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silentglassbreak · 5 months

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Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

!!!There is finally smut in this chapter!!!!

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying, this is a work of fiction. All of my words are my own. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess

Part 5 - Bad Decisions

Three months and three days, since I had met Noah Sebastian. Since he had walked into my group, reserved and exhausted, ready for a change. Three months and one day since I had agreed to be his sponsor. Since I had taken on the role of maintaining his sanity and sobriety with him. Three months exactly since Noah kissed me, causing me to pull back on our relationship.

I had given myself a silent rule that I never told Noah: we did not meet in person, outside of group, unless it was dire. So far, we had not gotten to that point.

He called me often, needing support. We talked on the phone, sometimes for only a few minutes while he panicked, I calmed him down, and he focused on breathing. Sometimes, we talked for a long time. I suspected he called me at times, out of pure boredom.

Two weeks after his show in Hollywood, he finally told the members of the band that he had began AA. As I suspected, they were all very supportive, most notably, Nick Ruffilo, his best friend since childhood. He even brought Nick to our last 'Loved Ones' session, where we asked everyone to bring someone in their lives who supported their recovery. Some people only brought their sponsors, but some brought their husbands, wives. Girlfriends. I always brought Laura.

I met Nick that day. He was polite, had the most charming smile, and shook my hand respectfully.

"You're the famous Leena, huh?" Noah had been talking to Syd when Nick approached me.

"Famous?" I quirked my eyebrow. He smiled brightly.

"You've kept my boy straight for a whole month."

I nodded in understanding. As fate may have it, the day Nick came to group, was the same day Noah had earned his 30-day coin. He had earned himself a large round of applause, as well as his favorite flavor of cupcakes in class. Red velvet, cream cheese frosting, graham cracker dust. I'll never forget, I asked Laura to make them.

Nick cared deeply for Noah, I could see it. I knew the other members, Folio and Jolly, did as well, but I believed Nick was his best source of support.

I broached the subject with Noah about a week later of Nick being his sponsor. I saw the look on his face while he sipped on his coffee, group having just ended.

"Oh, I didn't even think about it." He was looking at the ground, something he regularly did when he was uncomfortable.

"I mean, it was just an idea?" I tried to stay warm, comforting. Noah didn't always go for that. He had his moments where he felt patronized, and preferred I be straight with him. Usually when he was in a bad mood.

"I could ask him, I guess." He still wouldn't look at me.

I sighed, quirking my lips in a smile. "You don't have to. I'm happy to keep being your sponsor, Noah."

He looked at me finally, through his lashes. "You just know how to pull me back from the brink. He doesn't."

I nodded in understanding. "Guess you're stuck with me then." I beamed at him, earning a smile back.

Today, Noah was earning his 90-day coin, right before he leaves for tour. He got to go first in group, discussing his experience through recovery. He also got his special cupcakes, Laura turning up special to deliver them by hand. He was like a kid in a candy store, nearly hopping up and down when she handed him his special cupcake, bigger than the rest. He was ever thankful that she was a talented baker, promising to bring him and the band cupcakes during their tour dates here in LA.

The band had added 17 additional tour dates, beginning the tour in the summer instead of fall. They would have three months off from June to September, and would head to Europe in December. The success of the band was exciting, and stressful all the same for Noah. I saw the toll it took.

Two weeks ago, he finally told his girlfriend about his recovery. We didn't talk about Lily often at all, but he definitely did not want to discuss that subject. I gathered that it did not go well. All I learned was that she told him she needed space, and backed out of tagging along on the first part of the tour with them. She promised to catch up in September.

I saw how this affected Noah, and his sad days had been more frequent lately. Seeing him happy to be receiving his coin was a relief.

"Can I make a request for my 90-day?" He sat in his regular chair, directly across the circle from me, his too-dark eyes on mine.

"Within reason." I responded with a suspicious grin.

"Can you tell me one thing about you that I don't already know?" Everyone in group looked directly to me, including our two newcomers. All eyes seemed confused. As was I.

"Like what?" I crossed my legs, trying to hide my uncomfortable posture.

"Anything."

I blinked, my head swirling. Something he didn't know? We had learned quite a bit about each other over the last three months. In group or on the phone, we had played twenty questions more than once.

"Well," I sighed, knowing that my confession would be news to everyone, as I never talked about it. "my sponsor is my Dad."

He looked taken back, not expecting that. "Really?"

I nodded coolly. "Yep. Since I got sober three years ago." I relaxed a bit in my chair. "He's the reason I got sober."

Noah sat back and folded his arms, intent on listening to me. He gestured for me to continue.

"At 25, I was set down the worst road. I had been actively drinking since I was 16, and really struggling since 18. I dropped out of college, went through job after job, ended up in jail a few times. And that's the mild stuff. I won't bore you all with the gruesome details." I glanced around the room. The only person who knew even half of my story was Abel, and he was unfortunately not here today, so I felt vulnerable.

"My mother was an alcoholic, who died when I was very young from her addictions." I could feel tears threatening to come to the surface. My throat was forming a lump I just couldn't swallow. "My Dad, who swore to never drink again after she died, decided that once I hit rock bottom, to take me to her gravesite."

I looked down at my hands, feeling my voice shake. "He had purchased a plot for me right next to her when I turned 21, because he swore I would be with her sooner rather than later."

One traitorous tear spilled down my cheek, and I wiped it away feverishly. "So I had him drive me to a meeting. He stayed with me. Came with me to every single one."

I laughed at the thought. "He would sit in the car and listen to Country music while he waited. And every time I fell off, he drove me right back. He's my rock. He's the reason I'm alive."

I was still looking at my hands when I heard the clapping. My head snapped up to see Noah, his hands clapping together before everyone else joined. It was a liberating moment, but I was still vulnerable.

I checked my watch, noticing that we were over on our time.

"Thank you, everyone." The applause died down. "I appreciate each and every one of you. Unfortunately, we've got to get out of here before Angie comes in and rips me a new one."

At home, Angel and I were curled up on the couch, enjoying our favorite movie (it was my favorite, so it was his favorite by default), Silent Hill. I was tossing him single popcorn kernels as I ate and watched intently.

"See, baby, this is the part where all of the piece of shit cultists get what they deserve!" He looked at me with his honey brown eyes, clearly understanding every word I said.

My ringtone went off, and I almost ignored it, because we were so close to the end, and figured the call could wait until after. That is, until I realized it was Noah's ringtone. I had switched his a while ago to a song by his own band, so I knew when it needed to be answered at any cost.

I rushed over to the kitchen counter, not even bothering to pause the movie.

"Hello?"

"I need a fucking drink, Leena." His voice was cracked, and sounded wet. Was he...crying?

"No, you don't." My immediate response anytime he said that.

"No Leena, I'm driving to a bar. I can't fucking do this."

The panic rose in my chest, threatening to spill in the form of vomit. No, not now. Not after we've worked this hard.

"Noah Sebastian, I will kick you out of group."

"Who fucking cares?" I scoffed.

"Uh, you do, apparently. You called me."

"Mostly just calling to let you know I'm a fucking failure. So, sorry to waste your time."

My mouth worked faster than I could stop it. "Come to my place."

He was quiet. "Nah, bar sounds better."

"Noah, come see me. Please. And if you still want a drink afterwards, then I won't stop you."

I could tell he was perusing this. "You don't ever see me outside of group, remember?"

"Well, fuck that for right now. Come see me."

He groaned. "Leena, it's midnight. You should be asleep."

"Yet, I'm awake. 3AM ice cream, remember?"

There was silence, only the sound of a blinker in the background.

"Where do you live?"

Without answering, I dropped him my location pin.

"Says I'm ten minutes away." I sighed a breath of relief.

"Door's unlocked."

Despite my telling him to come in, he knocked. Angel stood at attention, to which I instructed him to sit and stay. I opened the door to find a soaking wet Noah. I didn't even realize it was raining.

He looked awful. Clearly had been crying, his clothes soaked through from the storm. I grabbed his arm and hastily pulled him in to avoid any more weather getting hold of him.

"Jesus Christ, dude." He just stood in my doorway, staring at me.

A low growl left Angel, bringing our attention to him.

"Angel, come." Robotically, he came to me and I pointed to Noah. "Let him smell you. He's protection trained."

Noah raised a brow. "What kind of dog?"

"He's a mutt. Bluetick Hound and Husky. 90 pounds of death if he doesn't like you."

I saw Noah stiffen slightly as Angel sniffed his legs, shoes, and hands. Once he was satisfied that he was safe, Angel stepped back.

"Go to bed." I pointed to the room and he took off, following the command.

"Hm, good dog." Noah's tone was surprised.

"I live alone in LA, I've got to do something to protect myself."

He nodded and stepped onto the tile floor after me toward the hallway. I noticed how wet he was.

"Wait here. I'll get you some dry clothes."

He looked at me incredulously. "You think they'll fit?"

I rolled my eyes. "Wait here."

I returned two minutes later with a pair of men's sweats and a faded Disturbed t-shirt. "They're my brother's. I'm sure they'll fit."

He nodded in appreciation and I pointed to the bathroom.

He returned moments later, soaking clothes in hand. I walked over and grabbed them from him and walked further down the hall to my laundry room. Checking the many pockets on his pants, I threw his clothing in the dryer and started it.

Padding back into the living room, I waved him over to the couch. We both sat on opposite ends, me leaned back, pulling the throw over myself, him dropping his head into his hands.

"You want to talk about it?" He just shook his head. I pursed my lips. "You want to watch a movie?" He looked up at me from over his shoulder.

"Like what?"

I smiled, picking up my remote. "Well, I just finished Silent Hill, but I've got all the streaming networks, so I can get anything."

He furrowed his brows. "Silent Hill? Like, the game?"

My jaw dropped. "You've never seen the movie?"

He just shook his head. "Can't say I have."

"Well fuck, let me just restart it."

He snorted. "Didn't you just watch it?"

"It's my favorite movie, ever. I'll watch it again."

He sat up straight, then leaned his back on the couch. I reached behind me on the side table, grabbing another blanket and chucking it at him. He smiled a small, sad look at me, and unfolded it over his lap.

During the movie, Noah's demeanor loosened ever so subtly. He started with his back against the couch, arms in his lap, looking unamused. By the first call of the Darkness, he was leaning forward, paying closer attention. At the first sight of Pyramid Head, he was interested. And by the hospital scene, he was asking questions.

"I still don't understand, why does Sharon look like Alessa? And why did the little girl say she was burning?"

"Would you be patient?! We're literally getting to that part right now!" He shook his head and leaned back, crossing his legs underneath him and his body moved slightly closer to my legs that were outstretched on the area between us.

His leg bumped my foot, and he looked over, noticing I was glancing at him.

"Oh, my bad." He scooched back to his side, and I snickered.

"I'm not going to combust if you touch my foot Noah, it's no biggie."

He smirked, mischievously. "Well, in that case." He then stretched his giant self out across the couch, pulling my legs up over his legs. He nestled in, pulling the blanket up to his chest.

It was at this point that I actually noticed.

"Hold the fucking phone." I quickly paused the movie and his head snapped to me.

"What?"

"You cut your fucking hair?!" His hair was easily eight inches shorter, sitting just below his ears. How it took me this long to notice is beyond me.

He laughed nervously, and ran his hand through his locks. "Yeah, after group, I went and got it cut. Felt like I needed a change."

I smiled brightly, reaching over and tousling it. "I like it. It suits you."

He leaned back, his face appreciative.

I played the movie, and he was absolutely enamored. It was always fun watching someone experience this movie for the first time.

Once the credits began to play, his eyes were much brighter. "Are you tired?"

I shook my head. "Nah, not right now."

"Want to watch another one?"

I stood up. "Sure, but I've got to pee and grab a water bottle. You want one?"

He nodded, swiping the remote and scrolling through the networks to find another movie.

I called Angel to his bed in the living room, and took care of my business. When I returned, he had 13 Ghosts pulled up on the screen.

"Can we watch my favorite now?" I smirked.

"Absolutely, it is also one of my favorites."

He pressed play, and I walked past him, my thigh catching the edge of the couch, causing me to stumble toward the coffee table.

Before I could connect with the glass, his arm was around my arm, pulling me back toward the couch. I landed square in his lap. It took me a second to process. He smiled at me nervously.

"Sorry, didn't want you getting a concussion."

I slid off his lap, but was now seated closer to him, by side nearly pressed against his chest. He turned his attention back to the TV, throwing his blanket over the both of us casually.

I pulled my bare legs up under the blanket, now very aware that all I wore was a pair of too-short gym shorts, a plain white t-shirt, and socks. I was home alone earlier, in my defense. My knee was pressing into the side of his leg, but he didn't seem to notice.

His body radiated so much heat, I instinctively sunk down further under the blanket. His gargantuan arm was draped over the back of the couch, the back of my head pressed against it.

I let myself get into the movie for a while. We made it about half an hour in before I felt him shift. He stretched his legs in front of me, now in near full laying position. His arm tugged my shoulder and I looked at him.

His eyes were honest, or so it seemed. "It's just cuddling. I haven't had anyone to cuddle with in a while."

I pondered this for a moment. My brain screamed against it, told me it was wrong and I knew where this could go. But he was so warm. He was so comfortable. I slid down, stretching my legs over his, my chest laying on his. My face had nowhere to go but on his collarbone while I tried desperately to watch the television.

Something tugged at me, which I tried to ignore for a while. I couldn't for too long before I piped up.

"How would your girlfriend feel about us 'just cuddling'?"

I felt his chest still, his breathing stopped for a beat.

"She dumped me." I snapped my head up

"What?"

He sighed, not looking back at me. "Why do you think I needed a drink?"

"Oh, Noah." I moved to sit up, but his arm around my waist held me in place while he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Can we please just...not?" When he looked back at me, he had a single tear trying to escape from the corner of his eye.

"Okay." I softly responded and gently leaned back down. His arm secured me in place, while the movie continued to play.

About halfway through, I felt my eyelids getting heavy. His fingers that were holding my waist had been drawing small circles on my back for a few minutes, and I was fading quickly. The warmth, the comfort. He wasn't the only one who hadn't cuddled in a while.

"Are you asleep?"

This roused me. "Hmm? No. Just comfortable." My voice was raspy with sleep, my eyes only half open.

His chest shook with the rumble of a laugh. "You want me to head home?"

I slightly shook my head. "Warm." His hand rubbed up my arm now, coming to rest on the cap of my shoulder. I heard a low humming sound, and realized it was him, humming a tune that I couldn't place.

"It should be illegal to be able to sing that good." This made him snicker.

"Too bad, huh?" I sighed, relaxing. "Maybe if I wasn't so talented, you'd actually like me."

This made me slowly lift my head, narrowing my eyes at him. "You are an insufferable human Noah Sebastian." He smiled a goofy grin at me. "I am trying to relax, here."

His hand came up to brush my hair from my face, his eyes locked on my tired ones.

"You're really beautiful Mileena, you know that?"

I raised my eyebrows, my eyes getting wider. He didn't seem fazed, just studying my face.

"Well...thank you?"

His fingers twirled some stray bands of my hair while his eyes just would not leave mine.

"Would you hate me if I kissed you?"

My stomach bottomed out. I was awake. All the way awake, now. I sighed heavily.

"We can't do that, Noah."

He bit his bottom lip.

"Can't, or won't?"

"Both?"

I rolled onto my side then, slightly breaking the contact between us. He was sat with his head propped on the pillow at the end of the couch. He kept his arm on my waist, but raised himself up just enough to nearly tower over me.

"Would you tell me to stop again?"

He was testing me. I was going to fail if he didn't stop. He felt it.

"Probably."

"Would you make me leave?"

"Is this why you came over? Girlfriend dumps you, so you figure you'd come hook up with your sponsor?" Okay, maybe that came out a little sharper than I intended. But it needed to be said.

"I wasn't planning on coming here. I was set on the bar."

I sighed. He was right. He was on the brink, and I invited him in. Practically begged him.

"Noah, I just...we can't."

His hand reached up to cup the side of my neck, his eyes now fixated on my mouth. I caught the tip of his tongue dart out over his bottom lip.

"Would you make me leave?" He repeated his question.

I didn't answer him, I just stared. I couldn't hide the want on my face anymore. I could feel my eyes pleading with him to just do it. Just make the move, because I couldn't.

With the luckiest break I've had in a while, he read my thoughts, and dipped his face down to brush our lips together.

This was different. This wasn't hungry. It was a hot burn, slow and steady. His hand came up to brush against my face, pulling me just close enough for him to press his face closer, solidifying the kiss.

Once I had the nerve, I moved my lips against his, my body melting against him. We moved slowly, our tongues only trying to make short appearances to taste the other's lips. His kisses on my lips slowed, his hand running down the side of my body, stopping to rest on my hip. Noah's lips began to trail off of my mouth, moving down to my neck, leaving soft kisses over my throat, making my breathing stop altogether.

I'm not entirely sure how long we stayed this way, his lips leaving trails of warmth over my jaw, neck, and collarbone.

I finally reached for him, my arm searching for the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath. My fingers grazed his skin, feeling the solidity of his frame. I felt him breathe out a sigh when I began leaving kisses on his neck. I let the tip of my tongue trace his adam's apple, smiling when the grip on my hip tightened with a nip of his skin.

After he had been tormented enough, he slipped his arm around my waist, flipping to perch over me, laying me flat on my back.

The kiss that came now was burning, hungry, and wild. My fingers pulled at his shirt, lifting it until he had to sit up and pull it over his head.

He wasted no time coming back to attack my neck, nipping and biting carefully, but enough to have me whimpering. He slid one hand up my side, beneath my shirt, and grazed the side of my breast, waiting for a reaction. I arched my back, trying to beg for touch.

His fingers grabbed my entire breast with one hand, pinching my hard nipple and rolling it between his fingers. I gasped at this.

"Oh, Noah..." I heard him hum, a sign of approval.

My hands grabbed his hair, pulling him back to my face. I kissed him while he used his other hand to lift my shirt, exposing both breasts.

It took no time for him to work his way down, taking my nipple in his mouth, leaving me breathless. His tongue circled the hardened bud, driving me absolutely wild.

I could feel his excitement pressing into the inside of my thigh, so I squirmed, causing a friction I'm sure he noticed. I felt the growl more than heard it.

His hand slid up my thigh, stopping on the inside, just before the hem. I could feel myself shaking in anticipation. He hooked the edge of my shorts, and with no mercy, pulled them down viciously, exposing my plain black cotton panties.

His hand glided over my core, feeling how damp the fabric already was. I was breathing heavily, silently begging for more.

"Jesus Christ, Leena." His mouth reached down and kissed my breast again. "So fucking wet."

His words had my brain scrambling. I hadn't been intimate in so long.

His fingers traced over the wet spot, teasing me until I was sure I was going mad.

"Noah..." His eyes looked up to me, my left nipple glistening from his saliva. "Fucking please."

The smile on his face was so wicked, I swear I saw the devil behind it. And this was my one-way ticket to hell. At least it's warm there.

His fingers slipped under the fabric, running up and down over my slit, nearly hitting that one spot I needed.

"This? This is what you want?" His tone was deadly, which had me reeling even harder. I fucking needed him.

I could only nod wildly. His index finger slipped inside, curling at just the right angle, hitting the sweetest spot, I could've burst right then and there.

"That's it. Good girl." His words had me moaning softly, his fingers working me over. Noah continued this until I was nearly seeing stars, his thumb now rubbing circles over my clit. I was ready, so fucking ready, eyes shut tight, climbing the hill and about to fall over. Then it was gone.

My eyes burst open, nearly ready to complain before I felt his hands pulling my panties down, his hot breath just centimeters from my core.

"I can't tell you how many times I've thought about this, Leena. I'll bet you taste incredible." Breathing was out of the question. Air no longer existed.

And that was it, he was on me. His tongue lapping up my pussy, humming while I gripped his hair frantically.

"Holy fuck, Noah."

"That's it baby. Scream my name. Be good for me."

My brain was no longer firing on any cylinders. I was on another plane altogether.

His lips latched onto my sweet spot and sucked like his life depended on it.

"Noah, oh my god! Oh my god, I'm going to come." My back arched off the couch, and my vision went white.

"Noah, Noah, Noah!" My voice was going hoarse. My toes curled and I began to feel the overstimulation, my hips bucking against him.

His arms pinned my legs down, leaving me nowhere to go. I fought for purchase against his skin.

"Please, please I can't. I can't!" He finally released me, lapping at my inner thigh one more time, causing me to shiver.

He sat back, a satisfied grin on his face.

When I looked up at him, I could see the clear bulge in the sweats, and smiled my own wicked grin.

I saw the confusion on his face before I sat up, simultaneously pushing him back on the couch, ripping the front of the pants down. It came to my attention that he wasn't wearing any boxers, so his cock sprung free instantly.

His eyes were fixed on me while I sized up his length, trying to work out how I was going to swallow this damn thing.

I slid the tip of my tongue across the top, eliciting a hiss from his lips. He stared down at me, watching my every calculated move.

With no warning, I wrapped my lips around him, and took him as far down as my throat would allow.

"Oh, fuck..." His eyes went half-masked, his mouth falling open. "Do that again. Jesus Christ."

It didn't sound like a question, so I diligently obeyed. My throat gave out about halfway down his length, causing me to gag. His hand grabbed my hair, nails in my scalp, holding me there.

"Yeah, baby. That's it." He let my head up, saliva dripping from my lips. "You're so good, Leena. Such a good girl."

His hand pressed me back down gently until I had a good rhythm going, my head bobbing, eyes looking up at him.

"Fuck, girl, I'm not going to last like this." I hollowed my cheeks, increasing the suction, and his eyes bulged.

His head flew back, his chest heaving wildly. "Just like that, baby. Don't stop."

I obeyed, suddenly really enjoying the submissive role. His hand guided me faster until I felt him harden to nearly stone.

"I'm going to come, don't stop...fuck don't fucking stop baby."

I felt the first hot stream hit the back of my throat, and I relaxed, waiting for the rest before sucking just a second longer, listening to him hiss in response. I let him out of my mouth with a pop, smiling at him sheepishly when I sat up.

He laid there, eyes closed, hands on his chest, working to breathe.

It took a while, but he eventually opened his eyes. His smile was lazy, and he lifted an arm to pull me down, now laying on his chest again.

He reached behind me and flung the blanket over us, kicking his pants the rest of the way off, and looked down at me.

"We shouldn't have done that, huh?"

I blushed, nuzzling my nose into his neck to hide it as best as I could. "No, we shouldn't have."

He ran his hand up and down my arm, now turning his attention back to the movie that was still playing.

"We'll do better tomorrow." Was the last I heard before my eyes drifted closed.

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #fanfic

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from-a-legends-pov · 1 month

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Star Wars Legends Highlight of the Week: “You showed up for your wedding day with a blaster?”

In this feature, a fan will share one thing they love from Star Wars Legends - a book, a comic, an author, a character, a scene, an event, or anything else they want to highlight – and tell us more about it.

If you, too, love Legends, follow @from-a-legends-pov and check out our From a Legends Point of View fanfiction event, where we’ll be working with writers to build a collection of Star Wars Legends fanfiction set during the time of the Original Trilogy. Writer signups are open now through June 2, 2024 – use our Signup Form here to pitch your story concepts (Signup Guidelines available here), and please encourage your favorite writers to participate!

Today’s Legends highlight is an arc from the 2013 Star Wars comics run from Dark Horse Comics, in which Leia Organa attempts to get the Rebels a new base by agreeing to marry the crown prince of Arrochar, and we’re talking with @lajulie24.

Tell us about your Legends highlight. What is it? What’s it about?

My highlight is part of the “Rebel Girl” arc from the 2013 Star Wars comics from Dark Horse Comics. The overall arc starts in issue #12, where we first hear about Arrochar, but the main parts of the arc are in issues #15-18, where things come to a head. The arc is set about a year after Yavin, and Leia comes back from a private mission and announces that the Rebels have been offered a base on the world of Arrochar, a planet in Hutt space, in exchange for Leia agreeing to marry their crown prince. Everyone from Mon Mothma to Han Solo to Wedge Antilles to Luke Skywalker is pretty dubious about this idea — Luke being the worst, and getting grounded by Wedge because his sulking is making him do a lot of reckless things during flight exercises— but Leia already feels extremely guilty about Alderaan and about recent losses, so she’s ready to go through with it.

Basically things start looking pretty shady on Arrochar from the jump, and Leia is not really happy about what she’s about to do, but she’s preparing for the wedding when the palace is bombed and a group of Star Destroyers shows up! Turns out one of the royal advisors betrayed the crown prince and has been courting the Empire the whole time (unbeknownst to the prince, who genuinely was into Leia and was sad that she wasn’t really into him). Luckily, Leia in fact did bring a blaster to her own wedding, she and Mon escape, Luke quits sulking long enough to defeat the trap he was lured into and escape with Han on the Falcon, and the Rebels’ new ion cannon saves the day.

What makes this a Legends highlight for you? What do you love about it?

Like many of the comics, this arc is a little bumpy for me — the quality of the artwork is a little uneven from issue to issue, with Leia getting some pretty weird expressions at times, and I do get annoyed that so often Leia’s plot lines tend to be things like “Leia tries to get needed resources for the Rebels by sacrificing herself” or “some fancy rich guy wants to marry Leia”, both of which are present here. But there are several things that make this arc enjoyable despite that, including:

1. Leia fixing X-Wings in her tank top my beloved (this also very much annoys the royals of Arrochar because she’s not proper enough for their tastes, also earlier in this series Leia is regularly flying an X-Wing in combat, so lots of great pilot Leia visuals)

2. Han and Wedge both talk with Leia about her decision and while they respect it, they don’t like it (as evidenced by a gritted-teeth conversation between them before the wedding) and have each tried to let her know that she doesn’t need to do this for the Rebellion, that’s she’s done enough for the cause.

3. There is some gentle future HanLeia ship teasing throughout, including a few scenes where it’s clear Han’s preoccupied with someone and it’s definitely not the attractive fellow contractor he’s been working with (she notices that he’s distracted, and that it’s not about her).

4. There is a brief moment where we learn that Red Squadron has just been approved to use the “Rogue” designation, i.e. the beginning of Rogue Squadron here.

5. And of course, Leia does in fact bring a blaster to her own wedding, which she gives to Mon Mothma right before using her hand-to-hand combat skills to fuck up some guards (and obtain a new blaster in the process).

Basically, I enjoy that it’s centered around Leia, that she shows off her flying, mechanical, and combat skills, and that the people around her actually value her for those skills and feel like she deserves so much more than to be a bride in the court of Arrochar.

To learn more….

If you’d like to read more about this comics arc, check out Star Wars: Rebel Girl or Star Wars (2013): #12-18 at your favorite comic book store or online, or read the entry on Arrochar or the Rebel Girl entry on Wookieepedia.

And be sure to check out @from-a-legends-pov and our From a Legends Point of View fanfiction event. Writer signups are now open — access the Signup Form here (step-by-step Signup Guidelines available here), as well as our Overview and FAQ.

#star wars legends #star wars eu #star wars extended universe #sw legends #from a legends pov #legends highlight of the week #Arrochar #rebel girl #leia organa #mon mothma #luke skywalker #han solo #wedge antilles #Star Wars comics #dark horse comics #long post

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 9 months

Text

"get me a damned matcha" | Chapter 13: June II

{{ Chapter 12: May I | Chapter 14: July II }} Chapter Directory

ayyyye we're halfway there folks, steamrolling into the second year

if you wanna get tagged for updates, fill out this form here!

✧ pairing ➼ levi ackerman x fem!reader, college x coffee shop x roommates!au ✧ summary ➼ After you find yourself plagued with misfortune due to struggles in your personal and family life, you find yourself needing to move last minute. As a junior in undergrad with little money and little social support, you considered yourself lucky when you found a sublease that was close to campus and was relatively cheap. Unfortunately, it seemed that your roommate did not seem to be so excited regarding your presence. ✧ content/warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, mutual pining, idiots in love, negative self-talk ✧ word count ➼ ~5.1k

You were looking for a new place to live back in April after your spat with Levi, but that intention was nowhere to be found now. You signed the lease renewal without hesitation. Part of you told yourself that it was because you just didn't have time to look for another apartment that was affordable.

A more realistic part of you was acutely aware that the decision (or lack thereof) was at least partially affected by the fact that you were growing much closer with your roommate. The idea of not being able to see him regularly gave you an odd discomforting feeling, especially after your chat on the Ferris Wheel. He really was the one major connection currently in your life and you couldn’t imagine throwing that away.

"Great," Levi grumbled as he filed the renewed lease away. "I'm stuck with you for another year?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you mumbled with an eye roll. "You know Hange snitched to me about how you were saying that I'm much better at cleaning than Miche was?"

You glanced over at Levi as he scoffed.

"Miche was okay at cleaning, just not being organized."

You placed both your hands on your hips and gave Levi a cocky grin.

"And I'm good at both, right?!"

"Certainly weren't at first," he grumbled, which prompted you to stick your tongue out at him again, which he immediately waved off. He watched as you walked to and from the bathroom, throwing towels amongst various items like a bathing suit and sunscreen into a gym bag.

You dug through the bag, taking a mental note of everything that was in there to check if you had forgotten anything.

"You're not bringing a swimming suit?" you asked, looking at Levi over your shoulder.

"And immerse myself in the filthy ocean water that's filled with who knows what? Fuck no."

You were much more excited for this beach trip than you were willing to admit. Unlike the amusement park, this wasn't an official outing that you had to be responsible for. Some of the freshmen (soon to be sophomores) in the Honors Society decided that they wanted to check out the beach and you elected to tag along. What you didn't expect was for Levi to also tag along.

"You know you don't have to come," you noted with a serious expression. "Even if you don't touch the water, the sand's also messy and will get into your shoes and clothes."

Levi knew that you had a point. His surroundings were going to be filthy regardless of if he swam or not. He would never willingly find himself at the beach. The water was gross, the sand was messy, and the public bathrooms were generally disgusting. There were too many people and parking was always a nightmare.

The reason he was going was because of you, although he'd never openly admit to it. Hanging out with you has been enjoyable and he found himself missing you whenever you were gone. The prime example was how he had reacted over spring break. You were gone for only a few days and he found himself feeling resentful and grumpy over it, to the point that he ended up being enough of a dick to you to drive you to somehow end up at your ex-boyfriend’s.

"It's monotonous and dull here," he rationalized. "Maybe being around you and the brats you hang out with will annoy me enough to want to come back home and be alone."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you saying you're enjoying hanging out with me, then?"

"Tch," Levi scoffed, avoiding eye contact with you. "Of course not."

You continued to give him a skeptical look, not believing a single word that was coming out of his mouth, but you otherwise didn't push it.

"Well, if you change your mind, you don't have to come."

"I'm driving."

"I can catch a ride with someone else!"

When you looked back towards Levi, you saw that he was clearly scowling at you.

"...Just shut up and finish packing."

~~~~~

“Surprised you came along, Levi!”

“Trust me, I didn’t want to at first,” Levi mumbled with a scoff, throwing a side glance over at Nicolo. He had just learned that Nicolo was the point of contact for setting up this trip. His connection with Sasha led to the connection with you, which is how you found yourself here primarily with the freshmen instead of with the other officers of the Honors Society that you usually found yourself hanging out around.

Levi kept his eyes on you, although he wasn’t entirely aware of that himself. He watched as you splashed around in the water, throwing a blow-up tube over you. You struggled to get onto it at first, which tugged at the corners of his lips into a small, amused smile. He wasn’t feeling malicious about watching you struggle, he actually found it quite cute.

That smile got quickly replaced with a frown as he had that disturbing thought again about you.

“_____ drag you here?”

Levi peeled his eyes away from you, trying to push down the feelings of unease and confusion that were becoming more prominent within him.

“Something like that.”

Nicolo got distracted as soon as Sasha came up to him and called his name, carrying a paper bag that was filled with groceries and grilling material. From what little Levi could see, it seemed the newly formed couple was planning on having a grill-out later in the day. At least it meant that he'd be able to get away from the beach eventually.

As the two walked off, Levi was left on his own to stew in his own thoughts. He would usually never find himself here. He even adamantly dodged answering Hange when they asked where he was going on his day off, being more willing to let them theorize about whatever it is that he was up to over letting them know that you had successfully dragged him to somewhere like the beach. He had been here for a few hours at this point and had yet to even step into the sand.

He was avoiding the beach itself, but it did end up being awkward for him to be hanging by himself when he purposefully came to a social event. His reasoning in February was because he only went to make sure you didn’t find yourself in trouble again. He had no such reason now.

Levi found himself annoyed because he really was questioning why he bothered with coming. You had jokingly accused him of enjoying spending time with you, but that couldn’t possibly be the case. It was purely because he needed to get away from the school and apartment, and your trip just happened to be at a convenient time for him.

Part of him knew that was a lie.

As he watched you floating around leisurely on that blow-up tube, he felt this strange pull to approach you. However, you were in the water and he was adamantly against going anywhere near the water. Even the thought of stepping into the water filled him with a sense of disgust.

Levi sighed and groaned to himself. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to stay here. He didn’t want to go towards you either.

Noticing a local pub and the fact that it was a little past noon, he elected to simply get something to eat.

It wasn’t much better there, either.

It was crowded, the music was too loud, and it was too small of a space. At this point, he was more than grumpy enough to seriously consider maybe leaving and hanging out by himself in his car for the rest of the day, although he knew that you would give him nonstop shit about it if you found out about it—and knowing his luck, you’d definitely find out about it.

After finally getting to order and eat something that wasn’t completely covered in grease, he wandered around the downtown area, noting an ice cream shop nearby. While he normally wouldn’t be bothered to check it out, seeing the dessert shop immediately reminded him of you. The past few times that you had been upset over something, his first thought was to get you food as soon as he found out that you were food motivated. You obviously weren’t particularly upset about anything currently, but getting you food (or making you Matchas) had become one of his ways of spending time with you.

He scowled at the ice cream shop. He had insisted that he had come to the beach for himself and that it had nothing to do with spending time with you, but he knew that wasn’t true. It was also incredibly annoying that something as simple as an ice cream shop immediately reminded him of you.

Despite how tilted he found himself, he still ended up making his way towards the shop, unable to fight off the instinct of obtaining the one thing that never failed to uplift your mood.

~~~~~

It was hot enough that you were more than refreshed just hanging out in the water without a care in the world. You had just rolled into the water off of one of the blow-up tubes. You had originally elected to just sunbathe, but only lasted about ten minutes before you felt like the sun was frying you alive, prompting you to roll directly into the water.

You didn't particularly have a lot of stamina, so you were only able to swim without a floatie for about another ten minutes before you gave up and grabbed onto the blow-up tube and started wading towards land.

Once you finally got back to the shore, you tossed the tube to the side and began wringing out your hair before putting it up in a loose ponytail. You had left your bag near an umbrella for shade and dug out a towel to begin to dry yourself off, taking care to not get too much sand and water into the bag itself.

