#casanova x rose

[notjustjavierpena]

Routine

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hi everyone! I told you that I had a hubby-treat for you, and it is finally here. I’m very excited to share this one with you as it is something that I’ve gotten a ton of requests for. You love the simplicity of domestic life, so here’s the life of Los Peñas after you’ve begged to see what their routine looks like.  Like always: A huge thanks to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for being a patient, sweet and talented beta-reader.

Summary: A day in the life of Javier Peña and his growing family. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, MDNI, hubby!javi’s POV and introspection, pregnant reader, pregnancy symptoms, family dynamics, domestic routines, tooth-rotting domestic bliss, siblings being siblings, married banter, heart-to-hearts, references to Reassess, family conflicts, casanova!javi turned oblivious!javi, javier with a baby needs a warning, handsy and  inappropriate!javi, mention of javier’s mother, baby scan talk, hubby being a DAD!, couch cuddles (with and without kids), sex toys (not explicitly a rose but something along the lines, and while I know we are in the 00s, let’s pretend that sucking toys and cordless toys were a thing for the sake of the story), f masturbation, pregnancy sex, consent king javi, teasing, light dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, light verbal humiliation, nipple play, nipple orgasm, overstim, intense sex, multiple orgasms, m masturbation, wife is an insatiable brat and a screamer, slight dacryphilia, piv sex, rough sex, breeding kink, creampie, slight subdrop, lots of praises and aftercare, baths and hair washing,  

Word count: 17.2k (sorry)

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56355349

Routine

Javier’s alarm goes off at 6:30 AM each morning. He breathes deeply in through his nose as he is woken by the beeping sounds of his alarm clock, pulls his arm out from under the covers where it is wrapped around your waist, and moves it to the button on top of the device. He fumbles to find it for a moment, ending up smacking his hand into the plastic with a grunt. 

You stir beside him when he falls back down on his back. He rubs his eyes until he sees fireworks behind his lids, moving the hand down to smooth his thumb and forefinger along his mustache. 

“It’s 6:30,” he then tells you, reaching for your shoulder to shake you gently until you whine a no and cover your face with your arms. He smiles as your half-asleep state makes you no better than his only daughter, “Come on, mi amor (my love). Another day.”

“Thank God, it’s Friday,” you mumble, “One more wake-up routine and I might leave to start a new life as an actually interesting person, maybe a psychic woman.”

“Telling fortunes?” He muses with a goofy smile even if you cannot see him. He reaches to pull your arms away, “C’mon now.”

“Yes, maybe,” you give in and sit up, resting your folded hands on top of your pregnant belly, “The spirits are telling me that you are waking up the queen of this household. I’ll take Seb later.”

You are still on leave after giving birth to Sebastian but after Javier has started his new job, the both of you have discussed the idea of you being a stay-at-home mother for some time after the twins have been born too. You do most of your work on your computer anyway, and if you quit your job, there’ll be plenty of opportunities to do some freelance stuff for extra income. Javier isn’t over the moon about you playing the part of the cherry-pie-making housewife but you reason that you only get to experience the kids as kids once which he can’t argue with (especially not when he chose a different job for the exact same reason).

“You sure have a gift, all-seeing wife,” Javier nods in agreement and kisses your lips even as you say you have a terrible case of morning breath. Then, resting on his hands, he bends down to kiss your stomach too, “Anything else Mamá wants?”

“Can you make breakfast?” You blink prettily, “I’ll do school lunches and coffee.”

“Sure,” he leans over you and smirks when your noses bump together, “How do you want your eggs? Except fertilized, obviously.”

“Javi,” you scold but giggle and initiate a kiss anyway. He kisses you longingly because he hasn’t for eight long hours of sleep. When he pulls back, heat has risen to your cheek, “Just scrambled.”

“You got it,” he moves and gets out of the bed. It is 6:36 AM now and he calculates the time he’ll have to wake up Inés as well as make breakfast if he needs to get in the shower before leaving too. He doesn’t have to stress.

“And Javi?” You call from the bed. 

He turns around in the doorway to the master bathroom, “Yes?”

