is a drabble followed by a companion fanfic.
Stories explore the idea that MC had the option to visit Ethan after her night at Donahue’s, and that Ethan has another option for the direction of his life.
Safe In His Arms
--Book Two, Chapter Fifteen--
Francesca tells Ethan she’s going to Vegas.
*A companion piece to “Sienna Weighs In Ch 15″
Good Morning
--Book Two, Chapter Fourteen--
Short smut piece between Ethan and Francesca.
(You Are) Now Playing As Ethan Ramsey
--Book Two, Chapter Eleven--
A scene told from Ethan’s POV after Chapter 11
The Seduction of Ethan Ramsey
--Book Two, Chapter Nine--
Francesca stays at Ethan’s condo with one singular focus.
Afternoon Delight
--Book Two, Chapter Eight--
Ethan offers Francesca leftover chicken and explains their kiss outside of his condo.
*A companion piece to “Sienna Weighs In Ch 8″ and “Alan Weighs In”
Alan Weighs In
--Book Two, Chapter Eight--
Ethan’s dad comes clean and offers some unsolicited advice.
*A companion piece to “Sienna Weighs In Ch 8″ and “Afternoon Delight”
Pictogram Pitfalls
--Book Two, Chapter Five--
Ethan discovers MC’s “thirst trap”.
*A companion piece to “Sienna Weighs In P6″ told from Ethan’s POV.
Post-Mortem
--Book Two, Chapter Six--
Takes place the night of the team’s visit to the Bloom Estate.
Dinner and a Show
--Book Two, Chapter Four--
Takes place immediately after MC & Ethan leave Evelyn’s gallery exhibit.
The Three Amigos
--Book Two, Chapter Three--
Story of how Ethan, Bryce and Rafael become “The Boys
Escape to the Amazon
--Book Two, Chapter One--
Takes place between Books 1 & 2 to show how Ethan landed in the Amazon for two months.
Dr. Delusion
--Book Two, Chapter One--
Ethan does his best to convince himself that he’s over MC.
The First Morning
--Book One, Chapter Fifteen--
Imagines Ethan and MC the morning after their first night together.
New Orleans
--Book One, Imagined Before Book Two--
Ethan and MC try to ignore their feelings at a Medical Conference in the Big Easy.
Celebratory Dinner
--Book One, Imagined Before Book Two--
MC uses her skills of observation to catch Ethan trying to outsmart her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*SIENNA WEIGHS IN - SERIES*
--Book Two--
A Chapter by Chapter “in-between the scenes” series for the “Second Year” saga.
Chapter One
Francesca downloads Sienna about her Ethan encounter at the Beer Garden.
Chapter Two
Francesca and Sienna discuss Ethan’s gym routine.
Chapter Three
Francesca’s time with the Stevenson’s and Alan Ramsey makes her question how well she really knows Ethan.
Chapter Four
Francesca takes Elijah and Sienna to the art gallery for Evelyn’s exhibit.
Chapter Five
Sienna talks Francesca through a panic attack after she learns the Board is forcing rich patients onto the Diagnostic Team.
Chapter Six
Sienna cheers on Francesca for standing up to Ethan.
*Companion Piece: “Pictogram Pitfalls”
Chapter Seven
Francesca confides in Sienna how she met Ethan’s mother.
Chapter Eight
Francesca has to face her roommates and the consequences of her actions after the baseball game.
*Companion Pieces: “Alan Weighs In” and “Afternoon Delight”
Chapter Nine
Baz starts to question Francesca and Ethan’s relationship.
Chapter Ten
Sienna confronts Francesca on Ethan’s “Not Single” status.
Chapter Eleven
Sienna visits Francesca in her hospital room.
Chapter Twelve
MC texts Sienna after her hookup with Ethan.
Chapter Thirteen
Skipped
Chapter Fourteen
MC and Sienna examine past mistakes.
Chapter Fifteen
MC and Sienna have a “heart to heart” on their flight home from Vegas.
*Companion Piece: “Safe In His Arms”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*FLIRTING WITH DISASTER - SERIES*
--Book One--
Original Fanfic that continues the story after Book One (created before the release of Book Two). An angst-ridden short series exploring a different path for the Ethan/MC relationship.
Part One
MC gets in an accident and ends up in an unexpected situation.
Part Two
MC confronts Ethan about their past.
Part Three
Ethan second-guesses his actions.
Part Four
MC has a decision to make.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*FIGHTING FOR FOREVER - SERIES*
--Book One--
The first 5 chapters are adapted from and inspired by @alwaysmychoices. The rest are my original fan fiction which continues the story. We take some creative liberties at the start but I find the way back to the original OH storyline in chapters 6-8 and then I move past it from chapters 9-14. (Created before the release of Book Two)
Chapter One - The Morning After
MC wakes up in Ethan’s apartment, with no idea how she arrived there.
Chapter Two - The House by the River
MC and Ethan visit Naveen at his river house.
Chapter Three - In The Still of the Night, Part 1
MC and Ethan try to figure out how to move forward.
Chapter Four - In The Still of the Night, Part 2
MC and Ethan confront their feelings for each other.
Chapter Five - Afterglow
Picks up the story the morning after Chapter 15.
Chapter Six - Diagnosis
MC figures out what’s ailing Dr. Banjeri: in-depth retelling.
Chapter Seven - Treatment
MC and Ethan race to save Dr. Banjeri’s life: in depth retelling.
Chapter Eight - Recovery
MC survives her ethics hearing and celebrates: in-depth retelling.
Chapter Nine - Seven Days
MC and Ethan survive some time apart.
Chapter Ten - Midnight Confessions
MC opens up to Ethan about her past.
Chapter Eleven - A Weekend Surprise
Ethan is at the mercy of MC and her plans.
Chapter Twelve - Shots Fired
MC and Ethan experience a tragedy.
Chapter Thirteen - A Reckoning
Secrets are revealed as a life hangs in the balance.
Chapter Fourteen - The Beginning of Forever
Life is what happens when you aren’t looking.
Epilogue
At the end of Ch.14.
#open heart#open heart masterlist#masterlist#ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey masterlist#ethan x mc#dr ramsey#open heart fanfiction#open heart fandom#open heart stan#dr ethan ramsey
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Walk with Me - Ch 6
Pairing: FBI Agent!Syverson x OFC, Drug Czar!August Walker x OFC
Chapter Summary: Dinner with Francesca and August; plans are revealed.
Chapter Warnings: Light dom/sub behavior, drinking, oral sex (m receiving), implied unprotected p in v sex, fingering, anal sex, implied torture.
Word Count: 3.6K
Masterlist: For full series Summary and Warnings
Spotify Playlist: The last three songs (16-18) now belong to this chapter.
Francesca
I knew August was looking for information. He was more agitated than usual and it was apparent he had an idea now that someone had infiltrated his organization. He began to call on me at the most inopportune moments, and I couldn’t tell if he was hoping or not to catch me in a lie. I did hear him trying desperately to convince Mateo his misgivings about me were wrong. I needed to put a stop to any hint of Sy sniffing around, if only to help prove Matteo wrong. August asked about the FBI when we had dinner at his home one evening.
“I’m glad you were able to get free tonight for me, Francesca.”
“August, you know I always come when you call. I’ve had to shuffle a few things around at the gym lately, and they’re starting to get annoyed, but I guess I can always find another studio if I have to.” I took a sip of the wine August had chosen to pair with our meal, tipping my tongue out to catch a small drop of red, drawing his eyes to my lips.
“You know I don’t mean to cause any hardship for you. I wouldn't want to take you away from anywhere else you’d rather be.”
“Now, where else would I rather be, baby, besides right here with you when you want me?”
“Heard from that old ex of yours lately?” August asked, keeping an even voice and betraying with a raised eyebrow only a small hint of the jealousy that I could sense was bubbling beneath the surface.
“Is that where you think I’d rather be? August, you wound me.”
“Francesca. Have you seen him again since he first contacted you?” It was clear August suspected, but I didn’t think he really knew anything. Not now that he’d discovered the guard he had on me had been less than observant on probably more than one occasion. I gave him an answer that I could tell shocked him.
“Yes.”
August waited for me to elaborate and I continued almost immediately with barely a hesitation.
“He came by the gym one day. My class was canceled and I was on my way out. He invited me to dinner.” I paused then, and gauged his reaction. I wondered if he could feel me doing so. “I declined, if you care to know.”
“There’s no need to be a brat about it. What night was this?” he asked me.
“It was a day, August. Middle of the day.” When I told him what day it was, he clenched his jaw. “You can call the gym, check the logs. He showed up, worked out, chatted me up, and then I left before him.”
“Alright, but was there a night you didn’t spend at home?”
“Why do you think I spent any night away from the apartment?”
“Maybe you should just answer my questions without any more sass. Or are you looking for something tonight?”