You looked around and saw that Jean, Connie, and Sasha were still screwing around in the water. Eren and Mikasa had come along as well, but they were currently nowhere to be found.

You didn't bring your usual group of friends with you. It's not that you wanted to intentionally leave them out, but you were starting to get sick of being the one inviting them to things. You were the one that was invited onto this trip, and for once, you weren't going to take the responsibility of who was coming or ensuring that everyone had a good time.

You couldn’t deny that you held some resentment towards them over what happened at the amusement park. You planned the whole thing, and got momentarily separated, and then they didn’t bother to check in with you for the rest of the day until they needed you for something logistical. You would be able to understand that it could have been a result of you also not reaching out, if this wasn��t a regular occurrence. It was excuse after excuse, and half the time it was you just making excuses for them. At this point, you didn’t even know if it was worth bringing it up or if you would just be met with defensiveness. You weren’t satisfied with being complacent, but you also didn’t want to put work into fixing a relationship if they weren’t also invested in repairing it.

By the time Levi had decided to actually step foot onto the beach, you had already set out a towel to sunbathe, propping up an umbrella behind you so that you had the option to take shelter in the shade in case it got too hot. Levi’s pacing slowed down once he got closer to you.

He could barely contain the discomfort radiating through his body when he saw you applying sunscreen onto your bare body. Your hands were currently roaming up and down your calves to your upper thigh, suddenly making your curves that much more obvious to him. It wasn't like he didn't see you in shorts (or even half-naked) before, but he suddenly felt the need to look away as if he was invading your private space. At the same time, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

Levi kinda awkwardly shuffled from side to side, unsure of what to do. He couldn't just stand there behind you without being a creep—plus, the ice cream would melt.

He cleared his throat, prompting you to look up at him, your face lighting up once you saw the ice cream cone in his hand.

"Oh, thank you," you said as you took the ice cream cone from him, your cheeks heating up a bit. "Wanna sit?"

You scooted over to the side a bit to give him space to also sit on your towel. You pulled your knees up to your chest while quietly licking at the ice cream cone, the cold custard bringing a refreshing feeling to your mouth. It was perfect for a day as hot as today.

Levi tried his best to avoid looking down at you past your face. Your bikini didn’t seem overly revealing at the time, but now he felt like he couldn’t help but notice how it looked on you. Your hair was pulled up into a ponytail, which revealed the nape of your neck and the sunscreen made your skin shimmer. He felt heat rapidly rising to his face and he forced himself to look away and focus on the coldness of the ice cream instead to try to get himself out of that headspace, pissed that he found himself there in the first place.

You bit on your bottom lip, slightly anxious, as you looked at Levi, who was meticulously working through his ice cream cone, looking much more tense than usual. He wasn’t wearing a swimsuit, so he just had on a white t-shirt with some shorts on. His arms up to his upper bicep was exposed and it took every ounce of self-control within you to not continue staring at him. As usual, his hair fell perfectly over his forehead and his signature irritated scowl seemed oddly alluring. You slightly shook your head upon realizing the types of thoughts that you were having.

You shot a side glance at him, watching as he picked away at his ice cream. Upon closer inspection, you could see that he had elected for a waffle bowl instead of an ice cream cone and that he was using a spoon to scoop out the ice cream instead of shoving it in his face like you were.

When he finally looked over at you again, he immediately passed you a napkin. He had grabbed a more than generous bundle from the shop that he was just at.

"You're dripping."

"Oh, shit," you muttered as you took the napkin and wrapped it around the cone, checking to make sure the sugary liquid didn't get onto the towel.

Your hand lingered on that spot on the towel for a bit, as if you were struggling to say something. Your finger gently rubbed the cloth back and forth for a while before your lips finally parted.

"Thank you for not being...weird after the other week," you mumbled.

"What are you talking about?" he asked in what almost sounded like a genuine tone as he finished his ice cream, but he knew what you were referring to—and you knew that he knew.

"...Nevermind," you said as you shook your head.

It seemed like neither of you really wanted to discuss what had happened—or rather, what had almost happened—on the Ferris Wheel.

You remembered the two of you chatting over your sudden grumpiness when you suddenly got the impulsive urge to kiss him. You had gotten so distracted that you could barely remember what it was that you were trying to say at the time: that Levi was the only really close and reliable connection that you had.

"...Just thank you for always being there to pick up the pieces, I guess," you mumbled. "I hope you're not too distressed about having to live with me for another year."

You looked up hesitantly at him. Your last statement was meant to be a joke, but there was a bit of actual anxiety present in your voice as well.

He glanced down at you.

"I think I'll find a way to cope with your annoying ass."

You shot him a half-hearted smile. You knew this banter was normal from him, but you couldn't help but doubt. You couldn't help but ponder on the fact that no one would reasonably want to live with you.

"Cut that out," Levi scolded with a groan.

You blinked at him.

"Cut what out?"

"You're pitying yourself again."

"What? No I'm not," you said defensively.

Levi shot you a skeptical look, not believing you in the slightest.

"You're not as much of a pain in the ass as you think you are."

You scoffed at the irony of his comment.

"You still think that after you had to scout out the entire town for me that one night?"

"Yes."

He responded extraordinarily quickly, and with clear conviction in his voice.

You clenched your jaw and looked down and away from him.

"Do you not believe me?"

He never took his gaze off you.

"_____," he called out after you remained quiet for a while.

You let out an unsteady breath.

"I want to," you whispered. "I just feel like I'm always dragging you down or bothering you for something and there are so many times in which I regret texting you at night because I know you're busy and I don't want to be a burden. And-"

"You never shut up, do you?" Levi scolded, cutting you off. "You're not a fucking burden. Quit doing that to yourself."

He slightly shoved at you in an attempt to pull you out of your head.

You pulled away and looked at him, feeling your cheeks slightly warm up upon seeing that he was shooting you a subtle smile. You gave him a half-hearted smile in return.

"Maybe you're not as much of a dick as I thought you were."

He frowned at your comment.

"You thought I was a dick?"

"Mhm," you said with a nod. "When we first talked, remember?"

"Purged that memory," he said with a deadpan expression, implying that his first meeting with you was so terrible that he had to repress his memory of it.

"Ha, yeah right."

You hated the fact that your cheeks were warming up in his presence again. You hated the fact that you couldn't pull away from him even if you wanted to.

And you absolutely hated the fact that you got this close to your aloof roommate that was insistent on being a dick to you right off the bat.

~~~~~

"You went out to get a sandwich?"

"Not touching that oil-soaked patty."

You looked over across the alley and saw that Nicolo was in the middle of teaching Sasha how to grill. He had brought his own patties that he had prepared earlier on in the day. Given the fact that everyone had been screwing around in the water all day, they were more than ready for burgers—except for Levi.

He was making a face of absolute disgust at the burgers. He was sure it tasted great—he knew of Nicolo's cooking abilities—but just the sight of the coat of grease over them made him scrunch up his nose in disgust.

Instead, he had walked over to a nearby restaurant to order a sandwich. You knew he had walked off to do that. What you didn't expect was that he was going to come back with one in hand for you too.

You didn't have a problem eating the burger, but the sandwich did admittedly look more appetizing than the burgers that everyone had begun digging through.

"So?"

Levi raised an eyebrow at you as you spoke.

"So?"

"You regret coming yet?"

He looked at you without responding, unsure why you were randomly bringing up the question.

"I saw you smacking your shoes earlier to get the sand out."

Levi's breathing paused for a moment. He didn't expect you to notice that. He had made sure that you were out of sight when he went behind his car to get the sand out, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of an "I told you so".

He grunted in response.

"Whatever. As long as it doesn't get in the car."

"Maybe I'll make you go swimming next," you mused.

"Don't you dare."

You chuckled at his reaction, taking a sip of your beer. You looked up towards both Nicolo and Sasha as you finished your sandwich and saw that Sasha had already picked up how to use the grill, despite having only been introduced to it around twenty minutes ago.

You knew all the way back in November that they were beginning to become a thing, so you weren't surprised when they arrived at the beach as an official couple. You watched them interact with each other and found your eyes flashing over towards Levi.

You mentally slapped yourself for doing so. The fact that you automatically looked at him when thinking about a "new couple" meant that those feelings that rose up at the amusement park were still there, and they didn't seem to be going away any time soon. Your housing situation would be made a hundred times more complicated if you ended up falling in love with your roommate. You continued trying to convince yourself that that wasn’t the case and that there was some other explanation for your feelings that didn’t involve a more intimate relationship with him.

It was Levi. He was supposed to piss you off and you were supposed to piss him off. Him being kind to you was a fluke. You just happened to have multiple flukes in a row. It couldn’t possibly mean anything.

You awkwardly shuffled around on the bench, trying to shake off the feeling. Levi immediately noticed that your body posture had changed.

"What?" he asked with a frown.

You looked at him with flushed cheeks. You weren't sure if it was from him or from the alcohol beginning to hit you. You'd prefer if it was just the alcohol.

"Nothing," you mumbled, shaking your head. "Just the alcohol settling in."

He blinked at you a few times with a raised eyebrow. He didn't believe you.

This had turned into a common theme between the two of you. Whether you were intending to or not, lying to him has become significantly more difficult as of late, and vice versa. The tension and mind games were killing you, but you weren’t willing to address anything, if you even knew what “anything” entailed of.

You grimaced as everyone began swarming the table now that the burgers were done and everyone had grabbed their food. The small table that you had been peacefully eating your sandwich at soon became chaotic and messy. Everyone chatting at once became incredibly noisy and it was wearing away at your nerves. You were soon no longer processing anything that was being said, your world simply turning into a haze that vaguely involved people running around and screaming something about summer break that you were too overwhelmed to fully tune in to.

Levi got up and placed a hand on your shoulder, sensing the tension.

"Come, talk a walk with me. It's-"

"-getting too rowdy?" you finished his sentence with a slight smirk. You shared the sentiment, however. It was much too noisy for either of you. Although Levi had pulled you out of your dissociative state, you felt it quickly returning.

He responded to your comment with an eye roll, but otherwise motioned for you to follow as he began to wander back towards the shoreline.

~~~~~

"Oh c'mon, at least dip a toe in!" you shouted back at Levi from the shoreline.

"Fuck no."

You were barely in the water, just close enough for the waves to wash over your feet, but remaining dry otherwise.

The beach was starting to cool off now that the sun began to go down. The sky had a relaxing pink hue to it that was speckled with white clouds drifting about. It had gotten chilly enough that you had a thin, translucent pullover on so that you weren't wearing just a bikini.

You tried to coax Levi to step into the water, but he adamantly refused. After seeing that he wasn't going to budge, you sighed and stepped out of the water, slightly bumping into him as you walked up next to him.

He slightly pushed back against you with an annoyed look. He had invited you on a walk to get away from everyone else, not expecting you to try to drag him into the ocean.

His frown lines softened as you looked up into his eyes and your cheeks heated up as he gave you "that" look again. It was the one you saw for the first time on that Ferris Wheel—a gentle, compassionate look that you rarely got to see from him.

You broke eye contact, feeling your entire body begin to heat up just from being around him. You mumbled something under your breath.

"What?"

You shook off your nerves and spoke up.

"Thanks...for always being there to pick me up."

He sighed in irritation.

"Quit thanking me for it."

You had thanked him for the exact same thing repeatedly over the past day and while he wasn't necessarily sick of it, he knew how excessive it was. He was acutely aware that it had to do with a sense of shame or guilt, but he hoped that you'd eventually be able to just accept that it's okay to need or ask for help.

"I'm sorry if it ever seems like I'm not grateful," you mumbled. "I really don't know what I would've done without you this past year so..."

Your hand grabbed at your other arm in anxiety.

"...so I guess you're not as bad of a roommate as I thought you would be."

You had to end your comment with a joke. At this point it seemed to serve as a protective factor against whatever it was that was brewing within you whenever you were around him. You were hesitant to test the waters with him. It was why you didn't text him when you were on the bus ride back from the amusement park.

You didn't want to screw up what you already had. You didn't want to mess up this delicate friendship that you had finally been able to forge.

When you finally gathered up the courage to look at him again, you saw that he never took his eyes off you the entire time.

He looked into your eyes for a bit before he spoke, as if he was also contemplating about the best way to word his thoughts.

"Did you mean it?"

"That you're not a shit roommate?"

He let out an annoyed tut.

"Not that, dumbass."

You tilted your head a bit at him, genuinely unsure of what he was referring to.

"At the amusement park," he said quietly, and you felt your body freeze upon him bringing it up. "On the Ferris Wheel. Did you mean it?"

He was referring to what you had been saying about being close to him. You remembered musing about the fact that you didn't really have anyone that you could call family, or anyone that you could rely on to be there in case shit hit the fan—except for Levi.

Levi was always there for you, even if it seemed like he didn't want to be. Levi would drop everything to make sure you were okay. You could confidently rely on him. Whether you had wanted to or not, you had formed somewhat of a close bond with him, to the point that every minute that you spent with him involved you being incredibly confused over what your relationship actually was.

You felt your cheeks continue to heat up and you turned to walk away, pausing as your hand brushed up against his.

Your hands lingered near each other for a bit as the both of you stopped moving. You even felt his fingers slightly grasp at yours, although you could easily convince yourself that this wasn't intentional, but it still sent chills throughout your body nonetheless.

"Uhm..y-yeah," you stammered, "I guess I did...Is that okay?"

Neither of you pulled your hands away. The desire to get closer to him was destroying you, but you held agonizingly still as you anxiously waited for his response.

"Sure."

You looked into each other's eyes and you felt that same tension, that same alluring feeling drawing you towards him, that same temptation to gently plant your lips against his. Your face only continued to heat up as you stood next to him, fingers crossed with his, the both of you unmoving, waiting to see what the other would do.

Levi cleared his throat before finally stepping back away from the shoreline.

"Should head back. It's getting dark."

It took you a minute to reorient yourself to reality.

"Yeah," you said quietly as you let out an unsteady exhale. "We should."

You lingered behind him a bit, letting him walk forward. You watched him from behind, appreciating the way that the breeze was blowing through his hair. Your eyes dropped down to the bottom of his t-shirt, where it slightly rose up so that you could ever so slightly see the bottom of his bare back. It wasn’t anything special, but just simply seeing his shirt rise made your body heat up in ways that you weren’t willing to admit to yourself. Besides, you still weren't sure how he felt. Part of you wanted to think that whatever was building up in you was reciprocated, but you were much too scared to act on it without explicit confirmation that he wanted it too.

Even if it was reciprocated, you weren't even sure if you wanted to officially go there. Things were too chaotic and you had never planned to fall in love with your roommate that you had hated so much a year ago.

You weren't sure—but you couldn't deny that a deep part of you left you longing for more.

they're so stupid skjdfksdf #: @levisbrat25 @gothgril69 @sckerman @berrijam @notgoodforlife @meowjaa @averysmolbear @roseofdarknessblog @bejewelledd @hhighkey @ayame236 @sad-darksoul @velouria17 @kamyru @l1zk4 @layenacreates @lamees004 @whoami-72 @highgoon69 @chaotic-on-main @levishotgf @nube55 @chosos-mascara @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @alexkibutsuji @moonchild-angel

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beardedmrbean · 2 months

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NPR defended embattled chief executive Katherine Maher against "online actors with explicit agendas" on Wednesday as her old social media posts continue to go viral for exposing her personal left-wing ideology.

What seems like a never-ending supply of social media messages Maher posted before running NPR have been unearthed in recent days by critics of NPR, including Manhattan Institute senior fellow Christopher Rufo.

Maher, who served as the CEO for Web Summit and Wikimedia Foundation prior to taking over NPR last month, showed her support for Hillary Clinton in 2016 and Joe Biden in 2020 while regularly sharing liberal talking points and criticizing Donald Trump. Many feel that someone with such blunt partisan views running NPR on the heels of veteran editor Uri Berliner penning a scathing takedown that detailed the "absence of viewpoint diversity" at the organization could be troublesome, but the organization chalked up the resurfaced tweets as "bad faith" attacks.

"This is a bad faith attack that follows an established playbook, as online actors with explicit agendas work to discredit independent news organizations," an NPR spokesperson told Fox News Digital.

"In this case, they resorted to digging up old tweets and making conjectures based on our new CEO’s resume," the spokesperson continued. "Spending time on these accusations is intended to detract from NPR’s mission of informing the American public and providing local information in communities around the country is more important than ever."

Rufo has also unearthed old video of Maher saying the First Amendment makes it too difficult to censor "bad information." But much of the controversy surrounding her is the result of posts on X, the platform previously known as Twitter.

Before taking over NPR, Maher tweeted essentially whatever was on her mind. For example, she once shared details of a dream where her and Kamala Harris were on a road trip together "comparing nuts and baklava from roadside stands" before she "woke up very hungry."

Others were more political.

Maher wrote on X in May 2020 that while "looting is counterproductive," it was "hard to be mad about protests not prioritizing the private property of a system of oppression founded on treating people's ancestors as private property." In another post on the thread, Maher said that property damage was "not the thing" Americans should be upset over.

In another 2020 post, Maher is seen donning a Biden for president hat and said it was the "best part" of her efforts to get out the vote.

"I can’t stop crying with relief," she wrote after Biden won.

Maher also took issue with the infamous New York Times Tom Cotton op-ed in 2020, saying it was "full of racist dog whistles." She argued it was based on the "false premise that the country is in a state of ‘disorder.'"

Several of her old posts that have resurfaced reference concern over White privilege and "White silence."

In June 2020, Maher declared "White silence is complicity."

"If you are White, today is the day to start a conversation in your community," she continued.

Maher identified herself as an "unalloyed progressive" supporting Clinton in the 2016 election. However, Maher had some criticism for Clinton at the time, saying she wished the then-Democratic presidential nominee "wouldn't use the language of ‘boy and girl,'" because it was "erasing language for non-binary people."

In 2018, she wrote, "I’m angry. Hot angry, slow angry, relentless angry. This anger is going to fuel and burn for a long time, and it will deliver back exponentially," during Christine Blasey Ford's testimony accusing Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh of sexual assault.

Rufo joined Fox News on Tuesday to explain why he’s been busy circulating Maher’s old tweets.

"I spent the last day or two digging through her tweets to show people exactly what she believes. It’s actually incredible. It is the most vapid, left-wing propaganda imaginable," Rufo said on "Jesse Watters Primetime."

"She’s been at it for year. She’s a supporter of BLM, she believes in the pseudo-science of White privilege, White fragility, she criticized her own Whiteness," he continued. "It’s like Mad Libs for left-wing women."

In addition to the deluge of old social media messages being resurfaced, NewBusters reported on Wednesday that Maher has donated to Democratic candidates such as Stacey Abrams. NPR did not immediately respond to a request for comment about her donations.

Berliner, who resigned after blowing the whistle on NPR’s liberal bias, doesn’t think Maher is fit for the job.

"We're looking for a leader right now who's going to be unifying and bring more people into the tent and have a broader perspective on, sort of, what America is all about," Berliner told NPR media reporter David Folkenflik prior to quitting. "And this seems to be the opposite of that."

Berliner also scolded Maher when he stepped down.

"I am resigning from NPR, a great American institution where I have worked for 25 years. I don’t support calls to defund NPR," Berliner wrote in a statement published on X. "I respect the integrity of my colleagues and wish for NPR to thrive and do important journalism."

"But I cannot work in a newsroom where I am disparaged by a new CEO whose divisive views confirm the very problems at NPR I cited in my Free Press essay," Berliner continued.

#nunyas news

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whatsnewalycat · 2 years

Text

Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 7: Good Vibrations

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: angst, swearing, smoking, alcohol use, pining, existential crisis, mental health spiral, attempts at jokes, sexual tension, cheating, boner in public bc i'm an asshole, emotional abuse

Series Summary: In 1993, you met Javier Peña in San Antonio. You made an emotional and physical connection with him. Now it's 1998 and you're starting a new chapter of life in Laredo with your fiancé. And who else walks back into the picture, but the man who left you high and dry five years ago.

Chapter Summary: Our heroes go on a double date to the beach.

Notes: Chapter title from the masterpiece "Good Vibrations" by The Beach Boys. Fun fact: Brian Wilson spent 7 months and $400,000 USD in today's money producing Good Vibrations. It took 90 hours in the studio and 70 hours of tape to make it. I love The Beach Boys. ANYWAAAY - let's go to the beach and get an awkward boner. Spotify playlist for this chapter. Cross-posted to AO3 here (UN: glitter_diety). Update weekly on Sundays.

[ First Chapter ] [ Previous Chapter ]

Lake Casa Blanca, Laredo, TX

June 13, 1998

“You wanna grab the towels, babe?” Dan calls to you as he and Javi haul the cooler onto the beach. Kim swings a beach bag over her shoulder and slams the back hatch of your car closed after you grab the stack of towels.

The beach is crowded with people of all shapes and sizes. The guys find an unoccupied area on in the sand and plop the cooler down as you and Kim trail behind, side by side. She’s wearing a loose white t-shirt dress that’s so sheer you can see her red one piece swimsuit through it. Her long tousled chestnut brown hair is spilling down her back. She is the living, breathing, embodiment of Baywatch.

You look ahead to see Dan and Javier each grabbing a beer out of the cooler and taking their t-shirts off. Thankfully, you're wearing dark-tinted sunglasses, which hide the fact that you're gawking at the men. It’s obvious that Dan exercises regularly; his muscles fill out his tall frame. He’s tan and his beachy blond hair makes him look like a boy band dream boat. However, you couldn’t stop yourself from drinking in Javier in the full light of day. He looks so… soft, but also strong. Which, you think, is fitting.

Despite the view, this whole situation leaves you feeling like you would rather eat glass than be here, honestly.

You and Dan met Kim at the Pour House last night. At some point, Javier walked in with Chucho. Javier popped over to say hello to you and Kim. He introduced himself to Dan. You were able to yada-yada a reasonable explanation for how you and Javi met, which was close to the truth anyway.

"We met through my roommate in San Antonio a few years ago," you spelled out, looking over at Javi, catching his eyes, which made your heart jump into your throat, "We all hung out a few times. It was so bizarre to run into him again here, though."

Later, Kim jumped on the opportunity to invite him to go to the beach the next day.

"Like a double date," she told him.

The thought of him at a beach is amusing to you. He’s almost always in some variation of the same outfit: jeans, button-up, work boots. You wonder if he’s a speedo guy, because it’s entirely possible.

The mystique of seeing him in an environment this out-of-context almost makes it worth the complete misery of watching Kim flirt with him. She was batting her eyelashes and touching his arm while laughing at everything he said. He leaned into it, being the insatiable flirt that he is.

On top of that, Dan put his arm around you possessively and barely allowed you to speak the whole time Javier was near. You would start to chime in, and Dan would cut you off. Eventually you gave up on having a good time.

Javier, for what it’s worth, dismissed himself from the table shortly after you stopped engaging. He spent the rest of his time sitting at the bar with Chucho, frequently observing you from afar with eyebrows drawn together, jaw set, lips pursed.

“Question…” Kim states while you’re trudging through the sand, “Why did you ask me about Javier that one night if you already knew him?”

You choke out, “What? Oh… I, um, didn’t realize that was him. Neither of us recognized each other for weeks, it was weird.”

“Hmm interesting, ok,” she puts her hand on your arm in a reassuring manner, “Such a small word, like, oh my god, what are the odds?”

You reach the claimed spot and set the towels next to the cooler, keeping one to spread out on the hot sand. Dan takes off towards the water’s edge. Kim pulls the t-shirt dress over her head and discards it next to the towel you laid out.

“You coming, Javi?” she calls with a wink while following Dan to the lake.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he waves back to her.

“It’s so fucking hot out,” you observe while unbuttoning your high-waisted Jean shorts and shimmying them down your thick thighs. You glance over at Javier and notice he’s staring at you, “What?”

“I- I like your swimsuit,” he says lamely.

You look down at your black string bikini, then back up at him, smirking, “I like yours, too. Slightly disappointed it’s not a Speedo but…”

He chuckles, opening the cooler, “Want a beer?”

“Holy shit, please.”

He grabs two, twists off the bottle caps, and hands one to you. You chug about half of it right away, because you may need liquid comfort to make it through this day.

You’re hot, but not ready to emerge yourself in water yet, so you sit down cross-legged on your beach towel. Javier grabs a towel, spreads it out next to yours, and lays down on his back, propping himself up on his elbows.

“So… you and Kim? I thought you weren’t interested,” you ask, shading your eyes eyes and squinting out into the water. Your vision is quite poor, so you can’t tell who is Kim and Dan, but you think you see a red blob out there somewhere, which is probably Kim.

“You sound jealous.”

You glare at him, “Shut up.”

“Does that mean you’re admitting you’re jealous?”

He looks so pleased with himself. Which is irritating. You roll your eyes.

I’ll never admit it. But also, maybe. Yes. Definitely yes.

He looks out into the water, then down to his beer bottle, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous, too.”

“Jealous of what?” you scoff. It came out a little more bitter than you had intended. He doesn’t say anything in return, just watches you.

A sigh escapes your lips as you try to let the negative feelings go. You bask in the hot sun and the wind rolling off of the water, enjoying the calm, until you remember that you haven’t applied sunblock. Cursing to yourself, you fish the tube of sunblock out of the bag next to you, open it with a pop, and start trying to rub it onto your face, neck, and shoulders.

As you’re struggling to get all the parts of your shoulders, Javi laughs, “Do you need help?”

You bite your lip and consider whether or not you’ll be able to keep yourself from coming undone if he touches you for longer than a moment. The memory of his warm, rough hands squeezing your tits while he begs you to fuck him replays in your memory, making your heart flutter and your face turn scarlet. Your hands tingle as you hand the sunblock over to him.

“Dan isn’t going to come over here and kill me for touching you, is he?” Javier chuckles.

“If he didn’t want someone else to do it, he should have stuck around to help me,” you grumble, “Should I lay down?”

“Sure.”

You flip around to lay on your belly, propping your head up on your forearms and closing your eyes.

You hear him squeeze some of the goop out of the tube. He asks, “You ready?”

A hum from your lips indicates yes, but you quiver in anticipation of his touch. All the air leaves your lungs as he places his hands on your shoulders and starts rubbing the sunblock around. He moves slowly and tenaciously, working his fingers over every inch, seeming to savor the skin-to-skin contact as much as you are. He gets to your lower back and grazes both sides of your waist. You surprise yourself by letting out a small moan and arching your back ever so slightly. He freezes for a second, then continues on until he reaches your bottoms.

“Do you want me to get your legs too?” he asks shakily.

You revel in the intoxication of the contact, desperately wanting it. “If- if you want to," you say softly.

“I’m asking you,” he responds firmly.

You gulp, “Yes.”

He squeezes more product into his hands and starts applying it, working up from your feet. His digits are sliding over the sensitive skin of your knees and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning again. Goosebumps break out once he reaches your upper thigh.

You gasp when his fingers trail along your bikini bottom, dangerously close to your inner thigh. You hear him move away from you and clasp the sunblock closed.

“I think that’s the best I can do.” He rasps. You roll over on your side, facing him, and he has folded his knees up towards his chest.

You roll over to your back, open the sunblock, and continue to apply it to your front side. First your arms, the fronts of your legs. You move at a lazy pace, dazed and slightly embarrassed of yourself.

Could I be more of a weirdo?

It seems like Javi is staring at you again, but it’s hard to tell with the sunglasses hiding his eyes. He looks far away and pained.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable ,” you mumble quietly while starting on your soft belly. You hope he doesn’t press you for more words because you really don’t want to say “ hey friend, sorry for getting turned on when you put sunblock on me” out loud.

His head jerks backwards and he frowns, “It did not make me uncomfortable, cariño.” He looks around, you’re assuming to check on the whereabouts of your fiancé, and looks back down at you as you reach your chest. His face looks tortured… and you understand.

Oh. Ohhh.

“You… look uncomfortable,” you tease, then let your fingers tips slide just a bit into your bikini top, making sure every spot of you is covered.

You feel the need coming off of him in waves as he tilts his head at you and practically pouts. You grin devilishly. He shakes his head, “You’re killing me.”

When he shifts a bit to get more comfortable, then reverts back to hugging his knees, your eyes wander down to his swim trunks. It’s not super noticeable if you’re not trying to see, but you catch a glimpse of the bulge straining against the fabric. You practically drool thinking about what it would be like to suck him off… for him to fuck your throat… what his cum tastes like…

Fuck me.

You avert your eyes as to remain undetected, but can’t help it when your whole body becomes flushed and jittery. It’s suddenly too fucking hot for you to be laying in the sun.

“Where are those Bakers?“ you sit up and look around, capping the sunblock with a pop. He points to a volleyball court down the beach a ways. You shade your eyes with one of your hands and mumble, “I don’t even know why I ask, I can’t see shit.”

“At least I think that’s where they are. I can’t see shit either,” he confesses, then squints, “I think Kimmy is that red… person in red over there.”

“Fucking blind leading the blind," you mutter and look back to him, “Wanna get in the water, or are you gonna play volleyball too?”

Or do you need more time for your raging boner to die down?

“If you want to swim, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Yep, you need more time for your raging boner to die down.

You pull yourself to your feet and dust the sand off your body. As you amble by them, you compliment the sandcastle some children are building. By the time you reach the shore, which isn’t more than 30 seconds later, it feels like you’re walking on molten lava.

One foot plunges into the water, then the other. Sweet relief. You wade forward, enjoying the feeling of soft sand squishing between your toes. It reminds you of time you spent on the lake at your dad’s cabin back in Minnesota. Once you’re deep enough, you hold your breath and let yourself sink completely underwater. There’s a great quiet all around you. Your skin gets over the initial shock of the temperature change and acclimates to the cold lake. When you can’t hold yourself under any longer, you emerge and float onto your back.

The sky above you is bright blue and cloudless. Sun rays kiss your exposed skin. Your eyes flutter shut. Children chatter and squeal with joy in the distance. You even hear the volleyball players yelling at each other further down the beach.

This is fucking bliss .

Water sloshes around as someone approaches you slowly. You crack open one eye.

“Feeling better?” you ask Javier, who is wading in your direction (sans tent in his swim trunks).

He sinks down to his shoulders so his face is level with yours, a few feet away, “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you smirk, “Just thought you might need some time to umm… cool down?”

He shakes his head and scoffs, “Ok, so you saw.”

“I hardly know what you’re talking about," you snicker.

He splashes you in the face playfully, which makes you flinch and sit up.

“Giggle all you want,” he moves closer to you and pulls his sunglasses on top of his head, “But I heard you. I think you liked it.”

You splash him back playfully, “You didn’t hear shit , Javi.”

“Oh, no?” He moves even closer, just a foot away from you, voice so low and quiet he’s practically growling, “I didn’t hear you moan ? When I touched you here?” His hands grasp either side of your waist, thumbs caressing your abdomen for emphasis, sending a jolt of electricity across your body.

You gasp, “Javi-“

His eyes flash hot, watching you squirm as his hands linger on your body underwater, trailing down to your hips, where he tightens his grip. The pressure sends a wave of pleasure through your body and makes your knees go weak. Your lips part as a small whimper escapes your throat. He inhales sharply, then utters, “I didn’t hear shit, huh?”

“M-maybe I did like it,” you admit. He doesn’t move his hands from your body. In fact, he pulls your hips a little closer to him.

Or am I doing that?

He rotates the two of you so his broad back is facing the shore and you’re concealed from view. Your hands find his chest and your fingers splay across his skin. The muscles underneath twitch and he groans.

Are you just as hungry for touch as me?

“What the fuck are we doing?” you whisper, finally acknowledging that the two of you are doing something . Dancing around it. Playing dumb. Passing a time bomb back and forth with every look that lingers too long, each touch that feels too good, all the flirting that only occurs when everyone else is at a distance.

Javier shakes his head, then exhales-

And a volleyball skids across the water, settling a few yards behind you. Your heart leaps from your chest and you kick yourself backwards away from him to go get it. Once you get ahold of the ball and turn around, you see Kim and Dan wading up to Javier. Javi turns around and greets them. He stands up and gives a side hug to Kim, who places her hand on his chest and keeps it there while laughing melodically at something Javier says.

A rage bubbles up inside of you that is truly not even logical, what the fuck.

You plaster a smile on when you return with the ball and ask Dan, “Did your team win?”

Dan wades over to you and takes dominion over the ball.

“Did our team win?” he scoffs, “Course we won, babe. Kicked their asses.” Then he plants an unexpected kiss on your lips, making you squeal and jump back.

“We’re playing again in a few minutes if you guys want to join!” Kim says, looking between you and Javi.

Your eyes flick to Javier and he looks… pained. Your guts twist into a knot.

“I think I’ll pass,” you inform them, which is not a surprise to anyone, explaining, “I want to draw a bit and swim while we’re here.”

“Shoulda figured. Javi? You in?” Dan asks.

Javier crosses his arms in front of himself and shakes his head, “No thanks.”

“Why not?” Kim questions, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t want to,” he shrugs. She glares at him and takes a step away.

“Really? Y’all are lame," Dan complains.

“It’s hot as fuck out, Dan. I’m surprised you were able to find anyone to play volleyball with you,” you observe while sinking back into the cool water, floating on your back and closing your eyes, “Just have fun. I’ll make sure Javier stays out of trouble.”

The Bakers concede and the four of you go inland to eat the lunch you packed in the cooler. Kim is obviously cross with Javier for not wanting to play volleyball, and he could give two shits less, which is amusing. You don’t say much because your head is occupied arguing with yourself:

We almost got caught. Caught doing nothing. It’s obviously something. But what is it? And what do we do now? How did I get here? Am I ruining my life? Am I saving my life?

But, thankfully, Dan and Kim share every play-by-play of their volleyball match, which doesn’t leave room for you or Javier to put a word in edgewise. Once they finish eating and drinking a beer, their new sporty friends are ready for a rematch.

Before leaving, Dan plants a kiss on your the forehead and quietly tells you to “not embarrass me now, ok?”

You sit up and nod once in acknowledgement, despite every atom in your body screaming fuck off.

Javier’s gaze is hard as it follows Dan. He sits down next to you, “What the fuck did he just say to you?”

“Nothing, never mind it,” you wave it off with a reassuring smile, but avoid eye contact. He grumbles under his breath in response. Ignoring it, you ask, “Can I bum a smoke?”

He wordlessly hands you a cigarette out of his pack and lights it for you. You look off into the water and sigh because you know more questions are coming.

“Is he always like that?” Javier asks gently.

“Not really… I mean, not at home at least.”

He waits a minute before continuing, “And what is he like at home?”

You blow a raspberry trying to recall what he’s like at home. Not there, you suppose. Or if he is home, he ignores you largely. Sometimes he talks with you, checking in with you, occasionally picking little fights, initiating sex, and telling you about things he's planning to do. There are nice things he does for you… like the way he gets your coffee ready in the morning before leaving, leaves you money to do things, buys you flowers. He can be really sweet.