“Good morning,” you beam. 

“Good morning, baby,” he smiles.

He takes a quick moment to wash his face, leaving the door open so you can run back and forth to pee the million times that you need to each morning. He doesn’t say anything, just listens to you moving around as you brush your hair and put on soft sweatpants. He tries to imagine what you’ll be wearing when he sees you later because you always shower after sending him and the children out of the door. He hopes that you will wear your blue sundress now that it's warmer than ever. 

When he emerges from the bathroom to plan what he is going to wear for the day, you are already gone and he can hear the radio playing music in the kitchen. He revises his material for today’s lecture about criminal behavior as he takes a white shirt off its hanger and reaches for a pair of dress pants, but he can barely concentrate when he cannot wait to see you downstairs.

Finishing up his little routine, he walks out of the bedroom and down the hallway upstairs. He knocks once on Lucas’ door before peeking into the room, “Let’s go, muchacho (young man).”

Lucas passes him a moment later, fully dressed and with his school bag over his shoulder. He looks so grown that Javier wants to topple over, “Morning, mijo (my son).” 

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m up,” he smiles. 

Javier raises a brow, “I can see that. Thanks for making my life easier. I’ll go wake up la monita (the little monkey) then.” 

He continues to Inés’ room. She has not woken up yet, deep asleep with the covers half on the floor. She is lying on her stomach with her arms above her head, her mouth agape as she snores gently, her hair an unruly mess, and her pajama top askew on her back. 

He crouches down by her bed and runs a hand over her back, speaking softly as he wakes her up with the intention of not accidentally startling her, “Inés, mi niña (my girl), it’s time to wake up.”

It takes a whole minute for her to escape the land of the sleeping and release the clutch on her pillow. She furrows her brow, yawns animatedly, and rubs her eyes with her tiny fists in the same way he does every day. 

“There she is,” he smiles, “It’s almost seven, we gotta get up for school.” 

“I don’t wanna,” she complains with a pout and earns a gentle hand running over her hair. She buries her face further into the pillow and looks like she’s already about to turn to her weapon consisting of crocodile tears. 

“I don’t want to either but Mom is already packing your lunch. Don’t you want to see Ava and Jacob?” He helps her sit up, trying to distract her from her tantrum. 

“Ava says her mom is sad,” Inés shakes her head but the accidental opportunity to talk about her troubles makes Javier able to undress her without much fuss. He gives her a sympathetic look. Mira, Ava’s mother, is still divorcing her husband Jonathan, and it is the first time that Inés has been confronted with the idea that not all parents stay together. He nods in understanding, “But Ava says that her mom is the one who didn’t want to be with her daddy anymore.”

“Sometimes you can be sad even if it’s a choice you make yourself,” Javier explains as he gets her out of bed, kneeling in front of her on the floor to help her into her underwear and bottoms. He pulls them up over her hips, “Maybe she thought it was nicer to leave so she could not make him sad again.” 

Inés listens to his explanation but just as she is about to nod, she frowns and shakes her head instead, “That’s stupid. Mommy says that you stay and talk about things when you are sad.” 

Javier pauses with the blouse you chose for her yesterday in his hands, trying to find the correct way to explain why adults act the way they do to his daughter. It’s so early in the morning and she had barely been awake two minutes ago. He takes a deep breath before speaking, "Well sometimes grown-ups have disagreements or feelings that are hard to understand, and when those feelings become too strong, they might decide that it's best to be apart instead of being sad together."

Inés furrows her brow even more but raises her arms up in the air to let him pull the blouse over her head, “Is Ava sad too?" 

Javier pulls her arms out of the sleeves and brushes her hair out of her concerned and skeptical face, "Ava might be feeling sad right now too but she has her friends, you for example, and her family to cheer her up, just like you have me and Mamá.”

Inés falls into him and hugs him, giggling as he picks her up and purposely turns her the wrong way around in his arms until she tells him off with a squeal. She throws her arms around his neck when she finally sits on his hip and kisses his cheek, "I'm glad I have you, Papá. I love you!" 