I stared defiantly back at him, because I was. I could see him getting turned on and imagined his dick was probably already hard. It shouldn’t turn him on to have me so disagreeable, but it did. He narrowed his eyes, tilted his head, and waited for my answer. I think it hurt his feelings that I simply carried on with my explanation rather than admitting what I wanted from him.
“The electricity went out in my building one night. I called a friend to see if I could stay over. It was incredibly hot that day and I was never going to be able to sleep without AC. She picked me up and it wasn’t until I got back the next morning that I realized I’d forgotten my phone.”
And then I picked right back up with my insolence.
“But I noticed there were no missed calls or messages from you anyway.” I took another drink, with a devilish smirk on my lips.
“Get up,” he growled at me.
“But I’m not done eating, August.”
“You are. Get up. Now.” August watched as I shoved my chair back and stood. “Now if you want something else to fill that bratty little mouth of yours, why don’t you crawl on over here?”
I saw the pleasure on his face as I sank to my knees before placing my hands on the plush rug beneath the dining table and slowly made my way to him, eyes connected to him the entire time. He turned his seat to face me.
“I am still hungry,” I purred when I reached his lap. “What else did you put on the menu tonight?”
August leaned back in his chair and spread his legs wide as he rested one arm on the table beside him and smoothed the other down his inner thigh.
“Is this one of those meals I have to prepare myself?” I dared to tease and I could see through his pants the way August got even harder as I continued to dish out the attitude.
“It’s practically ready now. You just have to take it out.”
I reached up to unzip his trousers then slipped a hand through the opening of his silk boxer shorts and licked my lips at the sight.
“I have to warn you, I’m particularly ravenous tonight,” I smiled up at him as he drew his hand to my head and pulled me closer.
“It’s a good thing this is all for you then.”
August pulled my head down and closed his eyes as he struggled not to thrust his hips when my mouth wrapped around him. He simply guided me lower and when I opened for him, the look on his face betrayed the way he relished the feel of the back of my throat and the way I gagged while trying to swallow my saliva around his dick. I looked up at him and he opened his eyes to watch the tears of pleasure spill down my face. I never shied away from choking on his dick and I held my own as he began to bob my head in earnest. I kept my mouth wide open when he finally drew me away from his lap just before he grabbed a hold of his own cock to finish himself. He loved watching his seed drip down my face. I knew it made it so much easier for him to get hard again, especially when I swiped my fingers through his spend and wrapped my lips around them to suck them clean.
In the post orgasmic haze after he’d taken me to bed and defiled me a few more ways, he sat up to ask me a question and I noticed he watched my reaction carefully.
“We’re going on another trip, you and I. We’ll return separately this time. I have something I need to bring into the country and I want you to carry it for me. Will you do that for me?”
With some hesitancy, I agreed. I hoped August would take it as a sign that Matteo was nothing but wrong about me. I needed him to feel I was truly and deeply his and that I was only just now beginning to understand that the club wasn’t his only business.
I was late to the rendezvous back in the States, but I did arrive with all the cargo still intact. After apologizing profusely, I stayed quiet and demure, presenting an obvious change from my behavior at previous meetings when he didn’t think I had a clue what business was going down. Now I remained meek and a little wide-eyed as I watched him complete his business transaction, trading a portion of the drugs for a few large duffles of cash.
Later in bed, I broached an earlier subject with what was obviously surprising new information for him.
“August, I have to tell you something,” I said, drawing circles over his chest with my fingertips.
“What is it, love?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Worried how?”
“Is what we did this time what you do all the time? Is that what taking care of business is for you?”
“Are you having a hard time calling it what it is, Francesca? Did you think I only bought the drugs you and I used together?”
I sat up to face him. “I always wondered, but I didn’t know until now. And it worries me. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“What trouble would I get into? Are you worried about your FBI friend?”
“August, he’s not my friend anymore. Please you have to believe me. But it does worry me. You said there was nothing to worry about, that he had nothing on you. But we’ve just moved a shit ton of illegal drugs into the country. That doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”
“Everything is under control, Francesca. There’s nothing to worry about. Besides, I have plans to get out of that business.”
“Sooner or later?”
“What is with all these questions?”
“It’s just…okay, look. Please don’t be mad. I don’t want you to think I’ve been taking advantage of you. This really did just happen.”
August sat up now himself, as if he was suddenly concerned about the direction this conversation was headed.
“What really just happened, Francesca?”
“It’s honestly perfect timing. It means we could leave here now, leave everything behind and never look back. I have a house now, in Europe, that no one knows about. And enough in a trust fund to keep us set for the rest of our lives together.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” August was becoming agitated. This was new information and I could tell it concerned him that he didn’t know it was a possibility that I wasn’t the down-on-her-luck struggling yoga instructor he thought I was. He must be wondering who had dropped the ball on my background search.
“August, I love you. I don’t want to see you get into trouble. I want us to be together and I don’t think it’s safe here for you any longer. Give the club to someone else and walk away with me.”
August
August was now convinced Francesca wasn’t a threat to him, and he wanted the same to be true for the rest of his team, but someone was talking out of school and he needed to find out who. August and Mateo conferred in quiet corners and behind closed doors. Assignments were given to test loyalties, background checks run again to see if any conflicting information would appear.
Mateo was still not convinced about Francesca, especially knowing she had connections no one uncovered before and he told August it was for the best that he didn’t loosen her security detail. August continued to put her off, every time she brought up getting out of the business and hoped he could eventually convince her to let that go. A second home in Europe would be most welcome, but he was never gonna give up his life and run away.
A couple weeks later, after even more new information had turned up, August finally had what he needed. He knew who was spying and he knew how he wanted to take care of it. No one would ever expect they’d be taken to Paris to be exposed and taught the ultimate lesson.
He had Francesca packed and ready to go when security arrived to drive them to the airport. It was a quiet flight, even if August did give in let her suck him off in the first class cabin. He really did have such a hard time denying her when she got down on her knees for him. The pout on her face when he wouldn’t let her climb onto his lap might have broken a weaker man.
When they arrived at the hotel, he watched Francesca unpack as he always did. He loved to watch the surprise on her face each time she pulled a new item from the bag and she was always eager to put his choices on display for him. His impeccable taste never failed him; every last article of clothing and accessories complimented her body in a way he imagined she had never felt before. It was as if the act of choosing her attire was the first stage of foreplay August used when he made love to her. If his fingers couldn’t caress her, the fabric and material would, molding to her body and holding her firm.
He spent the afternoon ravishing Francesca in bed, chasing every high he could get as if it might be the last. He tasted every inch of her body, nipping and tonguing along the curves and lines, dipping into the valleys. He held her down, wrists above her head, strong legs spreading her wide while he worked his fingers deep into her, stretching and stroking and smoothing and coaxing early waves of pleasure from her.
August swallowed her gasps of pleasure and howls for more, his lips crushing hers while his tongue slid in deep beside hers. He flipped her over and hauled her ass into the air, kneading and squeezing and groping as he bent low and pressed his tongue along her slit, tasting all the slick she’d made just for him.
He knew it was for him by the way she cried his name, begged him to relieve her, and pleaded for a final release. She was a mess and he still wasn’t done. With his cock deep in her drenched pussy, he popped his thumb in his mouth and licked some saliva on it so when he pressed it against her tight pucker it slipped in with ease. Francesca backed right into it with no hesitation and he knew he’d be able to get all the way in again tonight. She was absolutely ready and wanting that.
He took some time lubing and loosening her up. He had three fingers in with his cock still pumping and she wasn’t showing any signs of wanting him to stop. When August finally pushed the tip in, he could feel the way she drew him in. God, how she wanted to be fucked in the ass.
He did that for her, or so he told himself. He couldn’t quite admit that even if she hadn’t wanted it tonight, he may have taken her this way sooner or later. It was what gave him the ultimate orgasm and it was only a bonus that she loved it, too. August thought about how it might have been fun to add a man to their bed so she could choke on a dick while getting railed from behind, in either hole.
Once they were cleaned up and dressed, August ushered Francesca down to the hotel lobby to meet Mateo for the drive to the club.
“August, baby. This isn’t the way to the club,” Francesca commented, glancing out the window.
“And how would you know the way to the club, darling? We’ve never been here together before.” He watched her closely, scanned her face and body for any twitch, any shiver, any tell. As always, he found nothing.
“The GPS says,” she answered, pulling her hand up from beside her and showing him the mapping app that was clearly flashing to recalculate a route. “I always love to see directions. It helps me get used to the city. God, I hope we come back here someday. I always wanted to see Paris. Now that we’re here, I never want to leave.”