“I don’t- we don’t have to talk about this,” You shake your head and put out the cigarette in the hot sand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he raises his eyebrows.

“No,” you say firmly. He nods.

You take off your sunglasses, dig your drawing pad and pencils out of the beach bag, then stretch out onto your stomach facing Javier. He pulls out a book and flips it open to a dog-eared page about 1/4 the way through.

“Do you mind if I sketch you?” you look up through your eyelashes at him.

He lowers his book and furrows his brow, “Sketch me ?”

You nod. He looks… bewildered.

“I- I guess not, go ahead. But why?”

“I think that…” you flip to the first blank page you can find, considering your next words carefully, “you… are very handsome… and I would like to draw you.”

“I can’t argue with that kind of flattery," he grins down at you, “Do I need to move?”

“No, you’re perfect just like that,” you smile.

And you think that maybe… you were able to make him blush. Which makes you absolutely giddy.

While you sketch, the two of you talk intermittently about the book he’s reading. You try not to interrupt, but, c’mon, it’s Christine by Stephen King. He tells you that he read IT after watching the miniseries with you, and has picked up some of Stephen King's books every now and again. This fills your heart with pride. You didn't even think he remembered watching IT with you.

Your eyes flick over the top of the drawing pad to his face, “You should take off your sunglasses so I can get your eyes.”

He obliges, pulling the sunglasses up onto his head. The dark eyes search your face, eyebrows settling, softly knit together. He folds the corner of his page in the novel, then sets it down beside him.

“Sorry, you don’t have to look at me, you can keep reading if you want,” you tell him while concentrating on your pencil to paper.

“I’d like to keep looking at you,” he husks, “if that’s ok.”

Your face instantly turns red and you laugh nervously. You gather the courage to raise your eyes to his, “Of course.”

The quiet that settles is natural and comfortable. Your chest tightens each time you look up for reference and his eyes are already glued to you. It seems as though he’s studying you meticulously, which would normally make your skin crawl, but it doesn’t feel like you’re under a microscope. He asks questions about the artsy fartsy projects you've been getting into now that you're a homemaker. There’s no judgment present. It feels more like he’s learning you.

“Done,” you’re able to tell him eventually. You hand the drawing over to him. He smiles from ear-to-ear and you could just barf it’s so beautiful. He has fucking dimples . He raises a hand to his mouth and lets out a laugh. You laugh, too.

“This is amazing,” he grins up at you, “Thank you.” You steal one of his smokes, light it, and sit upright. He hands the drawing back to you and you tuck it away.

The second you finish the drawing, you start ruminating on this thing between you and Javier. You’re acting like horny teenagers that regret making a vow of celibacy. Finding loopholes that you know aren’t right.

Before you can start processing these feelings out loud, Javi interrupts your thoughts, “What movie are you going to see this Wednesday?”

Your face scrunches up in contemplation, “I’m not sure yet. The Truman Show looks good?”

“Do you want company?”

“That depends,” you squint and tap your finger to your chin, “Your company?”

“Obviously,” he scoffs.

You lean towards him and bite your lip, “I suppose.”

“Can I maybe… take you out to dinner afterwards?” he asks.

Your heart is pounding. A grin spreads across your face, “That would be lovely.”

He returns your smile, “It’s a date.”

[ Next Chapter ]

#narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña x ofc #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena fic #narcos fic #pedrostories #pedro pascal #narcos #pedro pascal fandom #javier pena #jdett

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socialdegenerate · 1 year

Text

Fanfic: If We Fall, We Fall Together

I started this fic back in late June, wrote 7k words in like 3 days, lost interest, came back to it and wrote the remaining 4k this afternoon — but I don’t remember that game at all beyond 1) the 3 Hopes characters are the 3 Houses characters if they went to therapy, and 2) the Sylvian/Yuri support chain was gay as hell

But I’m a Sylvix fella at heart so I can only use Sylvain/Yuri as a vehicle to get Sylvix together, of course

Fire Emblem Warriors: Three Hopes Sylvix | Sylvain Jose Gautier x Felix Hugo Fraldarius ; Sylvain Jose Gautier x Yuri Leclerc NSFW (but pretty mild for me, mostly just some hand and mouth stuff) 11,247 words

——————————————— ———————————————

“C’mon, Felix, you need to take a break at some point. You’re almost working yourself harder than Dimitri at this point, and I won’t be picking you up off the floor if you pass out.”

Trying for his best ‘kind of concerned, but not enough to piss Felix off’ face, Sylvain hoped it would be enough for Felix to actually do what he asked for once. His best friend had never been good at taking as much rest as Sylvain would have liked, despite the fact that Felix bitched regularly about Dimitri doing the exact same thing, and becoming the Duke had only made things that much worse.

“I told you, I haven’t even trained yet—”

“You’re just about the most highly trained person in this whole damn camp, you’re not gonna forget how to swing a sword if you take one night off to grab dinner at a reasonable hour and then sit down with me for a bit.”

It was the second part of that that Sylvan was really pushing for. Having forced himself to take a step back from his younger years of sex and scandal in constant rotation, he’d managed to find the time and the space to really think about what he wanted — and what he wanted was Felix.

Bitchy, recalcitrant, impossible to deal with Felix; but also loyal, quietly devoted, and unfairly fucking beautiful Felix. For all his whinging and barbed jabs, he’d never given up on Sylvain even when everyone else was well on their way, and in quiet moments together he could even be damn near affectionate sometimes.

Hell, he’d even gotten into a physical fight because someone had dared to say something less than complimentary about the skirt-chasing heir to House Gautier.

Really, what else could Sylvain have done except fall in love with him?

Not love in the way he’d used to sweet talk about to convince a pretty merchant’s daughter to let him under her dress, but in the horrible, nausea-inducing, oh-so-addicting way he’d finally come to learn was actually real. And one of these days he might even manage to find the chance to subtly hint about it to Felix; if, of course, he could pull the man away from his to-do list for five fucking minutes so that they could spend some private time together.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Felix snapped, souring Sylvain’s little love-struck mood a little, “but some of us have actual responsibilities now.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Sylvain said, holding his hands up in mock surrender, “I know, and everyone respects the hell out of what you’re doing — and what you have done for the last couple years. But no one’s gonna judge you for taking one evening off to hang out with your best friend.”

“It’s not about judging, it’s about the fact that we’re in a fucking war, Sylvain!”

Ah.

Truthfully, Sylvain was usually better at picking up on when Felix was stressed and knowing not to push him too much. But then again, when wasn’t Felix stressed these days, with the Empire breathing down their necks and thousands upon thousands of innocent citizens caught in the crossfire. Obviously he’d picked the wrong day to bother Felix, and he knew enough about military strategy to know when to make a tactical retreat.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the war; it was just that he coped by spending quality time with the people he loved, while Felix coped by isolating himself. Felix wasn’t wrong about that, necessarily, but Sylvain just wanted to make sure that he knew that Sylvain was always there for him.

“Felix, I—”

“I’m not done,” Felix interrupted sharply, and Sylvain really did not like that look in his eyes. “We’re not kids anymore. Some of us actually grew up and realised there are more important things going on than lazing about and pretending like everything is okay.”

It was nowhere near the worst thing anyone had ever said about him and yet, it hurt like it was. Of all the people who should have noticed that Sylvain really had cleaned his act up, had worked hard to become the kind of man he always should have been, Sylvain had thought that Felix had really seen him grow since they’d met again at the Academy.

Apparently not, though.

“You’re right,” Sylvain said before Felix could keep cutting him to the core with words as precise as his swordplay. “Sorry.”

Turning on his heel, Sylvain walked away from Felix’s makeshift office and towards the quieter areas near the stables. Of course, nothing was ever truly quiet around camp, but the last thing he wanted to do was have to put on a smile for everyone else while he wondered why he could never quite get on the same level as Felix.

In fairness, that was probably his divine punishment for the hearts he’d broken in his youth…not that he believed in things like that.

But if it was true, he definitely deserved it.

Fully intending to pet his horse and definitely not sulk until he felt a little better, Sylvain grabbed some of the grooming equipment from the stable’s storage area and headed over to where his true favourite lady was enjoying some well-deserved rest time.

“You know what, I just don’t get him,” Sylvain murmured as he set to making his horse shine as beautifully as she deserved. “He whines about Dimitri not taking enough breaks, and then gets all rude at me when I try to stop him from working himself to collapse.”

His conversation partner didn’t seem to have much to say to that, but Sylvain didn’t mind. “And one minute he’s literally fighting people over my honour — yeah, yeah, not that I have any of that — while the next he’s treating me like I’m still the same jackass I used to be.”

Sylvain patted his horse’s flank and sighed, not quite knowing what he was hoping to achieve by talking to his horse.

“Careful,” a voice said from deeper in the stables, Sylvain jolting in shock at the unexpected interruption. “Your mask is slipping.”

“Didn’t realise you’d taken up lurking in the stables,” Sylvain said as he turned to face Yuri, who was carefully picking his way through the muck in his heeled boots.

“There can be good info to be overheard here, people seem to like talking to animals when they think no one’s around.” Playing with the ends of his hair in clearly feigned innocence, Yuri side-eyed Sylvain’s horse slightly and came to a stop just outside of biting range.

Sylvain scoffed, not even bothering to try to play it off. Yuri had always been able to see right through him; perhaps even better than Felix did. But he saw through Yuri in return, and it was strangely easy to talk to someone like that. “And here I thought you hated getting dirty.”

“Oh, please,” Yuri said with a wink. “You know me better than that.”

Despite himself, Sylvain had to laugh. After their slightly awkward first meeting, Sylvain hadn’t quite known what to make of Yuri. He certainly hadn’t trusted him, which was something that had definitely gone both ways. With time and battles fought side by side, though, they’d built up a grudging respect and something that was almost like friendship.

And then, well, Yuri was hot and discreet and liked using sex as a tool to play with people’s favour; and while Sylvain had given up his terribly philandering ways, he certainly wasn’t celibate. It worked out well for them, even if Sylvain sometimes felt like he was catering to Yuri’s whims far more than the reverse

“Did you hear anything good this time?” Sylvain asked.

Yuri shrugged, idly inspecting his nails with calculated casualness. “I could tell you — for a price.”

“And here I am, having spent my entire fortune on booze and women.” It was a stupid joke, if not one that felt particularly jagged considering the way Felix had treated him earlier. But if even his best friend still thought that he hadn’t made any progress then he might as well just run with it.

“What a shame,” Yuri murmured, patting Sylvain’s chest, and the way his hand lingered a little made it unavoidably obvious as to why exactly he’d emerged from the darkness to bother Sylvain. “So then, what are you doing tonight?”

Sylvain really had grown up a lot from his days of drowning in sex to avoid taking a good, hard look at his actual problems. He had! He’d genuinely made an effort to start dealing with things properly, and as annoying as it was, it really had made things better to start facing them head-on.

But he was still only human, and Felix’s harsh words had cut at his ego like only Felix could. And at least Yuri knew the score with Sylvain, and knew that things would only ever be casual between them. Sylvain even suspected that if he ever managed to give up his infatuation with Felix for long enough to develop so much as a single feeling for Yuri, the man would disappear into the night for the last time.

Thankfully, then, it didn’t seem like his feelings for Felix were going anywhere anytime soon, even when Felix was being really fucking rude.

And if Felix thought he hadn’t changed, then maybe he should prove Felix right.

Tilting his chin up with calculated flirtation, the kind he’d put to bed years ago and now felt surprisingly rusty, Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “You, I hope.”

“You’re hotter when you’re sad,” Yuri said, screwing up his nose. “But if I feel like it, I’ll meet you in your tent after dinner.”

Turning away, Yuri glanced back over his shoulder when he reached the entrance of the stables. “And make sure you bathe, I’ll leave if you still smell like horses.”

Shaking his head, Sylvain turned back to his horse and began to gather the grooming equipment he’d barely gotten to use. “Sorry, sweetheart, but you heard the orders. I’ll bring you extra treats tomorrow, okay?”

Sylvain was reasonably sure that his horse wasn’t aware enough of the conversation to be actively judging him, but it sure didn’t feel that way when she shook her head and snorted.

“Can’t win today,” Sylvain sighed, petting her nose in apology. “Copping it from all angles.”

Taking a deep breath, Sylvain shook himself out and donned his emotional armour before stepping back into the world outside of the stables. Even though it was a shame that Felix certainly wouldn’t be joining him, he could pull himself together for dinner and a bath.

At least he had something to look forward to afterwards, for once.

—----------------------------------------------

The thing about Yuri, Sylvain had quickly learned, was that he very much worked to his own schedule.

‘After dinner’ could mean anything within the span of about six hours, which was how Sylvain found himself beginning to drift off as he laid back on the cot in his tent while waiting to see whether Yuri would even show up at all.

At least it was beginning to get warm enough for him to be able to laze around without a shirt on, clad only in the loose trousers he favoured after bathing.

Being alone with his thoughts no longer terrified him as much as it used to, especially once he’d stopped fighting the way his idle mind tended to inevitably turn towards Felix. As fun as Yuri was, there was no question that Sylvain would have much preferred to have been waiting for Felix to retire to his — their, perhaps, if he felt particularly self-indulgent — tent for the evening.

Felix’s sharp edges tended to soften when he was tired, and he was almost painfully adorable when his hair was beginning to escape from the high ponytail he’d begun to favour after haircuts had fallen extremely low on the priority list during the war.

Biting his lip, Sylvain let one of his hands fall flat against his bare stomach, fingers brushing against his waistband. If Felix were to come back to their tent, ready to crawl into bed with Sylvain, would he let Sylvain touch him a little to work through some of his pent-up stress? Would he let Sylvain worship him the way he deserved?

“Getting started without me?”

“Fel—uck,” Sylvain recovered clumsily, ignoring Yuri’s too-knowing gaze. By now he really should have been more used to Yuri’s habit of sneaking up on him, but the man had an uncanny knack for knowing when people were at their most vulnerable. “You know, the only thing I really miss about the Academy dorms was having an actual door that closed.”

“Closed doors have never stopped me,” Yuri said casually as he let down his hair and took off his shirt, leaving it neatly folded on Sylvain’s tidy little table. That…really wasn’t altogether surprising, Sylvain supposed, and once again he was glad that he and Yuri had settled into a relatively peaceful existence instead of the constant wariness and backstabbing they’d been heading towards at first.

Even if he didn’t entirely trust Yuri, it was much easier to have him sort of on Sylvain’s side rather than not.

Not to mention that the fringe benefits weren’t too bad either.

The beds at their camp weren’t particularly large, practicality being a far more urgent concern than luxury when on the battleground. Still, Yuri moved with utmost grace as he straddled Sylvain on the bed, neither of them interested in having a chat before they got into it.

“You were getting started without me,” Yuri said with a smirk as he rolled his hips, rubbing his cock against Sylvain’s much harder one through their trousers.

Opening his mouth to say something that wasn’t admitting that he’d been fantasising about another guy while waiting for Yuri, Sylvain didn’t get far before Yuri’s tongue was in his mouth. As someone who’d tended to take the lead with the people he’d bedded, it gave him a thrill to give up a little control to someone else; especially someone who was shorter and slighter than him and, well, built a lot like Felix.

Sylvain had to admit that his fantasies about Felix had become a lot more realistic since he’d started sleeping with Yuri, even if he doubted that Felix would ever be as upfront about what he wanted as Yuri was.

Sylvain had known Felix his whole life and he still didn’t know what the guy wanted half the time.

”Focus,” Yuri murmured right into Sylvain’s mouth, biting his bottom lip with slightly more force than most people would have been game to. The sharp sting had Sylvain’s hips pushing upwards and he groaned when one of Yuri’s hands slid between their bodies, groping at Sylvain’s dick.

Still, Sylvain wasn’t about to let Yuri do all the work — he still did have somewhat of a reputation to uphold, of course — and so he grabbed Yuri’s hips and coaxed him into moving, letting him rub himself up against the back of his own hand.

“Are you going to hurry up and fuck me?” Yuri asked bluntly, sitting up and tossing his long hair back. “Some of us like our beauty sleep.”

“And some of us like foreplay,” Sylvain grinned. Yuri scoffed and rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem particularly bothered as he broke away from Sylvain’s grip and made his way further down the bed, kissing along Sylvain’s bare torso as he went.

If Yuri was good with his tongue when he kissed, that had absolutely nothing on how good he was with a cock in his mouth. Sylvain buried a hand in Yuri’s hair and groaned, barely managing to stop himself from thrusting further into Yuri’s throat —

And then the flap of his tent opened.

“Sylvain, apparently I might have been a little rude earlier, so…” Felix’s voice trailed off as he stared wide-eyed at the pair on the bed. All at once, Sylvain jolted in shock and broke Yuri’s rhythm, leaving Yuri coughing as he pulled away from Sylvain’s dick.

“Felix, I—” Sylvain started, completely forgetting that his whole cock was out now that Yuri had sat back, but Felix had already disappeared just as suddenly as he’d arrived.

“Awkward,” Yuri said, already swinging his leg back over Sylvain’s hips. “Tell your boy to knock next time.”

“On a tent?” Sylvain asked dumbly, before he caught up to himself and grabbed Yuri’s hips to lift him back off. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

Yuri lifted an eyebrow, staring at Sylvain in that calculating way that always made him feel too exposed. “You’ve never complained before.”

“Yeah, well,” Sylvain said, pointedly looking down his body to where his cock had apparently decided that it no longer wanted to play.

“Hm.” Rather than seeming offended, Yuri was still looking at him like a puzzle to be solved — and not a particularly difficult one. Rather than sit there with his pants down and wait for Yuri to pull his ego apart, Sylvain shuffled his trousers back up and then flopped back on his bed, slapping a hand over his eyes with a frustrated groan.

“I think I get it now,” Yuri said, and he sounded so smug that Sylvain had to move his hand to eye him suspiciously. “Would you get hard again if I did my hair more like this?”

Gathering his hair in his hand, Yuri pulled it up and held it in a messy imitation of Felix’s high ponytail, and Sylvain felt sick.

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, feeling simultaneously still somewhat emotional brusied from earlier, embarrassed at having been caught with his pants down by the man he loved, and guilty that he’d once again tried to use sex to smother his problems.

His smug look fading into something more neutral, Yuri let go of his hair and nodded. “I suppose at this point, I won’t begrudge you one secret.”

Standing up and grabbing his shirt, Yuri dressed himself again and then crossed his arms, looking down at Sylvain. “But sort your shit out before you invite me back here again.”

“Noted,” Sylvain said. He didn’t watch as Yuri left, not wanting to prolong the awkward failure of a moment any longer, and then he shoved a knuckle in his mouth to bite down on the frustrated yell he really, really wanted to let out.

He kind of wanted to sink into the ground and never have to leave his tent again, but he didn’t like it when Felix was mad at him. Even when it was justified, which honestly Sylvain didn’t think it really was this time. With Yuri there were no chances of broken hearts, of bastard children, or of loud blow-up arguments that arose if his eyes strayed to someone else.

If anything, Felix should have been applauding him for his responsibility and maturity in finding appropriate ways to soothe his libido.

Snorting at himself, Sylvain flopped back against his bed and ignored the way it shook underneath him. Sure, in an idea world he’d have nothing to apologise for: he’d been in a private space, engaging in entirely consensual activities with someone he hadn’t misled at all as to their future together, and it was Felix’s fault that he’d barged straight in without at least announcing himself first.

But Felix was Felix, and considering that they’d just had an argument about Sylvain not taking the war as seriously as he should have been, Sylvain figured he could at least extend an olive branch.

“The things I do for you,” Sylvain muttered to himself as he shrugged on a shirt and stepped back out into the camp. “Now, if I were a pissed-off Felix, where would I be…”

There were still a few soldiers scattered around the training grounds, but surprisingly enough Felix wasn’t one of them. He also wasn’t in the empty dining hall, the tent that doubled as his office, the tent he slept in or the armoury.

By the time Sylvain had found the war room, the market and even the fucking chapel devoid of Felix, he was beginning to worry. It had gotten late — surely Felix hadn’t left the camp on his own?

Fully prepared to do another full walk around the camp, Sylvain squinted into the darkness and started when he recognised a familiar figure in front of him

“Ingrid!” He said as he walked over to her, almost as glad to see her as he would have been to see Felix. She’d frequently taken part in the hunts they had to hold when Felix got worked up and disappeared, and Sylvain hoped she’d be able to help him out once again. “Have you seen Felix? I can’t find him anywhere and I need to talk to him.”

“Nope, not tonight,” Ingrid said, and Sylvain would have believed her if he hadn’t known her for as long as he’d known Felix. Her voice got a little higher when she was hiding something, although it was hard to pick if you didn’t know what to look out for.

“Ingrid,” Sylvain said, turning on the charm just a little. “Please let me know where he is, I’d rather sort this out now than let it hang over us for too long.”

“You really have grown up,” Ingrid said with a surprisingly proud look on her face. “But I promised him I wouldn’t say…”

She looked close to breaking, but Sylvain could only sigh. “Okay, okay, I won’t push it as long as he’s safe. If I make you spill he’ll only get mad at both of us, and you don’t deserve that.”

Clearly relieved, Ingrid nodded her head. “You know what he’s like. Give him the night to cool down, it’s not as if he can ever stay mad at you for long.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“He forgives you quicker than you think, it just takes him a while to forgive himself and stop being embarrassed over how he acts sometimes. And I’m only telling you this because I’m mad about him putting me in the middle of your little squabbles again, so please try to work it out as soon as you can.”

“Noted,” Sylvain said. “I’ll try to catch him during his morning training, then.”

Ingrid laughed, and the joyful sound made Sylvain feel just a little better about his absolute shitshow of a night. “You’re either a brave man or an idiot, confronting Felix Fraldarius when he has a sword in hand.”

“I like a little danger,” Sylvain shrugged. “Just — if you see him again, tell him I want to talk to him, yeah?”

“I will, and good luck,” Ingrid said. “Go get some sleep.”

“Of course I will,” Sylvain said, wishing her a good night as she turned and walked off into the darkness.

‘Some’ sleep turned out to be very little, as Sylvain spent the entire night alternating between lightly dozing and staring at the roof of his tent. Being in love with Felix was bad for his health, he decided, considering that he couldn’t get his brain to stop fretting about just how bad things would be between them this time. Even if he hadn’t actually done anything wrong (this time), it was obvious that Felix was hurt and unhappy, and there was no way that Sylvain could brush that aside as not being his problem.

So he’d catch Felix early, sort their latest round of nonsense out, and still have time to grab a little nap before the day began in earnest. It was the perfect plan.

…Except, of course, the Goddess (and/or the Empire) had other plans for them.

Sylvain was jolted out of a light doze when a messenger called for him outside his tent, announcing that the generals were expected in the war room while the troops mobilised. The timing couldn’t have been worse, considering that he’d barely slept and was still stuck on needing to sort things out with Felix before it could fester any longer, but the war didn’t care about any of that.

At least he was well-practised at getting himself presentable and into position with minimal brainpower, and time blurred slightly until he found himself sitting around the long table with the other generals.

Dimitri was explaining what they were rushing off to do, but all Sylvain managed to take in was that they were expected to go to some place and fend off an approaching battalion of Empire soldiers that a scout had spotted bearing down on a nearby city. The finer details didn’t matter, not when Felix was sitting at the other end of the table looking like death warmed up.

He seemed like he’d slept even less than Sylvain had, and he was very obviously avoiding looking in Sylvain’s direction. If it was anyone else, Sylvain would have considered quietly approaching them and asking if it was a good idea for them to be going into battle, but Felix would murder him for even suggesting that and then probably get himself hurt trying to prove that he was fine.

Shaking his head, Sylvain resolved to keep an eye on Felix as much as he could during the upcoming battle. If Felix ended up in danger due to a lack of sleep dulling his reflexes, Sylvain would never be able to live with the guilt

That was easier said than done, of course. Felix had his own troops to organise before the march and then when they reached the battle, as a mounted unit Sylvain was directed to take care of the further reaches of the city while Felix handled the closer areas on foot. As much as he wanted to leave his duty behind and go chasing after Felix, he wasn’t that stupid and irresponsible. People’s lives were in his hands, and he was going to take that seriously.

Still, it was a relief when they’d managed to push back the enemy from the north of the city, leaving their own people to guard particularly sensitive areas and allowing Sylvain to make his way back towards the centre of the city.

He was almost beginning to feel confident in their complete victory when he heard the sound of an explosion, looking up just in time to see a second huge projectile falling towards the city. Forgetting about looking for Felix, he urged his horse towards the sound of screaming, determined to get everyone out before more projectiles could rain down on them.

He could see Ingrid circling overhead, and when she spotted him racing towards the impact zone she swooped down and flew alongside him for a moment.

“Dimitri and I are going to find the source of the projectiles so we can stop them,” she yelled, no time for pleasantries on the battlefield. “Dedue and Felix could use backup straight ahead.”

“Got it,” Sylvain said, already urging his horse to go faster. While he couldn’t take a direct hit, Dedue at least wore heavy armour that could help keep him safe from debris that would be flying around from each impact; Felix tended to dress in lighter armour that was good against swords but less good against huge explosions.

If he was working at anything less than his best, he was in serious danger.

Adrenaline keeping him moving forward, Sylvain swept his lance through groups of enemies, his beloved horse knowing exactly where to take him and trampling on the stragglers as he went. How this many enemies had managed to sneak up on the city without advance warning, he didn’t know; and in the moment, he definitely didn’t care. What mattered was keeping the city safe, and making sure that Felix walked away from the battle on two legs.

Rounding the rubble of a destroyed building, Sylvain could see Felix’s soldiers fighting further down the long street, but there were a lot of enemy troops between them. Throwing himself into the battle, Sylvain’s attention was split between the fight he was in and the fight happening in front of him. He just needed to know that Felix was still standing, and then he could put all his focus on cleaning up the troops that were stubbornly hanging on.

And then, like a gift from the goddess herself, some of Felix’s soldiers pushed the enemy back with a wave of reason magic and Sylvain had a direct view of Felix locking swords with an enemy assassin.

He looked like he was going to come out on top — and Sylvain would have expected nothing less from his best friend — but the amount of enemies still swarming around them made Sylvain nervous.

If he could just get a little closer—

“SYLVAIN!” Dedue shouted from somewhere off to the side, and Sylvain ripped his eyes off Felix just in time for his horse to wrench them both to the side as a huge boulder fell from the sky and landed right where he’d just been. But the boulders alone weren’t the only danger, and Sylvain yelled as a huge piece of debris from the explosion hit his body with unfathomable force, his brain unable to keep up with the pain and what was happening as he was thrown from his horse and headfirst towards the ground.

—----------------------------------

“Why isn’t he waking up?” Sylvain heard someone demand, the words coming through fuzzy and a bit too loud. He considered opening up his eyes to see what was going on, but his head was pounding and he felt a little like he’d fallen off a cliff.

“Mmph,” he said, aiming for ‘perhaps a little quieter, please’ and not quite getting there.

“Shh,” someone else said instead. “A head injury like that takes a little longer to recover from than a stab wound, even with this much healing magic. Besides, you should be resting as well, you’re injured too.”

“I’m fine,” Felix insisted — because even with his eyes closed and his brain refusing to cooperate, Sylvain could recognise that stubborn tone anywhere. “When is he going to wake up?”

“M’up,” Sylvain managed this time, and he forced his eyes to open. He wished he could say that he didn’t recognise the roof of the medical tent from the camp on sight, even with a serious headache and blurry vision, but it wasn’t the first time he’d woken up here.

What was less obvious was how he’d gotten here. He distinctly remembered going into battle, but everything after that was blank.

“Please don’t try to get up,” Mercedes said, leaning over Sylvain and smiling down at him. “How do you feel?”

“Ow,” Sylvain said, his body revolting against him when he tried looking around to see where Felix was. “Felix?”

“You idiot,” Felix said. He looked exhausted and dishevelled, and Sylvain might have appreciated his shirtlessness more if it wasn’t for the bandage wrapped around his chest. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“He’s not the only one,” Mercedes said lightly, Felix looking away with a scowl. “Do you remember what happened, Sylvain?”

“There was a…battle,” Sylvain said, wincing when the words felt like they were tearing up his throat.

“Ah, one moment,” Mercedes interrupted, leaning away and then coming back with a vulnerary in hand. “Drink this.”

She held the bottle to his lips and he gratefully swallowed, everything feeling a little bit easier as the healing potion flooded through his system. “Better?”

“Better,” Sylvain agreed. “I remember going into battle, but…”

“You got hit by a fucking flying rock,” Felix snapped. “Like an absolute idiot.”

“And Felix here was stabbed when he turned his back on the enemy to run towards you,” Mercedes said, her voice as sweet as honey and her judgement as deadly as, well, a fucking flying rock. Felix scowled but looked appropriately chastised, Sylvain now able to turn his head enough to watch as he crossed his arms and sank down.

“Not my fault he clearly can’t look after himself.”

Sylvain barely managed a laugh that quickly turned into a pained gasp, the vulnerary only able to do so much for what seemed like it must have been a pretty nasty hit.

“You need more rest,” Mercedes said, and all Sylvain could do was agree. “Do you want some help falling asleep again?”

“Goddess, please,” Sylvain sighed, well-acquainted with the soothing magic that Mercedes could wield to help her patients settle down. “Thanks.”

Her fingertips lightly touching his temples, Mercedes hummed lightly under her breath as soothing waves of magic sent Sylvain back towards sleep.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel like there was something he’d missed, considering that he didn’t remember anything since riding into battle on his—

“Horse?” Sylvain forced out, anxiety sluggishly spiking through his body. If he’d been hurt this badly, surely she—

“In the stables and recovering nicely,” Mercedes said, a gentle smile on her face as she continued to send that numbing magic through Sylvain’s body. “She saved your life.”

“That’s m’girl,” Sylvain slurred as sleep took over once again.

—----------------------------------

The next time Sylvain woke up, he felt damn near totally human again. Mercedes’ magic really did work like, well, magic. He even felt well-rested, although it was a bit disappointing to sit up and realise that he was alone this time. There were a bunch of purple flowers in a vase beside his bed, though, and Sylvain reached for the wax-sealed note sitting up against them.

Glad you’re not dead, it’d be a waste of good dick.

Well they probably weren’t from Felix then, Sylvain decided as he re-folded the note and tossed it aside. There was a semi-decent chance they’d be toxic, though, and so he settled for admiring Yuri’s gift from a distance as he hauled himself out of bed.

This time Manuela was pottering about in the tent, and she smiled at him as he left the patient rest area. “Ah, Sylvain, glad you’ve rejoined the rest of us in the world of the living.”

“How could I possibly die and leave my favourite beautiful doctor alone?” Sylvain flirted, knowing that Manuela wouldn’t take him seriously.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Manuela laughed. “As long as the dizziness is gone, you’re free to leave, but absolutely no physical exertion for at least another day. And yes, that includes sex.”

“You know me too well.” Or, at least, she knew his reputation too well; he hadn’t actually been planning to walk straight out of the infirmary and into someone’s bed.

“And if you see Felix, make sure he’s following my orders to spend the day resting. He might not have taken as bad a hit as you did, but he nearly fainted from exhaustion when we got back to camp yesterday.” From the look on Manuela’s face, she clearly assumed that Felix was ignoring her orders entirely, and Sylvain figured that was probably correct.

“Got it, I’ll try to pry him away from his training.”

“Thanks,” Manuela sighed, sounding defeated. “At least he let us heal him eventually: he kept insisting that no one should waste their magic on him until you were healed, even as he was actively bleeding out.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Sylvain said as his heart filled with a weird mix of exasperation and affection, and Manuela laughed.

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

—-------------------------------------------

Felix was, surprisingly, nowhere to be found at the training grounds.

He was, however, sitting up at his desk when Sylvain stuck his head through the tent flaps, frowning at whatever he was working on.

“I heard you were told to rest.”

“I’m busy,” Felix said, not looking up. “The world didn’t stop just because you were asleep for the best part of two days.”

“Whatever you’re doing, it can wait. You got hurt too.”

“I’m fine.”

“Felix.” The serious tone in Sylvain’s voice made Felix pause and look up, treating Sylvain to a clear view of the dark circles under his eyes. “You need to rest.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Felix snapped. “You nearly died, and if I don’t have anything to focus on all I can think about is the way you sounded as you went flying off your horse.”

Inhaling sharply, Sylvain walked around the desk and squatted down beside Felix’s chair. Felix leaned away from him, just slightly, and so as much as Sylvain wanted to reach out and touch him, he didn’t push it.

“Hey, I’m fine. See? It takes more than a little rock to kill me.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Wasn’t meant to be,” Sylvain said. “Felix, please. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Felix didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t go back to what he’d been doing. Sylvain figured that was a win.

“What do you suggest I do, then? Mercedes already told the training master not to let me anywhere near a sword.”

Sylvain barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes — of course Felix had already tried that. Still, he hadn’t quite thought this far ahead and now he was scrambling for something else that Felix would let them do.

“Oh, I know! We can go on a little expedition, somewhere away from the camp for a bit?”

Felix didn’t look convinced, so Sylvain turned up the charm a bit. “I’ll beg some food from the kitchen, and it’s a beautiful day outside. And if you hang out with me for a while, I won’t complain if you want to do some more work afterwards.”

“Well…”

“And we need to talk. About…y’know.”

Felix sighed, looking like the entire world was against him, but Sylvain knew he’d already won.

“You’ll let me work in peace after?”

“I’ll let you work in peace after. Within reason.”

“Fine. Meet me at the gates in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Felix,” Sylvain grinned as he hauled himself back to standing. “I promise you’ll have a great time.”

“Hm.”

—------------------------------------

The ride to the field passed in companionable silence, Sylvain mostly managing not to think too hard about the fact that he had to ride a borrowed horse because he’d gotten his own hurt. She’d seemed glad to see him, though, happily snorting at him and accepting the loving attention he’d lavished upon her, and he had no doubt that she’d be back in action shortly.

He pulled to a stop when they rode up to a private little space, nicely sunny but enclosed by enough trees that they wouldn’t be interrupted by anyone travelling past. He’d possibly scoped this out as a potential date spot, but there was no need to tell Felix about that.

Especially not when Felix finally looked like some of the tension had drained out of his shoulders, to the point that he actually thanked Sylvain when he’d offered Felix first chance at the basket of food he’d managed to charm the kitchen staff into handing over. Even Sylvain wasn’t stupid enough to ruin such an unguarded moment from the duke of poor social graces.

“So,” Sylvain said once Felix had finished a few small pieces of meat. “First up, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Felix asked, looking genuinely confused.

“For screwing up the battle? And, uh, that whole thing with Yuri too.”

“Unless you got hit on purpose, which I doubt even you’re stupid enough to do, you don’t need to apologise for that.”

“But then you got hurt—”

“Sylvain, as much as you’re determined to think otherwise, not everything is your fault.” Felix sounded too close to clamming up again, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground, and so Sylvain didn’t push any further.