Javier vows that he won’t cry from emotion so early in the morning. He is worse than you sometimes when it comes to these things, chest constricting as tears well up in his throat, “I wouldn’t know what to do without you, mi amor (my love). Let’s go get breakfast before we do your hair. How do you want it?”

“Pigtails,” she decides loudly as they leave the room. 

Downstairs, Lucas has chosen cereal for himself and is reading the comic he got last month at the dining table. Inés says hello to him from her seat on Javier’s hip, and he waves back at her until she giggles and hides her face against her father’s shoulder. 

Javier carries her to you as you cut carrot and cucumber slices for her lunchbox. You turn to them. 

“Morning, Mamá!” She chirps happily and you give her a kiss. 

“Hi, baby,” you reply and notice the faint traces of tears in the corner of Javier’s eyes. You raise your brows, “Did you give your dad any trouble?” 

“We had a little chat about Mira and Jonathan,” he explains quickly and stuffs a carrot in Inés’ mouth before walking to plop her down on a dining chair. Inés chews and immediately gets enchanted by her older brother, looking at the pictures of Spiderman on the pages in front of them while asking him to explain. 

“Are you okay?” You put a hand on his arm, rubbing affectionately all the way up to the back of his neck. He reaches to put his hand on top of yours and smiles reassuringly.

“Just got a love declaration of the ages,” he explains before letting go. He moves to open the fridge and calculates the amount of eggs he’ll need. 

“Ahh, sentiment,” you say with a knowing smile. Without a word, you get a pan out for him and place it on the stove, working with him in a symbiotic manner that he grows more and more fond of with each passing morning you spend together as a family. 

He cracks the eggs out into a bowl to make sure there are no shells and then starts scrambling them whilst you click the button on the coffee machine. Soon, the delicious smell of fresh coffee and breakfast fills up the room and you open a window to let the sound of chirping birds join the music on the radio. 

“Eat up, we’re leaving in 45 minutes,” he places the plate in front of Inés and kisses her hair. She takes the fork you bring a second after and stabs the eggs with determination. 

She chatters excitedly about the plans for her day between bites of eggs and looks outraged when Lucas occasionally steals a piece from her plate. He makes a peace offering by moving his chair closer to hers so he can hold the comic in front of them both. 

Javier goes to pour coffee into his favorite mug whilst you have tea and you eat the rest of the scrambled eggs directly from the pan together with him. He admires you whilst you rest against the kitchen table, having a conversation with your kids whilst nourishing your twin babies. 

As the comfortable morning routine proceeds, he catches your eyes from across the room and you smile so tenderly each time. Rays of sunlight are coming in from the window, dancing over the fabric of your comfortable clothes and making your already glowing skin glow even brighter as you hold the mug of tea in both hands. He knows how lucky he is to have this life with you after the chaotic years of his youth. Who knew that life could start when one thought it was over?

He recalls the very first time he laid eyes on you and how he knew he wanted to marry you by the end of the night (you still don’t believe this). He remembers thinking that he didn’t deserve a life with you and all the love you brought with you, remembers how you said that the only thing that mattered was whether he wanted it or not. He has never once wavered from this want since you allowed him to kiss you for the first time. 

Lost in thought, he almost doesn’t realize that you have started to move around the kitchen to clear the table and stuff the lunchboxes into each respective school bag. He takes a brief moment more to longingly gaze after you. 

You are so graceful in your fourth pregnancy even if you deny it each time he compliments you, your stomach a bump so round and plenty visible already. The both of you are nearly four months into what has been the biggest shock of your lives. All the time, he thinks back to how difficult it was to conceive the first two of his kids and feels a tug in his chest of endless gratitude for being a father. 

He could never describe the flood of pride that had erupted in his heart when he went from being a father of three to suddenly being a father of almost five in a matter of a single second you spent together in an ob-gyn's office on a regular Tuesday morning. He remembers seeing your overwhelmed and tear-stained face when you had thrown yourself back into the examination chair with simultaneous happiness and panic flashing in your eyes. The babble of words was barely comprehensible but they made him kiss your eyelids until you gave him a smile. 