Francesca turned back to peer out the window again and August watched her marvel at the lights and buildings around them. For all her sharp edges, August always found the wonder in her eyes endearing. Though he did find it odd when he realized she had most likely spent time in Europe, though she acted as if everything was brand new each time. When they pulled up to the warehouse, he restrained a small smirk when she commented that it didn’t look like the kind of club that suited her dress.
That was her way of saying the spot looked haggard and run down and maybe a little beneath them. And of course it was. It was a warehouse. It was most definitely not a club.
August let her enter first, door held like a gentleman before he turned the handle over to Mateo and entered himself. He didn’t bother hiding the lick of his lips as he watched her ass in the tight dress strut forward in front of him. He could tell she was still horny from the afternoon.
August caught her as she stumbled back into him, seemingly to escape the sight in front of her.
“August, what is this?” He could hear her voice break when she asked the question.
“What does it look like darling?” he answered. Something in her answer would hopefully convince Mateo he had been wrong when he pointed a finger at her. August felt differently, partly due to his previous conversations with her and partly due to the very little actual evidence Mateo presented to make his case. August countered with the more obvious details that pointed to the man in the chair.
“August, you said I had nothing to worry about with you. You said…” she leaned into him, and August thought he detected at least a hint of terror. It would be the first time she’d broken like this before him, though he was sure she barely knew this man sitting before her, beaten unconscious. Will Shaw had hardly ever been around when she was. Maybe a few nights at the club, but always on the periphery. She didn’t know him, she could only see the state he was in, probably barely hanging on. Of course she’d flinch. This wasn’t the first time he was showing her his hand, but it was a doozy.
“August, please. Did you know what was happening here? You have to help him. You can’t let him die. If you help him, that’ll count for something,” Frankie pleaded with him. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to hurt people.”
“Francesca, you’re a very smart and resourceful woman. I’ve grown extremely fond of you. I want you with me, but you do need to know there is a dark side you haven’t seen yet. Sometimes, people work against me. Sometimes, they are looking out for themselves, trying to take from me more than they deserve. Sometimes, they have a sinister motive. Maybe they want to take my business, run me out of the game.” August walked Francesca cautiously towards Will, keeping a firm grip on her arms. “And sometimes, they want to hurt me. Sometimes they think they have the right to keep me from the work I was destined to do and they try to get me in trouble. Will here was trying to get me into trouble.”
August spun Francesca to face him, searching her eyes for understanding.
“Francesca, do you think it’s right for someone to pretend to be someone they aren’t? And then to use that subterfuge to ingratiate themselves into my life so they could try to find unflattering details about my work?”
August watched Francesca blink and saw her pupils dilate. The way her iris had let the black overtake it told him what he needed to know: she was scared. It was good enough for him.
“Nnn..no, August,” she stammered. “But he’s really hurt. Lemme help him.”
August wasn’t prepared for the way she twisted from his grip, so she was on her knees next to Will before he had a chance to take hold of her again. He watched her touch him tentatively, perhaps checking for a pulse as she pushed his watch out of the way and set her fingers on his wrist. She set a hand on the back of his neck and tilted his head back as she pulled his eyelids gently open to check for any reaction. The way her shoulders relaxed told August Will was still alive.
“Anything you think you can do for him? It’s of no use. Francesca, this is something you need to get comfortable with. I will not allow someone to hurt me. Do you understand?”
Syverson
Frankie had been out of pocket and unreachable for weeks now. Syverson knew every move she made, along with August Walker, but the fact that she wouldn’t answer his calls or texts, even on the burner phone number he’d been given made him nervous. Or perhaps frustrated was a better word for it.
He continued to liaise with Director Marshall, usually through Ramos, and continued stacking evidence against Walker even though there was nothing he could do about it for now. His superiors weren’t happy about the fact that another agency was blocking his case, but pressure from even higher up forced them to accept the stalled state of the investigation.
He spent days in surveillance locations and nights thinking about Frankie in his bed. He had to keep reliving those moments to fend off the visuals of her and August together. What he wouldn’t give to have her next to him again, begging for his touch.
He had signed off on the joint agency paperwork that would allow Frankie back into the country with the dope August was peddling, but he hated how much deeper she was getting with August. She was now openly transporting for him which meant August was placing his trust in her even more than before.
Taglists
He also wanted to trust she knew what she was doing, but he feared for her safety, no matter how good of an agent she was. Victoria continued to assure him that Walter had everything under control, but he only wanted to hear it from Frankie’s mouth directly. Apparently, until the CIA was done with their case, that was never gonna happen.
Chapter 7
Everything Henry: @sillyrabbit81 @kittenofdoomage @mayloma @kebabgirl67 @fvckinghenrycavill @geralts-yenn @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @thesaucynomad @just-chirpin @henryownsme
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PT2: Adrenaline (CliffxFem!Reader)
Requested by @tealaquinn
@tealaquinn @frozenhuntress67 @juxt4p0siti0n @kwyloz
Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH tag list! :)
Your reunion with Cliff didn't go exactly as planned.
You argued... which was the exact opposite of what you wanted.
To Cliff, it seemed like that was exactly what you wanted.
”Why didn’t you call me when you got back?”
He didn’t even seem fazed by your reproach. He just asked blankly. ”Why didn’t you call me at all when I was gone?”
You had an answer. You didn’t want to hold him back. You saw the reports, you heard about Rick getting engaged and all, and you figured, maybe Cliff deserved to be free. After all, what you had together had never quite been defined as anything other than fun.
You loved him, and he loved you, but sometimes that just didn’t seem like enough. But you couldn’t tell him that. Not without breaking his heart.
So you walked out on him, leaving
But, you did everyone a favor, and took over for a while, and agreed to drive Rick around. Actually, Rick called you, wasted, in the middle of the night, asking if you could give him a lift to work.
So a week later, Rick was waiting at his front door. The ‘incident’ kind of jumpstarted his career again...which also jumpstarted Cliff's (once he was back on his feet). After that night, he became friends with his neighbors, who helped him get more casting calls, and a role in a whole new series.
It was the first time you saw Rick since he was at the track.
Rick, as Cliff's best friend, had an obligation to try and help him out.
He also hated seeing you two that way.
So he talked to you.
"Y/n?"
"Yeah?" You sighed as you pulled out of the driveway.
"Why do you push Cliff away?"
"Drop it."
He shook his head, "I'm j-just tryna help y'yknow. I-I love both of ya, you know t-that."
You sighed, and looked back to the road as you let go of the break, and drove down the hill slowly, "Yeah I know."
"So then talk to me."
"Talk, huh?" You stepped on the acceleration, and he clung to his seatbelt, "JESUS FUCKEN CHRIST Y/N WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU-"
"Guys are scared of this." You put your palm on the dashboard of your car, as you slowed the car down, just in time for the stop sign at the bottom of the hill.
"And girls?" You looked at him, waiting for him to react, but he didn't.
He looked at you, both absolutely fucking terrified from that rush, and also wide with understanding. "Yeah? What about girls?"
He looked back ahead, pressing his hand against his pouding chest as he tried to pull himself together as his life flashed before his eyes.
"Well, when you love something you let it go, right? I can't be around as much as any of them needed me cause of this...everybody needs something from me that I can't give." You looked back ahead, and started driving.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"Look at me."
"I'm driving.” You muttered, “One of us has to."
"Y/n. You can trust me." He smiled, even though you couldn’t see it.
You nodded, but never looked at him. "Sometimes I think I was meant to be alone.... that's the price of freedom, isn't it? Loneliness?"
"Hey, come on now. N-no one's meant t-to be alone. That a-aint freedom either. T-tying yourself to that k-kinda thinkin'. It's ok t-to be lonely. Hell...everyone is at s-some point."
"Yeah."
"You got f-family, don't'cha?"
You sighed, and nodded slowly.
He waited.
“That's part of the reason I left, Rick. My parents, they had each other. My kid sister? Hell she got married a year or two ago.” You shook your head. You didn’t even bother to show up to the wedding.
You had a big race that day anyway...
“Me? Never had anyone to call my own, and never will. Not there. Y'know it's lonelier that way. When you're surrounded by the people you love, and still feel alone. That's so much worse. So I left... Never had anyone wherever I went, Rick. I was just there. I'm a fucking wanderer."
"You've b-been in Tinseltown for a while for a wanderer." You could hear the smile in his voice.
But you shook your head, "Yeah. Maybe it's time for a change."
He humored you, "Yeah? Where to? Back to the middle of nowhere? Maybe all the way to New York? Y'know they got rats over there. B-big ones."
You smiled a little, and that put him at ease. He slumped back in the seat, which he hadn't done since you sped down the hill.
He looked at you, "Or maybe it's time to settle somewhere. Got a n-nice apartment. Ya got a sponsor wh-while we w-were gone, ain't that right?"
"Yeah..."
"And you got friends on the track, and at the bar, and you got me. And you and Francesca are getting along well."
You were waiting for it.