“In any case, I’m glad you’re okay. I would’ve been so annoyed if you’d died while you were still mad at me.”

“Why do you assume I’m always mad at you?”

“I don’t?” Sylvain said, confused. “But you were definitely mad at me because of the whole argument we had, and then the Yuri thing.”

“I was coming to apologise,” Felix pointed out. “Even I know when I’m wrong, despite what you think.”

“And then you were so mad at me that even Ingrid didn’t want to risk telling me where you’d disappeared to.”

“No, I needed space to think,” Felix said like it was blindingly obvious and Sylvain was an idiot.

“...Are you going to tell me what you were thinking about?”

“I had some things to figure out. That’s all.”

Sylvain blinked, not quite sure what to think about that. “And did you figure it out?”

“Not really.”

“...Well, if you want to ask me anything, I’m an open book right now.”

It was actually the truth. Away from the camp, from the military, from their responsibilities and any prying eyes, Sylvain was actually willing to be entirely upfront with Felix. It was the least he could do, after all the problems Sylvain had caused within the space of a couple of days.

There was a long silence and then Felix muttered something quietly, but even with how close they were sitting Sylvain couldn’t make it out. And, of course, Felix tended to hate repeating himself.

But Sylvain’s curiosity would always get the best of him.

“What was that?”

Felix glanced at Sylvain and then away, and Sylvain blamed the cool air for turning his nose and cheeks pink. “I said, why him?”

“Who?” Sylvain asked, genuinely not sure who Felix was referring to.

Rubbing his nose, eyes still averted, Felix spat out the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Yuri.”

Opening his mouth, Sylvain caught himself before he could make some stupid joke. That would more than certainly go poorly, and he was a changed man. Opening himself to genuine scrutiny was more agonising than almost being literally cut in half, but this was Felix.

Felix, who had seen the best and the worst of him; Felix who, above all else, had earned the right to a bit of truth from Sylvain.

“He’s hot, he knows how to make something casual work, and I,” Sylvain hesitated slightly, suddenly feeling a little bashful, “I like the way he takes the lead, I guess. Not something I was used to, y’know?”

Felix frowned, clearly thinking. “I should’ve known you’d only be interested in fucking around.”

“Well, with him, yeah,” Sylvain admitted. “Neither of us were interested in anything serious with each other.”

“Are you ever?” Felix said, the jab clearly pointed. It hurt a bit, for sure, but Sylvain wasn’t going to get goaded into an argument and have Felix storm off in a huff.

“For the right person? Sure.”

For you? Anything, he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. Nothing would have made Felix run away faster than going straight to that.

“I find that hard to believe,” Felix said.

“I’m not as terrible as you seem to think I am.”

Picking idly at the grass they were sitting on, Felix clearly wasn’t about to face Sylvain directly. Still, he hadn’t left; so Sylvain would take what he could get. “I don’t think you’re terrible.”

“Oh, sure,” Sylvain snorted. “Just frivolous, idiotic, foolish and, apparently, incapable of feeling love.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” Sylvain asked, his frustration beginning to boil over despite his best efforts. “Because I sure can’t interpret that any other way.”

“I meant,” Felix started, and that was clearly all he had. But Sylvain wasn’t going to let him wriggle out of this one, and he raised an eyebrow expectantly. “...I don’t know what I meant.”

“Then why did you say it?”

Felix shrugged, and there was going to be a bare patch in the grass from the amount he was pulling out in frustration.

“I do have feelings, Felix, and they can be hurt.”

“I know,” Felix said quietly, glancing at Sylvain and then away again. “...Sorry.”

It didn’t totally soothe his bruised feelings, but getting an actual apology from Felix helped dissolve more of Sylvain’s irritation than he would have expected. Especially as this apology wasn’t being thrown at him while he was under another man.

“I appreciate that,” Sylvain said. “It means a lot to me — you mean a lot to me — and I hate it when we fight.”

“I really did think you were dead,” Felix said suddenly, picking some grass out of the ground beneath them. “You were so still and the enemy was bearing down on you and I didn’t even realise I’d been stabbed until after I knew you were still alive and everyone around you was dead.”

Sylvain’s chest hurt, knowing just how badly he would react if their positions had been switched. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of the head injury, or the fact that Felix was actually opening up to him for once, or even the near-death experience, but Sylvain’s unspoken feelings were crawling up his throat and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep them down.

…So he didn’t even bother trying.

“Felix?”

“Mm?” Felix hummed, something in Sylvain’s tone making him actually look up to meet Sylvain’s eyes.

Fuck subtle hints.

“I love you.”

“Wh-” Felix spluttered, his eyes wide and his face rapidly going red. “Sylvain.”

“Feels good to finally say that,” Sylvain said, pressing a hand over his rapidly beating heart and shooting Felix a crooked smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to feel the same way or anything, I know I’m not the kind of person who deserves—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Felix snapped, still as red as Sylvain had ever seen him. “You might do stupid shit sometimes but you’re worth more than you think.”

“...Thanks, Fe,” Sylvain managed to say eventually. “I just meant that I’m fine with staying friends.”

“Is that what you want?”

“You barely tolerate me most days, so I figured that’s what you’d want.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Felix frowned. “You just frustrate me sometimes. And think with your dick too much.”

“Gee, thanks.” Sylvain wouldn’t lie, that hurt a little.

“I don’t mean it like that,” Felix said, and he actually stretched his leg out a bit to knock it against Sylvain’s knee. “I’m not good at…talking.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Sylvain,” Felix said, and as Sylvain watched he took a deep breath and visibly steadied himself. “When you went flying, all I could think about was that I didn’t want to live without you. Couldn’t live without you.”

The words were halting, sounding like it was taking all of Felix’s considerable strength to get them out, and Sylvain felt like he was going to melt on the spot.

He might have been an idiot and a fool and whatever else Felix liked to call him, but he thought he was pretty decent at reading between the lines.

“I wouldn’t want to live without you either,” Sylvain admitted, and the smile Felix gave him was small but so precious. “But I won’t push you into anything, so—”

“Sylvain, shut up and let me think.”

“Anything for you,” Sylvain said, earning himself a familiar eye roll. Still, he sat back and watched Felix clearly struggle through whatever he wanted to say, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally shook himself out and started again.

“So obviously you’re not opposed to,” Felix paused, looking embarrassed, “sex. With men, I mean.”

“Yuri is very pretty but he’s definitely a man,” Sylvain agreed, still looking at where Felix’s leg was touching his own.

“And you liked that he took the lead?”

“Hm?” Sylvain asked, not quite keeping up with where Felix was going. “Yeah, I guess.”

Slowly nodding his head, Felix seemed to be considering something. And then, with reflexes honed from thousands of hours of training and battles, Felix lunged towards Sylvain.

His hands grabbed Sylvain’s shoulders a little too tightly and his lips hit Sylvain’s own a little too hard and with an awkwardness that screamed inexperience. But the feeling still made Sylvain’s mind go blank and as the momentum made him topple over backwards, he was forced to choose between catching himself and wrapping his arms around Felix’s waist.

The last of Sylvain’s breath was knocked away when his back hit the ground, but he barely noticed it when he realised that one of Felix’s hands was cradling the back of his head to prevent it from getting hurt in their fall.

Felix, who had knocked him on his ass (and his front and his back and, yes, his head) during training more times than Sylvain wanted to remember, had softened his fall and was now using their positions to keep Sylvain trapped in a clumsy but oh-so-hungry kiss.

Not that ‘trapped’ was the right word when getting away was the last thing Sylvain would have wanted.

“Sylvain,” Felix said when he finally pulled away, sounding as winded as Sylvain felt. “I won’t do…casual. So if you can’t be serious, tell me now.”

Despite the confidence of his actions, Felix looked more than a little petrified. When Sylvain tried to meet his gaze, his eyes kept darting away and then back again; and the hand that had slipped down from Sylvain’s shoulder and onto his chest seemed to be trembling.

Unwrapping one of his arms from around Felix’s waist, Sylvain laid his hand on top of Felix’s and held it tight over his own heart. “I’ve never wanted to be so serious about anyone in my life, Fe.”

Even the chill settling in as night finished falling couldn’t be blamed for the way Felix’s face burned bright red. He looked so cute that Sylvain had to grab the front of his shirt and haul him in for another kiss, which naturally led to another and another and another.

When they finally parted for longer than a few moments, Sylvain’s wandering hands had knocked parts of Felix’s hair loose from its tie and left his clothes so askew that Felix was going to have a task ahead of him to fix them up. While he was fiddling with that, Sylvain took the opportunity to sit back up and rest his elbow on his knee, his chin resting on his palm.

“...What?” Felix said when he noticed Sylvain watching him, not quite managing to hide that it was embarrassment rather than annoyance driving his attitude.

“Never thought I’d see you like this,” Sylvain murmured, his eyes tracking over Felix’s messy hair and kiss-swollen lips.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Felix replied, his usual venom completely missing. Sylvain laughed, reaching over to coax one of Felix’s hands away from where it was straightening his clothes and lifting it to his own lips.

“If I’m an idiot, it’s only because my brain stops working right when I’m around you.”

Felix spluttered, his cheeks going bright red again, but he didn’t try to snatch his hand away from Sylvain. That was definitely a win, and Sylvain looked up to wink at Felix as he kissed the back of his hand once more and then let it fall away.

He was probably laying it on a little thick, but how was he supposed to stop doing that when Felix was letting him do it?

“C’mere,” Sylvain said, still shocked that it took minimal coaxing to get Felix kneeling over his lap again. Another deep kiss, Felix already picking up how to meet Sylvain’s tongue with his own, and Sylvain wanted to touch him properly so badly; but he didn’t want to scare Felix off, and so he kept his hands on Felix’s waist this time.

And then, for the hundredth or so time that day, Felix shocked him by taking the lead and sliding his hand between their bodies with obvious intent.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sylvain said as he grabbed Felix’s wrist, regretting that he’d bullied himself into being the good guy so thoroughly that he couldn’t just let Felix grope him with a clear conscience. “I know I said I like assertiveness but you don’t have to push yourself into anything you’re not comfortable with just because you think I want it.”

“Who’s not comfortable?” Felix asked, but then his eyes widened slightly. “Unless you don’t want —”

“Oh, believe me, that’s not the problem here at all,” Sylvain rushed to reassure Felix, his grip loosening and Felix immediately taking advantage to let his fingers resume their slow crawl. “But you’ve never struck me as that kinda guy, and I never want to do anything that we’re not both fully into.”

After a long, silent moment, Felix rocked his hips against Sylvain’s thigh and Sylvain had to bite back a groan at the sudden knowledge that Felix was just as hard as he was.

“Does that feel like someone who’s not into this? Besides, you let Yuri touch it,” Felix grumbled, his fingers still slowly inching down Sylvain’s stomach. “It’s my turn.”

“This isn’t a competition, you don’t need to prove anything —”

“You’re right, there’s no competition at all,” Felix said, haughty and proud even with his fingers prying open the front of Sylvain’s trousers.

“There really isn’t,” Sylvain sighed, trying not to sound so much like a lovestruck fool. Sure, Manuela had said no sex, but surely a handjob would be okay? “So if you wanna touch me that bad, you can go right ahe — ah fuck!”

Felix clearly didn’t have technique. Well, Sylvain assumed he’d at least handled one dick before, but the angles were slightly different on someone else; there was an art to it, and Sylvain had never really believed that enthusiasm could make up for a lack of practice.

But Felix already had him questioning everything he’d thought to be true, so what was one more thing to toss onto that pile. The positions of their bodies made it hard for Felix to get a decent motion going, but Sylvain couldn’t have cared less when that was his dick in Felix’s hand.

“Tell me what you like,” Felix said, the words barely penetrating the pleasure fog that had descended on Sylvain’s brain.

“I like you,” Sylvain managed, grinning dumbly when Felix snorted in amusement. “Just keep doing what you’re doing, baby, feels good.”

It was probably fifty-fifty as to whether Felix had decided to allow the pet name or if he’d missed it entirely, but Sylvain really hoped it was the former. To call Felix a pet name and not get his head figuratively (or potentially literally) ripped off was like a dream come true, and he tipped his head forward to rest against Felix’s shoulder as he let himself indulge in pleasure.

“A little faster and I’ll come,” Sylvain said, enjoying the way Felix shuddered against him. Always a quick study with something in his hands, Felix gradually increased his pace until Sylvain groaned, recognising the clear sign that he’d found the sweet spot.

His hips rocking up to meet Felix’s hand as best he could with a grown man in his lap, Sylvain let his eyes drift close and wrapped his arms around Felix’s waist to hold him close.

“Almost there,” he warned when the pleasure started to become too much, and while he wanted the moment to last forever he also wanted to completely fall apart under Felix’s hands. To make sure that Felix knew just how much of a hold he’d always had over Sylvain.

“Do it,” Felix said breathlessly, and before he knew it Sylvain was groaning as he came into Felix’s hand. All he wanted to do was clutch at Felix’s narrow waist and bury his face into Felix’s neck as he shuddered, and Felix’s free hand buried itself in the back of his hair when he went ahead and did it.

“Fuck,” Sylvain muttered against Felix, his breath coming fast as Felix stroked him through the last of his orgasm. “If you’re this good already, a little practice is gonna make you deadly.”

“I’ll add it to my training routine,” Felix said, so dry that Sylvain almost entirely missed that he was joking.

Still…that was some training that Sylvain wouldn’t need much convincing to join in with.

“My turn now?” Sylvain asked, because he might have been deep into his post-orgasm high but he was still a believer in immediately giving back twice as good as he got. Add on the fact that he had Felix in his lap and Sylvain would have kept Felix there with him for the next week if he’d thought he could get away with it.

One thing at a time, though.

Waiting for Felix to turn his focus to wiping his come-streaked hand on the grass next to them, Sylvain took advantage of his distraction to grab Felix by the hips and haul him around until he was sitting between Sylvain’s thighs with his back against Sylvain’s chest. “This okay?”

“Show me that all that practice was at least worth it.” The way that Felix melted into him had Sylvain biting his lip, suddenly finding that his usual composure was deserting him in the face of, well, Felix.

The man always had been a force of nature to Sylvain.

“You asked for it,” Sylvain replied, gently catching Felix’s earlobe between his teeth as he loosened the front of Felix’s trousers. Felix felt so hard in his hand that it must have been close to hurting, precome already making the head wet.

Setting a slow pace, Sylvain paid attention to what made Felix shudder and his breath hitch, completely entranced by every moment. His free hand was wrapped firmly across Felix’s stomach, holding Felix as close to him as Sylvain could manage without being physically inside of him, and Sylvain genuinely didn’t know if he’d ever be able to let him go.

Hooking up was great. Sylvain had done enough of it to know that. But hooking up with someone he loved?

Sylvain had never been so eager to please and so unwilling to let it finish.

“Is that good?” Sylvain asked, his lips moving against Felix’s jaw. He didn’t get a verbal answer, which he’d more or less expected, but one of Felix’s hands was gripping Sylvain’s thigh and he was beginning to squirm despite an obvious effort not to.

“You’re beautiful.” Trailing kisses along Felix’s jaw and the exposed parts of his neck, Sylvain could only laugh when Felix very unconvincingly called him a fool, his voice breaking slightly when Sylvain rubbed a thumb over the head of his cock. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, Fe.”

“Less talking, more — that,” Felix groaned, his breath coming harder and his head lolling back onto Sylvain’s shoulder and exposing more of his neck to Sylvain’s lips. Even though Felix was being so open and pliant now, he was careful not to leave any marks: Felix would definitely kill him for that once his orgasm wore off.

Picking up his pace, Sylvain held Felix close to him as he brought him towards his climax, wanting Felix to know that he cared so much even without words. If Sylvain was feeling overwhelmed by the whole thing, he doubted that Felix would be feeling much better; but Sylvain wasn’t going to let him fall.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, not even caring if that made no sense to Felix. “You can let go.”

Lifting his free hand to tilt Felix’s chin towards him, Sylvain leaned over Felix’s shoulder enough to kiss him. Felix nearly bit him when his body suddenly jerked, teeth grazing off Sylvain’s lip, and it wasn’t surprising when Sylvain felt come splash against his hand a second later.

Felix’s chest heaved as he slipped away from Sylvain’s lips, his expression as open and unguarded as Sylvain had ever seen it. “Sylvain…”

Not wanting to respond and break the moment, Sylvain just smiled and let Felix pull himself back together. He was slower to snap back than Sylvain would have expected, seeming almost reluctant to pull away and begin putting himself back in order. Surprisingly, his usual sense of distance didn’t return even after he and Sylvain had cleaned up as best they could and stood up, Sylvain offering his cleaner hand to Felix and letting the contact linger a little after he’d hauled Felix upright.

“Is this where you usually run off?” Felix asked once Sylvain let him go, brushing himself off and pointedly not making eye contact.

“Do I look like I’m going to run?”

“...No,” Felix admitted, and he was right. It actually kind of scared Sylvain a bit how unwilling he was to let the moment end.

“Hey,” Sylvain said, lightly grabbing Felix’s forearms. “Look at me.”

It took a while for Felix to comply, emotional vulnerability never really having been his strong point, but Sylvain was patient. Eventually Felix’s eyes met his own, and Sylvain let himself smile as genuinely as he wanted.

“I was telling the truth, y’know. About wanting to be serious for the right person.”

Felix flushed again, and how had Sylvain never noticed how easy it was to get him to do that? “And what, I’m the right person?”

“Who else could it be?” Sylvain asked, simultaneously wanting to vomit from being so fucking genuine and feeling like a weight had lifted off his shoulders. “It’s always been you.”

Felix stared, silent for several long, torturous moments, but he didn’t try to pull away. “...Who knew Sylvain Gautier had actual emotions?”

“Wow,” Sylvain said, his tone matching the playful glint that had appeared in Felix’s eyes. “Treat a man to the best handjob of his life and this is the thanks I get?”

“The thanks you get is that I might let you do it again.”

“Promise?” Sylvain asked, trying not to sound as excited by the idea as he felt. Felix didn’t reply, but he did tilt his face up towards Sylvain in a playful challenge.

“I like you kind of a lot, Fe,” Sylvain admitted, leaning down to leave a quick kiss on Felix’s lips.

“No, really?” Felix said dryly, and all Sylvain could do was laugh.

It was fleetingly quick, but Felix smiled and shook his head, his hand briefly resting on Sylvain’s hip before falling away.

“I’m not sleeping in the cold all night, let’s head back.”

“Wanna sleep in my tent?” Sylvain asked hopefully, not actually expecting it to work.

“...I suppose,” Felix said, and Sylvain nearly tripped over his own feet in shock.

“Then let’s get out of here,” he managed, and this time Felix really did look amused.

Fuck, Sylvain loved him so much.

—----------------------------------------------

“Felix!” Sylvain called as he swept into Felix’s makeshift office. “Let’s go get lunch.”

“Some of us have actual responsibilities,” Felix grumbled as per usual even as he pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Yes, yes,” Sylvain agreed pleasantly, hooking his elbow into Felix’s and laughing when Felix immediately slipped away and shoved his side.

“Don’t push it.”

“I would never.”

The dining hall wasn’t overly busy when they arrived, Sylvain collecting two plates of some sort of meat off the soldiers on cooking duty and dramatically presenting one in front of Felix when they sat down.

“How are things in Fraldarius?” Sylvain asked, sitting back to enjoy how animated Felix got as he discussed the homeland he was now in charge of. The sudden promotion had clearly worn on him at the start, but now he’d settled into his role so smoothly that it was sometimes hard to remember that he was only nineteen.

Halfway through a story about his mother effortlessly shutting up some old nobles who’d thought that Felix’s absence should have been filled by his uncle alone, Felix abruptly cut himself off and glared at something over Sylvain’s shoulder.

Confused, Sylvain went to turn around but froze when arms were hooked over his shoulders from behind.

“Fancy seeing you two here,” Yuri murmured, a little too close to Sylvain’s ear.

“Tch,” was all Felix had to say as Sylvain tried and failed to extricate himself from Yuri’s grip. He didn’t trust this shit at all, and just hoped that Yuri would keep the potential for damage (to body, relationship and surroundings alike) to a minimum.

“It’s been a while, Sylvain. What are you doing tonight?”

“Uh,” Sylvain started, eyeing the way Felix’s grip tightened on his knife and wondering if he should duck and save himself or piss Felix off by preventing him from stabbing Yuri. Before he could do either, though, Felix relaxed as if nothing had ever happened.

“Me,” he said simply, surprising a laugh out of Sylvain who could only watch as Felix’s knife cut through his food instead of Yuri’s eyeball.

“Well, isn’t that a surprise,” Yuri said, not sounding surprised at all. Patting Sylvain on the top of the head, his hand lingered a little even as his weight disappeared off Sylvain’s shoulders. “Congratulations, I suppose.”

“Yep,” was all Sylvain risked saying, even as Felix didn’t look the slightest bit bothered anymore.

“Well, don’t expect me to wait around until he gets bored of you.”

“You wish,” Felix muttered under his breath, and Sylvain was so touched that he barely heard Yuri’s footsteps as he walked away.

Not sure if he should voice his thoughts, Sylvain waited until Felix had taken a few more bites to put down his own knife and lean forward. “You know, I promise there’s nothing going on with him anymore.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“When did you get so cool, Duke Fraldarius?”

“Somewhere around the time I realised that you’re so in love with me that you’re wrapped around my little finger.”

Sylvain considered putting up at least a token protest to that, but he was well aware that neither of them would believe it. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair.”

Going back to his meal, Sylvain let a few beats pass before he looked up at Felix and grinned. “D’you promise that I get to do you tonight, though?”

Felix raised an eyebrow, although as had become much more common for him lately he didn’t look anywhere close to annoyed. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Gotta stop getting my hopes up like this,” Sylvain said with an exaggerated sigh, although he almost dropped his knife when Felix’s leg pressed up against his own under the table.

“Maybe I’ll do you instead this time.”

“Fuck, Felix,” Sylvain cursed, trying not to think too hard about that in the middle of their bloody dining hall and failing miserably. “If anyone notices me walking out of here with a huge boner, I’m telling them exactly whose fault it was.”

Felix laughed, a too-rare sound that Sylvain was always going to treasure, and eventually their conversation returned to more appropriate topics as they finished their meal and lingered at the table, both of them clearly unwilling to part until evening.

Felix was the one who finally broke the stalemate, his sense of duty finally outweighing everything else. “I’ll see you tonight, Sylvain.”

“You bet,” Sylvain winked, and he wasn’t at all subtle in turning around to watch Felix leave. He looked so regal in his family cloak, his posture straight and proud, and there really was no way Sylvain could have even considered going back to anyone else. Felix really had been right, that day they’d sat together on the grass and finally sorted years of emotions out: there was no competition at all.

Sylvain was in it deeper than he’d ever thought possible, but that was a lot less scary when he knew that Felix was right there beside him.

#Fire Emblem Warriors Three Hopes #Sylvix #Sylvain Jose Gautier #Felix Fraldarius #FE3H #Fanfic

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rosy-posy-posts · 10 months

Text

TRIGGER WARNINGS: B/LLYING, ABUSE, MENTIONS OF D/ATH

𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡: CHARACTER (FULL) NAME: • Rosalie (SOUL of Kindness)

NICKNAME(S): • Rosa • Rosie • Petal (BY CROSS)

DATE OF BIRTH: • June 6th

AGE: • 29

SEXUALITY: • Pansexual

PRONOUNS: • She / Her • They / Them

𝗣𝗛𝗬𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗟 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘: WEIGHT: • 138.6 LBS / 62.86 KG

HEIGHT: • 5’3 FT / 152.40 CM

RACE/SPECIES: • Caucasion/White • Human

HAIR COLOR: • A medium-soft brown hue.

STYLE: » Rosalie’s hair consists of being wavy. Alongside the length is to her mid-thigh. Her hair is in a messy-loose, low ponytail with a mossy green ribbon. There are occasional acceptances where the hair will be thoroughly down. (In her training time with her mentor and helping others, Rosalie’s hair will be up in a high ponytail).

EYES COLOR: • Icy / Sky Blue

EYE (SHAPE) » Almond Eyes (DEFINITION) - A person with almond-shaped eyes has an iris that touches the eyelid on the bottom and the top. They have a visible crease on the lids. And the ends of their eyes taper at the tear duct and the outer point.

SKIN TONE: • A fair tone with pink undertones.

SKIN TYPE: » Normal Skin - Rosalie’s surface is healthy. It is not too oily or dry. (Her pores are not huge. And she has minimal blemishes, as well as sensitivities).

SHAPE OF FACE: • Oval Shape (DEFINITION) - It is characterized by an oblong form, meaning the visage is more profuse than it extends. With a narrow forehead and slightly curved jawline.

TYPE OF BODY/BUILD: • Rosalie is a petite pear body shape. The shoulders and busts are narrower than the hips. Furthermore, the arms may be slimmer, and the middle is reasonably defined. The waistline most likely slopes outwards towards the side area.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: • FROM BIRTH - » Freckles (DEFINITION AND LOCATION) - A small patch of light brown color on the skin, often becoming more pronounced through exposure to the sun. The location is around her upper body area. » Blush (DEFINITION AND LOCATION) - A pink or red glimmer. It is continually on the visage, signaling shyness or embarrassment. The surrounding area is around her cheeks and the tip of her nose.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇: • PHYSICALLY: » Bruises / Cuts - The origins began when she was with her family and roamed outside the home until it burned down by the village. New wounds are constant when she needs to visit the settlement. And there is an injury that she can not heal on her left side. Eventually, it will heal over time. » Scars - These are on various and littered everywhere around her body. Some are old with a mixture of new ones. As stated above, the birth of these marks stems from her guardians and tormentors. (Moreover, individuals from the Omega Timeline have particular medications for Rosalie to use for alleviating her lesions. There also were peculiarly two deep defacements on her back that took forever to heal).

» Engraved Magic Marks - There is a perfect X, accompanied by a faded-looking black hole in the center of her chest. The edges of the X are green. When magic is activated, it will turn her SOUL’s magic hue. This notion prohibits Rosalie from using her abilities. Moreover, this mark is always more prominent than the wounds imposed upon her. (The ordeal was noticed when her caretakers died. This marking will fade when her advisor and others assist her).

• MENTALLY: » Anxiety (SOCIAL) - This disorder stems from Rosalie’s childhood, acknowledging she has never been outside her family home. And the situation only got worse when she stepped into the world around her residents.

The female will break out of this fear when Rosalie has more confidence and friends. » Panic Attacks - These attacks developed heavily around her tormentors. Especially the ones that target her regularly when she enters the tiny town. (She often deals with them alone in the beginning. Furthermore, they will become less frequent when she writes them down or talks to her companion). • FEARS/PHOBIAS » Thanatophobia (DEFINITION) - This terror is an extreme fear of death or dying. Someone might be scared of their death or the death of a loved one. (Psychotherapy can help most individuals overcome this disorder). » Scoleciphobia (DEFINITION) - The panic or an extreme fear of worms, which manifests itself with nausea, elevated heart rate, and trembling. Some individuals felt as if the worms were crawling on them. They can react to constant washing much like others would see people with OCD. 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: HOW DOES SHE SPEAK? • Fearful (PREVIOUS) • Polite / Gentle (CURRENTLY) » This is due to the actions of her SOUL TRAIT and the culmination of her being. With the mixture of interactions between individuals. Although she is a selective mute, she will try to speak when necessary. (When she has a strain of apprehension in her voice, it usually means notions are not going well).

DO THEY SWEAR? • No, they do not swear.

OTHER: • Selective Mute - » DEFINITION: Selective mutism is a severe anxiety disorder. The individual is unable to speak in specific social situations. Some examples are talking with school classmates or relatives they don’t see often. It starts during childhood and, if left untreated, can persist into adulthood. (This situation will dissolve once she is secure in the Omega Timeline). 𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚:

SHIRT(S): • A comfortable long-sleeve turtleneck shirt that loosely tucks inside her dress. The hue is a multi-green color with a shade of ebony. The range can gravitate towards the center of her apparel. • A simple black denim, heavy material, fitted dress. Rosalie’s clothing is to her upper knee measurement. SOCKS/SHOES: • SOCKS/GARMENTS: The clothing is a modest, leafy garment, opaque pantyhose. • SHOES - They are plain-clothed ankle boots. Furthermore, the shoes are identical in color to the dress. Adjacent to the cords as well.

ACCESSORIES: BOW (RIBBON): • A straightforward mossy green ribbon. Rosalie created it herself to keep the hair from being tangled and chaotic. It is the identical shade to the primary color of her sweater.

NECKLACE: • A golden heart locket is similar to the Underverse character's given by Cross. 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗧(𝗦)/𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡: SOUL TRAIT: • A SOUL of Kindness (GREEN) (PREVIOUS) TIMELINE: ★★★★★ (CURRENT) TIMELINE: OMEGA TIMELINE

LV: • LV: 1 HP: • HP: 20/20 ATK: • ATK: 0/0 DEF: • DEF: 5 TOTAL EXP: NONE POWER/ATTACK(S): • HEALING / GREEN MAGIC - » This magic exclusively flows around the outline of her body. The only period it does not is when she has first aid items, food, or refreshments. (This power does not harm individuals. It is solely there to support them). • EMPATHY (DEFINITION) » Empathy is to describe a wide range of experiences. It’s generally the ability to sense other people’s emotions. Coupled with the ability to imagine what someone else (might) be thinking or feeling. (Rosalie can sense both negative and positive feelings to a degree. This ability is rare). FIGHTING STYLE: • ★★★★★ » Her combat style consists primarily of dodging and blocking attacks. Rosalie can FIGHT when needed but will not kill the individual.

WEAPON(S)/ARMOR: • Apron (ARMOR) - » An apron that functions as protection. There are high-resolution recovery healing items similar to her foods and drinks. • Old Frying Pan (WEAPON) - » This aged item is to cook her particular ingredient. That component is Fried Eggs. The nourishment joins with her medicinal magic. As well as giving a protection boost. However, this item rarely comes out, seeing that it exhausts Rosalie. Additionally, she can use this object as a weapon. (When she begins harnessing her power more, it will come more frequently). • Weapons such as Dream’s Bow and Positivity Arrows, Ink’s Paintbrush, Blue’s Hammer, Cross’s Swords, and similar devices she could employ! (To note: Rosalie can only use these items if the user permits her to use them. Otherwise, it will injure or damage her SOUL). OTHER: • [ MERCY ] » It permits Rosalie to select either to spare. Or escape from an individual. (Sparing a monster can be problematic in specific conditions. And opting to flee will result in leaving in a FIGHT). • [ FAINT FIGHT ] » This button is for Rosalie’s FIGHTing ability. Although, this is a rare BUTTON that she will utilize. It’s always there just in case a scenario gets out of hand. • [ ACT ] » Is another BUTTON that Rosalie can employ. This notion is like a gentle way that the female can be a pacifist or FIGHT toward others. • [ ITEM ] » A place where Rosalie can store her specialties. These articles can be purchased, found, and used. They can even be held in dimensional boxes or sold in SHOPS. 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬:

SIGNIFICANT OTHERS: CANON: • X-TALE/UNDERVERSE! SANS (CROSS) (LOVER) — NOTES: The Cross that is her lover is my variant! » https://www.youtube.com/@Jakeiartwork (YOUTUBE) - ORIGINAL CREATOR OF CROSS 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗧𝗦: EXTREMELY SKILLED AT: • Baking / Cooking • Sew / Knitting / Crocheting

EXTREMELY UNSKILLED AT: • Brave / Persevering (TO AN EXTENT) • Leadership / Public Speaking (BEFORE BREAKING THE SEAL AND OMEGA TIMELINE)

GOOD CHARACTERISTICS: • Honest / Loyal • Positive / Gentle • Kindness / Kind-Hearted / Polite

CHARACTER FLAWS: • Rosalie's Kindness can be her downfall. • Socially Outcasted (BEFORE OMEGA TIMELINE) • Physically Weak / Fragile (BEFORE OMEGA TIMELINE)

PERSONALITY: • (Nervously) Benevolent: » Nervous(ly) (DEFINITION) (BEFORE): An individual who is anxious or has an apprehensive manner. » Benevolent (DEFINITION) (CURRENTLY): An individual who is charitable and considerate.

• SUMMARY: » Rosalie is an acceptable individual. However, her hospitable nature gets strained too much. It’s how others treat her after they use the female from the start. Kindness is something that numerous creatures take for granted. The notion is a thankless job for Rosalie, regardless of the consequences. Moreover, the female is in a little bubble from her upbringing. So, she doesn’t know much about the current culture. Or anything relevant that is outside her household. When she speaks to individuals, it’s overly polite in a way where they think she is faking it. (All she wants to do is assist people with her shyly-kind character. Nevertheless, it backlashes on Rosalie regularly (from the beginning) because the female appears like her mother, and beings think she is falsifying herself. Until she moved to the Omega Timeline). The timidness part will crumble once she comes out of her shell more. The female usually shows her brighter side towards her friends and lover. On the other hand, if an individual is an acquaintance or stranger. Rosalie will be more reserved but still gracious. TAGLINE: ★『 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙚 (𝙎𝙊𝙐𝙇 𝙤𝙛 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨) 』★

SOURCE/CREDIT: (PICTURE) ★ https://www.tumblr.com/m3wo-chr

MAIN CREATOR: (UNDERTALE) ★ https://twitter.com/tobyfox?lang=en (UNDERTALE CREATOR) @tobyfox

CREATOR OF ROSALIE (SOUL OF KINDNESS): ★ Rosy Posy (ME)

#undertale #undertale oc #underverse #xtale #xtale cross #dreamtale #omega timeline

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sixstepsaway · 2 years

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So, uh, you regularly use your bullet journal, huh? If you don't mind me asking, any tips on keeping up with one? Asking for a friend of course. -dd anon

Not so much tips, but I'll tell you what works for me:

I don't use one of those Leuchtturm notebook type things? I use a binder. I have an A5 (5.83 x 8.27 in, since I know the US doesn't use As for their papers, I don't think) leather binder and I have a set of blue plastic A5 file type binders on my shelf.

I use a binder because my brain does not like the rigidity of the notebook style. If I fuck it up, I'm just...stuck with it? If I want to add a habit tracker before my weekly spread, if I've already done my weekly spread I can't. If I want to have a certain note section (like my RegEx reference sheet) close at hand, it can only be where I put it.

I bought a 3 - 3 hole punch and a box of A5 paper that's lasted me since 2018 so far, and I put pages in and out as I want.

I put stickers/designs on my binder to personalize it.