He had called you his very best girl when the doctor had left to give you both a moment of privacy, held your trembling hand, and told you that he would be right there with you every step of the way, which seemed to calm you instantly. He is grateful that he has that effect on you just as you have the very same effect on him. He knows he can never feel what it’s like to bear children but he knows that every fiber of his body tells him that he will never allow you to be scared if he can help it.

These days, he won’t even allow you to be exhausted either which is why he picks up Inés from her seat again and carries her upstairs to the bathroom. When pregnant, you always pack the car with Lucas instead of walking around with your preschooler on your hip. 

“Right,” he hooks a foot around the leg of the stool underneath the sink and drags it out so Inés can stand on it. She grabs the edge of the sink and makes a face in the mirror now that she’s tall enough to admire herself, “Pigtails, wasn’t it?”

Inés nods eagerly when Javier gets out the box of hair ties from underneath the cabinet next to the sink, “I want the Minnie Mouse bows.”

“Excellent choice,” Javier praises as he reaches for her hairbrush too. He combs her hair, starting at the bottom and gradually going upwards just like you have taught him the second that he became a father to a little girl. You had even made a hair boot camp, sitting on the couch and nursing Inés whilst he practiced a few different hairstyles that you would rate on a scale of one to ten. 

He parts Inés’ hair down the middle and starts with the right pigtail, gathering all the hair in his hand with the help of the brush. His daughter grimaces at the slight tug but then her face lights up as she remembers something.

“Daddy! Mommy says I have to do my daily affirmations before school!” She beams at him in the mirror, excited because complimenting herself clearly makes her feel good. Javier cannot believe how fantastic of a mother you are because it would have never even occurred to him that this was the simplest way of teaching his children to be kind to themselves. 

“Alright, let’s hear them, mija (my daughter),” he says and finishes the second pigtail. He takes a step back, holding his daughter’s head in place like you have taught him to make sure the hairstyle is symmetrical. Satisfied, he looks at the digital clock on top of the cabinet. He figures they can spare the two minutes it takes. 

Inés looks herself in the eye when he has let go of her again. She straightens her back like she has seen cartoon characters do, admiring her reflection, and starts reciting with a big smile on her little face. 

“I am smart.”

Yes, she is. Sometimes too smart for her own good. Javier smiles. There’s a pause. 

“I am brave.”

The bravest.

“I have good ideas—“ she halts, turning around to look at him with a frown as if it wouldn’t have the same effect if she had simply sent him the look through the bathroom mirror, “Daddy, you have to say it too.”

She watches him expectantly and he cannot bear to let her down even if he feels slightly embarrassed to talk so highly about himself out loud. He takes a deep breath, a weird feeling in his chest as he meets his own gaze, “I am smart. I am brave. I have good ideas.”

“Good, Daddy!” Inés radiates joy and sports a big toothy grin. She says another one, “I can say no.”

Javier doesn’t catch on to the fact that he has to keep going. Inés turns around to him again with her hands in her sides, “Now you say it, Daddy!”

“Inés…” He chuckles and feels slightly apprehensive. Vulnerability isn’t something he is insecure about but the act of openly saying such nice sentiments to himself hits a nerve somewhere in his chest, imitating a feeling of performance anxiety that he only recognizes from the times he has gone to an exam. 

“Mommy says it makes us feel good inside,” Inés doesn’t let it go, dragging out the minute that he has put aside for this. He knows there’s no way around this and he knows that you would tell him to lead by example. He pretends to cough in an attempt to hide his hesitation, knowing that his confidence and self-love will only fuel his children’s. What more could he want as a father?

“I can say no,” he tells his reflection.

“I can do hard things,” Inés continues. Javier repeats it.

“I am a good friend,” she proudly voices and he hugs her from behind to parrot each word, tightening his arms around her more and more until eventually, he tickles her when she has said her last sentence, “I am loved. There’s no one I would rather be than myself.”

She squeals with delight and slight panic, laughing in his arms in the loud and free manner that only a child can. He gets filled up with warmth and baby fever, trying his hardest to compose himself since they have to leave soon even if he just wants to keep going. 