The piece de resistance.
"And you got Cliff..."
It hit harder than it should have, because you knew it was true, and you knew he was going to say it.
You slowed down on Sunset Boulevard, and pulled into the parking lot.
Rick got out of the car, and closed the door. "And y-y'know Cliff's not scared. H-he's not like that... H-hell, he a-ain't scared of much, except losin' you."
You nodded, but still looked straight ahead.
East.
You had a choice... You could drive, and not look back, like you did before.
"You c-can't want something, and be s-scared of it at the-the same time, y/n. That's not living."
You looked at Rick for a moment, then asked, "Six o'clock?"
He nodded, with a smile.
That was your way of telling him you were staying, and he knew it.
"Six o'clock," he smiled as he stepped away from the car, and watched you drive away.
***************************************
You were working on the engine. You had a race coming up, and you had a lot on the line.
"Changing the spark plugs?"
"Can't have any of 'em misfiring."
You heard him struggling a bit as he got closer, and stood on the other side of the hood, "Need help?"
"You should be at the hospital, you'll hurt yourself."
He shrugged, "Some t higns hurt more than otehrs."
You played dumb, "Then go inside and lie down."
He knew you better than that. He leaned against the car, "Y/n."
You looked up at him. "What?"
"I can help."
You cocked your head to the side, the sun beating down on you. You wiped some sweat away, and nodded, "Alright." You handed him a wrench and he sighed, "That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
"I can help."
You sighed, and sat on the concrete, leaning against the car. "Forget it, Cliff. Forget everything. Forget about the bar. Forget about the track. Forget about m-"
"Don't ask me to forget about you. You know I can't do that. Not anymore."
"You're making this harder than it needs to be."
"You know you dont want this to end."
You nodded, "Ok. And what do you want?"
"I want to know why you always push me away."
You didn't answer.... Because you didn't have one anymore. Because he was back from Italy, and looking for you, and for answers.
He sighed.
He knew you were young, you had your whole life ahead of you. He was a washed up war veteran.
You had fun together, but maybe that really was it.
But he needed to hear it from you.
"Look, if you don't want me around anymore, just say so, and it's over."
You took a beat longer to answer than he would've wished. So he nodded, and turned to leave, but you shook your head, "No, stay...please."
And that was all he ever had to hear.
So he sat with you, leaning against the car too.
So you talked, like you did a year before.
This time, you talked about the things that mattered. Your heart, and his. Your dreams, and his.
Your life together.
Your fears.
And his heart broke, because the last thing he ever wanted was for you to be lonely. "Especially while I'm around." he nudged you, and playfully lowered his shades.
You laughed and rolled your eyes.
"Come on, darlin'. You can tell me."
You sighed, and explained. He'd been married before, and you...well, "I don't know what I'm doing. I never do. I guess I was scared I'd do things wrnog. It always seems to be my fault. And you always know what you're going, where you're going. I don't."
He sighed, and slipped his hand around yours. "Fancy way of callin' me old."
You smiled, and rolled your eyes, "That's not what I meant."
He laughed and shrugged, "Well, you're right. You ain't my first love, but you're the right one for me." He winked at you, and you smiled, seeing through the wink, and into the painful sincerity in his deep blue eyes.
From that moment on, nothing else mattered.
And for a moment, you felt regret. You lost a year of love to your own fear, and you almost lost Cliff.
You told yourself that didn't matter anymore. That was in the past.
So you had all the time in the world to spend together...
And he helped you finish up the car, until the sun went down. Then you went to the same old, run down dive bar, and sat at your regular bar stools, at the familiar counter, with your usual drinks: A Moscow Mule, and a Blood Mary. Drinks in one hand, and each other's hands in the other. It was simple, but it was the dream. And as you looked at Cliff's smile, you knew you wouldn't have it any other way. And as he listened to your laugh, and your voice, he knew he was right.
You were defintiely the one for him.
After all, you pumped up each other's adrenaline more than any stunt, or any race ever could.
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Old Flame: Pt. 7
Warnings: A little cursing
Word Count: 3207
OLD FLAME MASTERLIST: CLICK HERE
Before Klaus took you along on his journey to confront the teenage witch, he decided to kill some time and show you around Jackson Square for the first time. This area of the quarter was much different as there weren’t numerous drunkards walking about. Though you didn’t mind it and would actually enjoy being apart of it one of these days. You deserve a drink and some fun.
In Jackson Square, you were taken aback by the line-up of paintings nearly an entire block long. You let go of Klaus’s hand to admire them.
“Wow. These are amazing.” You glimpsed around at the paintings in amazement as you ambled along. Klaus found his place beside you with his hands behind his back, delighted that are enjoying your time in his city.
The next couple of hours consisted of Klaus showing you around this area of the quarter. He even had you sit down and try a beignet from the infamous Cafe Du Monde. You thought they tasted delightful and you’re surely going to crave them in the short future.
Now the fun has ceased because you are now in the passenger seat of Klaus’s SUV as you both make you way to the Lafayette Cemetery. It is where Klaus said is the ultimate hangout spot for New Orleans witches.
Minutes later you arrive and entering the massive cemetery, there is nothing but fog surrounding it, which makes it look even more eerie than it already is.
“This place gives me the creeps.” You rubbed your arm with discomfort beside Klaus. He snorted in response.
“What happened to decorum?” Klaus announced loudly, though you don’t see anyone around. “Does no one greet their guests anymore?”
Not even a minute later, a mob appears of what you assume are werewolves in their human form. You can tell by their low growls. They all begin to surround you and even some stood on top of the tombs, prepared to strike at any moment.
“Well, that more like it.” Klaus implied. Oddly enough, he seemed pleased by it.
“Nik, that’s a whole lot of werewolves.” You voiced with worry.
“Don’t fret, love.” Klaus muttered to you before turning his attention to the wolves, raising his voice yet again. “I am rather disappointed at how many of my once formidable brethren have been neutered by a 16 year old girl. Where is she? Where is this witch who dares craft moonlight rings without my permission?”
Before you know it, the wolves ahead of you started to clear a pathway and Cassie appears. “Niklaus. I’ve been expecting you.” She said confidently.
“I remember her at Francesca’s.” You whispered to Klaus.
“And Y/N, a recent ally of mine has been expecting you as well.” Cassie mentioned.
“And who might that be?” Klaus asked Cassie before you had the chance to open your mouth.
Your brows snapped together in confusion at the figure in all black in the shadows. After a few more paces through the fog, your eyes widened at the figure who is now more recognizable.
“Kai?!” Your face was stuck with an incredulous expression. You couldn’t believe your very eyes.
“You imbecile!” Klaus sped towards Kai, but before he could strike at him, Cassie used her magic to immobilize him. Kai snickered at the incapacitated hybrid.
“Niklaus. Leave him.” Cassie ordered. “We have much to discuss. It seems Y/N and Malachai do as well.”
You briefly thought it was odd that Cassie referred to the original hybrid as Niklaus instead of Klaus like everyone else does. However, you didn’t dwell on it as it was the least of your worries. You needed some answers from Kai Parker.
Once Cassie was sure Klaus has calmed down enough not to advance at the heretic, she freed him from her supernatural hold. She asked that he followed her into one of the tombs and he listened. After all, he needed answers just as much as you do.
The werewolves started disappearing back in the shadows and you didn’t hesitate to roughly push Kai in the chest. “Why the hell are you working with her, Kai?!”
“Does it matter?” He responded with a coldness to his tone. This isn’t the Kai that you know.
“Are you stupid or do you not know that she’s Nik’s enemy?”
He chuckled darkly. “I know that, Y/N. That’s why I’m working with her.”
“Why? What is wrong with you?!”
“It’s not about what’s wrong with me. What’s wrong with you?! How can you still love him? After all the bad things he’s done? All of the fucking people he’s killed?”
“Oh, like you’re the one to talk.” You rolled your eyes.
“The people I killed were for a reason. But him, I hear that he does it if someone looks at him the wrong way.”
“Don’t even start with me, Kai. He’s different with me. And hey, who even told you I still love him?” Your eyes narrowed. You don’t recall ever telling anyone recently about your feelings for Klaus. Let alone that you still love him.
“Don’t act stupid with me, Y/N. You couldn’t tell me in front of my face so you had his brother, Elijah do it for you. You scaredy cat.”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said. Kai blinked in response. A light bulb appeared above your head. You remembered Klaus telling you that Elijah dealt with Kai, but he didn't get into detail. “What did Elijah say to you?” You asked.
“Um to summarize, he said that you don’t plan on going back to Mystic Falls because you love Klaus and want to be with him, blah blah lame. And then he handed me a plane ticket you booked for me to go back to Virginia.”
“What the hell?” You blurted out, brows creased.