I enjoy art, a lot, so I treat my bujo as a pretty good way of doing some art and enjoying myself. So, towards the middle of every month (usually; I totally fucked this up in April and ended up doing my May spread literally on the fly week-to-week) I open my Pinterest board and I scroll through my sections and decide what kind of design I want to do for the next month. This month (June) is watermelon. It came out real cute. Last month I did a ship/nautical theme, but as it was such a rush I didn't really do a lot of it. I did the main cover page and the weeklies were all black with no real embellishments. I try to do a pretty spread for weeklies and a nice cover every month. I also do a dividing section of a nice "Welcome, [Season]" page to help remind my brain where we are in the year, a little.

I have some tabbed dividers I put in my bujo. Behind the first is my year-round stuff, so I have things like what I've watched, what I've achieved, subs on my currently abandoned Sims yt channel (see: internet being 500kb/s), plans and intentions for the year, year at a glance etc. I did all of my 2022 yearly pages last December. Behind the second divider is the month I'm currently in. If I do the next month soon enough, it goes right after. Behind the third divider is all the other months. So right now my bujo goes: 2022 | June | January | February | March | April | May | Notes Section. This way the current month is always at the front and easily accessible, and my year round is on hand too.

I have a three-surface set-up in my shoebox room. My main desk, with my monitor and keyboard etc, is front, then to the left I have my art desk I can turn around and work at. Behind me I have a trolley I built a couple of months ago. Because I have spare surface room and a spot I spend the majority of my time, my bujo lives, open to today/this week, beside my keyboard, permanently. Specifically, mine is directly to the right (as I use my mouse left-handed), always where I can see it, in front of whatever tea I am currently drinking and my water bottle. It's always there. No out-of-sight-out-of-mind allowed. I used a ring-bound notebook briefly last year before I bust my bujo back out properly and any day I moved it, I forgot it existed. So, my bujo lives right here. I don't go out so it doesn't go anywhere. Sometimes it gets moved to my bed so I can make a note I need to make, but it always goes back where it came from immediately. I think this is the most important point for me tbh.

Because my binder can't hold endless amounts of paper, when a 6-month period ends I take those six months out and put them in one of the plastic binders on my shelf. The second six months go after it, along with the year pages, and that binder becomes the year binder. I haven't fully done this yet, as I've only really perfected managing to keep my bujo up this year (but I've kept it up since January 1st, and since November if you include my using my notepad briefly), but I have my old pages in one of them. It works for me.

I start the next month/year early, so my brain can't trick me by going, "Oh, you can't use your bujo, you didn't finish it." And if I fail at that like I did in April for May, I just bully my brain into letting me manage for a month. It's not the end of the world.

There is apparently a text block limit so, here's a break to see some of my pages/designs etc:

The nautical one for May was somewhat hastily done (I colored it in later, but I don't have a photo rn) and I'm sad about that. Might do another nautical one later this year, who knows.

I experiment every month. Different colors, different theme, different style, different hand-written fonts, different vibes, different experimentation. Keeps it fresh and makes me look forward to the next month. I don't do it in bulk for the whole year because idk what I'll be into by August, and because I'll be bored of whatever I did by then.

Every month I do a cover and my weekly spread. Those are my only requirements, but I can do more if I want to.

I experimented with the best way to do weekly spreads early this year. January I did boxes but no dutch door, February (up there) I did dutch door with no boxes. I hated the no boxes, I really like having things tidily put together? But I loved dutch door because I could put a little calendar on one side and notes/goals/to-dos/whatever where I could see them week to week without having to turn pages! Once I figured that out, my weekly spreads were easier to draw out and easier to use, and I could still experiment with the design (sometimes I cut out the side, sometimes the bottom, maybe next month I'll do the top! Who knows?) and have fun with it. The only month since February I haven't done dutch-door is last month and that was because I was literally doing each week on the fly in panic. I was doing the week I was on as I was on it the one week, it was a disaster lmao

I bought a snazzy rainbow bookmark and hole punched it and I use that to keep my page in my bujo, so I can get back to it easy when I have to close it (my ducks throw water everywhere when they're up here with me)

I have a simple key for my goals etc. Circles for things I need to do, circles with a clockface for things that are on a time-limit, circles with a > for things I'm bumping to another day, crossed out circles for things I no longer have to do for whatever reason. I fill in the circles when I've done the thing, which is great for my brain, and because my bujo and pens are right next to me, I can do it easily on the go.

Squares (with the same basic pattern) are for things I'd quite like to do but they're not pressing to-dos, just a good idea.

I added some other simple keys for things I use sometimes. I have a little pill capsule for logging any meds I take beside my normal (so the last 5 weeks I've been adding a little "💊 Elvanse [x]mg, #/7" so I know which day of my titration I'm on and which level I'm on. If I take a nytol or a melatonin or ibuprofen, I can write that down if I feel I should). A little bell is an event. An exclamation with a heart for its dot is a note. I had other ones but I've never used them.

This month I added a little side piece to my daily boxes. I put a ☀ and a 🌙 and under each I put, with my tiny little 0.05 fineliner (which I use for any writing I do in my bujo, to-dos etc) little daily to-dos of brushing my teeth, doing my skincare, taking my meds morning and night. It was a fun experiment and it's working for me, so I'll continue it next month! If it didn't work and I didn't use it, that's okay, it was just an experiment!

When the end of the month comes, at the end of the last day of the month I write out how the month went, either on a sheet I set up in advance all pretty, or just a normal plain sheet I add. I say what worked (dutch door, little suns and moon sections), what didn't work (no boxes, leaving it until the last moment) and what I want to change next month (add a mood tracker to my dutch door? not write week when I meant month?), then I move that entire month to the back of the second section, where I can get to it if I need to, and write out my to-dos for the next day.

I write tomorrow's to-dos before bed every night when I'm ticking off my meds, and add anything I might forget to them during the day.

I also added a "PRIORITY" top section to my boxes, usually in a complimentary color (this month's colors are green, yellowgreen and pink for watermelon, so the PRIORITY is in a nice green), and I got sick of writing "PRIORITY:" repeatedly, so this month it's a cute "!:" instead, which is the same thing.

welp ran out of space again. MORE BULLETS:

I love habit trackers but they do not work for me if I have to turn a page to get to them, which is why the sun/moon is working so nicely. I might expand it next month.

If I can't see something, it just doesn't exist, so anything important has to stay within my line of vision, hence dutch door and keeping my bujo right next to me.

I don't beat myself up if I don't do all my goals, I just focus on what I did do and use it as a way of managing my working memory rather than scolding myself. Monday my goals were to work on my sewing, start July, reply to my titration nurse, write, work on the ores for my modpack, shower, and post some metas on AO3. I did 5/7 of those things and showering was a square not a circle, so it doesn't even count. I did well, and having it written down reminds me to try again tomorrow, if applicable.

If I have ^ all those on my to-do list, and then I realize I need to, idk, clean my desk, I will add cleaning my desk to the list, so I can tick it off as done when I've done it, even if I'm already halfway through.

I've talked around this a few times but I'mma say it plainly: if something isn't working for me I discard it and try something else. Habit tracker? Gone and incorporated into the dailies. Mood tracker? Put it on my dutch door this month and have forgotten it most of the time, so I might put it on the left side (closest) instead of the right side next month and see if that helps? Too tired to do anything complex? Simple spread to get me through the month. Not enough energy to do a proper cover? Slap the name of the month down, color it, shove it in. Solved.

I might enjoy making pretty bujos and enjoying the artistic side of it, but it's my bujo, and aside from my parents seeing my designs when they stand by my desk, it doesn't have to be for anyone except me. All that matters is what works for me and what I enjoy.

So, the tl;dr and the tips I extrapolated from this ramble:

Experimentation with colors/designs/themes to keep it feeling new and fresh. Incorporate any hyperfixations in, if it helps (nautical theme lmao).

Discard anything that doesn't work, try new things every month until something sticks, then change its design rather than its function.

Please yourself and no one else, it's your bujo. Use it for what you need help with (working memory, in my case, rather than motivation or intense tracking of what I'm doing. I'm more likely to forget I wanted to do something to begin with, than I am to just not do it).

If you have problems like I do where you mess it up and you don't want to be stuck with it, swap to a binder you can move pages in and out of.

Keep it close and within your line of vision, open if possible.

Write down doing your bujo things on your bujo. Sounds stupid but if I write down "Start July" I have more of a chance of actually starting July than if I just imagine I'll get it done eventually.

Bookmark so you don't have to sift through pages.

Hope this maybe helps a little!

#izzy's dd anon #ask #bullet journalling #bujo #my advice

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noahreids · 2 years

Photo

Noah Reid made audiences swoon on Schitt’s Creek. Now he’s preparing for his Broadway debut. | The Globe and Mail [x]

By J. Kelly Nestruck

Article below the cut!

Who says it doesn’t pay to be Mr. Nice Guy?

Playing Patrick Brewer, David Rose’s almost impossibly thoughtful, kind and level-headed, baseball-loving partner (in business and life) on Schitt’s Creek, Noah Reid made television audiences around the world swoon. And now that breakout big-hearted role and the heightened international profile that came with it is paying some very nice dividends for the 34-year-old Canadian actor.

This month, Reid is making his Broadway debut as Mr. Peel, another outsider in a small town, in Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Tracy Letts’s The Minutes, a comedy that takes place during a single contentious session of city council.

At the same time, he is back on the small screen in the new Amazon Prime series Outer Range, a Western mystery that stars Josh Brolin (and, also from the Canadian side of the border, Tamara Podemski). Reid’s character, Billy Tillerson, is a more obvious departure – the strange son of a big-money Wyoming rancher, who sings creepily to himself rather than romantically to beaus at open-mic nights like Brewer.

Speaking of which, Reid also drops his third album, Adjustments, in June – part of a singer-songwriter career that took off after Schitt’s Creek creator and star Dan Levy got him to arrange and sing Tina Turner’s The Best for the open-mic scene referenced above that went genuinely viral.

Add in the fact that his wife is also expecting a baby back in Toronto, eight days before The Minutes’ run is scheduled to end, and it’s a surprise Reid seems so unfrazzled, during an interview in the upper lobby of Broadway theatre Studio 54.

“The plan is for my wife to spend a couple of months here in the late stages of the of the pregnancy and then, she’ll head back and I’ll hopefully …,” he says.

But then comes a burst of that Patrick Brewer-esque confidence: “Well, no ‘hopefully’ about it: I’ll be there for the birth of my child.”

One of true pleasures of being a theatre critic is getting to see artists on small stages before they blow up; in the case of Reid, since spending a season at the Stratford Festival back in 2009, he’s rambled around his hometown of Toronto performing in an eclectic mix of George F. Walker, Annie Baker and August Strindberg plays in between screen projects.

He even turned it out as a rock-n-roll Hamlet at the Tarragon Theatre – that, unfortunately for that company’s box office, was mounted a month before “The Best” episode aired in 2018 and launched him to the next level.

When Canadian artists’ careers take off, there can be grumbling – but, in the case of Reid, all I’ve heard is: Well, it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

This is because his similarities to Patrick Brewer go beyond their shared love of baseball. I should note I’ve had the opportunity to observe his thoughtfulness up close as he has a friendship with my wife, dating back to their time at the National Theatre School of Canada. (One example: Reid was at the same Blue Jays game where my wife went into labour; he got and saved a ball from that game and later presented it to our son as a gift.)

Reid’s Brewer-like level-headedness in the face of rising fame, no doubt, comes from being a working actor who’s regularly flirted with it all his life.

The son of two Toronto visual artists had a child-actor career in Canada (playing Chip in Beauty and the Beast on stage; voicing Franklin the Turtle; four seasons of Strange Days at Blake Holsey High), and near-tipping points as an adult came when he starred in Score: A Hockey Musical, which opened Toronto International Film Festival in 2010 but was chirped at by the critics, and landed the title role in an ABC Family sitcom called Kevin from Work, cancelled after a season in 2015.

Now that Reid’s got that extra cultural capital, he’s being careful about how he spends it. For instance, he was first offered the lead role in a musical on Broadway, but turned that down. (He’s too nice to name which one, of course.)

Danny McCarthy as Mr. Hanratty and Noah Reid as Mr. Peel in The Minutes.JEREMY DANIEL/HANDOUT

“I really wanted to come here and do a play,” says Reid. “The meaningful Broadway experiences of my life have been plays by great writers with excellent casts.”

Chief among those experiences was seeing Long Day’s Journey Into Night with Brian Dennehy, Vanessa Redgrave and Philip Seymour Hoffman back in 2003 – in a production directed by Robert Falls that originated at the Goodman Theatre in Chicago.

The Minutes is also a Chicago-born production, from the famed ensemble-driven Steppenwolf and directed by its former artistic director Anna Shapiro. Reid leads a company full of stage veterans from that city that includes Letts himself playing the Mayor of Big Cherry.

“Tracy’s legacy as a writer speaks for itself – and it’s an added bonus, a daunting bonus, to be sharing a stage with him and fumbling with his words while looking him directly in the eye,” jokes Reid.

While it takes place in a small town with a weird name and wacky residents, The Minutes explores the niceness found in that type of setting from a different and more skeptical angle than Schitt’s Creek.

There are secrets, those dark open secrets we call history, in Big Cherry – and, when push comes to shove, Mr. Peel has make decisions about how committed he is to being on the right side regarding which monuments go up or come down.

“How deep does the niceness go in any of us, you know?” Reid asks. “What are you willing to give up? What concessions are you willing to make in the narrative about yourself that you’re telling about yourself?”

Canadians aren’t exactly in an era where we are leaning into our cultural reputation for niceness, but rather one where we’re grappling with what that conceals. As Reid says, though Letts has America in his crosshairs in The Minutes, “lots of the white colonial settler mentality in Canada is embodied in this play as well.”

Nevertheless, Canadians’ international reputation on the niceness front hasn’t faltered all that much. How else to explain why so many of our actors get enlisted to cover for an American who has fallen into disrepute – as is the case with Reid?

When The Minutes was shut down in previews in March 2020, Call Me By Your Name’s Armie Hammer had been playing the role of Mr. Peel – but he dropped out of the play and a number of other projects during the pandemic after allegations of abuse surfaced on social media.

Will Arnett, another Toronto-born actor, coincidentally replaced Hammer in one of those projects: Taika Waititi’s soccer comedy, Next Goal Wins. And this whole trend, if you want to call it that, began with yet another Toronto-born actor – Christopher Plummer, rest in peace – replacing Kevin Spacey in reshoots in the thriller All the Money in the World in 2017.

No comment, only a little nervous laughter from Reid behind his mask when I present this series of events to him – but then I’m too nice to press him for one.

#noah reid #noah reid: articles #noah reid: the minutes

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nebulablakemurphy · 3 years

Text

The Red Room

Summary: Meeting Yelena in the red room is the best and worse thing that’s ever happened to you. Warning: romantic Yelena x Fem!reader pairing and depictions of violence.

Those first weeks in the red room pass in a blur. You have one room. Just you. Meals are delivered like clockwork; no one speaks to you. Your only company being the television set that plays the same clips; morning, noon and night.

Until one day the lights flip on brightly above you and a woman enters. You squint up at her, “hello?”

“Hello.” She replies, “are you ready to get out of here?”

“Where will I go?” You wonder.

“Wherever I tell you.”

That is your first encounter with Madame B. When you were younger you thought her something of a savior. You know better now. Still when she calls for you, there’s no choice but to go.

You make your way down the long hall, florescent lights humming above you. Finally reaching the room you’ve been assigned; you grasp the door knob. Feeling the weight of the cool metal against your palm, with a steadying breath you turn it.

Inside is only Madame B and a girl. One you’ve only seen in passing, one of Dreykov’s favorites.

“Y/N, meet Yelena. She will be your partner from now on.” Madame B leads the introduction.

“Did something happened to Oksana?” Your brows pull together, voice small. Afraid to cross an unspoken boundary. She’s always been your partner.

“Oksana is no longer your concern.” The woman bites out. “Shake hands and prepare for your lesson.”

You nod, biting your tongue.

Lesson…

Sparring.

Dancing.

Captive simulations.

What will it be this time?

“Oksana is ok.” Yelena tells you, once the trainer is out of earshot.

“Good,” you whisper, holding your hand out to shake without another word.

“Is that why they kept you locked up so long? You don’t play well with others?” The blonde takes your hand, eyes narrowed into slits.

“I don’t play at all.” You inform her. Pleasing these people is your ticket out of here, and you will get out.

“Everybody plays, whether you want to or not.” Yelena tells you, letting your fingers slip from hers. “Just don’t get in my way.”

——————————————————————-

You don’t get in each other’s way. Somehow having Yelena as a combat partner is a lot less annoying than you anticipated.

Oksana is a better friend, but you aren’t here to make friends. You’re here to kill. Topple regimes from the inside out, Yelena helps you do that.

Your training with Yelena is different. Chipping away parts of you until you fit together seamlessly. From trust falls to synchronized attack plans, you name it you do it. Sometimes until you bleed.

One of your trainers, Ivan, has taken a liking to blind folded direction. Outside of captive simulations it is your least favorite team building activity.

You remind yourself to focus and breathe. In some ways guiding is worse than being guided. “Veer slightly to your right.”

Yelena lifts one bare foot, holding it airborne, allowing you to assess the placement of her next step. “Here?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, as she clears the bit of shattered glass. “That’s perfect.”

———————————————————————

Your first real assignment comes on Monday, June second.

“Come in, Miss American Pie. I have eyes on the target.” Yelena informs you through the ear piece.

“That’s still not my name, over. Stay high, I’m going down.” You reply, deploying your rope and riding it to the ground.

“Five ticks northwest and the package is yours.”

“Copy.” You follow her instruction, ducking away as a bullet shatters the window beside you. “Easy.” You chastise, in a hushed whisper.

“Sorry,” she apologizes half heartedly. The kill was necessary and she had a clean shot.

You spot your target, ready to turn onto the main street from the alleyway. You wrestle him to the ground, he puts up a good fight. Not good enough.

You wipe the blood from your hands before removing the usb drive from his breast coat pocket. “Just admit it,” you taunt, turning to the building Yelena is scoping from, “you’re proud of me.”

“Y/N!” Her tone is not playful at all.

What’s wrong? Before you get a chance to ask the man you’d assumed dead has his knife buried in your thigh.

You crumple to the ground as he prepares to strike again. In the time it takes to unholster your weapon a silent bullet reaches his temple from the sky.

You squint up at Yelena, watching her ride her teether down to the ground beside you. “Thanks.” You pant, inspecting the damage.

“That was sloppy,” she frowns, searching her pack for the midkit, then tearing open a package of gauze. “You always check the body, confirm the kill.”

“I know, I was stupid.” You gasp, feeling Yelena apply an obscene amount of pressure to your wound.

“We need to move to the extraction point, they can deal with you in medical.” Yelena rises, tossing your arm over her shoulder for support.

“It won’t happen again.” You promise, leaning heavily against her side.

“You’re right, it won’t. I have no idea what happens to me if you die.” She grumbles, somewhat bitterly.

———————————————————————

Interactions with Yelena are sparse after that. She doesn’t trust you. Only showing up for your lessons and leaving the moment they’re finished. You understand why she’s angry, you would be too.

According to your weekly rotation, today should be live target practice, however you are directed to a different room.

Once inside your eyes find the chair. You hate that chair. You hate this room. Nothing good ever happens here.

Slowly you move toward Yelena at the far wall.

“A little birdie told me that you’ve been holding back in combat lessons.” Ivan says, tapping a finger to his chin. “Why is that?”

You bite anxiously at the inside of your cheek.

“I said why is that?!”

You notice Yelena flinch from the corner of your eye. “It’s my fault,” you hold up a hand. “I took a hit on our last mission and my partner was being mindful of my injuries.”

“Oh I see.” He smirks, condescendingly. “You don’t want to hurt each other.”

“It would be counter productive to harm my partner.” Yelena points out. The red room drilled that into you.

“That is true.” His eyes dart between you. “But we can’t have you afraid of sparring together. Now can we?”

Your jaw ticks, awaiting the consequence.

“When’s the last time you girls ran a captive simulation?”

“Two weeks ago.” Yelena presents her left index finger to him for inspection. The nail just beginning to grow back.

Ivan hums, “When’s the last time you ran a captive simulation on each other?”

Your heart drops, all the blood running out of your face. Not for months.

“Hmm,” he wets his lips. “Who gets to play the captor first?”

Neither one of you volunteer.

“Belova,” he purrs. “Come choose your tools while Y/L/N straps herself into the chair.”

You don’t hesitate, it’ll be worse if you do. Tuning out his incessant chatter you find your seat. The metal chair sends a chill up your spine. Bending at the waist, you strap each ankle into a leather restraint, then your non dominant hand. Free hand waiting, curled around the arm rest.

Yelena kneels before you, her selections resting at your feet as she closes the final strap around your wrist. Your breath quickens.

“Fifteen minutes on the clock then you’ll switch.” Your spectator announces. “Make them count or we’ll start over.”

On autopilot Yelena reaches for the scalpel.

You don’t mean to scream…but eventually you do. You always do.

———————————————————————

Yelena knows your weaknesses and regularly exploits them to leave you face up on the floor during hand to hand combat sessions.

You used to resent her for it, but it made you strong. Stronger than you’ve ever been or hoped to be. The day you finally best her the room is filled with hushed whispers. Now you are ready.

You learn to move in harmony. The trainers ease up a bit and the other girls line up to watch you like an exhibit. You are two halves of a more perfect whole.

“Madame B, can I ask you something?” You say, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Of course.” The older woman replies. “What is it?”

“Why was my training so different with Oksana?”

She leans in. “You were not brought here to be a partner to Oksana. She was standing in until we could be sure you were ready for a partner. Nothing more.”

“Was I brought here to be Yelena’s partner?” The question burns at the back of your throat.

“I understand the desire to seek meaning in these things. You hope to find your place in the world.”

You nod.

“But you have no place in the world,” the words cut like a knife. “What you do have is an opportunity to prove that you are not a waste of space, time, or resources. Come, let’s sit for debriefing.”

You wait in silence for Yelena to arrive, finally she does. Taking the seat beside you in the meeting room.

“In two days you will undergo the graduation ceremony, after which you are granted up to three days recovery time before you will be deployed to Moscow.” Madame B reviews the information, handing you each a folder of details.

“Enclosed you will find your identification cards and aliases. I suggest you take this time to familiarize yourselves. Tomorrow we will begin shooting photographs for the past two years of your lives. Report with several changes of clothing. Congratulations on this assignmet. It is a great honor.” Madame B dismisses you.

You open the file. ‘Katherine and Irena Reiner.’

“We’re sisters?” Yelena guesses.

Worse. “We’re married.”

“Even better.” She says under her breath, rising from the chair.

———————————————————————

Life in Moscow is different. Good. The neighbors are easy enough to convince. You play your parts to perfection.

The company you work for being the main focus. They have access to some sort of programming that Dreykov is desperate to get his hands on. You know better than to ask why.

Most mornings you get ready together, discussing the events of the previous day to prepare for the next.

“How come you only speak English?” Yelena wonders, turning off the steady spray of water from her shower and reaching out to grab a towel.

“I have a theory,” you reply, spitting excess toothpaste into the sink. “I think keeping me dependent on translation had more pros than cons.”

“They taught me.” She says, stepping onto the bath mat. “But I guess that’s different.”

You were brought in much older a majority of the other girls.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, seeing each other as if for the first time.

“I could teach you.” She offers, breaking the connection as she turns away.

“Yeah?” You pass the brush through your hair.

Yelena shrugs, “I have nothing better to do.”

“Just don’t teach me the wrong words to make me look stupid.” You arch a brow.

“It would be counter productive to harm my partner.”

Hours turn into days. Days into weeks and suddenly you stand on a blurred line. How much is she pretending? How much are you?

The two of you rest on opposite ends of the couch. Enjoying another round of prime time television.

“Yesterday I was talking to that girl in accounting.” Yelena pulls your attention from the picture.

“The blonde one?” You ask, tossing a piece of popcorn at her.

She attempts to catch it in her mouth. Having had more than a few drinks her coordination is lacking.

You smirk, when it falls into her lap.

“No Maggie.” She corrects you, finding the wayward piece and biting into it.

“Mmm.” You hum.

“Mmm? What do you mean, ‘mmm?’” Yelena’s brows pull together.

“Nothing,” you insist. “I was just acknowledging what you said.”

“You didn’t sound very happy about it. Did she do something to you?” Yelena demands, straightening her posture.

“No, she didn’t do anything. Anyway tell me what happened.”

“She’s worked there for a long time. I think she knows more than she says she does.”

“So are you gonna talk to her again? See if she’ll open up?” Yelena has that effect on people.

“I am married.” She rolls her eyes, flipping her left ring finger in place of the middle.

“Shut up.” You chuckle.

“I’m crazy about you, know you. Ever since we met in high school. You didn’t like me at first but you came around.” Yelena elaborates.

“I don’t remember seeing all that in our cover story.” You cock your head to the side.

“That was a shit story, I’m rewriting it.” She waves a hand.

“Tell me more.” Tell me everything.

———————————————————————

“Did you get milk?” You shout, peeking into the nearest paper bag.

“Was it on the list?” Yelena hollers back, from the front door, kicking it shut. Her arms full of groceries.

“I don’t remember,” you say, unpacking the head of lettuce and eggs.

“You made the list.” She scoffs, setting the rest of the haul on the floor.

A knock pulls your attention away from the food.

“Who is it?” You wonder.

“It’s me, George. From next door.” Your neighbor answers.

Yelena rolls her eyes, waving you out of the kitchen. It’s your turn to make small talk.

You step carefully around the produce to the main entrance. “Hey George.” You smile, swinging open the door, “what’s up?”

“Katherine!” He greets you. “Could I borrow Irena for a minute?”

“Is that lawnmower giving you trouble again?” You guess, leaning against the door frame.

“It’s running great actually. There’s something else I’m curious about though.”

“I can send her over after dinner.” You attempt to dismiss him.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” George moves his foot to prevent the door from closing, producing a pistol from his waistband.

“George!” Yelena waves, clearly oblivious.

“Irena,” he looks down at the gun, pointed at your chest, “we have much to discuss.”

“Clearly.” Yelena agrees, coming to join you on the threshold. “Are you going to tell me why you have my wife at gunpoint?”

“We should take this inside.”

“I’m good here.”

He presses the barrel against your skin through the fabric of your shirt. “You sure about that?”

“On second thought, I could go for a drink. Do you like scotch?” Yelena takes a step back, leaving room for him to enter the house.

“Who sent you?” George demands, guiding you into the kitchen.

“We also have brandy.” She says, expression unreadable.

“Who are you working for?” He asks a second time, adjusting his grip on the gun. “First one goes in her leg.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Yelena drawls. “But I’m going to warn you, if you hurt her, you die.”

“You have three seconds to give me a better answer,” the nuzzle of the gun sits flush against you upper thigh. “One, two-“

Yelena lunges, the gun firing into the floor when he’s knocked off balance.

George tosses her off as if she weighs nothing. You rush him, knocking the fire arm to the other side of the room. Your arms locked around his neck, flush to his back. He rams you back first into the china cabinet.

You fall away with a grunt.

“Now,” the man rights himself. Wiping away the blood from his split bottom lip with the back of his hand. “We’re going to have fun.”

Taking a fist full of your hair he begins pulling you toward the center of the room. You grab for a large shard of glass, slicing it over the back of this knee. He releases you, doubling over.

“I warned you.” Yelena snarls, stabbing her knife into his belly, making a straight line up to his sternum. “You thought you could use her to break me? They used to make me torture her! They used to make me-“ she breaks off, withdrawing her knife. Only to ram it in again and again.

George, if that was his real name, is long dead. A crimson puddle blooming on the floor. It doesn’t stop Yelena, hot, angry tears rolling past her cheeks.

“Yelena.” You say softly.

“They used to make me do it.” She repeats, the weight of the words crushing down on her.

Your arms envelope her from behind.

“No.” She sobs when she feels you there, holding exactly where it hurts.

“It’s ok.” You whisper against her ear.

The blood stained blade clatters to the ground. Her breathing ragged as both her hands find yours, squeezing tightly. Don’t let go.

“It’s ok.”

“No it’s not.” She cries, frantically shaking her head.

“I did it too.” As if she needs reminding. “They made me do it too.”

She allows you to stay curled around her, desperately trying to absorb some of that pain.

———————————————————————

Yelena’s drug of choice is alcohol, the spirits burn their way into her blood stream. Erasing all that she’s done.

“You want a glass?” She offers, setting the bottle of clear liquor down on the coffee table.

“No thanks.” You shake your head, hair still damp from the shower.

“Don’t be a hero,” she rolls her eyes as she takes a seat. The water had washed away any trace of George.

“Fine,” you take a long swig from the bottle in question.

“You’ll thank me later.” She tosses back a shot, sliding the strap of your pajama top down to assess the damage to your left shoulder. “It’s deep, going to need stitches. This is why we don’t go through china cabinets.” Yelena chastises, moving for the first aid kit.

“Yeah, not my finest moment.” You peek at her. “But it worked.”

“Mmm,” she hums, returning to her spot. Flipping open the white box and removing what she needs to stitch you up.

First she hits you with the antiseptic “сука!” Bitch.

“See,” you can hear the smile in her voice, “you are learning.”

You let out a pained laugh, “I guess I am. We need to call someone to clean this up.”

“Here,” she hands you her phone, blowing gently over you wound. “You take care of that, I take care of you.”

Your heart clenches at her words. But Yelena is your partner. That is all.

“Belova, do you have a status update?” A familiar voice answers after the first ring.

“Yeah, we need a cleanup.” You say matter of factly.

“Agent Y/L/N.” He greets you. “How many?”

“One.”

“For now,” The man remarks.

“You didn’t tell us we weren’t alone in this pursuit.” You purse your lips.

“There’s a reason we sent the best. I’ll put in for a clean up crew in the morning.”

“Let them know the body is in the bathtub.”

The goes dead.

The conversation distracts you well enough from the dull ache of the needle poking and pulling at your shoulder.

Carefully Yelena bandages the abused skin. Her finger tips running along the back of your arm.

“Thank you.” You whisper, relaxing into her touch.

Her lips ghost over your skin. “You’re welcome.”

Oh.

Slowly you turn, as if not to startle her. Yelena’s eyes find yours.

You move closer, tracing the line of her jaw. “Thank you,” you repeat.

She nods, still unsure.

“Of all the people I could’ve been stuck here with…I’m glad it was you.”

“You don’t have to say that.” She pulls your hand away gently.

“You’re right. I don’t have to say anything.“ You murmur, “But I want to… and it would be counter productive to harm my partner.”

“We can’t.” She knows it. You know it. “It will get in the way. They’ll kill us.”

“No.” You chuckle bitterly. “They’ll make us kill each other.”

“I wouldn’t do it,” Yelena insists.

“You won’t have a choice.” You point out. “Didn’t you hear about that stuff they started pumping into people?”

“Mind control.” Yelena replies in Russian.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

“Maybe we get out.”

“Maybe,” you smile sadly, “maybe we find each other.” In another life.

———————————————————————

Three days later Yelena comes home late. During your day off you were tasked with the more mundane tasks of running a household, but you suppose there are worse things. She finds you in the laundry room, drink already in hand. Her mouth set in a frown.

“What’s wrong?” You drop the piece of clothing back into the basket.

“I have it.” Yelena confesses.

You press your lips together, you knew this was coming. That information is the only reason you are here. “Did you contact them?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you going to?”

“You say that like I have a choice.” She stares down at her drink.

“I just meant-“

“I know what you meant.” Yelena knows you, better than anyone. The red room saw to that. “Do you want to stay one more night?”

“Do you?” You wonder.

“When I was a little girl…I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.”

“In the morning,” you offer. Any longer and the risk will be too great. “We’ll go in the morning.”

She nods, taking in the room around her. “I wanted it to be real.”

“It was.” You choke down the lump in your throat.

———————————————————————

Your return to the red room is swift. No pat on the back or celebration to be had. Just two pawns, returning to their places on the board.

You’re separated from Yelena. Because your loyalties are to each other and that poses a threat. But what did they expect? They made you this way.

You are alone. Perhaps the most alone you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’d just forgotten that you could feel things. You remember now and wish you didn’t.

Like it or not she changed you. Knowing her had changed you, for better or for worse. After Yelena you were never the same.

Word of Oksana’s escape only fuels the need to chemically alter the minds of all agents. Beginning in order of importance.

Finding Yelena seated on the bench outside the physician’s office steals the breath from your lungs. To see her now is blatantly cruel and calculated.

Still you sit in the empty space beside her.

“Do you know where your orders are?” She asks.

“Yeah,” you nod, “Budapest. You?”

“Back to Moscow.” Yelena informs you.

You swallow hard, your pinkies skating past each other.

“Agent Y/L/N,” the doctor opens his door. You watch as another widow exits, she doesn’t look any different. Maybe the mind control drugs aren’t affective.

You steal one last glance at Yelena. Her eyes are desperate, ‘don’t go.’ Both of you knowing you can’t stay.

“Enjoy Moscow.” You whisper, moving reluctantly to your feet.

She tears her gaze away, unable to watch you leave. “I hear Budapest is beautiful.”

You hope so.

Wanna know what happens next? Check out chapter one of Miss American Pie! 💜

Yelena Belova Taglist: @captainwonderwidow

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #black widow #marvel fanfiction #black widow fanfiction #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x female reader #yelena black widow #miss american pie series #yelena belova one shot

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Note

Claire...may I request a lil' writing? I'm thinking of Javi maybe post Columbia and he builds up a routine. He goes to the same coffee shop every morning on his way to work and of course picks up the same order. You're a barista at the coffee shop and eventually, you can pin down his arrival to the minute so one day, you make his drink for the exact moment when he gets there, with your number written on the cup cause screw it, he's damn hot. What would happen? <3

Oh Maia, this was FUN to write for you!!! I hope you enjoy it! :D

Exciting update!!! GIF and media genius @nicolethered made an amazing video for me to go with this fic!! Go give her big love!!

Second exciting update! I was challenged by @quica-quica-quica to play the POV game for this piece (where someone Asks you to rewrite a piece from a different character's POV). So now there is a companion piece to this from Javier's POV, called: "Coffee Shop Girl". Enjoy!

For Now

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; protected P/V sex; cigarette smoking

Ten days. It took ten days between the first arrival of the handsome stranger and you ending up in his bed. A new personal record for you, given how reserved you normally were. But it was nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you were careful. It was the 90s now after all, there was zero reason to have to keep your knees closed until marriage, as long as you used condoms and got tested regularly.

You liked the coffee shop well enough, situated on the southern end of downtown near the warehouses and a few clubs. It drew a full spectrum of Austinites: college kids closing out their club nights with breakfast tacos and pastries before going home to crash; early morning construction workers, employees from the big post office around the corner; and the usual boring lawyers and office staff who started streaming in around 7:30 every weekday morning. You could do the job well enough, even considering the odd hours: waking up early enough to open the doors at 5:30, serve the slow trickle of early morning customers with patience and ease until a co-worker joined at 7:00 for the morning rush. And the barista and food service parts of the job were physically but not mentally demanding. It was a job, and certainly less hassle than your bartending gig some weekends. At least here you only had to throw drunks out once a month.