“Time to brush your teeth and pee before we leave, monita (little monkey),” he tells her and she follows through without any protest. 

When he has told her to help you finish packing her bag, he gets his clothes from the bedroom and gets in for a quick shower. He washes his hair and body, scrubbing his beard with his fingers while revising his material one last time. 

At last, he stands in front of the mirror, putting on his watch, buckling his belt, and fixing the collar of his crisp white shirt. He finishes with his cologne, shaking his sleeve upward on his arm after brushing his teeth to check the time. 7:37 AM.

“Do you have everything?” You ask when everyone is back in the kitchen again.

“I hate leaving you alone all day,” Javier mumbles as you hand over his bag along with Inés’ school bag. Despite Javier’s hands being full, you still place your palms on his chest and kiss him on the mouth.

“Then stop getting me pregnant,” you whisper against his mouth. 

“But it’s just so fun,” he notes and kisses you a few times more when you try to pull away, “They should stop making it so fun. You should stop making me feel so good.”

“Dad,” Lucas interrupts you with a grimace, “We’re gonna be late.”

“Alright, out the door, all of you,” you scratch Javier’s chest briefly before walking out of the room to the front door. You hold it open and watch the three of them scuttling out of the house. Javier wants to count the hours before he gets to see you again.

“And remember, Daddy’s picking you up after school today!” You yell from the door and he turns to walk backwards to the car with a grin on his face. He hears Inés cheer at this fact and secretly, he wants to cheer himself because he never gets to do it. You have an appointment with your ob-gyn doctor later to check if everything is alright with the babies, something they have insisted on since they found out there were two. He’ll have to leave work early but it’ll give him more time with his children in the afternoon. 

He checks each of their seat belts to make sure they’re secure, hesitating for just a second as he gets ready to close the car door, “Hands inside the car, c’mon.”

Inés throws her palms up and he pushes the car door shut with a smile before walking around the front, tapping the hood with his knuckles and waving at you one last time. You smile widely and mouth that you love him. You close the door, and he only starts the car when he sees you in the kitchen window. 

—

The car ride to school is fairly short but it consists of Javier listening to a lot of happy chatter about nothing from Inés in the way only a four-year-old can do. In the ten minutes it takes, he manages to answer questions about why the sky is blue, why there’s no such thing as dragons in Texas, if there are twin ladybugs just like there are twins in your tummy, and if she can try driving the car later. 

Lucas only joins in when she asks whether they can get a dog. He grabs at the back of his father’s seat and lifts himself as far forward as the seat belt will allow only to get told to sit back down. 

“A dog is a big responsibility, you know,” Javier swings the car into a parking spot. He looks back over the seat after turning off the engine, “Mommy and I have you and Seb to take care of, and the twins eventually too.”

“Nunca vamos a tener un perro (we’re never gonna get a dog),” Lucas grumbles and throws himself back into the seat. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks out the window. 

“Never?” Inés’ eyes widen.

“Oye, eso no es lo que dije (hey, that’s not what I said),” Javier replies, pocketing the car keys, “I’m just saying that we’ll have our hands full soon.”

“That’s not my fault and I didn’t even want more siblings,” Lucas says under his breath and Inés squirms in her seat at the tension in the tiny space. 

“Hey, that’s not fair. I don’t want you saying things like that,” Javier says firmly. 

Lucas huffs. For once, Inés is quiet. 

“Look at me,” Javier tells him and his son reluctantly finds his gaze again, “We don’t talk about each other like that and we especially don’t make each other feel unwanted.”

There’s a painful mixture of shame, vulnerability, and frustration on the eight-year-old’s face, “I know, Dad, I’m sorry… it’s just that sometimes it feels like I’m the one who has to always give up what I want.”

Javier knows the irony of his previous statement as soon as he hears those words. Accompanied by the look he receives from his son, it’s enough to make him swallow thickly, “I’m sorry, mijo (my son). I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

There’s a pause. Lucas starts to open the door, “It’s okay. I know that you’re right and a dog won’t be happy if we don’t have time for it. That’s what Mom says anyway.”