Though, you can’t deny that your feelings for Klaus has slowly but surely been restoring, especially after his confession earlier today, you’re infuriated that Elijah would blatantly lie to your friend to get him to back off. You wondered what his reason could be behind it.
Elijah was definitely going to have a piece of your mind later though. And so was Klaus for allowing it. Sure, you wanted Kai to leave you alone in the meantime, but you didn’t want to use a lie for him to do so. And this lie has backfired because now Kai is siding with the enemy.
Now all you want to do is run off because you’re pissed at all three of them.
“Yup. Before I had the chance to leave, Cassie’s creepy sidekick approached me and took me to her. I forget his name, but him and Cassie were very convincing, especially after all the wild stories she told me about your loverboy.” Kai sighed dramatically. “So with that being said, I didn’t show up for my flight and here I am in this weird cemetery. Fun, huh?”
“Idiot!” You shoved Kai’s chest. “She’s Klaus’s enemy. What if she tries to hurt me in the process?”
“Don’t you worry hunny bun, because I made sure she won’t. She’s really after the Mikaelsons. I’m just here for an extra hand because I despise those bastards now.”
Your face contorted before you whooshed towards Kai to break his neck so you can get him far away from Cassie. But, he was quicker than you this time. Next thing you know, Kai seized both of your upper arms and began to siphon you. Something he’s never done to you.
“Ah!” You writhed in pain. It felt like your arms were on fire and the energy was being sucked out of your entire body. “K-Kai let go. It...it hurts.”
“Sorry not sorry, baby girl.” His eyes were darkened with malevolence.
A few seconds later, Kai finally released you from his intense hold and you fall, landing on your palms. You started taking deep breaths while on the ground to regain your strength to stand. You nearly shed a tear because Kai has never laid a hand on you so violently before. It stung you a little.
Your view remained on the ground and seconds later, you saw a pair of black boots beside you that belonged to Klaus. He leaned down, straightening his hand to you. You grabbed it without hesitation and he helped lift you up.
“Where did that bloody coward go?” He asked with a hardened expression. You quickly glanced around and frowned, noticing Kai was nowhere in sight.
“I-I don’t know.” You said weakly.
“He’s hurt you. Can I rip him in half now?” Klaus’s nostrils flared.
“No, Nik. J-just leave him alone. He didn’t m-mean it.” You stuttered from the pain, placing your palms over your thighs and bent your knees to catch your breath again.
Klaus was alarmed by your frail state and bit into his palm, gesturing it towards you. “Drink, love. It’ll help.” Your eyes flickered at his wrist, extremely tempted to drink out of it, but you just remembered what Kai told you earlier.
A scowl spread across your face. “No.” You spat before standing straight and walking off weakly. Klaus followed behind you and it didn’t take long for him to catch up.
“What’s wrong? What did he say to you?”
“Don’t talk to me.” You used all of the strength you could muster to walk even faster to exit the cemetery towards Klaus’s SUV. Suddenly, Klaus sped in front of you and you flinched as you nearly walked into his chest like a wall. You took a step backwards so that there was some space in between you two.
Klaus seized your chin in between his finger and thumb to tilt your head up. “Tell me what’s wrong.” His brows furrowed with confusion as his eyes displayed concern.
You shook your chin off of his grasp and walked around him at a normal speed. This time he didn’t advance in front of you, he kept up with your steps beside you.
“Don’t play stupid with me, Nik.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” His tone remained low and calm.
“Sure you don’t.” You shook your head in annoyance. He just had to add that pet name.
“I really don’t.” He replied seriously.
“Okay whatever. Well, Kai told me all about what Elijah said to him to get him to back off. I’m not an idiot, Nik. I know that you had some kind of influence on Elijah.”
“What exactly did my brother say?”
“He told Kai that I booked a plane ticket for him and that I’m not going back to Mystic Falls.”
“And is that true? You’re not going back?” He asked, searching your face for a clue.
“Are you serious right now?” You stopped in your tracks and glared at Klaus.
“Indeed.” He blinked. Right then and there you can tell by his unique expression that he isn’t lying.
“So you really didn’t know what Elijah said, huh?” You folded your arms across your chest. You’re utterly relieved that the man you once loved and probably still do wasn’t entirely apart of that scheme.
“I did not, love. I told my brother to handle it and he did. I didn’t get into the specifics. Although, I wouldn’t mind at all if that wanker flew back to wherever he came from and never returned.” He quipped.
“You’re the worst.” You shoved him almost playfully before continuing to walk off towards the direction to the compound. You’re hoping Elijah is there when you arrive so that you can confront him straightaway.
You hadn’t realized that you were so blind from your anger just a moment ago that your body is begging for revival. Kai’s siphoning really took a toll on you. Your eyelids started feeling heavy and your body began to slump. The weak state won and instantaneously, you dropped towards the ground, but Klaus was right there to catch your fall.
“I got you, love.” Klaus said softly as he began to carry you bridal style towards his car. He could easily feed you his blood right then and there, but instead, he wanted this moment to carry you.
(Later…)
Klaus laid you down gently on your bed and removed your heeled boots. He freed himself of his leather jacket and placed it over the nearest chair. Sitting close to you at the edge of the mattress, he bites into his wrist and feeds you his blood instead of grabbing a blood bag for you.
After you’ve had enough, he wiped the remains off the corner of your mouth. You begin to wake up, energizing by the second.
Once you are reeled back into the now, you noticed Klaus caressing the strands of your hair. His fingers were quite soothing.
“All better?” He asked with a soft smile and you returned it.
“Yes. Where’s Elijah?”
“He’s not here. But don’t worry, I hadn’t informed him earlier of what you learned. It’s best he hears it from you.”
You sat up straight with your back against the headboard. “What do you mean earlier? How long have I been out?”
“Only a couple of hours, love.” He muttered smiling softly.
“Okay. Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You’ve had quite the day and needed the rest. The quarrel can wait.” He placed a hand over your thigh, rubbing his thumb across it in a relaxed manner.
“Oh. I guess you’re right.” You implied.
“Also, I must inform you of something I’ve learned.”
“What is it?”
“That Cassie. It seems my mother has possessed her body.” Klaus responded.
You gasped, wide eyed. “No way.”
“And to make matters worse, my bloody father has returned to the land of the living as well.” He added rather calmly.
“Great. Just great.” You purposely hit the headboard with the back of your head and groaned at the ceiling in frustration. “Both your mother and father are alive and out for revenge. Again.”
“No matter. My family and I always find a way to prevail. Just give it time.”
“You’re definitely right.”
“Aside from my family’s predicament,” Klaus set his feet to the floor and grabs your cell phone from his jacket pocket, handing it to you, “it seems this belongs to you.”
You responded with a warm smile and he exits your bedroom. As you went through your phone, you were slightly disappointed to find that you didn’t have any missed calls or text messages. You were hoping that you’d receive a voicemail of some sort of Kai apologizing or even one of the Salvatore brothers checking up on you through text.
You set your phone on the nightstand and shuffled to your feet, peeling the curtains. The sky was wrapped in a dark blanket. You opened the French doors and instantaneously, Jazz music and mixed conversations from the folks below filled your ears.
Walking over to the balcony railing, you allowed yourself a moment to people watch before you later found a book to read until you fell fast asleep underneath the warm covers.
(Later…)
Waking up the next morning, you stand up to begin your morning routine by brushing your teeth and showering before scurrying to the dining room to confront Elijah.
Once you are dressed in proper attire, you use your vamp hearing before exiting Klaus’s room. You find Klaus and Elijah in the dining room, enjoying their breakfast in silence.
Klaus is sitting at the head of the table, drinking out of a wine glass filled with blood. The table is filled with many breakfast foods. There is also an empty seat beside Klaus with an untouched wine glass filled with blood. It must be for you.
Elijah is sitting at the other end of the table, patting his mouth with a cloth napkin. You wasted no time in confronting him.
“Elijah!” You shouted, hands tightened into fists.
“Good morning to you too, dear sister.” Elijah brought his fork of eggs benedict to his mouth and chewed gracefully.
“Don’t sister, me! How could you, Elijah?!” You exclaimed, anger rushing through you.
He set his utensil down and swallowed the remaining piece of food, giving you his undivided attention. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I spoke to Kai earlier and he told me everything.”
Elijah raised a brow. “Did he now?”
Kai’s words started to repeat in your head like a broken record and you’re nearly shaking with anger just by looking at Elijah. This time, anger got the best of you so you stole Elijah’s used fork from the table and stabbed him in the neck with it.
“Ouch.” Klaus said with amusement. Elijah rose to his feet as he pulled the fork out with a slight wince, gently setting the fork over the placemat.
“I can’t believe you. Out of all people. You’re supposed to be the noble one. But here you are spitting lies!” You exclaimed.
With added drama, Elijah pulled his handkerchief out and started dabbing the blood off of his healed wound before placing it on the table.