And then one Tuesday in early June, at 7:47 a.m., he appeared. Tall, neatly groomed mustache, dark eyes, a sheaf of bangs swept to the side over his forehead. His navy blue blazer and tie said ‘accountant’ or maybe ‘state employee’ and his sideburns were just a little out of date. You pegged him at about 40, probably one of those men who visited the same barber their whole lives, not bothering to keep up with fashion trends as long as they looked neat and clean. When he reached to take his to-go cup of black coffee from you, you noticed that his ring finger was bare, and you liked that his fingernails were clean and trimmed. He offered you a nod in thanks, and you smiled at him a little more warmly than you had with your other customers so far. He held the door on his way out, pausing just a moment to let two women enter… and then he was gone, out into the bright sunlight and foot traffic and morning rush. You hoped you would see him again.

On Wednesday he came back again, a repeat of Tuesday except with a different tie, deep red today instead of navy. Black coffee to go, leather portfolio tucked under one arm, clean hands, eyes as dark as the coffee you handed him. This time rewarding you with a gruff and gravelly, “Thanks,” instead of just a nod. You relished the accidental brush of his fingers on yours as you handed the cup over, another flash of him imprinted on you, along with yesterday’s vision of him going golden as he stepped out into the morning sun. This time you watched him through the big glass window until he was out of sight, admiring his strong nose in profile, the curve of it perched over that mustache. Two extra seconds of handsomeness poured into your morning before you had to turn back to rinsing mugs and making change. You hoped that he’d come again on Thursday, making it three visits, a genuine pattern instead of a fluke.

On Thursday he reappeared, same time as the previous two days, waiting patiently in line behind two wake-and-bake potheads who were taking their sweet time staring up at the food menu. Today he was dark gray instead of navy, wearing a charcoal blazer and a sharp black tie. You waved him over with a smile, letting it melt all the way up to your eyes instead of flashing the tight, brief, closed-mouth thing you used on most customers.

“Black coffee, right?” You watched his face, taking in the dark eyes, the hair, the brief smile that made a surprise dimple appear in his cheek.

He nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He slid a rumpled bill across the counter. “Keep the change.”

You bit your lip as you turned away, preening at his thanks and seven whole words as if they were genuine praise. His voice was deep and rich, landing with a rumble in your own chest, like the remnants of thudding bass from a passing car. You poured the coffee and secured the lid, brain scrambling desperately for something clever to say. To make him come back, to talk to you more.

You turned and handed him the cup, and as he reached for it you again let your hand be in just the right spot to feel the brush of his fingers. Your eyes locked on one another, and for the briefest moment you forgot to let go of the cup. You wanted to swim in those brown eyes forever, get lost and let him drown you whole. He paused, and you thought you saw the briefest twitch of his mustache, a pinprick in his calm exterior before you drew your hand back. He inclined his head, a single nod, and then he turned to leave and your attention was swept back to the register and the next customers.

Friday he arrived “on time” and you met his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Today he was warm earth tones, a dark red shirt under a brown tweed blazer and no tie, a nod to casual Friday. You turned and prepared his coffee, tightening the lid and then holding it up to him across the room, smiling and tossing your chin up in a friendly greeting. He walked up and slid a few bills over the counter to you.

“Thanks.” He winked at you and something in your pelvis fluttered. “See you next week.”

You watched him go, stepping out again into a halo of golden sun, pulling a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on before striding away. You suddenly felt lost, facing the many hours between now and Monday.

Your weekend passed in a blur of extra bartending shifts and catching up on sleep. You were forever napping at odd hours, trying to reconcile the slightly staggered rhythms of early morning coffee shop hours and late-night bartending. It wasn’t the hardest you’d ever worked or the worst schedule, but it wasn’t fun. At least, it hadn’t been fun until now. Now you had something to look forward to.

Monday morning you opened the shop and kept an eye on the clock. At 7:46 you poured black coffee into a to-go cup. Thirty seconds later, he appeared on the other side of the plate glass window, the navy suit and tie again, blowing out a long stream of cigarette smoke before dropping the butt and giving it a quick twist under his foot. He took off his amber-lensed aviators and tucked them into the pocket of his blazer, then pulled out his wallet. At 7:47 on the dot, he opened the door, met your eyes, and saw you holding up his coffee. And there went that smile again, the dimple, the wink.

You smiled as he approached the counter. “You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” You grinned and wiggled your eyebrows.

He opened his wallet and passed a bill across the counter, larger than what was strictly necessary for a to-go coffee and a reasonable tip. “Great service, keep the change.”

You thanked him, giving him the full-watt smile and wishing him a good day as you opened and closed the register, putting the change into the tip jar. Thankfully there was no one else in line right now, so you could give his handsome figure your full attention as he left, watching how the navy blazer hugged his shoulders.

He went out the door, turned right like he always did, and then he turned his head and his eyes met yours through the glass. You should have felt embarrassed that he caught you staring, but you didn’t. Mostly because you realized that he had stopped to look back, too, which meant you weren’t the only one hoping for more. He nodded and lifted his cup in a gesture of thanks. Then he was gone.

Tuesday was the same, only with the charcoal blazer and the dark red tie this time. The wink, the flutter in your gut, the over-tipping. The glance across the counter as his fingers brushed yours around the cup. The aviators slung on as soon as he stepped out the door.

Wednesday, again, the navy suit and tie, another brush of the fingers, a smaller tip but a bigger smile, gracing you with that dimple again. Another gravelly, “Thank you,” that sounded warmer than he had to date. The handsome profile and a quick meeting of the eyes through the glass as he left again.

Thursday was the same, only better. You used a permanent marker to write something on his paper cup before you poured it precisely at 7:46 a.m., watching, waiting. He did not disappoint. At 7:47, precisely on time, you caught a glimpse of his profile as he came into view through the plate glass window. Charcoal again. He turned and saw you inside, then opened the door, holding it again for a woman exiting. You pointed at his to-go cup on the counter and smiled.

“You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?” He smiled and twitched an eyebrow at you.

You smiled back, “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.”

The handsome man chuckled and pursed his lips. “And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” You winked and immediately regretted it, it felt too bold, it wasn’t your normal mode.

He met your eyes and said simply, “I am.”

You felt your face split into a wide smile. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

He nodded. “Good to know. I’m Javier, by the way.” He stuck his hand out and shook yours. You gave him your name and a warm shake of the hand.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” You rotated the paper cup so that the writing was facing him. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

His eyebrows popped up, and then he gave you an appraising glance, like he was impressed. You saw his tongue shift up under his lip to suck a tooth and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to see how that tongue felt on you. You flushed hot, tingling with desire.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” You winked at him and laughed.

He stuck his hand out once more and you gave him yours. He lifted it and kissed the back of your hand, mustache sweeping ever so briefly over your knuckles before he gently released it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” his voice was low and something in it went straight to your groin, making your pelvic muscles clench. You watched him pick up the cup and go, smiling at you with that dimple through the glass as he left. You stood for just a moment, hoping, hoping, hoping. Maybe he would call you after work?

At 1:00 you finished your shift and handed the register off to Mike. You were just untying your apron and hanging it up when you saw a familiar profile sweep into view outside the window. Javier. Your stomach flipped over and a million little butterflies flew out.

He ducked inside the door and searched the shop for a moment, smiling when he saw you coming out from behind the counter with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you stood for a moment and hesitated, suddenly shy.

Javier slipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.” You smiled. “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

He smiled, wider than you’d seen him do so far. “That’s perfect.”

He let you lead, walking him across the street and around the corner to the sub shop. You made small-talk on the way there, finding out that he was from Laredo but new to Austin, a former DEA agent consulting for the state. You picked up your food and walked a block over to the small city park, where you told him about your roommates, your cat, your wish to go back to school and finish your degree. By the end of lunch you were both smiling, feeling that spark, the little magnetic pull that had started over his coffee orders. At 2:00 Javier said he had to get back to his office.

“... but I’d really like to see you again. Can I take you to dinner? Tonight if that’s okay, since you’re working tomorrow night.” He stood close to you, looking warmly into your eyes.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You felt that flutter again, that twitch of interest from looking into his warm brown eyes, seeing the way they crinkled when he smiled. You were so busy looking at his eyes that you didn’t see him reach his hand out, sweeping it around to circle your shoulders and pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, as urgently as was proper for the time of day and the public setting. When he pulled away to walk back up the few blocks to his office, you stood there dazed. Wow.

You went home and napped, then showered and changed into datewear. Javier picked you up at 7:30, and you were relieved that the little spark was still there. You had half-worried that it would wear off in the few hours between your lunch date and now, or that it was a localized feeling limited to a small radius around the coffee shop. But dinner was fun and warm, and by the end of dessert and coffee you didn’t want to leave him yet. You decided that you would be bolder than you normally were.

“Listen, my roommates are home, but do you want to go back to your place?”

Javier looked surprised for only a moment and then smiled, “Yes, let’s go.”

You kissed all the way back to the car, ran your hands lightly over the back of Javier’s neck as he drove, kissed all the way from the car to his apartment door, and tumbled inside together, feeling for buttons and zippers and helping each other out of your clothes. His erection felt warm and solid against your hip, and when he finally got naked you were nearly moaning at the expanse of his broad shoulders and golden skin. He was beautiful.

Javier walked you backwards to the bedroom and paused only to pull a wrapped condom out of a drawer and turn on the bedside lamp to chase away the dark. You lay back and watched him as he tossed the foil packet onto the quilt next to you and then knelt beside your legs. He looked at you as he ran his hands up and down your naked thighs. Then he butterflied your legs slowly apart and ran one warm hand up to your pussy, teasing you with his fingers, dipping them in and out between your labia and running them up to tickle your clit.

“Can I eat you out?” He asked almost shyly.

You nodded, a breathy “Yeah,” issuing from your lips. Javier dove down and licked into you with a rush. You gasped and threw your head back, clawing your fingers down into the blankets. Javier worked you open on three fingers and used the tip of his stiffened tongue to flick your clit rapidly from side to side while his fingers slipped slowly in and out. You moaned and fought the urge to close your legs while he curled and stroked inside of you, finding the spots you could never quite reach yourself. Within a few minutes you were cresting the wave of release.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come! Keep- keep going,” you gasped, “Just like that!” Javier kept his pace steady, working you along as you huffed and breathed faster. He curled his fingers just right and you sped off the edge into oblivion, gulping and grunting and making noises that were almost embarrassing, that didn’t sound like you, but you felt too good to even care. Javier stopped licking and slowed his fingers as you clenched around him, using the broad flat of his tongue to swipe a long, comforting stripe up the outside of your labia. When you were finished coming, he pulled his fingers out slowly and sat up on his haunches, smiling like a prizewinner.

He wiped one broad, flat hand down his mouth and chin, and then crawled up the bed to lay next to you, stroking you from hip to breast with his thick fingers. “Was that okay, cariño?”

You groaned out a chuckle, “Oh yeah, that was good.” You rolled onto your side to face him, and drew him in for a deep kiss. You loved the mix of how he smelled and tasted, your own salty musk blending with his spicy cologne and the smoky phantoms of cigarettes past and his after-dinner coffee. As you kissed, his hand came up to stroke a trail of goosebumps on your shoulder, and you reached yours down to stroke his cock to attention. The heft of him was thick and warm in your hand, and within seconds he was hard and throbbing. You ran the pad of your thumb up the bottom of his head and over his slit gently, and you giggled as he shuddered and reached down to pull your hand away.

“You keep going like that and I’m not going to last long.” His thick fingers wrapped around yours, and he pulled your hand up to place a long kiss to the inside of your wrist, blowing warm air out through his nose, the feel of it on your skin sending a thrill up your spine. He reached for the condom and opened it, rolling it down his proud length. He put his hand down and stroked your thigh before hooking one hand behind your knee to pull your leg up and over his hip. He held himself so that his tip was buried just at your entrance, then he thrust up and into you in one swift motion. You inhaled sharply and hooked your leg tighter around him, letting him set the pace. He nudged your jaw, nosing up into the crook of your neck and kissing you from ear to chin and back again.

His hot words sent chills down your neck and your nipples stiffened into sensitive buds. “Baby, you feel so fucking good, so hot and wet. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You kissed him and shushed him, then you pressed an open palm to his chest, “Wait. Roll over. I wanna get on top.”

Javier grinned in the dim light of his bedroom, then he wrapped his big hand around your lower back and pulled you over with him. You shifted and settled into place, and the feeling of being speared on him, of his cock hitting deep inside, of his coarse curls rubbing against your clit was almost to the point of overstimulation. You whined and fell face down into the crook of his neck, smelling his warm spiced fragrance and going limp at the ‘too much’ of it all. He planted his feet flat on the bed and kept his arms wrapped around you, thrusting up, up, up into you over and over. He made the most delicious noises, sounds that might have been words or not, but which conveyed all of his pleasure in little grunts and groans.

You decided you wanted to watch his face, so you sat back up and braced yourself on your knees, rolling your hips in rhythm with his and helping him chase his high.

“God, you look so fucking good on my cock, cariño. So beautiful.” He started to turn glossy with sweat, tiny golden beads reflecting the single lamp beside the bed and making him look surreal. You followed a drip of sweat as it appeared on his neck and then ran down to pool in the hollow at the base of his throat. You tipped forward once more to lick at it, to taste the salt and the smoke of him and nip one tiny bite into his neck before moving up to lick and nibble at his earlobe.

Javier suddenly tensed his legs, giving one big thrust and then hissing out a “Fffff-” between his lips as he came. He thrust again and then stilled, relaxing back into the bed, but keeping you close against him. You let him hold you, your breaths slowing together until you were back, calm again, heartbeats back to center. He released you and held the base of the condom as you lifted off and rolled onto your back. He went to the bathroom, and you heard him run water before he returned with a wrung-out washcloth. He offered it to you, and you declined with a weak wave. He turned and tossed it into the bathroom sink and then motioned for you to scoot off the bed so he could turn the covers down.

He picked up a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, gesturing at you with a raised eyebrow. You put a hand up, “Not a whole one, but I’ll take a drag off yours if that’s ok.”

“Sure thing.” He lit one and passed it to you, and you took a deep drag before handing it back.

“Thanks.” You blew the smoke out in a blue stream.

He crawled into bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Stay,” he looked at you with a smile. “If you want to.” He parked the cigarette back between his plush lips.

You smiled warmly and crawled in next to him. “Okay, just for a little while.” You checked the digital clock beside the bed. “I gotta go home and change, and then get to the coffee shop at 5:00. Can you set the alarm for 4:00?”

He nodded and picked up the clock, pressed a few buttons and slid a switch into place. Then he raised his arm and settled it around your shoulders, and turned off the lamp. You watched the cherry of his cigarette glow and then turn faint, bobbing in the dark as he moved to flick ash into the ashtray on the nightstand.

He murmured low, into the quiet room, “You know, I’m only here for the summer. The consulting job ends in August.” He paused to take the final pull of his cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. “After that, I gotta go back to D.C.”

You yawned and nodded. “No problem. We can have fun this summer. I’ll take you to Barton Springs and Mount Bonnell, give you the real Austin tour. We can just have fun for now.”

He kissed your forehead, moving down your nose to land soft kisses on your lips. “Okay, summer girl. I’m all yours… for now.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme

#pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x you #narcos fic #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro stories

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wardenparker · 3 years

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The Meeting Place - pt 5

Part 5: Happy Endings Javier Peña x f!Reader x Steve Murphy x Connie Murphy

Rating: Mature! Plenty of sexy talk and allusions, but no explicit sex. (I know, that’s a miracle for these four) Word Count: 20k Warnings: MMFF relationship - this is a relationship of two men and two women who all love each other emotionally *and* physically so if that’s not up your ally then THIS IS NOT FOR YOU. Polyamory, alcohol, smoking, cursing, canon-typical violence, character death, upset Connie comes with her own warning, plenty of sexy talk, pregnancy, pregnancy kinks for everyone!, yet one more of Javi’s exes shows up, allusions to sexual assault, Chucho being amazing, absolutely none of these warnings are in order. Summary: Our favourite foursome gets some pregnancy news, goes after Escobar, talks about the future, and then lives it. Notes: This is it, guys. The final part. These four have taken an amazing to journey and I will forever be grateful to @absurdthirst for being the most sensational inspiration and an amazing co-writer. That was supposed to be a filthy little one-shot became a world of love and support. Thank you to everyone who gave this story a chance, and everyone who came along for the ride. You are wonderful!

Part 1: Misleading Tips ~ Part 2: Fantastic Results ~ Part 3: Inevitable Outcomes ~ Part 4: Unforeseen Circumstances ~ Part 5: Happy Endings

Javi opens the door, bag in his hand. "I've got the test!" He calls out to the house for the three of you, wherever you are. "Or tests..." He mutters to himself as he looks down at the many boxes that he had picked up at the bodega. There had been quite a few to choose from and so he had just decided to get all of them. If this test was negative, he rationalized that you would need more later on.

There was also another box of condoms, although he was hoping that those could also be a thing of the past. He didn't mind wearing condoms with people that he had casual sex, with the hookers that he had slept with. But it wasn't the same with his wife.

He grins as he thinks of that word again. His wife. You were married to him. He still felt like the gold band that he wore on his left ring finger was a dream. Knowing now why Steve always toyed with his.

"We're up here!" Steve's voice calls back down the stairs. Connie and Steve are in the master bath with you, holding your hair and making sure you have water after you were sick within minutes of Javi leaving the house. It's been days of this. Having to run from your desk at work because of your stomach, peeing a lot more than usual, and suddenly wanting nothing to do with the bananas that always sat on the kitchen counter for you to snack on regularly. Connie had been the one to point it out - always watching the signs and symptoms and asking how you were feeling. She ached from not being able to do this herself but was also excited to be living the possibility as a family.

He takes the stairs two at a time and hustles into the bedroom, frowning slightly when he sees the the bathroom door open. He walks in and sees you hunched over the toilet. "Sick again?" He asks, knowing the answer.

Connie looks up and can't help but grin. "Yeah, right after you left. Steve opened a jar of pickles."

Javi winces, knowing how much you love pickles. "Well, that saves us from 2am pickles and ice cream runs." He jokes, setting the bag on the counter and coming over to rub your back. "I've got the tests baby."

You rock back on your heels, taking Javi's arm to stand up and go to brush your teeth right away so you can give out a round of good luck kisses before the ceremonial peeing starts. Connie had been stalwart and true when you and she came home with the news that surrogacy wouldn't be an option, and Javi had gone out that night to get the first of many packs of condoms for the house. That was back in June. It was now October. After months of trying, you were starting to get scared that you might have issues as well, even though you'd been checked out by the doctor and they had said everything was totally normal.

Then the symptoms started - and you had missed your last period. And the house had started to fill with optimistic hopes and dreams.

"Let's do this." You grab the first box out of the shopping bag. This one would show two lines if it was positive, and you silently concentrated on the number two with all your might.

Javi took the box, reading the back of it while you rip open the protective foil from around the test. "So, you pee on it and then we set a timer for three minutes." Javi announces, glancing over at Steve and tosses him the extra test that was in the box. "Maybe one of us should pee on the other stick for a control."

You and Connie exchange an amused glance at how clinically Javi is approaching this. "It would be better for me to take multiple tests, if we're going to do it that way. To make sure we don't get a false positive." You reason.

He pouts, honestly just wanting to pee on one of the sticks just to say he had done it. "Yeah. That works too."

You roll your eyes affectionately, having an idea of the silly shit that goes on in Javi's mind. "If you want to pee on a test for fun, you can still do that," you tell him with a grin, while Steve pulls out one of each type of test for your marathon pee session.

He snickers, slipping one into his pocket. He didn't want to mix it in with the ones that were really important. Looking over at Connie, he takes a few steps to the other woman and putting his arm around her. "Are you ready, girasol?" He asks softly, knowing that this is emotional for the other woman that he loves. In any other situation his wife being pregnant by her husband would be something horrible but, in this case, it was wanted. He just wanted to make sure that Connie wasn't feeling left out of all of this.

"Mostly nervous," Connie admits, burying herself in his embrace for a moment. You and Steve had included her in every possible attempt to make this baby, wanting to make sure she was a part of the love that created it. Now all she could do was stand back with both men and wait.

You push out a breath and line the plastic sticks up on the counter, one by one unwrapping them, using it as directed, and putting it back on the counter with its cover on to wait three minutes as one big, nervous family. Leaning back against Steve's chest, you can't seem to make yourself look away from the line of little sticks, like staring at them might give you the outcome you want.

Steve massages your shoulders before he slides his hands around your waist and covers your stomach protectively. Javi doesn't miss the gesture and he smiles at it, knowing that Murphy will be feeling some kind of way about his baby being inside you. Steve kisses your ear. "Thank you for this, Honeybee." He murmurs, glancing over at Connie and Javi, sending his wife a nervous smile.

"We're a family," you remind him, gently placing your hands over his on your stomach. You had never doubted the decision you'd all made together months ago, and you didn't now. If the tables had been turned, Connie would be doing the same thing you are.

"Yeah, we are a family." Steve kisses your cheek and looks over at your husband. "Ten bucks Javi's praying for a positive result so he can ditch the condoms." He jokes. He knows Javi is praying for a positive test for the same reason everyone else is.

Connie grins when Javi's arms flex unconsciously around her. "He hates them," she nudges him, having heard him grumble about it under his breath innumerable times over the last few months.

You haven't taken your eyes off the tests, hypnotized by the possibility, and slowly you start to see a second line form on the first stick. "Um...guys..." your throat runs dry, sticking when you try to swallow. The second test is now showing a faint, pink plus sign, the color rapidly darkening. "Look..."

Javi and Connie shuffles forward, the blonde woman's eyes filling with tears. "Javi, do you see—" She breathes out.

His own eyes are watery, nodding softly as he looks at the test that is starting to show that his wife is pregnant. "Yeah, baby. I see it." He swallows and looks over to where you are staring at the test with an amazed expression. "We're gonna be parents."

Steve's hands spread over your stomach, his face buried in the crook of your neck, and you can feel a few tears dampening your skin. The only think you can think to do is look down - your totally normal looking belly now holding the product of love between four people who are willing to take on the world for each other. "We're gonna be parents." You repeat, voice full of awe.

Letting go of Connie, he watches the other woman take the two steps over to you and bury her face in the other side of you neck. The two Murphy's surrounding you and he can't help but let a few tears slip down his cheeks. It doesn't matter that he has zero biological ties to the baby that is in your belly, he is going to love this child with everything that he has.

Your free hand reaches for your husband, silently asking him to be a part of this moment. This is his child, too, biology be damned. "We'll make a doctor's appointment," you are murmuring to Connie and Steve, loud enough for Javi to hear. "Make sure everything is good. And I'll talk to Messina about desk duty on Monday." You had given your section chief the heads up already that you were planning on getting pregnant, and had a long discussion with her about how you could be most effective to the team on desk duty. All you had to do was tell her that you wanted to come out of the field effective immediately, and she would sign off on it.

Javi silently joins the three of you, pressing his lips to Connie's head before turning and kissing Steve's head and finally he presses his lips to yours. "This is it." Javi murmurs. "We are never going to have Naked Sundays again after the baby is born." He jokes, not minding in the least.

"Clearly the biggest sacrifice we'll ever make," you tease, leaning forward for another kiss from your husband before placing one on Connie's cheek and then Steve's.

"I love all of you." Javi whispers sincerely. "So fucking much."

"I love you." Connie raises her head to look between the three of you.

"I love you." Steve affirms, squeezing all three of you in his arms.

"I love you." You nod, awe in your voice as you think about what's just happened. The four of you have just had your lives changed. Irrevocably.

******

“Hey!” Steve comes rushing into the pit, hopping down the two steps while Javi turns from where he has been propped up on the edge of your desk. “CentraSpy heard Pablo.”

Javi’s eyes widen, his head swiveling back towards you, where you were leaning back in your chair, discreetly showing him the baby bump that he is obsessed with. “Amor—"

"Where?" You shake a finger at Javi, telling him not to immediately tell you to stay put.

"He's back in Medellín. Casablanca neighborhood." Steve is so wound up he can't stand still, rocking back and forth on his feet - heel, toe, heel, toe.

"What's the plan?" Physically, you're as fit and ready as you were before pregnancy, save for the occasional morning sickness that's hanging on. The back aches and swollen feet are at a minimum and nobody's been giving you shit about discreetly gathering intel even though you're not supposed to be leaving the Embassy during work hours.

"They're narrowing down the exact location. No half assing.” Steve knows how ready you are to leap out of your chair. "Javi and I will lead the team when we have an exact location."

"The hell you will!" You stand, facing the biological father of your baby, and look between him and your husband. "If we actually know where he is, I'm going."

Javi frowns, shaking his head. “Are you—" he stops himself from berating you, knowing that you aren’t that far along that you would be a hinderance.

He points at you. “You wear a full vest, and you stay behind us.” He demands, looking over at Steve briefly before staring back at you. “The one that covers your hips.”

"Full vest and I stay behind you," you agree without hesitation, though all three of you know that it's possible for you to get separated if there's any measure of gunfire. You reach out, one hand squeezing each of their arms, and nod. "Let's go."

Martinez balks at sending a pregnant woman with the team, but doesn't fight for long, knowing you're a better shot than some of the men and better on your feet despite carrying a second tiny being in your body. You're in the car with Steve and Javi when it comes time to drive out to the Casablanca neighborhood, geared up and protected by your full vest. The problem wasn't preparedness. It was that, when Steve kicked the door in, Escobar wasn't inside.

The three of you were inspecting maps at the staging sight while the van drove around Casablanca, trying to get a beat on Pablo's location. Combing through information to try to figure out what you'd missed. As far as you could tell, you'd followed everything correctly. This should have been the right place. It was hours before you got the call that he had been physically spotted in a different part of the neighborhood. You had a new location. A confirmed glimpse of the son of a bitch. Once more, you were off like a shot.

Javi keeps looking back at you in the back of the truck. The war between knowing you need to be there when they get the son of a bitch and wanting to make you stay in the car is tearing him apart. “Just— be careful.” He tells you and Steve. He didn’t want either one of you to get hurt, but if something happened to you and the baby, it would destroy him.

“We will.” You leave it open; anyone nearby could think you were talking about the baby, but this was far more than that. This was 4 out of the 5 members of your family in real, mortal danger. You’re aware of what you’re doing here - putting the desire to finish what you’ve started in the way of the safety and health of the baby - but the decision has been made. You’re too stubborn and you’ve worked too hard to not be here. “I love you,” you whisper, nearly silent, reaching out to touch both men’s’ shoulders just before the doors open.

The three of you are on either side of the door when the shooting starts. Fire from inside the house is met with fire from your team, and two soldiers are the first to barrel inside.

The first of them doesn’t make it to the stairs, taking a hit in the hallway. From there on out, it’s a fire fight. You have no idea how many soldiers are hit, only watching for Steve’s red polo and Javi’s bright blue short sleeves.

The last push sends Escobar toward the roof with nowhere else to escape to. A quick glance between the three of you and your heart is pounding as Javi leads the way. If anything happens to your husband today, you know you’ll end up giving birth in prison after you murder whoever the hell had the audacity. So you follow, close on his six with Steve at your back. As partners.

Adrenaline is coursing through Javi's veins, the shouts and curses from Pablo are loud, followed by the sound of gunfire. He glances back at you and Steve before he runs up the last steps to join the fray and chase down the man that has been dodging them for years. He knows what will happen if things turn south. You might curse him for it for the rest of your life, but Javi will put himself between you and a bullet if it comes down to it.

It’s fast when it happens - Javi is the one to breach the roof first, gunfire wild and desperate when you and Steve emerge behind him with soldiers on your tail. The three of you fire - three rounds sending Pablo Escobar crashing onto roof tiles with an obscene cracking sound. The sniper positioned one house over sends another bullet into his body, and the soldiers who breach the roof behind you fan out, each adding another bullet to the claim you’ve all staked.

This is the team that kills Pablo Escobar. These are the people who have caught one of the most infamous drug kingpins of all time.

For a minute all you can do is stare - inching forward with your partners to kneel next to the body. The face of the devil, that has haunted for you years, is sad and cold.

“Fuck.” Javi looks down at the body that is laying on the roof before he looks up at you. Relief, and other emotions that he can’t even begin to describe are coursing through him. He claps Steve on the back, panting and huffing out a laugh before he reaches for you. His hands a little more tender when he starts to strip the vest off your body, needing you as close as he can get you on the roof of a house with a drug kingpin dead less than half a foot away.

The only sound you can manage at first is a soft “Oh my god,” as you look down at Escobar’s body. Javi’s hands bring you back to reality: reaching for your vest to pull it off of you and let you breathe. Your other hand reaches for Steve, grasping blindly and eventually finding his wrist to wrap your fingers around. His pulse is erratic as yours is, and the knowledge floods through all three of you. He’s dead. It’s over.

Your eyes rake over your partners: not a single wound on any of you. You’re not sure how you managed to escape it, but you won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

"He's gone." Javi knows it's foolish, but his hands keep running over your body checking just to make sure you weren't hit. He looks over at the body, a member of the Search Bloc lifting Pablo's head up and he's struck by how different this entire scenario played out in his head years before. He hadn't imagined the man that had a terroristic grip of much of the country to look so pathetic. Missing a flip flop and gunned down on a roof, his fat belly hanging out from the shirt where it had ridden up when he fell. It was indeed his fall from grace.

“I’m okay.” You promise him, leaning forward to press your forehead against your husband’s for reassurance. Your hand still around Steve’s wrist squeezes it gently. “Baby’s okay. I scratched my arm on the way up the stairs, that’s it.” Your eyes wander over your partners again, reassuring yourself that they finished this pursuit unharmed as well.

None of you took credit for killing Pablo, no one could say exactly who fired the shot that killed the Colombian drug lord, so you stood back and let the Search Bloc take the credit. Javi didn't want it anyway. Steve posed for a photo while he stands with you, his arm around your stomach. "You want to photo for posterity, cariño?" He murmurs in your ear.

You nod, surprised at how fiercely you do want the proof. You know that if it’s taken, it will end up in history books. A pregnant female DEA Agent was part of the team that took down Pablo Escobar. Every girl who was told they were too weak, not smart enough, too female for this work would to be able to point to that photo and say I can. That’s who this photo was for. Not only you.

Javi smirks, kissing your cheek and pushing you gently towards the group. Watching you make your way over to Steve and the photographer to make sure that your image goes down in the history books. They can't claim you rode a desk for the entirety of the hunt. That you were a glorified paper pusher. Although he knows once Messina sees the picture, all three of you will be yelled at. It's worth the ass chewing to see the smile of your face though. A hundred ass chewings would be worth that.

He huffs when you wave him over, throwing your arm around Steve. Of course, you wanted a picture of the three of them in front of the body of the man who had brought you together. If it hadn't been for Pablo Escobar, who knows if or when you would have met. Damn sure wouldn't have gotten as close and he wouldn't have found the family he had always needed. If anything, he owed Pablo. Without him, he wouldn't have found his version of heaven.

“Connie’s going to be pissed.” Now that your mind is catching up and your heart almost back to normal, your shock is giving way to the rest of your emotions. “Messina’s going to be pissed. But Connie’s going to be pissed,” you shake your head and heave a breathy laugh.

Steve nods and Javi hums in agreement. “I was going to argue but I know you would have kept arguing with me until the kid was born.” He tells you, cupping your cheek and grinning at the stubborn streak you have. “Figured it was just easier to agree and then let Connie yell at you later.”

“This is totally on me.” You nod in agreement. “Messina can throw the fucking book at me, and I’ll sleep on the couch for a month. I don’t care.” You nuzzle Javi’s hand and sink against him for a hug, wishing you were already in the car so you could do the same with Steve. “It was worth it.”

Javi chuckles, pulling you tighter into his arms. “No way that is going to happen.” He huffs. “You’re pregnant. You’ve got the ultimate upper hand right now.”

It was true. Every single one of them had been completely at your mercy. You wanted to sleep in the big bed? They were sleeping in the big bed. You wanted a foot massage; someone was rubbing your feet. All three of them were tripping over themselves to take care of you. While Connie would be pissed, he could almost guarantee she would be snuggled up against you before the day ended.

“The baby that caught Pablo Escobar,” you joke quietly as the members of Search Bloc start loading the body on to a stretcher to be taken away. There are tv cameras, news vans, and reporters emerging out of the cracks in the sidewalk, and you have to wonder how they all managed to find you so quickly.

Javi stares at the scene, hands on his hips and looks at the circus. Everyone wanting a piece of the history. He’s tired, and he already knows that there are just more bad men waiting to be captured.

“I’m done.” He announces quietly. “When we file the final reports, I’m resigning.”

You and Steve both feel your heads snap toward him at once, shock mixed with a sort of gut understanding. Javi had made this his whole life. This chase, that had just ended, was almost his entire career. It had taken so much from him, despite it being how you had all found each other. “What are you going to do?” Steve’s voice is hushed and suddenly he’s not sure Javi hasn’t just made the smartest decision of the three of you.

He sighs deeply and looks around the scene again as if he’s avoiding your eyes before he finally looks back at the two of you. “I had thought to go home. Go back to the ranch and work with my pops.” He admits, yearning for a slower pace after so much action. “But there’s more than just me to consider.” He says softly. He knows you and Steve won’t want to give it up. You aren’t as weary of it yet. The two of you also hadn’t almost traded your souls down here in Colombia like he had. There have been things he’s not quite admitted to you, or himself yet. “I guess I’ll be the stay-at-home dad until I figure it out.”

He chews his lip and brings up another worry of his. “Hopefully they wouldn’t reassign you two to different parts of the world.” That was the thing that scared him. The DEA didn’t care that you and Steve worked well together and it’s not like you can claim spousal privilege to stay together.

“No.” You said flatly, refusing the accept the idea of any of you being apart. Your head is too jumbled to have another proposal, but separating your family is not an option. “You can retire, amor, and that’s fine. That’s your decision.” You lower your voice even though no one is paying attention to you in all the commotion. “But this family is staying together.”

“Shh,” Steve shakes his head, looking around for prying ears or eyes. “Let’s talk about this at home.” He says, ever the levelheaded one.

Javi nods, reaching for you and putting his hand on your back. “It’s not something that I’m doing right when we get back to the office.” He promises. “This is too big not to sit down and talk with everyone.”

You are largely silent on the way back to the office. Just the three of you in the truck as you drive from Casablanca to base, stewing in your own thoughts after Javi’s announcement.

You had assumed that once this was over, you would all go back to the States together. You and Javi could claim spousal privilege and be assigned to the same office, and you could all throw your weight around as the Team That Caught Escobar to bring Steve with you, wherever that was. Connie could get a nursing job anywhere, and she’ll be so thrilled to be able to leave Colombia that she won’t mind having to find a new position.