He gets out and Inés finally pipes up when they’re alone. She frowns and looks out the window to watch Lucas stand with his hands clutching the straps of his bag, “Can’t we just have a little dog?”

“I have to talk to Mom about it,” he sighs, “Let’s get through this day first.”

The two of them finally get out of the car to join Lucas. Javier locks the car. He starts to lean down over his son, wants to press an affectionate kiss to his hair that’s so much like his own it hurts, but Lucas shakes him off. 

“Dad,” the eight-year-old bites at him, his tone full of embarrassment. He suppresses a scowl even if it’s only a half-hearted one and instead looks around to see if anyone saw him. 

Javier straightens again, trying to pretend the slight rejection didn’t sting too much. Lucas is turning nine soon but he hadn’t guessed that he’d be so much of a preteen already. He has no clue if he is doing okay with him but he vows to get a smile out of him before they part for the day. 

“I’ll talk to Mom about it,” Javier eventually promises. It’s not untrue.

“Whatever, it’s fine,” Lucas replies with a fake smile and looks away. 

“Lucas, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you,” he drops Inés’ bag and thinks fuck it. He crouches down to hold both his arms, rubbing them soothingly, and feels relief at not being rejected again, “I know you really want a dog but you gotta cut your Mom and me some slack here, okay? We’ve never had three kiddos at the same time. Just like you’ve never had two siblings before.”

“Four,” his son mutters. 

“It’ll be okay,” he tells him with a smile. He is steadfast as he continues, “And I mean it, I will talk to Mom but her verdict is final. She’s the pregnant one.”

“Okay,” Lucas says with uncertainty.

“Okaaay,” he parrots to him in a silly voice with a gentle squeeze. 

“Okay,” Lucas says with a little laugh. 

“Okay,” Inés chimes in with excitement. 

Lucas laughs genuinely this time and Javier feels his heart leap. He picks up the bag from the ground and stands once more, only to bend down and kiss his son’s hair, “School waits. Inés and I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Dad, bye, Inés,” he nods, “I love you.”

“I love you too!!!” Inés yells loudly and Javier takes her hand with the one not carrying her bag. 

“Love you, mijo (my son).”

—

The next stop is Inés’ classroom. She runs a few meters in front of him the whole way there but because of her little legs, he never gets too far behind her. He feels so relieved that she’s always this excited for school but with the way that you tell him that she’s so much like him, he also knows that it’s just a matter of time before she grows tired of school during her teen years. Teen years. He shouldn’t think about that already since the thought of her growing is unbearable. 

“Inés, slow down,” he says despite not needing to, wanting a bit of control, “I don’t want you falling and scraping your knees, mi amor (my love).”

When she doesn’t immediately follow orders, he holds out his hand for her to take, “Inés.”

She turns her head toward him as she runs down the hall, so close to her goal which is her classroom, and tumbles into a woman coming out of the room. Javier puts a hand on his head in shock, dropping his daughter’s bag and walking straight to them whilst apologizing profusely. 

“It’s alright,” the woman says with a sweet smile in his direction and then in Inés’ direction. She’s tall and blonde, wearing a coat in this boiling weather which must mean she’s not used to Texas, “We’re both alright, aren’t we?”

“Sorry,” Inés says genuinely. 

“Well, aren’t you well-behaved?” She is grinning now. 

“Daddy, can I go inside and play with Ava?” Inés looks longingly towards the door. 

He goes to pick up her bag, “Sí (yes), but take your backpack and I’ll talk to the nice lady.”

Inés does as she is told, standing perfectly still whilst he helps the bag onto her shoulders. He kisses the top of her head, “Ves a jugar (Go and play). I’ll pick you up later today.”

“They’re great at that age,” the woman says with a dreamy smile after Inés bounds into the classroom, “I dropped mine off a moment ago.”

“They in the same class?” He asks. 

“As of last week. Oh, and it’s Emily, actually, not ‘nice lady’,” the stranger reveals, holding out her hand for a shake, “And you’re Javier, right?”