“But is all of it a lie? Ask yourself, Y/N.” Elijah briefly narrowed his eyes as he placed his hand over your shoulder in an attempt to calm you.
“Get your hand off of me.” You slapped his hand away, curling your lips into a snarl.
“Niklaus.” Elijah addressed calmly. “Would you be so kind and give us a moment please.”
“As you wish, brother.” Klaus obliged, winking at you before exiting the dining room. Elijah waited until he was certain that his brother was no longer earshot.
“Before you strike me again, you must understand that I said what I said for good reason.” He said, placing a hand inside his front pant pocket.
“But lying is never good, Elijah.”
“Indeed.” He replied, pacing slowly with swagger, “However, I see the way you look at Niklaus. And Rebekah and I know that our dear brother still adores you after all this time. I was simply telling your little friend something you’re afraid to.”
“I’m not afraid to tell him anything.” You threw your hands over your hips, glowering at the original.
“Are you sure of it, sister? That boy certainly worships you and you’re afraid to tell him that you will never feel the same.”
“No…” You shook your head. “He’s just a friend and he knows it.”
“Well, friend or not, I prefer he stays out of the way. For yours and my brothers sake.”
“Is that why you bought him and plane ticket and said it’s from me? And told him I’m never going back to Mystic Falls?” You asked out of anger but already knew the answer. “That’s not your decision to make!”
“Do you prefer he lingers in this city and possibly runs into Niklaus during his morning stroll? I’m aware you prefer he remains unharmed so that is why I did what I did.”
“You’re a little too late now. He didn’t take the flight and now he’s siding with Esther. Nik didn’t tell you?”
“No.” His face fell. “He failed to mention that.”
“Frustrating, isn’t it?” You added out of spite before storming out with your wine glass without a backwards glance. Your appetite to eat was instantly lost.
-
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter because I worked hard on this one 😭 there have been multiple times when I’d make changes because some parts just didn’t fit right for me. Also, pls don’t hate me for making Kai bad. Lol. How could you blame him? He’s in love with Y/N and he can’t help how he feels. So when Elijah said what he said, it triggered something in Kai. But I promise there will be more of Kai later! Can’t tell ya when :)
TAGS: @ynm1505 @ravenmoore14@xdontxcare @seasiren96 @anyasthoughts @woodworthti666 @agentmarvel13@miss-lumiere @elizabeth-ann1090 @physically-a-cheesecake@azhar1422 @morsmornte @retrocontessa @kollover24 @thewolf-and-thesheep @xoxoaudreymarie
#NOT MY GIFS#CREDITS TO THE CREATORS#klaus#klaus x reader#klaus imagine#klaus fluff#klaus mikaleson#klaus mikaelson imagine#klaus mikaelson x reader#klaus mikaelson fluff#niklaus#niklaus x reader#niklaus imagine#niklaus mikaelson#niklaus mikaelson imagine#niklaus mikaelson x reader#niklaus mikaelson fluff#niklaus fluff#kai#kai x reader#kai imagine#kai parker#kai parker imagine#kai parker x reader#malachai#malachai x reader#malachai imagine#malachai parker#malachai parker x reader#malachai parker imagine
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Underneath the Tree
Surprise @killiancygnus! I’m your @cssecretsanta2k18! You said you love fluff, modern aus, especially friends to lovers, and I may also have stalked your tumblr a little and discovered that you would also love to just see CS cozy in front of the fire. This fic has all of that. I also decided after you told me you had never had a real tree before that I had to give you one in fic form. I have had a real Christmas tree every year of my life, so I can honestly inform you that getting one is neither as easy or romantic as portrayed in Hallmark movies, which was the perfect way to get some humor in this thing. And what better way to get CS cozy in front of the fire than to have them get caught in the rain? I hope you enjoy this story as much as I have enjoyed getting to know you, Francesca! Merry Christmas 🎄
Summary: Emma Swan has never had a real Christmas tree before, and her best friend Killian Jones is determined to give her one. A real live tree from a quaint tree lot like in a Hallmark movie. Even if it’s pouring down rain . . .
Rating: M-ish because Fran says she likes, “kind of smutty, but not too smutty” which I totally get!
Title from the song of the same name by Kelly Clarkson, the lyrics of which are perfect for this friends to lovers story.
Can also be read on Ao3
She shook her head before heading to her bedroom to change. The first time he had tossed out the “L” word so casually, it had freaked her out. Now she knew how he meant it. The love of a best friend, that’s what they had. A comfortable one filled with no pretenses, casual affection, and innocent flirting. A rarity in Emma’s life for sure, but Killian Jones had proven too stubborn to go away when she got prickly or threw her walls up. Since she couldn’t get rid of him, she eventually accepted his unflagging loyalty and occasional burst of heartfelt sentiments.
It was Killian’s stubbornness that had them heading to a Christmas tree lot on a cold, rainy Brooklyn morning. She had mentioned that she had never owned a Christmas tree aside from the pitiful tabletop thing that resided in her apartment. It came with red baubles already attached to the plastic limbs. All she had to do every year was dust it and set it on the table. Killian, however, had insisted that just wouldn’t do. They were getting her a tree, and not only was it going to be a decent size, it was going to be real. They were going to a tree lot like in those montages on Hallmark Christmas movies.
“Will Rockin Around the Christmas Tree be playing in the background?” Emma had asked sarcastically.
“Maybe,” he had told her with a smirk.
So now Emma was shivering in the passenger’s seat of Killian’s pickup truck, peering past the windshield wipers at the giant, waving Santa welcoming visitors to “Santa’s Treeland.” Killian parked, then came around to open Emma’s door like the old-fashioned gentleman that he was. The rain had tapered off to a light misting, but it still increased the sharpness of the cold. Emma yanked her beanie down farther over her ears and shoved her hands inside the pockets of her parka. Killian wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against his side, rubbing her arm up and down to warm her more. She had to admit, it helped.
Luckily, the trees were stored beneath an awning made of tarps. A sweet looking middle-aged man approached them as they neared the lot.
“Welcome to Santa’s Treeland!” he said as he handed them candy canes. “First Christmas together?” he asked with a wink.
Killian chuckled warmly, tugging Emma closer against him. “You could say that.” He winked down at her as they walked away, and she poked him in the ribs with her elbow. He just laughed more as he rubbed the sore spot.
The trees were organized by size: 4-5 feet, 6-7 feet, and then 8-9 feet. Emma gaped at the prices.
“Fifty bucks for a tree that’s shorter than me?”
Killian frowned at the tree she had tilted upright. “No way, Swan. Your apartment may be small, but I’m not letting you get a tree unless it’s taller than I am at least. And yes, that’s the price. They’re ten dollars a foot, cheapest in any of the burroughs.”
Emma folded her arms over her chest and shook her head. “Nope. I refuse to pay that much for a dead tree.”
He ignored her completely, hoisting a tree that was over six feet from the next stack over. “Well,” he said, eyeing the thing up and down, “good thing you’re not paying for it.”
Emma blinked rapidly. “Y-you can’t do that!”
He sighed and gave her a tender smile. “Yes, I can, and I will. Now, what do you think of this one?”
Emma, always uncomfortable about receiving generosity, shifted from one foot to the other. She contemplated arguing with him, telling him she didn’t need his charity. If this were Mary Margaret or David, she would have. But with Killian, she knew it wasn’t like that. His upbringing had been similar to her own, and he would never direct pity her way for it.
She tilted her head, chewing on her lower lip. What was she even supposed to be looking for? “It’s okay I guess?”
Killian chuckled. “Is it full enough?” He started turning it slowly. “Or does it have gaps? And the shape, is it close to a triangle or is it too thin or too squat?”
His questions helped as he continued to spin it. Emma frowned. “Now that you mention it, one side looks like it’s missing some branches.”
He nodded, then shoved the tree back with the others. “Then we keep looking.”
They looked at four more until they finally found one just at six feet that was perfect. Unfortunately, while they had been looking the rain had increased. Killian dashed through the rain to where he parked the truck, and by the time he got back his dark hair was plastered to his forehead and rain dripped off his coat. An employee helped him slide the tree into the back of his truck, and Killian quickly covered it with a tarp. Even Emma got slightly drenched just dashing to the passenger’s side of the vehicle. Killian gave his head a shake while Emma squeezed out her damp hair, and they both laughed even as their teeth chattered.
The rain didn’t let up as they drove home. Emma wondered at the wisdom of dragging a wet tree into her apartment, but Killian didn’t seem at all concerned as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, humming “Oh, Christmas Tree.” When she hesitantly voiced her concern, he just smiled at her.
“I covered it with a tarp, so it won’t be too wet,” he assured her, “and we’ll let it dry before we decorate it.”