The reception you get when you walk back into the office is mixed to say the least. TVs in every office are playing the news, people are applauding the three of you with a standing ovation.

Everyone except Messina. Who is leaning against your cluster of desks with her arms crossed and the face of an angry, disapproving mother.

Javi grunts, ignoring the applause, his hand on your back when the three of you walk up to your desks to face the music. “It’s okay.” He murmurs to where only you can hear.

“My office.” Messina growls, immediately heading for her open door. The three of you follow with small exchanges looks, and you square your shoulders, ready to take the brunt of this punishment.

“You’re on desk duty Peña.” She points at you, making no mistake who she is talking to. “Why the fuck were you on camera walking away from the building without a goddamn vest on? For some glory?”

You clench your jaw, unmoving, until she takes a breath. “I took off my vest after it was done,” you explain, keeping your voice as even as you can. “We had a clear and definite location, confirmed sighting and a Search Bloc team. All due respect, ma’am? I earned this. Glory doesn’t mean shit. I earned the right to be part of this team and took it, despite Peña and Murphy fighting me on it.” If you can save them from punishment, you will.

“I took her vest off after the shooting was done.” Javi adds. “Checking her to make sure she had not been hit. She was wearing the vest and behind me the entire time we pursued Escobar.” He pauses, refraining from looking over at Steve. “Do you really think I would let her put our child in danger?” He demands, his brow furrowed. “She worked just as hard as we did to catch the son of a bitch. She deserved to be there when we did.”

“I’m not disputing that,” Messina’s jaw is set. “This isn’t about credit. This is about disobeying orders and how I’m going to have to deal with the paperwork from your wife,” she glares at Javier. “My agent running into the field without giving me so much as a heads up so I can prepare for the shit storm from the ambassador.” She scowls at the three of you - Steve the least, knowing that the Peñas have more stubbornness in their combined bodies than most entire continents. “Get your reports filed and go home. I’ll cool the ambassador down before tomorrow. But Peña…”

“Ma’am?” You hold her gaze, knowing now that she’s on your side.

“I’m cuffing you to that desk until maternity leave, understand me?”

You let out a half smile, holding in your usual smirk, and nod. “Yes ma’am.”

Steve snorts as the three of you walk back to your desks. “Has to be the Peña fucking charm.” He jokes. “Jav could get by with anything by flirting and you just bowl them over with that straightforward attitude.”

“Messina wants a woman at the front of this at much as I do,” you admit, dropping down into your chair. “If Noonan were still here, we’d be getting a whole different attitude from that office.” That was only partially true, you expected, but you and Ambassador Noonan had always gotten along on the basis of solidarity between women in a man’s world of politics. You lean back, your hand resting naturally where it now did at almost all times - on the underside of your growing belly.

“I’m getting you some water.” Javi murmurs, lifting a brow at you and Steve. Steve nods and Javi turns around to head to the little kitchenette for coffee cups full of water instead of coffee. Since you weren’t able to drink it, they were trying to show solidarity by not drinking coffee all day. He also knew Steve would want a moment with you by himself, leaving was just an excuse to give it to him.

Steve walks over, squatting down beside the desk and looking over at you. To anyone passing by, it would just look like he’s talking to you. Something that the three of you did a thousand times a day. “Baby okay?” He asks quietly, wanting to reach out and rub your belly.

“Baby’s good,” you nod, turning in your chair just enough for him to put a hand on your bump. You had tried to make it seem like a normal action between you and had always let your partner - your husband’s ‘best friend’ be reasonably more affectionate towards you since your pregnancy had become public knowledge. You resisted the urge to brush Steve’s hair out of his face to get a better look at him, but put your hand on top of his instead, like you were guiding him to feel something even though the baby hadn’t started kicking yet. “How are you doing?” You ask softly.

“Processing.” Steve admits softly. Javi’s announcement had made him realize that Colombia was special. There would never be a place that the three of you were given so little oversight and allowed to be yourselves as much as you had been.

“Javi?” You ask, knowing the answer. Steve nods and you sigh quietly. “I…I don’t think I’d mind going back to being a cop.” The thought had been swimming for a while - what would you do once you were a mom and the DEA was no longer a productive place for you to be. “Could finally make detective,” you joke with a huff.

Steve stares at you for a long moment. The idea that he had when Javi first spoke up about life after Escobar not something that needed to be discussed here. More suitable for the privacy of your home. “Anyone would be crazy not to take you on.” He tells you, sliding his hand down to squeeze your knee affectionately.

“Let’s do the paperwork and go home,” you tell him, appreciating the support. “You should call Connie first, though.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Hell no.” He huffs. “I’m not dumb. She’s not yelling at me just because she’s seen the news. I’ll take a bullet for you but this? You’re on your own.” He stands and walks back over to his desk chuckling. “You call her.” He dares you.

You chuckle, resigned, and shrug. He’s right. This is on you, and you’ve said as much. But by now she’ll have seen the news and she deserves to hear it from her family. You pick up the receiver, dialing the comuna with determination. Hoping to god that the other mother of your child doesn’t reach through the phone and kill you herself. Messina and Crosby were nothing compared to how mad she was going to be.

“Who fucking let her on that goddamn roof!” Connie doesn’t even bother with pleasantries, knowing full well it’s one of you calling her after her heart stopped watching the news. “She’s fucking pregnant!”

“I know I am.” You try to keep your voice as calm as you can. She has every right to be furious with you. “Javi and Steve fought me on it. This is on me, not them.”

“They should have handcuffed you to the fucking steering wheel!” Connie fumes, her voice cracking she’s so angry. Tears are pooling in her eyes, but she can’t help it. “Bad e-enough I have to-to imagine J-Javi and S-Steve out there every day, but I-I could sleep better knowing you and our baby were safe behind a desk.” She’s bawling down the phone now, pure relief that you are okay releasing the floodgates of emotion. “Are you okay, baby? You— fuck, you’re not hurt? Tell me you aren’t hurt.”

“I’m fine,” you promise her, letting her scream and rail as much as she needs to. You’ll take whatever she has to dish out, and more. “I wore a hip vest the whole time and stayed behind the boys.” You lower your voice so only she can hear you down the phone. “Baby, I’m sorry. But I had to be there. We knew exactly where he was for the first time ever and had an entire Search Bloc team at our backs. This…” you can feel yourself start to get emotional too, holding it back as much as you can. “I earned the right to be there. And you be as mad at me as you need for as long as you need. But don’t punish them for what I did.”

Connie stays silently for nearly two minutes. Only speaking when you worry that she’s hung up on you. “You’re right.” Her voice is tiny, shamed when she thinks about the position you are in. You have given up field work, what you loved to give your family, her family a baby. And here she was screaming at you when you had done everything you could to keep yourself and the baby safe. “I’m sorry, I just— I don’t—"

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” You’re relieved when she speaks again, that she’s speaking to you at all. “You have every right to be mad. But I’m okay. We’re all okay. And we’re going to have a long talk when we get home about what comes next. Does that sound okay?” You want to suggest a victory dinner. A celebration. But this is about more than that. This is about your entire family.

“I’m so proud of you. All of you.” Now that she’s screamed at you, Connie feels like she can breathe again. Reminding herself over and over that this is it Escobar is gone. “I’m gonna leave work early and pick up something for dinner.” She suggests, extending an olive branch. “Make a celebratory dinner.” It stings sometimes that you can’t all go out as a family, instead having to pretend to be couples, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stay away from you if you all went out to dinner.

“That sounds perfect.” You nod against the receiver as though she can see you. “We’re filing our paperwork and then we’ll be home. I—" you sigh, wanting some badly to tell her you love her. “Well…you know.”

“I love you too.” She knows what you want to say. For all anybody knows at the clinic, she’s talking to Steve. “Just come home soon, don’t spend all night writing reports.” She tells you before she ends the call.

“I don’t think she’ll stay mad.” You put down the phone, seeing that Javi has come back with water, and down yours in an instant. You hadn’t realized how thirsty you were until you saw the water. “She wants to make dinner…at home…the four of us. We shouldn’t stay here all night.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how fast did her voice crack and she started crying?” Javi asks, swapping your empty cup for his full one.

You sigh, scrubbing your face in your hands. “Third sentence.” You don’t regret your actions one bit, but you hate that you upset the woman you love.

“You’re in the clear then.” Steve tells you with a grin. “Just expect to be smothered for the next day or so in affection.”

“Oh noooo…” you joke, drawing out the word with sarcasm. “I hate affection. That sounds terrible.”

Javi snorts and shakes his head at you, pushing the other glass of water closer to you. “Keep that same attitude when you can’t move tonight.”

“You bet your ass I will.” Accepting the water, you sip at it this time instead of draining the cup. “Listen. I know you guys didn’t want me to come…because of the baby. But…thank you for knowing that I needed to.”

Steve nods, knowing that if he had his way, you wouldn’t have come within 10 miles of that roof. But he tries to remind himself that it’s just the caveman coming out in him. The fact that - despite you four being the only ones that know - that’s his baby in your womb.

Javi reaches out and cups your cheek. “I know you needed to be there. I’m just glad nothing happened. I can’t lose you, cariño.”

You shake your head, pulling your desk top into order in front of you. “You guys aren’t getting rid of me that easily. You’ve got years left with my stubborn ass.”

“I fucking better.” Javi pouts at you. “I would be a horrible fucking widower.” He had seen what his pops went through when he lost his mother. He never wanted to experience that.

Steve huffs indignantly. “Neither of you is going anywhere.” He states simply, not willing to imagine anything different. “We’re all living forever. That’s that.”

With his back turned to the regular traffic of the office, Javi winks at Steve. “Of course we are.” He smirks and watches you finish the other glass of water. “Now set a timer. Ten bucks says she’s peeing in ten minutes.”

“I hate you both,” you grumble, knowing he’s probably going to be right. “Do your fucking paperwork so we can go home.”

He’s laughing when he sits back down at his desk, smirking at you and thanking God that nothing had happened. He had been serious. He was fucking tired of the bullshit and red tape. Tired of barely being able to sleep because of some of the things he had done or seen. Where he went didn’t matter. He wanted to go home because he knew what to expect, but he would follow you and Steve wherever he had to.

******

You were out of the office as fast as possible, wanting nothing more than to go home to your little house with Connie waiting. You poured yourselves into the Jeep in the parking garage and sat quietly for a minute before you pushed yourself toward the front seat to finally be able to kiss Steve. You couldn’t even find words in this moment, the gravity of what you’d done starting to truly set in. You had risked the entire future of your family, and while you still didn’t regret it - and never would - you still felt that you’d spend the next year of your life being more careful than you’d ever been before.

Steve cradles your head and mashes his lips to your rather desperately. His own emotions being poured into the first ounce of physical affection he can give you. Javi watches with a small smirk on his face, knowing exactly what the man was feeling. You would be lucky if you weren’t handcuffed to the bed for the next five months.

“I’m okay, baby,” you remind him, pressing another kiss to Steve’s lips before you even open your eyes to look at him. “We’re okay. It’s over.”

He breaks the kiss and leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “You know what would have happened, right?” He asks hoarsely. “If someone had shot at you?”

“I know.” Neither of them would have let anything happen to you. The two men who mean the most to you in the world would have taken that bullet without a second thought, and knowing it made you sick. Bile in your stomach churning and spiking your anxiety for a moment. “I know.”

“Okay lovebirds.” Javi feels sick even imagining everything that could have gone wrong. “Let’s get home to Connie and take our collective spankings.”

******

Twenty minutes later, Connie was opening the door after staring out the front windows waiting and watching for the car.

“Ready to face the music, sweetheart?” Javi asks, opening the door for you to get out.

You square your shoulders, getting out of the Jeep and head for the front door where Connie looks like she could spit fire. “Let me have it.” It’s an off thing to encourage, but you want her to get it all out of her system and not hold anything back. Letting anger or frustration or confusion fester inside of her would be worse in the long run.

“I’m going to kill you.” Connie does the exact opposite of that, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into her arms, burying her face in your neck and breathing you in. She shudders and takes big gulping breaths, tears falling again. In relief as much as anger, overwhelmed by the knowledge that this was over.

“Shhh…” you rub one hand up and down her spine soothingly. You can’t imagine what she must have felt, seeing all three of you on that roof on the news. How terrified she must have been.

Steve herds all of you into the house, shutting the door behind you before putting his arms back around both of you, hugging Connie in the middle of a sandwich group hug. “Let it out.” You encourage her, a low whisper in her ear.

Javi doesn’t come over, instead he goes to the bar cart and starts pouring drinks. While you can’t have anything, the three of them deserve a stiff drink. He pours you a ginger ale and brings the glasses over to where the three of you are still hugging.

“Do you want to sit?” You ask Connie, reaching to wipe her tears away with the pads of your thumbs. She must be exhausted, having been tense for hours. You take her drink from Javi as well as yours, gently nudging her toward the living room sofa and sit down beside her to hand her, her drink.

She lets out a small laugh. “You are the ones that got Pablo today. Risked your lives and you are taking care of me.”

“We love you,” you remind her gently. “It doesn’t matter what else happened today. You’re upset, so we’re here for you.” To you, anyway, it was that simple.

“It’s so fucking selfish of me.” She whispers, her face turning red and she ducks her head so that her hair hides it. “My first thought was the baby.”

You look up at the guys before bringing your eyes down to Connie again, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears to wipe more tears from her cheeks. “How is that selfish?” You ask quietly, shaking your head at her a little. “How is it selfish at all to think about the safety of the one member of this family who can’t take care of themself yet?” You kiss her forehead, drawing her into your arms again. “No, mi paloma. That’s not selfish. That is a mother’s instinct.”

“It’s selfish because I was thinking that if something happened, I would lose the opportunity to be a mother…again.” Her voice is so low Javi can barely hear it, but it breaks his fucking heart at how she’s beating herself up. They had spent more time together while you and Steve were trying for the baby, he had dried plenty of tears over her own inability to conceive.

“Girasol…you are human.” He whispers, reaching out and squeezing her knee. “It doesn’t mean you are selfish. We all would have been upset.”

“Baby, look at me,” you hook your finger under her chin and bring her eyes up to yours. “You’re allowed to feel however you feel. No one here is upset with you for thinking of the baby first. It’s why Javi insisted I wear a full vest and why Steve kept me in cover. And why I’m going to willingly handcuff myself to my desk until maternity leave.” You echo Messina’s words, knowing in your gut that she was completely right to say it.

Connie nods, lashes wet and her shoulders slump, relieved that you don’t hate her for her feelings. “I love you.” She promises you, clutching your hand. “I love you so much and I’m – I don’t want to lose any of you.”

“l love you too.” You squeeze her hand but let her out of your arms so Javi and Steve can embrace her, too. “You’re not going to lose us. I told the guys…you all have a lot more years of my stubborn ass to deal with. I love you all too much to go anywhere.”

She chokes out a laugh as Steve pulls her against him. Javi looks over at you and smiles, leaning in and kissing you. “Next time though, I’m tying you to the fucking bed.” He warns you playfully.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, mi corazón,” you laugh, kissing him again.

“Idiot.” He rolls his eyes but he kisses you yet again, letting his lips linger on yours.

“Your idiot,” you remind him with a grin. “But we have more to talk about.” Leaning against Javi’s shoulder, you prepare for the next phase of this conversation: what comes next.

“Let’s talk about it over dinner.” He suggests, throwing his arm around you and tucking you in closer to him. He had learned that you all communicated better when you were eating.

You hug your ginger ale while Connie and Steve get up to set the table and take dinner out of the oven. The smell of heavy spices fills the air and you smile, knowing that Connie has once again spoiled you with her amazing cooking. “Whatever you want to do,” you murmur against Javi’s chest. “I support you.”

“I’m not the only one involved in this.” He reminds you. “We decide where we are doing together.”

“I know,” you say for the hundredth time today. “But I want you to be happy. Whatever that ends up meaning.”

Javi cups your cheek, his dark eyes serious as he looks at you. “Cariño, I’m happy as long as I am with you and Steve and Connie.” He assures you.

“Dinner time, lovebirds,” Steve teases playfully, going to grab the bottle of whiskey from the bar. His other hand already has the bottle of ginger ale in it.

Javi helps you up, unable to resist caressing your stomach. Your jeans had started getting tighter, but you had resisted getting maternity clothes. He slides the button out of its loop and drags the zipper down to give you some more room. “Soon we will have to buy you more clothes.”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re going to love that?” Javi couldn’t get enough of that little bump, delighted every time you whine that another favorite piece of clothing no longer fits.

“I would have no problem you being naked the entire time.” He admits with no shame, throwing you a grin.

“I can’t go to work naked, amor,” you pinch his side before you sit down at the table.

“Sure, you can.” He tells you, grinning. “We just have to be sneaky about it.”

You roll yours eyes at him playfully and Connie actually laughs a little - the first time since everything has happened that she's let herself really breathe. "Thank you for dinner, love." You sit down between her and Javi, knowing she needs the security of you and the baby beside her right now.

Javi fixes your plate and hands it to you before he fixes his own and hands the dish to Steve. “Connie…” Javi starts, wondering how she will take it. “I’ve already told these two, but…I think I’m ready to resign from the DEA.”

She had already picked up her fork but drops it abruptly, staring at Javi in surprise. "You what?" She breathes.

He looks over at her and sighs. “I’m done.” He tells her. “I’m tired of chasing bad men. I – before this—” he motions around the table. “I was close to losing my humanity.” He pauses. “I came close to working with Los Pepes.” He admits.

You sigh heavily, looking across the table at Steve. You and he had had a feeling, a strong one, when everything with Los Pepes was going down, that Javi was more invested than he should have been. "But you didn't," you remind him, gently asking him to come over the table with a little wave of your hand.

Javi comes over and sits down. “Yeah?” He asks, his shoulders tense.

You know what he's asking. What he's not saying because he's afraid of the answer, and you shake your head. "You're a good man. Doing a hard job. Trying to bring evil men to justice. If you think anything is going to change how much you've done for this country, you're crazy."

He relaxes, reaching over and taking your hand and squeezing it gently. “I love you.”

"I love you, too." You let your hand sit in his, each of you taking a few bites of food with one hand each. "What are you thinking, Blue Eyes?" You throw the question to Steve, intrigued by the fact that you had confided your idea in him earlier, but he hadn't said anything about it in return. "You want to stay?"

“To be honest…” Steve finishes chewing his food and swallows. He glances at Connie and then back at you and Javi. “I wouldn’t mind if we all fucking quit.”

"A mass exodus? All of us gone just like that?" You hadn't expected that from him. To be so willing to step back and start over. But then - Steve was inherently a loyal, loving man and he was about to become a father.

Connie swallows the bite of food she had almost forgotten to chew, practically falling out of her seat to throw her arms around her husband in utter relief. "Thank god," she murmurs into his hair, holding him tight to her torso.

“We just need to figure out what we are going to do.” Javi says, smiling as he looks at how relieved Connie is. She had never handled the threats of violence well.

"You mentioned the ranch," you nudge him a little, wanting to get to the bottom of those thoughts he had been having that he hadn't clued you in on yet. When Connie looks over at you, you smile. "Javi wants to go back to the States. I think we all do."

“My pop owns a ranch in Laredo. It’s where I was raised.” Javi explains, even though he’s sure that most of you know. “If it were just me, I’d go home and help him. He’s getting older and the last time we talked he said he probably needed to hire someone to help him out.”

Connie swallows, almost too hopeful for words. "That...that's, I mean...a ranch," she shakes her head as if she’s trying to put the words in some coherent order. "Raising kids on a ranch sounds nice," she says finally, blushing red.

Steve stares at her for a second, remembering her ideas for having a small farm. “It would be nice.” He agrees, nodding and looking over at Javi.

You lean over, pecking Javi’s cheek and smiling. “We should call Chucho,” you say, looking around the table. “See if he minds having a family of five moving to the ranch and invading his space.”

Javi shoots Connie and Steve a nervous glance, shifting slightly in his seat. “I— uh, I’ve told my pop…about us.” He admits, flushing slightly. “He knows that we all—"

"You did?" Connie is agape, slumping down in her chair again. So much has already happened today that each new revelation feels like an extra heart is being slammed into her chest and making her chest feel so full.

"You told him about..." You love Chucho. You really do. He's probably the best father-in-law you could ask for, but Javi took an amazing leap of faith if he told his father about him and Steve.

“Yeah.” Javi exhales the word and then his lips curve up in a slow grin. “He said he couldn’t wait to meet all the people that would put up with my shit.” He chuckles. “He said he always knew one woman couldn’t tie me down, but a man was a surprise.” He looks over at Steve. “Not a bad one though.”

"Well, fuck," you shake your head, laughing breathlessly, utter disbelief mixed with relief. Of all the things you thought you might hear tonight; this was definitely not one of them. "I mean...that's enough for me." You look to Steve and Connie. "If that isn't a sign that Laredo can be home, then I don't know what is." You would have to call Chucho tomorrow and thank him. For loving Javi the way he does and for being so accepting. He can't possibly know how much it means to his son, and to you.

Javi looks at the three of you in disbelief. “You— you want to move to Laredo?” He asks softly, almost in disbelief.

“I want to get the hell out of Colombia.” Connie says honestly. “And a nurse can get work almost anywhere. What matters most to me is that we can raise the baby someplace safe. So…yeah,” she smiles. Actually smiles. “Laredo sounds good.”

You scoot your chair closer to your husband, threading your fingers together to hold them in your lap. “I told you I would support you no matter what. If moving back to Laredo is going to make you happy, then I’m with you. I…” you shrug at Steve before looking over at Connie, who is absolutely over the moon about the idea of all of you getting out. “I wouldn’t mind resigning, either. I said it to Steve earlier: I wouldn’t mind being a cop again. Actually make detective this time. And I’m sure I could make my case to Laredo PD to join the squad.”

“Baby, it’s not like New York.” He warns you, knowing that you are used to the action. “Although I would prefer if you don’t work while you are pregnant.”

“I know it isn’t.” His little hometown is nothing like where you grew up, and you’re starting to like that about it. “Which means I can be with my family and we can live our lives in a much safer place. Cop or not, I want my family to be safe. After this place, that’s what matters most.” You can feel three sets of expectant eyes on you, ready to argue. “But I promise not to go back to work until after this little bundle is born.” You put your other hand on your bump, quietly letting them all know that you’re thinking ahead this time. “Maybe one or two more, depending on how we feel.”

“However many you want cariño.” Javi immediately assures you. It was amazing that you were giving them all children, but he never expected you to be a brood mare. If you told him this was the only one you wanted, he would accept that.

“It’s a decision we’ll make together.” You assert firmly. “But I’d like two.” You mean for Javi and Steve to each father one of the kids, but ultimately it’s up to everyone and you’re hoping Connie will be behind the decision as well.

Connie nods. “One from each of the boys. And then if you want more, you can make that choice.” She tells you, smiling happily. “I know that I’m going to love all of our kids. One, two, however many. No matter who’s they are.”

“They’re all of ours.” You know you feel that way. If it was just you and Javi, you would be the one giving birth anyway. So what did it matter that there were four of you instead? This was about your family. You chuckle, reaching for your drink again. “Maybe I’ll be a stay-at-home mom and have a half dozen little Peña-Murphy’s running around the ranch. Who knows? That might be even more adventurous than Laredo PD.”

Javi grins. “Peña-Murphy’s, huh? I like the sound of that.”

Connie ducks her head, raising an eyebrow at Steve. “Has a nice ring to it,” she admits.

Steve huffs, scowling at all three of you, although there is a playful light in his eyes. “How about Murphy-Peña? Huh? M comes before P anyway.”

“Peña-Murphy rolls off the tongue a little better,” you counter, letting the reality of it sink in. It would be an amazing way to have your kids truly feel like a big family. Because now that you’d said it out loud? A few sets of little feet running around was starting to sound pretty good to you. “What would you do if we went to Laredo?” It matters to you that everyone has a plan. That no one feels forced into the idea of like they’ve been stuck in a corner.

Steve scratches at the back of his neck and shoots Javi a look. “I grew up on a farm in Kentucky. A ranch can’t be that much different.” He looks over at you and Connie. “I kinda like the idea of working with Javi and his dad if they need the extra hands. If not, I’m sure there’s something I could do. I just want to be together.”

“It looks like we’re resigning.” You say it into the air. To no one in particular. But you know it is the sweetest music in the world to Connie’s ears, especially after seeing you on that rooftop today on the news.

Javi smiles, really smiles. One of the rare ones that he only shows when he’s extremely happy. “Looks like. Although, we’re gonna have to build a bigger house.”

“Definitely.” You put your other hand over his, holding it tight. “Especially if I find out I really like being a mom.”

“Let me call my pop tomorrow. Make sure he’s okay with all of us descending on him. Although I know he’s going to say yes.” Javi winks at you and grins. “He doesn’t know he’s going to be an abuelo yet. I wanted to save that for in person.”

You snort, shaking your head at your husband. “Lead with that. He’ll say yes to anything once he finds out.”

Javi grins. “He’ll ask why our asses aren’t already in Texas.”

******

It takes almost a month before you’re settled in Laredo - paperwork and resignations to be filed, a whole house to either pack up or sell off. By the time you’re getting comfortable in the house on the ranch, Chucho is already refusing to let you do anything and joining in with your three spouses in nearly forcing bed rest upon you.

Except for the matter of your Stateside ‘wedding’. The little vow renewal ceremony and reception is exactly the kind of party you didn’t get to have when you, Javi, Steve, and Connie simply went to the embassy on an off day to sign the paperwork.

This time your family came down from New York. Chucho, Javi, and Steve had strung the barn with lights. Connie had gotten one of the other nurses from the hospital to talk their band into playing. This time it was a party. A proper celebration. With you five and a half months pregnant and Javi never more than a foot from your side no matter what was going on.

“Hopefully this isn’t too boring for your family.” Javi murmurs in your ear, his hand rubbing your belly protectively while he watches everyone dance and mingle.

Steve and Connie were already on the dance floor, wrapped around each other like teenagers. It was good to see the blonde woman so happy, a weight being lifted off her since the three of you were no longer Drug Enforcement Agents.

“I think they find it like an anthropological experiment,” you joke, watching your brother and his now fiancée twirl to the music of the live band. Your parents are even getting along, which is a small miracle in and of itself. “The ranch is a far cry from Brooklyn.”

“This is true.” He nuzzles his nose against your cheek and kisses you. “Are you sure you don’t prefer to go back?”

“I like our life here.” You tilt your head back to look at him. “If we went back to the city we’d never be able to find a house big enough or have a yard for the little mister.” The four of you had piled into the doctor’s office together to find out the baby’s gender a few weeks ago, and everyone had shed happy tears to see a healthy little boy growing inside you.

“This is true. Although no offense to pop, I can’t wait until we can get our house built.” The plans were drawn up and the big two-story ranch house was going to be only a few hundred feet away from his dad’s house. But it would afford all of you some privacy. “I am ready for all of us to be back in a bed together again.”

You groan in agreement, missing the comfort of all of you being able to sleep side by side. “Mi amor, if we went back to New York? We would have to hide the four of us all over again. Here? With your dad? We can be a family. Why would I want to leave that?”

“True.” Chucho had been amazing through all of this. He had taken to Steve and Connie just like he had you. Never making Javi feel like he didn’t accept them or him for the life he chose to lead. Off the ranch, everyone was still cautious, but Javi had shocked the shit out of Steve the second week you were here when he came into the kitchen and kissed him in front of his dad without hesitation.

You nuzzle against him happily, letting your eyes drift shut for a moment to just listen to the sound of your friends and family enjoying themselves. “I’m glad we did this,” you murmur. The dress you’re wearing may be different than before - bigger now, to accommodate your belly - and the party is much bigger with half of Laredo stopping by to say congratulations and inspect the woman who tamed Javier Peña, but you would change it for the world.

“Javier, would you d-dance with me?” His grip on your waist tightens slightly but his eyes soften when he turns to see Josefina standing in front of the two of you, a bashful look on her face while she fidgets waiting for an answer.

She looks so different. In a good way. Javi notices the bruises are all gone and there is only a small scar under one eye, but it’s barely noticeable. She looks good, she looks like she’s 14 instead of a child playing dress up. Nor does she look like the distraught girl he had held while she screamed and cried in pain.

“Josefina.” He lets go of your waist and nods, impressed with how well her English was coming along. “Let’s go show them how to have fun, okay?” He leans over and kisses your cheek before he holds out his hand to lead her over to the makeshift dance floor.

In your eyes, this might be one of the best sights of the day. When you had showed up at the airport to pick up Josefina and your Gram, she looked happy. Spoke both Spanish and English with you confidently and told you about her school. She was a kid, just the way she was supposed to be.

Your brother was at your side a minute later, holding out his hand for you with a wide grin. “Come on,” he insists. “I wanna dance with my blimp of a sister.”

“Fuck You, Nicky,” you laugh, but take his hand anyway.

Javi smiles, nodding encouragingly while he shows Josefina the simple moves to the song and pulls the girl into his arms to start moving with the others. She’s giggling and laughing and if he didn’t know what she had been through, he never would have guessed. He was going to have to give your Grandma Rose a big kiss.

******

You have to bow out after one song, disappearing to the house to pee for the fiftieth time. When you come back you stop to refill your ginger ale - it being almost the only thing you ever want to drink now besides water - and set out in pursuit of finding your husband. As soon as you’ve spotted him, now dancing with your Gram, you’re all but ambushed by a coifed blonde in a floral dress.

“So, you’re the one who tied Javier down.” Lorraine gives you a sweet smile, a small quirk of her brow arching up and looks you up and down. “I see why it needed to be such a fast affair!” She titters likes she’s told a joke.

You nearly roll your eyes, having fielded this ‘joke’ a few times today already. “It’s actually our anniversary. We were married a year ago. When we were still in Colombia.” There’s something familiar about this woman that you can’t quite put your finger on, but you also feel like you’ve met half of Laredo today, so you just smile politely.

That makes her eyes widen, her gaze sliding down to your wedding rings, and she tenses slightly. “Javi’s – he gave you his mother’s ring.” It’s not a question but more of a statement. She shrugs, the smile returning to her face. “Those were never my style. I told him I wouldn’t wear something like that.”

Oh. it clicks in your head - the slightly aggressive greeting and the judgement make sense now. “You’re Lorraine.” Your smile actually widens, as you realize this woman was the one who your husband ran from - and who you have to thank for him still being single in Colombia. “They’re beautiful,” You’re only telling the truth of course, always having found Javi’s mother’s rings to be stunning. “And they mean so much to him. Maybe that’s why he saved them. Knowing he’d find someone worth giving them to.” Alright, so you could be slightly aggressive as well. But you’re a New York girl in a world of polite Southern smiles. You were going to speak your mind no matter what.

Her smile turns brittle, her blue eyes crystallizing as she shoots you daggers. “Or maybe he just didn’t want to spend any extra money on it.” She looks around the reception with judgmental eye. “This is all very…quaint.”

“If you need expensive jewelry and a big flashy party in order to be happily married, then what you wanted was the wedding, not the marriage.” From where you are, you can see your family and friends enjoying themselves immensely. People eating good food and laughing together. If this is what Lorraine considers unacceptable, it’s no wonder Javi didn’t go through with it. “This is perfect,” you realize you sound a little dreamy, and maybe that’s exactly the way you should be sounding right now, as you see Javi approaching out of the corner of your eye. “It’s a celebration. Time with the people we love.” You pause, meeting her eyes dead on. “And some other people as well.”

“He loved me.” She tells you insistently. “And he still left, so it’s not always love that’s important. Security is important too.”

“Then it’s a good thing we have that in spades.” You know Connie would be pulling this woman’s hair out if she were standing here, but you can’t help but feel bad for her. Crashing her ex-fiancé’s wedding to assess the competition? Well, you had known plenty of women who had loved Javi long after he had been with them. You don’t really figure she should feel any differently.

“Well, that’s good.” She frowns slightly, looking over at Javi before she looks back at you. “Hopefully he doesn’t make the same mistakes he did before.”

“That’s the thing about growth,” you smile at your husband as he approaches, seeing the recognition on his face when it dawns on him who you are talking to. “You learn from your mistakes instead of repeating them. And I honestly think it’s safe to say that he has grown a lot since your relationship ended.”

Javi couldn’t believe that Lorraine was here. He knew that she had been invited to Danny’s wedding in a month, but he knows that he hadn’t invited his ex-fiancé to his vow renewal here in the U.S. Coming up behind you, his hands automatically go around you. One around your shoulder. the other immediately going to the swell of your belly. “Lorraine, it’s good to see you.” He offers. “A surprise, but how have you been?”

“We’ll I just heard about this little party of yours and I had to come by to give my congratulations,” she lies smoothly, having fully intended to come around to find out what the new Mrs Peña is like.

“Lorraine has been kind enough to give me a few tips on marital harmony.” You smirk at him, laughter dancing in your eyes. You can’t believe the audacity of this woman. “Todo esta bien, mi corazón.” Everything is fine, my heart.

"That's riiiiiight." Javi looks back at you. "Cariño, Lorriane has been married to...Randy, right? For what? Ten years now?" He asks, looking back over at the woman he had left at the altar. "How's he doing?"

“We’re just fine, thank you.” Lorraine ruffles, completely perturbed at how nonchalantly Javier is acting toward her. “Good, proper upbringing for our children,” she eyes your belly again. She’s now heard you speak fluent Spanish even if it was just one sentence, and you had said you were married in Colombia, so now all sort of theories were swimming in her head. “So tell me,” she simpers. “How did you two meet?”

“My wife was my partner in Colombia. One of them.” Javi tells her proudly. “She helped take Pablo Escobar down.” He smiles at you and leans in to kiss you softly. While some of this was just Javi being affectionate to you, he could see the way that Lorraine was puffing up like he was still hers. “We decided we wanted to come home after that, raise our children here.”

You can almost hear Lorraine choke on the words when she says: “How interesting.” And clears her throat. She is most definitely not interested, but thought she could come here and intimidate you or plant doubts in your head. Little does she know how many people have tried to do the same. “From Agent to housewife,” she says it like it’s a bad thing. Like you’ve downgraded somehow. “Don’t you think you’ll be bored sitting around this ranch all day with no criminals to chase?”

You almost roll your eyes. It’s approaching laughable, how hard she is trying to get under your skin. “You’re a mother,” you point out. “Have you ever had a moment of downtime with your kids? Any time you weren’t loving taking care of them? Wanting to play with them and teach them and watch them grow?” You honestly have a feeling she hasn’t done a lot of any of these things, but you don’t know her life. “If being a mom isn’t a full-time job, then I don’t know what is.” Regardless of thinking you might one day go back to law enforcement, you’ve decided for certain that right now, when your kids are young, you want to be home with them.

“She will have plenty of criminals to chase.” Javi’s annoyance spikes at the implication that you are settling. “We said what? 3 or 4 little brats running around?” He smirks and looks back over at the blonde. “And I’d prefer her not running across rooftops shooting at drug lords while she’s carrying our next baby.”