“That’s right,” he shakes her hand. Great, even she knows who he is and he prepares himself for the usual speech about him being known all over Laredo, doing everything in his power to not make his mouth a straight line. 

However, she nods towards the door and surprises him by saying nothing of the sort. Instead, she makes it about herself which shouldn’t be nice but it is, “Inés’ father? My daughter has mentioned her a few times. We’re new here, moved from Upstate New York. Work. You know.”

“That explains the coat,” he says with a little smirk. 

She reacts by putting her hand on her cheek and then her forehead, feeling a blush that’s not there. He is too oblivious to know that she’s fishing for a compliment on her appearance, “That obvious, huh? I probably look like a red crab. I’m boiling.”

“You look fine,” he reassures, “But hit up the AC in your car or at least take that thing off. Survival mode, you know, do it for the kids.”

Emily giggles. He smiles. 

“We should arrange a playdate sometime. My daughter could use some friends. I think we both could. We could get some coffee if you know a place,” she suggests in an attempt at a flirtation but even if it’s so glaringly obvious, he just doesn’t pick up on it. 

Instead, his mind circles back to you in the kitchen he built for you, “I’m busy most days but I’m sure my wife would be thrilled to set something up. Inés can’t just be playing with our friends’ daughter all the time.”

“Oh,” there’s a slight change in Emily’s demeanor after that. Her smile falters ever so slightly, and there's a fleeting look of disappointment in her eyes but he can't quite pinpoint the cause of her sudden change in mood. He brushes it off, "Well, I should probably let you get back to your day. I suppose your name and number are on the class’ contact list?” 

He tries to keep up the upbeat tone of their conversation but she just smiles awkwardly, "Yes. Of course, Javier. I'll look forward to it."

As he turns to leave, he catches a glimpse of Emily's expression, and he can't shake the feeling that something is amiss. He furrows his brow, wondering all the way to the car what he did wrong and doesn’t know that if you had been there, you would have been laughing your ass off the second Emily had left.

He brushes it off the second the radio comes on in the car and heads to work afterward. The day feels easy; he gets to come home, gets to watch his kids grow up in front of his eyes and in the evening he will make love to his beautiful wife. Such a fact makes days at work pass like seconds, and he smiles all the way from his car when the bell rings for his first lesson.

—

Around two in the afternoon on the same day, Javier enters his house with his kids following right behind him. He comes home to you feeding Sebastian mashed avocado in his high chair, and in the meantime cutely imitating his babbling about nothing right back at the little green monster that used to be his son. He walks up to you after putting his bag down on a dining chair. 

“Hey,” you say with avocado on your forehead. 

Javier reaches up to rub it off, sucking it off his finger before pecking your lips, “Hola, mi amor (hello, my love). How’s your day been? Scan go okay?”

He kisses Sebastian’s head too before turning his attention to you. You’re scraping the last bits of avocado onto the baby spoon before feeding it to your son.

“I’ll tell you about the scan later. I need to talk to you about it… but Seb and I have had such a good day, ain’t that right, baby?” You tickle Sebastian’s cheeks, not caring about being covered in green too. Sebastian giggles and clenches his fist around some of the avocado he has had in his hand for a while. Javier decides not to press any further since you don’t look worried, especially not as you watch Sebastian slam his fist into the plate in front of him afterward, “We tried sweet potatoes today, didn’t we? Y probamos fresas del mercado, pasta con un poco de queso (And we tried strawberries from the market, pasta with a bit of cheese)."

Javier grins at your excitement, watching you reach for a piece of paper towel to wipe off all the excess food from your child now that he has been allowed to eat more independently with just a bit of help, "Mi hijo es un foodie, ¿eh? (my son is a foodie, huh?)"

Lucas pops his head in through the kitchen door with Inés loyally following right behind, “Mom, did you say strawberries?”

You walk to the kitchen table and grab the cardboard basket of strawberries, holding it out for your eldest son. You shake it a little, “They’re really good.”

He takes one and hands it to Inés before he grabs one for himself afterward. He smiles contentedly after biting into it, happily chewing the sweet berry and looking down at his sister to see her reaction as well, “Good?”