His festive mood finally had her relaxing, and she actually found herself tapping out the rhythm on the door handle when he switched to humming “Winter Wonderland.” He parked in front of her building, and Emma realized there was no way she wasn’t getting soaked now. He couldn’t get the tree out of her trunk and up to her apartment by himself. Just as she suspected, by the time they had the thing leaning against the door of her second-floor apartment, her wet clothes clung to her skin and her shoes left puddles in their wake. But somehow, Killian was still smiling.
“Where’s that tree stand I got you?” he asked, shaking the rain out of his hair.
“I set it up right in front of the window like you said, with an old sheet under it.”
Killian rubbed at his jaw as he righted the tree. Then he started to shake it, sending drops of water flying all over the place.
“Ugh!” Emma protested, lifting her hands in front of her face to block the onslaught. “I think we should let it dry out here before we take it inside.”
“We can’t do that, we have to get it in the stand and water it right away, or it will dry out. They drink gallons of water when you first get them home.”
“What are you, a Christmas tree expert?” Emma laughed.
“Well, Liam got me a few trees when I was a teenager,” Killian said as tilted the top of the tree Emma’s way. She grasped the slender half as he hoisted the trunk. “And then there’s Google.”
They both grunted as they maneuvered the thing through Emma’s door. She wanted to ask if he’d had a tree since Liam passed, but she didn’t have the heart to dampen his mood. Besides, she’d been to his place the last couple of Christmases and knew full well he had no tree. She wondered if this little outing was as much for him as it was for her. After all, Christmas traditions just weren’t the same when you were alone.
They tilted the tree so they could set the bottom of the trunk into the red metal stand. Killian’s smile – the one that had scarcely wavered all day – faded somewhat as he shoved the tree downward. His brow furrowed.
“What the -” he muttered. “You got a good hold on it?”
Emma tightened her grip and nodded, her frigid fingers getting poked by the tree’s needles. Killian let go of his end and got down on his hands and knees. All Emma could see was his ass sticking out from underneath the bottom branches. He swore under his breath as he struggled with something; the sound of clanging metal accompanying his curses. Yet all Emma could do was grin as she admired her current view of Killian in his tight jeans. Now that’s a gift any woman would like to see underneath her tree.
“It won’t go in.”
“Excuse me?” Emma startled, blushing furiously as Killian’s head popped back out from under the tree. His hair was disheveled, and his cheeks and elf shaped ears were bright red. Even though he was staring at the tree, and not her, she suddenly felt she had been caught at something.
“It’s too wide for the stupid stand,” Killian muttered gesturing at the tree.
“Oh,” Emma breathed out in relief.
Killian grabbed at a fistful of hair. “Surely we can fix this.” He stood up and eyed the tree critically. “Keep hold of it, Swan, I'll be right back.”
He dashed out of the apartment, and Emma stood there, feeling foolish as she continued to grip the tree. Her wet jeans were driving her mad, and the branches of the tree were poking their way up the sleeve of her parka. She adjusted her grip and groaned when she felt sticky sap coating her palms. What in the world was taking Killian so long?
Emma’s eyes widened when he returned with a huge pair of pruning shears. He squatted down by the tree again, and damn it, Emma couldn’t help where her eyes kept going. Something about the way his wet shirt was plastered to his skin, the way his slightly damp hair was curling at his nape, made her suddenly aware of how well built her best friend was. She really needed to get out of this wet parka because she was suddenly really hot.
“There’s a branch sticking out of the very bottom of the trunk, and I think if I trim it off, it’ll fit in the stand just fine.”
Emma tore her eyes away from his rear end to actually look where he was pointing. “Um, are you sure you want to do that?”
But he was already cutting at the base of the branch with the shears, and as it fell away . . . there went half the tree.
“Shit,” Killian grumbled, running his hand through his hair in frustration again. He really needed to quit doing that. It was making Emma’s fingers twitch.
“Hey,” she told him, “it’s no big deal. We’ll just put that side against the window. No one will be able to tell from the street.”
“I’m sorry, Emma,” he told her, frowning for the first time that day, “I ruined your tree.”
She shook her head. “No, you didn’t. Now can we get this thing in the stand already? I’ve got sap running down my arm.”
That got a chuckle out of him, and he bent down again to tighten the screws in the stand. Once it was steady, they both backed up to examine it.
“Is it just me,” Killian asked, “or is it . . .”
“Leaning? Um, yeah.” Emma finally shed her parka, then stretched her arms. She grasped the tree again while Killian loosened the screws. Then he backed up to assess things.
“A little to the left . . . “ he instructed as Emma adjusted the tree, “a little to the right . . . There! Perfect! Don’t move!”
He dove back under the tree and tightened everything, then he and Emma stood back to admire their work. She smiled, and Killian put his arm around her. Maybe she was beginning to see the appeal of -
Then the tree seemed to lean to one side in slow motion before crashing to the floor.
“Shit,” Killian swore again.
“At least we didn’t water it yet.”
*****************************************************
Killian’s swearing had taken on epic, sailor-like proportions. They finally realized, after many balancing attempts, that they had chosen a tree with a crooked trunk. No matter what they did, the damn thing ending up sideways on the floor. Now Killian had retrieved a tackle box from his truck and was wrapping the thing in fishing wire. He ran the line to the lock mechanism on her window, and now her tree was basically tied to her window so it wouldn’t fall down.
Emma looked at what they had spent the last half hour doing: there were tree branches and pine needles all over the floor, the tree still dripped rainwater from its branches, the back half of it was completely missing, and Killian’s tools and tackle were scattered over Emma’s kitchen table. Killian himself was shaking the tree to ensure that it was held securely by the fishing wire, and he was even more wet than he had been when they’d gotten home from his multiple trips back to his truck. Suddenly, the whole thing struck Emma, and she burst out laughing. At first, Killian seemed startled, and slightly indignant, but then a slightly sheepish grin overtook his face right before laughter spilled out of him as well. He shrugged his shoulders as he stepped away from the hopeless tree.
“Well, I promised you a real tree. I never said anything about quality.”
Emma’s laughter faded as another emotion overtook her. She looked him up and down as he stood there scrutinizing the tree, his arms crossed. Then he lifted one hand to rub at his jaw, his thumb brushing his lower lip. Emma swallowed as realization crashed over her.
“I love you,” she blurted out.
He turned to her tenderly. “Aye. I love you too, Emma.”
She shook her head in frustration, the look in his eyes clearly telling her he misunderstood. “No. I mean, yes, I love you. But I also love you.”
She puffed out a breath, irritated at her lack of eloquence, and a strand of hair fell across her eyes. Killian stepped forward, reached out, and tucked the strand behind her ear.
“What was that, Swan?”
He had a slight smirk on his face that made Emma want to smack him and take it back, but then she saw the slight widening of his eyes and the way they darted across her face. Insecurity. That was the emotion in his gaze.
She managed a tiny smile. “I just realized as I was standing here . . . all of this, how you’ve gone to all this trouble to give me a Christmas memory I’ve never had before, it’s just . . . “ She bit her lip and crossed her arms, then nervously uncrossed them again. Damn it, why wouldn’t her words make sense? “You’ve always been such a great friend to me, but somewhere, somehow . . . I’ve fallen in love with you.”
His eyes sparkled then as a wide grin filled his entire face. He surged forward, claiming her lips, his hands cupping her face. She melted into it as his thumbs caressed tiny circles on her cheeks. They both changed the angle to deepen the kiss, their lips parting for one another. One of his hands slipped from her cheek to her hair while the other one grasped her waist and yanked her close. Emma moaned as she slipped her arms around his neck. He pulled back, breathless, and pressed his forehead to hers.
“I have been in love with you for so long, Emma, it’s been sheer torture.”
“Then why didn’t you -” he cut her words off with another kiss, and every thought fled her brain. Not that she needed an answer. Prickly Emma Swan with her impenetrable walls? Of course he hadn’t thought he could tell her how he felt.
Their kisses were more frantic now, hungry and full of want. But everywhere Emma’s hands drifted was wet and cold. She pulled back and smiled when Killian chased her lips.
“I’m still wet,” she explained, and an involuntary shiver punctuated her point.
“And cold,” he added with a frown.
He rubbed her arms up and down, the warmth from his palms sending tingles down her spine that had little to do with his body temperature. When he let her go to start gathering up blankets that were tossed about her living room, a shudder of loss went through her. When he bent to light the fireplace, she pouted.
“I uh, guess I’ll go change,” she told him, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
“Don’t you dare.” The deep timbre of his voice made her stop in her tracks. When she pivoted back to face him, the smile he was giving her was filled with lustful promise. He quirked a brow as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I plan on warming you up thoroughly, trust me, love.”
She swallowed hard, but forced her voice to sound light and airy when she answered him. “Well you better hurry it up before I get hypothermia.”