“I only did that once,” you point out, sending him a sly grin. “And I think it was worth it to catch Pablo Escobar.”

Lorraine seems to flounder at that - at Javier being so domestic. At you being so very much not the type of woman she expected him to settle for, If he has settled at all. “Well,” she draws herself up to her full height and smoothes her stress, plastering that polite smile back on her face. “There’s a little something from Randy and me on your gift table. It was…very interesting to meet you.” She doesn’t say nice. Nothing about this encounter was nice. “And good to see you again, Javier.”

You watch her walk away with so much amusement you can barely hold back the laughter. “Am I mean that that was fun?” You ask him under your breath when she’s out of earshot.

He chuckles, pressing his lips against your ear. “Is it had that I really wanted to introduce her to Steve and Connie?” He asks you, completely serious. If your parents weren’t here, he would have mentioned the fact that there were two others that were completely involved and that the baby in your belly wasn’t technically his, but he had been there the day the baby was conceived.

“Her head would have exploded,” you turn your head, laughing into his shoulder. “And Connie would have torn her to shreds.” You know Steve would have turned on that good country charm long enough to shoo her away, but Connie suffered no fools when it came to her family. Usually you didn’t either, but being almost six months pregnant and at your own vow renewal - the last thing you wanted was a fight. “I can’t believe she actually showed up.”

“I guess she didn’t believe the ‘close family only’ part.” Javi turns you in his arms and looks into your eyes seriously. “You okay? She didn’t say anything I need to go kick her husband’s ass for, did she?”

“Let’s see,” you push a fallen strand of hair out of his eyes and smile reassuringly. “There was the requisite joke about this being a shotgun wedding because I’m pregnant.” You tick each comment off on your fingers as you go. “The fact that you gave me your mother’s rings is because I wasn’t worth spending money on.” Tick. “Our reception is not up to her standards.” Tick. “You loved her and you still left which means you’re going to leave me, too.” Another tick. “Everything else you were here for.” You can see it on his face that Javi is seeing red, and you put a finger under his chin to bring his attention back to you. “She’s just one of those people who is only happy if other people are down. It’s okay, mi amor. What she thinks doesn’t matter. Our family is all that matters.”

“Hijo de puta.” Javi mutters under his breath, hating that she had shown up and tried to start her shit. Lorraine had no right to say those things to you.

You wave it off, going up on your toes to kiss him since the little mister is in the way. “It doesn’t matter,” you repeat, running your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck to soothe him a little. “It was going to happen eventually, and I’m glad it’s over.”

“Let’s go dance.” Javi urges you. “Then I want you to sit down for a bit. Get off your feet.” He tries not to smother you too much, but he doesn’t want you overly tired.

“How’s Josefina?” You change the subject to something that will cheer him up as he leads you to the dance floor.

He looks over at where the girl was laughing with one of his aunts, obviously enjoying the opportunity to relax. “She’s doing good. I’m fucking relieved.” He gives you a small grin. “She’s got a crush on some boy; she wouldn’t tell me who. But I’m glad Davis didn’t - you know.” He was glad her experiences hadn’t made her terrified of men and she was able to just be a kid and not have the kind of expectation that she was just an object to be used by some pervert.

“She has a crush on you, dumb ass.” You giggle, pinching his side. “You saved her life. Very literally.” For as intelligent and perceptive as Javi could be, sometimes he didn’t see what was right in front of his face. “Gram says she still talks about you constantly.”

His eyes widen and he looks over at Josefina again. “No she doesn’t.” He shakes his head and looks back at you, sheepish realization in his eyes. “I didn’t encourage that, cariño. I would never.”

“It’s a good thing,” you promise him, wrapping your arm around his shoulder when you reach the dance floor. You love how bashful he is about it, like you could somehow ever be upset with him for being a hero to a child who was literally in hell. “She knows men can be good and kind. Honourable.” The dreamy look on your face is pure love. “That they can be protectors. Because of you, she doesn’t fear all men. And that’s a life changing thing for someone who went through what she did.”

He relaxes at that, knowing that Josefina has nothing more than a hero crush. While he would never consider himself a hero - he was the opposite of it, he knew that she would grow out of it in time. “I hope that she never goes through anything close to similar ever again.” He murmurs pulling you as close as he can with your expanding belly and tucking his face into your neck. “She’s a good kid. She deserves better.”

“She has a family that looks out for her now.” You sigh, rubbing his shoulders gently. “That’s what everything seems to boil down to for us these days. Family.”

“Family is what’s important.” He agrees, looking over at where Steve and Connie are watching you, a happy grin on both of their faces. “I just want all of us to be happy. We deserve it after the last few years.”

“Us and our three or four kids?” You raise an eyebrow at him, knowing he had picked a higher number to push his point with Lorraine, but also interested in if he meant it or not. As you say it, you see Connie and Steve and give them a little wave. You know you’ll be sandwiched between them on the sofa tonight when this was all over and the thought is so comforting.

“Yeah…uh, well I mean, if you want.” Javi sends you that grin he knows you love and often gets him out of trouble when you’re annoyed at him. “It’s your uterus, but I wouldn’t mind four Peña-Murphy’s running around, causing chaos. Or even more than that.”

You shake your head, still unable to resist this menace of a man. “I’m never going back to work, am I?” Even though you’re teasing him, the thought settles over you like a warm blanket. Maybe it’s the hormones, maybe it’s that you love your partners so much, but a big family doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all. “Let’s see what the other two think before we start picking out more names,” you smile. “We still need to name the little mister, first.”

“As long as we don’t name him after the fucking hillbilly.” Javi snorts, grinning at you before he looks up and winks at the Murphy’s.

Eventually people would find out about this. Secrets don’t stay secret for long in a small town like Laredo. Especially when some of the kids didn’t look like him. But he didn’t give a fuck what people thought.

“No juniors.” You agree, resisting the urge to point out that Steve’s accent runs the risk of getting thicker again now he’s back in the south. Texas and Kentucky accents may be a world apart, but the influence is there. Not that you minded. The part of you with a voice kink hoped Javi might start sounding a little Texan eventually. Either way, Steve would always be your favourite hillbilly.

“I say we make up a big list and just start crossing them off as we use them.”

“We’ll have some interesting combination. José Ryan.” He groans out, imagining the gringo names they would come up with. He didn’t really mind, but he wouldn’t be playing his part if he didn’t give them some shit over it.

“We made Rose Carmelita work,” you remind him. Connie and Steve had already agreed they loved the name for your first little girl, whenever she joined the family.

“True.” He cocks his head to the side and leans in to kiss you again. “Doesn’t matter. As long as we all like the names, and they roll off the tongue when you or Connie are chewing their asses for being dumb.”

You hum into the kiss, happily letting yourself get lost in it because it’s your damn wedding reception and you can. “Heaven forbid their fathers discipline them.” You roll your eyes at him for effect, breaking the kiss to tease your husband.

“Shit.” Javi chuckles, shaking his head. “Nothing scarier than you two angry.” He huffs, quirking an eyebrow. “Why do you think that Steve and I are happy to escape with pop to go work on the far side of the ranch when we piss you off?”

“Stop pissing us off and you won’t have to run away,” you point out, but your tone is still playful. Nothing is going to get to you today.

“We’re men, baby.” He jokes, twirling your around easily before he pulls you back into his arms. “It’s in our DNA.”

“I’m reprogramming my body to only have girls after this.” It’s so different to see him like this - the man who all but refused to dance with you even the night before he proposed. He’s been so much happier, these last few months. The weight of the world lifted from his shoulders now that you’ve all left the DEA and are starting your family in the safety of the family ranch. Happiness looks so good on him.

“Expect me and Steve to bring out every gun we own to clean when they start dating.” He teases. “I know what those horny bastards are after.”

“If they’re anything like their daddies, it’s the girls that we’re going to have to keep our eyes on.” Not that you or Connie were any less direct when you wanted something. Hopefully that meant you could raise your daughters with confidence and agency. Intelligent girls who stood up for themselves.

“Pfft, like their mother’s aren’t just as horny.” Javi scoffs. He looks over at Connie and notices the way that she’s running her hand along the collar of her dress. “Look at her.” Javi whispers, turning your attention to the other woman. “Tell me she’s not thinking about laying you down and licking through your pussy. I think she is. And I know Steve is thinking about you riding him.”

Because you were in Chucho’s house, the four of you haven’t had many opportunities for being together all at once. Even though his dad said he didn’t care, it was still a bit like playing musical beds once the older Peña had gone to sleep.

You whine, pouting at Javi playfully. All three of them knew very well how your sex drive has rocketed up around the fifth month of your pregnancy, which meant for the past three weeks or so you had been pulling them each away as much as possible to satisfying the seemingly never ending ache in your core. “Tease,” you accuse under your breath.

Javi winks at you. “I may have rented us a hotel with connecting doors for the weekend.” He confides in you. “Figured we could all use a few days. Steve and I worked our asses off to get everything done so we could get away.”

“I fucking love you,” you laugh into his shoulder, smiling so wide you could split your face. “And I also love fucking you,” you add with a wink.

“Oh I know.” He is grinning himself, happy that you enjoy the little surprise. He wasn’t able to do more for you for a honeymoon in Colombia other than a quick trip back to Bogotá and this time you are pregnant, but he figured being able to have everyone in the same bed for a couple of days would do you wonders.

“I’m getting to the point where you guys can’t see me anymore if you’ve got your face in my pussy.” It’s been annoying you, not being able to share those moments with your lovers, but you know it’s for a good reason.

“We could always film it.” Javi’s cock twitches at the idea and he honestly doesn’t know why you haven’t discussed this before. He looks around to make sure no one was too close before he leans in and whispers in your ear. “I know you would love a video of Steve fucking me. Or maybe one where I’m fucking him with my hand wrapped around his cock, slowly jerking him off.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You groan, almost going literally weak in the knees. There is nothing quite so sexy to you as Javi being vulnerable and open with Steve as a partner since he realized he wasn’t straight - though Steve is the only man he’s ever looked twice at. It’s as romantic as it is horny, in your opinion. “Do we have a video camera? Please tell me we have a fucking video camera,” you beg in his ear.

“Hmm.” Javi nuzzles his nose right under your ear against your jaw. “There might be a video camera on the wedding gifts on the table.” He admits, having fully planned this out with the other two people you love. Mainly because they all agreed they wanted to capture how fucking sexy you are when you are pregnant. None of them could get enough of you. And if you only wanted one. this was a way they could remember it. “With tapes and a tripod.”

Your eyes pop up to his, well aware of the hungriness in them. “We’re leaving right after this, right?” The excitement pumps through you like a drug, that ache starting to return despite the fact that this party will be going on all night.

He smirks and kisses your lips gently. “As soon as we can slip away.” He looks over and Connie and Steve, smirking. “The official reason for the gift is so that we can film the delivery.”

“There’s going to be plenty of those,” you tell him, now certain of it. “I’d rather use the camera for something fun than the literal most painful experience of my life.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Shameless. Our good friends get you such a thoughtful wedding present and you want to use it for dirty things.”

“Yes,” you look him dead in the eyes and smirk broadly. “Yes, I do.”

Heads turn your way when Javi busts out laughing. Right at the end of the song so that it was relatively quiet. Instead of being embarrassed, he just leads you over to where you had been sitting before, Connie already waiting with a fresh ginger ale for you. “She’s already ready to leave.” He tells Steve, winking at you as he sits down beside you.

“I assume you told her about the other thing?” Steve leans in and kisses your cheek - an affectionate act from your closest friends on a special day. No one would think anything of it. You accept your drink from Connie gratefully, with the same gesture.

“Why do you think she’s ready to go?” Javi asks, rolling his eyes. “Her parents are getting along, so it’s not like we are breaking up fights. And I think my ex has tucked tail and ran.” He glances around to see if he can spot the blonde.

“Lorraine showed up?” Steve bristles, protective instincts making him search the crowd for a woman that he barely even knows what she looks like. “What happened, honeybee? You okay?”

No one is nearby to hear your pet name, and you shake your head at him. “She came to pick a fight. It’s not like I haven’t dealt with Javi’s exes before.”

“A fight?” Connie frowns, her own eyes narrowed as she spoils for her own kind of fight to defend your honor.

“And I’m sorry for that, cariño.” Javi shakes his head. “I knew we would see her at Danny’s wedding, but I didn’t think she would show up uninvited.”

“I don’t care,” you reassure him. One of your hands squeezes Connie’s knee to bring her temper down a little. “It’s done, mi paloma. She wanted to come and see Javi miserable and tied down against his will, to make herself feel better. Instead, we’re happy and planning a big family and not taking her fucking shit.” You grin at Connie, wondering what she’ll make of the big family comment. “So she went off with a pout and that was that.”

Connie’s brow shoots up, immediately picking up on the specific phrase you had used. “Oh yeah?” She asks, slightly mollified but still looking for the woman who had insulted her lover.

“I think her brain imploded a little at the idea of Javi having three or four kids,” you laugh and are gratified to find Steve smiling dreamily at the sound of it. “But…I like it. If I haven’t fucking destroyed my uterus by then, maybe five or six? Who fucking knows. But…I dunno. I think retiring to be a mom sounds pretty fucking good.”

“Fuck.” Steve shuffles slightly and shoves his hand in his pocket, making Javi laugh because he knows exactly why the other man was having to do that. His own cock hardening at the idea of knocking you up five more times.

“Since everybody here seems to get off on me being as big as a house, I figured you wouldn’t mind.” You grin at Steve.

“You aren’t big as a house.” Steve automatically protests, frowning at your words.

“Give me three more months.” There’s nothing you want more than to be able to reach over and kiss him and Connie, but that will have to wait a little bit longer. Instead, you thread your fingers through Connie’s and hold her hand in your lap like so many straight women do with their own best friends.

******

The rest of the reception goes by without incident. Everyone from his side of the family comes over and congratulates Javi and warns you about his wild streak when he was younger. All good natured but it makes Javi’s teeth grind together all the same.

“I met him during his wild streak,” you end up telling each of your husband’s relatives, and they always seem temporarily confused that you were able to settle him down, but the conversations turn polite and that’s that. Your own parents have the audacity to give marriage advice and you feel like kicking their teeth in except Nicky is behind them making dumb faces like he always did when you were kids.

By the end, you’re sitting with Connie as Javi says the last few goodbyes and Steve is helping your brother, his girlfriend, Josefina, and Chucho in cleaning up.

“Mijo, go take your wife and your lovers off to your getaway.” Chucho urges Javi, walking over to take the broom from his son’s hands.

He had been surprised when Javi had told him about the relationship between him and the other couple, how you were also involved. He might not understand it, but he approved, never having seen his boy so happy and content. It didn’t hurt that Steve and Connie had quickly worked their way into his heart as well, their obvious love for Javi winning him over more than anything. The four of you together reminded him of him and his late wife, just more people involved. “Go.”

You still have to grin whenever you hear Chucho refer to you all as lovers, knowing he is going far out of his comfort zone to be understanding of your lifestyle. “Are you sure you don’t want help?” You ask, knowing both that he’ll say no and that you won’t be much help anyway.

“I’m old, not useless mija.” He scolds you lightly. “Besides your brother and Miss Josefina will help me put this place back together.” He lifts a brow at you. “Go. I’m tired of being woken up by doors creaking open every night. Enjoy a few days in bed together. I’m knocking down the wall between the rooms with Javi’s cousin while you are gone.”

“Pop!” Javi’s ears burn red with embarrassment. Something he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager.

Your eyes widen and Connie’s hold on your hand tightens to a full-on grab. “I don’t even know what to say,” you admit, all the gratitude in the world welling behind your eyes with the force of all those pregnancy hormones. “You’re…you’re an amazing father, Pop. And you’re going to be an even more amazing abuelo.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Like his son, Chucho didn’t take praise all that well, shuffling slightly before he walks over to where you and Connie are sitting. He leans down and hugs you. “You all make him happy. That’s all that matters mija.” He grumbles out, knowing that Connie can hear him too. He pulls away and shoots you both a serious look over the top of his glasses. “Just love my boy.” He turns his head to shoot the same look at Steve who is holding a trash bag.

“Popppp.” Javi whines, unable to just curl up and die like he would want to right now. Nearly 40 years old and feeling like a school kid.

“We do,” you and Connie say together, grinning when it happens in unison.

“So does Steve.” You put your arm on your father-in-law’s lightly and lean over to hug him. You smile as Connie walks away to help her own husband, and you squeeze Chucho’s arm. “I love those two with everything I’ve got,” you tell him quietly. “But Javi…he’s the other half of my soul.”

“He feels the same way about you, mija. He said you were his Carmelita.” There are tears in the older man’s eyes and he swipes his hand under his glasses to dash the tears away. “The four of you, it just seems….” He trails off for a second. “Natural. Fuck what the church might say.”

“Did he tell you we want to use her name for our first girl?” You wonder how much of it Javi feels comfortable telling his father, especially when things involve his mother. “Rose for my Gram and Carmelita for his mother.”

He nods, pressing his lips together to keep from more tears forming. “I knew you were special when he asked if I still had his mother’s ring.” He tells you after he composes himself. “He knew I would never get rid of it. His mother wanted him to have it. Knew right then he had found the one for him. And the fact that you are so in tune with him that this is what you both want is a miracle.” He gestures to the Murphy’s. “I worried about him settling for a long time. And now he’s just happy to be here - somewhere he wanted to escape from since he was a boy.”

“It was his idea,” you nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. “This is where he wants to be. And we all agreed.” There are about a million things you want to say, to ask him, but you know you have years yet to absorb all the wisdom from your father-in-law that you possibly can. “Now, as long as you’re sure you don’t need more hands, I’m going to steal these three away so you can have some peace and quiet.”

He smiles and leans in to kiss your cheek. “Go. Enjoy your time together.” He urges you and steps back to start sweeping again.

You practically skip over - the closest you can come to it right now - and throw your arms around Javi from the side. “Let’s get the others and run.” You grin, planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah?” Javi grins, nodding enthusiastically. “Grab the silver box from the gift table Con!” He calls out before he winks at you. “Ready?”

“Ready!” You reach for Steve with your other hand and nudge them both toward the car’s, where Connie is already heading. At this point, if Javi and Steve have done extra planning and circumvented your distaste for surpasses, you assume they’ve packed for the four of you.

“I had no idea about this.” Connie tells you, a goofy grin on her face. She’s practically vibrating with excitement at the idea of all being together again. “Other than the camera, of course.”

“We have to practice using the camera,” you tell her with authority, reaching to cup the back of her neck to draw her in for a kiss. “Make sure everything is in working order.”

“Yes we do.” She murmurs against your lips, grinning again. “I want to watch me eating your pussy until you scream over and over again.”

Your eyes slide over to Javi, who perfectly predicted this response. “Have you all been planning this?”

“Why do you think we bought the damn camera?” He asks you, rolling his eyes even as he shoots you a grin. “You are so fucking sexy pregnant, and we didn’t know if this was the only time you wanted to do this.”

“Fiiiine,” you draw the word out dramatically, as though you hadn’t declared already that you wanted to do this several more times. “But I want good video of Connie riding my face. I have always wanted to see what that looks like from the outside.”

“Fuck yes.” Javi practically pants, having to reach down and adjust himself. “Get in the fucking car.”

You giggle maniacally, gratefully accepting Steve’s help in getting into the car, and settle in for the drive after a short struggle with your seat belt. “Size of a house,” you grumble, seeing Steve frown out of the corner of your eye.

“Pregnant.” Connie reminds you, reaching forward and squeezing your shoulder. “And gorgeous.”

******

“Joey, go easy on your sister!” A sentence you feel like you shout five times a day, especially since your brother had given all three of your kids water guns for Christmas last year. Why he felt the need to give your two-year-old a water gun, you would never understand. But Connie was out there with them, so you weren’t too worried, holding little Isabella in her lap and helping her aim streams of water at her brother and sister.

You lean back, grateful for the rocking chair on the porch, and reach for the glass of ginger ale on the little table beside you, a difficult task with your belly growing again. Rose seemed to get the hang of the game, hiding behind the big tree in the middle of the yard for cover and popping out to spray Joey at every opportunity.

A dusty pick up comes into sight from across one of the fields, bumping along the road. Joey turns at the sound of the engines, squealing happily and immediately abandoning the game in favor of running back to the steps of the porch were all the kids have been told repeatedly to wait for their daddies. “Papa’s home! Papa’s home!”

Connie laughs when Rose sprints over to the stairs after her brother and puts Isabella on her feet so she can pull herself up as well. It takes them longer, toddling over together with Connie holding her little girl’s hand, but your heart swells every time you see it.

The truck comes into the yard carefully, Chucho unwilling to take any chances within his little bebitas. He adored his grandkids and climbed out of the truck just as eagerly as Javi and Steve.

“Beo!” You have sneaking suspicion that even when Isabella gets the hang of pronouncing her ‘L’s, she’ll still be calling her abuelo Beo. She claps happily when Chucho picks her up out of Connie’s lap and swings her around, making your heart stop a little just like every time he does it. He would never do anything to endanger the kids in any way, but it’s the mother’s instinct kicking in.

You go to hoist yourself out of your rocking chair but get an annoyed fist against your belly for jostling the baby.

“Chucho!” Connie scolds, along making the older man laugh.

“Stop fretting mija, she likes it.” He swings her around again before setting her on his hip.

Joey and Rose have hopped off the porch and attached themselves to their daddies’ legs as soon as both men are out of the truck. The way they’re acting you’d think Javi and Steve had been gone three months instead of three hours.

It was pure coincidence that Joey went to Steve and Rose went to Javi. Yesterday it had been the opposite, the siblings wanting their other dad. All they knew was that they had two mommies and two papas. “There’s my big girl!” Javi swings Rose up into his arms and blows a raspberry on her cheek while Steve does almost the exact same thing with Joey.

Javi had taken to parenthood like a duck to water. Every insecurity he had about being a bad father had melted away the day Joey was born. He loved it, wishing he could spend every minute of the day with them. He cuddles Rose close even as he walks up the steps to drop a kiss on Connie’s lips before bending down and kissing you softly. “How’s the slugger?” He asks, an amused look on his face over the nickname you had given the fourth child you were carrying.

“He hasn’t let me move from this chair in hours,” you gripe, pulling Javi back down to you for a quick second kiss while Steve says hello to Connie. “Every time I try, I get punched.”

Javi huffs, setting Rose down and kneeling in front of your belly. “Hey buddy, you gotta stop treating mama like a boxing ring. You’re messing up my chances for two more.”

Steve snickers behind him, bending over to drop a kiss on your head since he can’t get close enough to your lips. “You make aggressive babies,” he teases, hailing back to the way Rose used to kick like she was destined for the soccer pitch.

“Athletic,” you correct, smiling at both of them. “Let’s not forget that Joey used to treat my bladder like a punching bag.” You stifle a laugh. “Remind me why I’ve done this four times?”

“Because you love it.” Connie chimes in, an indulgent smile on her face. Even though she wished that she could have helped carry babies for the Peña-Murphy clan, she loved every single one of them and helped you out as much as she could.

“We all do.” You ruffle Rose’s hair in Javi’s arms and can’t help but look a look dreamy. Your other hand floats to your belly and you look around at your partners. “Anyone have name ideas yet?”

Javi looks around the group. “I have been kicking around Manuel. Manny for short.” He offers with a shrug.

Connie hums, a smile forming on her lips. “I like it,” her smile widens, and she leans over to kiss Javi. “Manuel Christopher, maybe?” Connie’s uncle Christopher had been a big part of her growing up, and she hoped everyone might be okay with continuing the tradition that each of their kids have a family name in the mix.

“I like that a lot.” Javi nods and looks over at the others.

“Steve?” Connie asks, smiling at her husband. You knew he was going to approve.

The blonde man looks down at Joey and lifts his brow. “What do you think? I like it.”

Joey frowns for a few seconds, clearly giving it serious thought. “S’ok,” he decides, nodding with authority. He has the same bright blue eyes as Steve, and the same sly smile as he reaches up to poke Rose on the arm and scream “You’re it!” As he bolts down the porch steps into the yard to play again.

“Down!” Javi very narrowly misses being kicked in the balls by Rose’s kicking to get down. Letting her down with an ’oof’ before she screeches out a war cry and runs after her older brother.

You look around for Chucho and Isabella, only to glimpse them inside the house where doting Beo is crooning a song in Spanish while he dances with her around the living room. You settle back in your chair, contented, as the other three pull up seats around you to watch the kids play. “Good trip?” You ask the boys. They’d only gone into town for a few basic errands, but it had still taken a little while. Sometimes you think you’ll never get used to how far apart things are here after having lived in cities all your life.

Javi props his hands on his hips and nods, his eyes on the kids playing the yard. “It was good.” He tells you shortly.

Steve snorts and shakes his head. “It was more socializing than anything.” He had learned that ranchers gossip worse than little old ladies. “We ordered the new posts for the northwest quadrant.”

“Kids missed you,” you point of needlessly. The kids always miss their daddies.

“We did, too,” Connie sets herself down in Steve’s lap despite there being a free chair beside him, leaving it open for Javi.

“Rose is starting to learn how to use cover to avoid getting drenched during water gun fights,” you tell them with a laugh. “I don’t know if I’m impressed that our 4-year-old is strategizing, or scared.”

Javi smirks, impressed. “Can’t have learned that from you.” He teases, winking when he looks back at you. He walks over and takes a seat, his hand automatically going to your stomach.

“I’m a big target!” You defend, covering his hand with yours. “If I don’t find cover I’ll never survive!”

He chuckles, conceding that point. “Although I know Steve is glad that you are pregnant.” He throws the other man a smug grin.

“You’re all glad when I’m pregnant.” You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering what he’s getting at.

“Yeah, but he bitched worse than I ever did.” He teases before he imitates Steve’s accent. “I fuckin got married so I didn’t have to wear a condom.”

You roll your eyes, having heard this from both men over the course of the last few years. Deciding that they would take turns fathering the kids had turned into quite a bit of pouting on the part of the man wearing the condom. “You guys were the ones who wanted to rotate,” you remind them.

Steve rubs his nose, also conveniently shooting Javi the finger. Javi just waggles his eyebrow. “Later baby.” He teases, making Steve huff, his cock twitching at the idea.

“We both have two kids.” Steve moans. “A boy and a girl. Do we really want to keep rotating?”

You and Connie exchange looks, not quite following where the boys are headed with this. “Are you guys saying you don’t want any more kids?” The idea actually breaks your heart a little. Your family may be big and unconventional, but you couldn’t possibly love it more.

“No, baby. We all want a big family.” Connie squeezes your shoulder reassuringly, shaking her head to calm your nerves. She knows how you feel about wanting the family to grow and would probably feel the same way if it was her giving birth instead.

Javi smirks, immediately understanding what Steve was trying to say. “Yeah?” He asks the other man, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Steve grins, nodding at him in answer to his question. “Fuck yeah.”

“Shit,” Javi breathes out, twitching in his jeans at the thought of it. “Russian roulette.” He chuckles at yours and Connie’s confused faces. “Neither of us wears condoms and whoever fathers the kid, fathers the kid.” He explains.

“You want to play Russian Roulette with my uterus?” You cover your mouth to stifle your laughter and not attract the kids’ attention.

Connie laughs but shrugs. “It’s up to you, love. I’ve never minded, past each of them having one of their own.”

You smirk at Javi and Steve skeptically. “Is this going to result in twice as much fucking when you inevitably make it a competition?”

“No.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

The answers come at the exact same moment from the men. Javi smirking when Steve scowls at him. “What? Be fucking honest. You’ve been pissy every time because I’ve knocked her up faster than you have. Just admit you have slow swimmers.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head into your hand. “Who needs more kids when you have these two.” You joke to Connie.

Connie covers her mouth, shaking with laughter and turning red. “They’re horrible.” She tells you, blocking out the sound of the two men quietly bickering timelines for pregnancies.

“That doesn’t fucking count! She just went off the pill!” Steve hisses, making Javi chuckle.

“But that means more sex for you.” She tells you with a grin.

“Not just her.” Javi scoffs, ending his comment to Steve mid-sentence to correct the other Murphy. “You too.”

“All of us end up fucking more when we’re trying to get pregnant…and once I’m showing…” you snicker at all three of them. “Maybe there’s no difference at all and it’s just perception.”

Connie shakes her head. “Nope.” She counters. “It’s because you’re still really fucking sexy when you’re pregnant.”

Both men agree with Connie and nod eagerly. “You are sexy, cariño.” Javi insists. “You can’t think you aren’t. Three people say so, majority rules.”

“Alright.” You laugh, shoulders almost shaking with it, and reach out to try to touch all three of them at once. “In two or so months, Russian Roulette can begin.” You always insist on a month or so to rest after giving birth, after Bella was born it was slightly more. But given that your due date was in a few weeks, you were feeling pretty good about this.

“Are you sure you want to start again so soon?” Javi asks seriously. While he loved you pregnant, he also wanted you safe. So far you had magically had pregnancies with no major issues. He didn’t want to wear you out. God forbid they lose you.

“We’ll see what the doctor thinks.” You assure him, but turn to grin at Steve before busting out in giggles before you can even tease him. “Plus, sometimes it takes a while.”

“Et tu, Brute?” He grumbles, pouting and looking for the world like Joey when he doesn’t get his way.

You have to bring him down to you for a kiss, but you let it linger, silently promising you’ll make the joke up to him later. “I love you,” you remind him innocently.

“I love you too.” While he might be grumpy about you siding with Javi on the potency of his swimmers, he would never deny his love for you. “Just means we will have to double team you the first six or seven times when we are ready to start trying for another.” He tells you, squeezing Connie’s thigh.

“Fuuuuck.” You groan and pout at both men. Past a certain point you’re really just too big for anything like that to be comfortable and you are definitely past that point already. You’re going to be thinking about it for weeks now. You turn your eyes to Connie, batting yourself eyelashes and putting on your most pleading face. “Will you let the boys double team you after we put the kids to bed so I can watch?” You practically beg. If you can’t be a part of it, you want Connie to get the most pleasure she can.

Connie rolls her eyes at your incredibly stupid question. “The things I do to make you happy.” She moans sarcastically.

Javi snorts and shakes his head. “Only if you let us all eat your pussy after, cariño.” He counters, knowing you will never say no to that.

“The things I do to make you happy.” You echo Connie’s tone, grinning at all three of them.

Manuel decides that the moment he’s going to kick you, pummeling Javi’s hand and making him wince as you hiss in pain. “You deserve it, amor.” He tells you. “You’ve given us our family.” He looks over at the two playing in the yard and then back over at Steve and Connie, Chucho and Bella still singing in the big house. “Without you, none of this would have happened. You are the foundation of our family.” He doesn’t just mean the kids, he means all of it. Without you he never would have had the life he has now. The one that he wakes up every day and gives thanks for. “This is all yours baby. Our happily ever after is all due to you.”

“Nope.” You pop the ‘p’ and shake your head. “It’s all due to whoever called in the bogus tip about Poison.” Years later, you still think about it more often than you expected. “Whoever it was has my honest and very real thanks for sending us into that club.”

Connie giggles, throwing her head back at the memory and laughing until there are tears in her eyes. The three of you are looking at her like she’s grown a second head, but she just titters as she wipes her eyes. “I need to tell you something.” She shifts so she can look at all three of you at the same time. “I called in that bogus tip. I was tired of waiting for someone to make a move, so—" she gives a small shrug. “I convinced Steve to go and made the call while he was in the shower.”

Your eyes bug open, jaw nearly dropping to the ground. “It was you?!” You think back as hard as you can, trying to see if you can remember a single clue that you missed that night, but there’s nothing - only the feeling of excitement as everything was beginning. “Shit, Connie!”

Steve is beside himself, hands tight on her waist in his lap while he stares at his wife. “You devious little minx,” once he starts laughing it turns into a disbelieving giggle. “I can’t believe you did that!”

Javi chuckles, shaking his head at the irony of the one that didn’t investigate for a living managing to fool three DEA agents. “Fuck, Con, you’re sneaky.” He growls in approval, pulling his hand away from your stomach long enough to lean over and grab her shirt so he can yank her close for a brief, hard kiss. “Thank you, mi girasol.” He whispers against her lips.

“You guys are shockingly easy to fool when you’re horny.” She laughs, relieved to finally have the secret out after almost ten years.

You reel her in to claim a kiss after Javi, keeping her close and cupping her cheeks gently in your hands. “I owe you everything,” you tell her honestly. Without that night, without her, you never would have acted on your feelings for Javier - let alone her or Steve.

Javi is still chuckling to himself. “Next she’s going to tell us she shot Steve’s ass off the fucking roof.” He grins, now able to joke about the moment that made him realize he loved Steve Murphy.

“If I had known it would get you two together, I would have done it myself,” you smirk.

“Nope, she can’t claim credit for that.” Steve tells Javi smugly, leaning over and kissing the other man. “You figured out you were Steve-sexual on your own.”

Javi groans at the horrible joke and pushes him away playfully. “Shut the fuck up or I’m never touching you again.”

You and Connie groan, wrinkling your noses at Steve’s awkward embrace of puns, bad jokes, and anything remotely in the Dad-joke area. “That’s awful,” you moan.

“What? I thought it was good. He’s never once checked out another man. Can’t even look at asses together.” Steve teases, enjoying the glare that Javi is throwing him.

“At least we can all appreciate a good pair of tits,” Connie points out.

“Got me there.” Javi grins, reaching over and gently squeezing yours. “These are my favorite though.”

“And you can show them how much you love them later tonight.” You throw him a wink, knowing that if you’re already planning to fuck, that it’ll happen anyway.

Javi smirks, throwing you a wink. “Absolutely, but first we better get our demons fed and put to bed.”

“C’mon, mijitos!” You call out to your two oldest, stealing their attention from the very elaborate map they’re drawing in the dirt. “You wanna help Mommy make dinner?” Connie had mercifully already agreed to cook, and having Joey and Rose ‘help’ basically amounted to them sitting at the kitchen island colouring while she cooked.

Two very enthusiastic “YAYS!” Come from the yard while both kids scramble up the stairs. Connie chuckles and stands, holding out her hands to both of them. “Before we make dinner we have to wash our hands.” That makes the kids groan, but they don’t mutiny as she leads them inside.

“I can’t believe it was Connie.” Javi muses, shaking his head and grinning again as he reaches over and caresses your belly again. “We definitely need to double team her tonight to show our appreciation.” He tells Steve.

“I know I’m not super flexible these days, but she can sit on my face for a year and it still won’t be enough.” Looking over at Steve, you pick up his hand to kiss his knuckles before you place his hand next to Javi’s only your belly. “I may be the one who gives birth to these kids, but she’s the one who gave us our family.”

“Yes, she is.” Steven murmurs quietly, Javi nodding in agreement. Connie was the reason for all of this, and every single one of you were determined to thank her tonight.

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