He chuckled and quickly got the fire going. Then he stood and laid Emma’s fluffiest blanket out on the floor in front of the hearth, the one with the thick, plush lining. Then he grabbed an oversized quilt and walked – no sauntered, he was sauntering – towards her. He tossed the quilt down on the couch next to her, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he drew her close, kissing her passionately, sending heat skittering across her skin. He loosened his hold on her, yet didn’t break the kiss as he undid the buttons on her flannel shirt. Then he pushed the damp garment from her shoulders, sending it falling to the floor with a plop. It felt wonderful to no longer have the wet fabric clinging to her, but goosebumps rose up on her now bare skin. Killian, his lips still fused to hers, attempted to chase them away as he ran his hands down her arms and up her back. He quickly unclasped her bra, and removed it as well. His hand came around and cupped her breast, his thumb caressing her nipple. Emma moaned, her head tilting back as Killian finally pulled away from her lips. He trailed kisses along her neck, her collarbone, then lower as he sank to his knees. Emma whimpered, however, when he didn’t linger on her breasts, and he chuckled.
“Don’t tease me,” she admonished as she yanked on his hair.
He smirked up at her. “I make no promises.” Then he winked as he unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. As wet as they were, she had to shimmy to help him slide them off. He grasped her hips and kissed her navel, then took the waistband of her panties in his teeth and slid them off too.
He wasn’t through teasing her, however. As soon as she was completely naked, he rose and grabbed the quilt. He wrapped it around her and brushed her lips with a chaste kiss.
“Better?”
Emma debated just dropping the quilt from her shoulders, but she was too curious about what else he had planned. His teasing was driving her insane, but it was also a huge turn on. Still, she couldn’t help kissing him roughly, dragging his lower lip between her teeth.
“A little,” she finally answered, “but is that the best you can do?”
She yelped when he suddenly scooped her up in his arms and then deposited her gently on the blanket in front of the fire. “Patience, love. I’ve waited too long for this to rush it.”
Heat rose to her cheeks, and it wasn’t from the fire. She tilted her head up at him. “Can I make one request?”
“Anything.”
“I think you’re overdressed.”
He clearly understood her meaning as a smile lit up his face and he quickly began undoing his own buttons. Emma couldn’t help licking her lips as she watched his shirt fall away, that chest hair that always teased at the top of his shirts on full display. Then he peeled his own tight jeans off, then his boxer briefs, and his arousal for her was on clear display. Her heart beat faster in her chest at the sheer masculinity displayed before her. God, he was a beautiful man! How had she kept him so firmly in the friend zone all these years?
She said nothing, merely opened the large quilt for him to come and join her. They lay down before the fire, wrapped up together in the warmth. As he caressed her and kissed her deeply, Emma had never felt so content and full of want at the same time.
***********************************************************
Emma blinked her eyes open, the only sound in the room the crackling of the fireplace. Killian’s arms were still wrapped around her. She glanced up to find that he had fallen asleep, too. She took the moment to run her hand along his arm, feeling the strong muscle beneath her palm, then to drag her fingers gently through his chest hair. They were both still naked, but they hadn’t yet made love. They had pleasured one another in other ways – Killian hadn’t been kidding when he said he wanted to take his time – and then in the drowsiness and warmth had drifted off. Emma rolled over to prop herself up on Killian’s chest.
“Babe,” she whispered, tracing his jaw gently with her fingertips. His eyes blinked open and he smiled drowsily at her. “We fell asleep.”
“Aye,” was all he said. Then he tilted his head up to look at her wonky tree. “I suppose it’s dry by now,”
Emma scratched lazily at his chest hair, giving him a coy grin. She shifted higher, the feel of her bare breasts against his chest hair sending a buzz right down to her core. She thought to say something flirtatious, but when her eyes met his, she couldn’t string words together. So instead she kissed him. Lazily at first, and then with aggression. She could feel his body responding beneath her. His hands drifted down her back, then grasped her hips. Words failed him, too. He rolled her over, and that conveyed everything.
**********************************************
An hour later, they lay sated and content on their backs amongst the piles of blanket, looking up into the boughs of the Christmas tree. Killian’s fingers traced lazy patterns on her shoulder. Emma breathed in deeply, a gesture of contentment, and the smell of pine filled her senses.
“You know,” she said softly, “you were right. A live Christmas tree is really beautiful.”
Emma enjoyed the feel of his responding chuckle against her cheek. “We haven’t even put the lights on it yet.”
She rolled over to cup his cheek, her thumb tracing the scar beneath his right eye. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow night, and we’ll decorate it then?”
He smiled as he threaded his fingers through her hair. “Alright, love, I’ll be here tomorrow night.” Then he pulled her down for a kiss that curled her toes.
Killian came the next night to help her decorate the tree. Even with the back half missing, the crooked trunk, and the fishing wire hooking it to the window, it was beautiful once it was lit up and covered in tinsel and baubles. When the lights were all out except for the Christmas lights, Emma loved to admire it from the sofa across the room, her feet tucked under her and a mug of cocoa in her hands. But her favorite view of the tree was from underneath, with piles of blankets, and all wrapped up in Killian’s arms.
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“perfectly coiled curls, a defined ruby red lip, a smile that refuses to falter, the feeling of falling, never letting go, veni vidi amavi, for the love of love..”
N A M E - Rose Iver
A G E - 27
C A R E E R - Trapeze Artist
A F F I L I A T I O N - Dannato club
- TEN YEARS FROM NOW, MAKE SURE YOU CAN SAY THAT YOU CHOSE YOUR LIFE, YOU ‘DIDN’T SETTLE FOR IT. -
Born drapped in silks and frosted with the sparkliest jewels, Rose was given everything a child could ever want in life, and yet she still wanted for more. Rose was always begging for attention, longing for more love than any person could give her, despite her parents doting on her like a princess. It wasn't as if Rose was denied a single thing, but that her expectations were so high that when something didn't live up to everything she imagined it would be Rose was left dejected and momentarily heartbroken. Growing up, it was difficult to please her, her expectations always so high as she went through life, expecting the most out of everything, and then falling apart when her expectations weren't met.
However, it was only a short moment of sadness before Rose was back up and onto the next thing, see she loved everything, for a short while, nothing held her attention long, not like revolving fantasies. Rose preferred living in her fantasy world, where she could find everything she ever wanted, and the only expectations to keep were her own; the real problem was building every person and experience up in her head to be more than what it was only to retreat bitterly when it wasn't. The only people Rose seemed to count on were her family, her charming father, movie star mother and her best friend and twin brother; with them Rose knew she'd always have bits of her heart walking around on the outside that she could hold onto when nothing else was just as perfect as she wanted it to be.
Sadly, life is not perfect, no matter how much Rose tried to will it into existence, there was bound to be tragedy even in her glamorous self created life. And that tragedy broke her heart when her parents were murdered in a robbery gone horribly wrong, Rose dipped further into her fantasy world. The young woman was adamant in refusing to believe they were really gone and forcing everyone around her into the same charade until slowly piece by piece she lost everyone who tried to be there for her while their guardians attempted to put the broken pieces of their lives back together.
That was thirteen years ago, and Rose still insists on existing in a world of make-believe, adamantly denying that there is anything wrong, parroting that her parents are simply on vacation;" Probably someplace private and dreamy, a paradise." Not even her brother has been able to pull Rose from her fantasy and instead has resigned to following her ideals of reality if only to save off a fit of heartbreak for another day. Even with the death of Altheia, Rose refuses to believe that there is anything wrong. She continues to live so far above it, from her penthouse on the Upper East side to flying through the sky at Dannato's club when she works; and that's the way she prefers it.
- C O N N E C T I O N S -
- Thorn Iver -
Rose's fraternal twin brother, and her best friend in this cold hard world. He knows what very few know about Rose; that her romanticism is simply a coping mechanism. Life has never been very kind to Rose, and after their parent's death's, it only got more complicated. Thorn wanted to travel the world, live off their trusts, but Rose had stars in her eyes that could only be satiated by the skies, so Thorn gave up the life he wanted to be there for his sister.
- Francesca Dicaprio -
Love, love, love- Rose is in love with love and believes with all of her fluttering heart that she is in love with her girlfriend of the last few months, Francesca. Francesca is a realist, the world is full of grey for Francesca and not at all rose colored like it is for Rose, but she is convinced she loves her anyway. Maybe it will last, but Rose is notorious for falling in love with everyone she meets.
- Erin Daddario-
It's been over a decade, but the person who murdered her parents was never brought to justice, and Rose hasn't given up yet. When she heard that Erin was the best private detective in the city Rose saught them out. She is willing to give them anything they ask for, for anything that will lead to the person who took her parents away from her being found. Maybe her expectations are a little too hight, but Rose has never given up hope.
Rose Iver (Madelaine Petsch) is written by TBD (-)
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