You offer Javier a strawberry too. He eats a whole one, doesn’t even bother to pick off the green part, and earns a little crinkle of your nose. He winks at your reaction and the expression of disapproval turns into a smile that sets his heart into overdrive. 

Inés lights up after finishing the berry, “Can I have one more?”

“Consider it your afternoon snack,” you say. You pull out a chair around the dining table, placing the basket of strawberries on the table, “Do you want a PB&J sandwich too?” 

“Yes!” She runs across the room to crawl onto the seat, waiting patiently with her hands flat on the table until she cannot resist nearly smothering herself with another strawberry. 

“Do you want one too, Luke?” You ask. 

“Yes, please. Thank you, Mom,” he says politely and goes to sit down too. He taps a rhythm on the table that Inés fails at replicating. From his high chair, Sebastian joins in by slamming his palms into the table and the luckily empty baby platter. 

“Javi, can you take Seb for his nap?” You ask while reaching for the jar of peanut butter in the cupboard. You cannot find it, frowning at the realization that you must have placed it somewhere else. Javier hears you mutter to yourself about your damn pregnancy brain. 

He walks up behind you, a hand on the small of your back as he leans over you. You freeze but then relax into his touch. He reaches into the far back of the cupboard, feeling for the jar, and fetches it, “You told me to hide it, baby. You eat too much of it with just the lid off and a spoon.”

“I should stop denying the babies it if that’s what they want,” you giggle to hide your embarrassment at having forgotten and pat your pregnant belly. You look so pretty in your dress, the one he had hoped that you would wear; blue as the sky above with tiny yellow bees flying around on it. 

He hands you the jar of peanut butter and cannot help but admire the gentle curve of your stomach, that certain glow making you radiant in the mundane setting of his kitchen. He can never help ogling you when you care for his children and it’s even worse when you carry them as well. 

“You look so gorgeous right now, mi vida (my life),” he rubs the small of your back and slides his palm around you to your belly, breathing against your ear as he talks. You turn your head just a little to smile playfully at him and thank him in a soft whisper. 

Javier looks back to see his kids chatting with each other, so he presses into you a little more.

“I got a bed with your name on it later,” he continues quietly as he still stands right behind you, letting his hand drop to your hip. You shove a little at him but it’s nowhere near enough to actually mean that you want him to stop. He lets his warm breath ghost over the soft shell of your ear until you let out a sigh that you only reserve for him. He continues until he can look at your neck and see your pulse throbbing under your skin, “I could just eat you up. Take you to our bedroom, lock the door… throw you on the bed, and take your clothes off with my teeth.”

“Pórtate bien (Behave),” you scold him with a bit more mischief than what he assumes is intended, “I have sandwiches to make and we’ll be sorry later if Seb misses his nap.”

He adds a finishing touch to his attempt at a flirtation by shielding you from his kids’ line of sight. The broad hand that has been resting on your hip slips further down. and Javier allows himself a grope to your backside. He jiggles the fleshiest part of it and you finally have enough, turning around quickly with a look of mock outrage. 

“Thin ice, baby, thin ice,” you chide but he simply pecks you on the lips and turns towards his children again. 

“Vamos, pequeño (let’s go, little one),” he says to Sebastian as he approaches him, lifting him out of his high chair and placing him on his hip. He feels your disapproving eyes as he walks out of the kitchen but just smirks to himself, heading for the stairs to go to the nursery.

In the room, he places Sebastian on the changing table and checks his diaper. He also removes as much clothing as possible, making sure he won’t overheat in the bassinet. His son grins up at him, not seeming tired at first but then starts blinking slowly as the nap ritual proceeds. 

“Oh, you are tired, mijo (my son),” he whispers softly as he cradles him towards his chest afterward. He feels Sebastian resting his chubby cheek against his shoulder, breathing slowly as he starts falling asleep from being bounced in his father’s arms.

Javier hums, savoring the moment that he knows is fleeting with his son. He is reminded of needing to ask you about the doctor’s appointment again, excitement in his body as he thinks about two sets of tiny feet running across his living room floor at the same time. As a child, he never really understood why he couldn’t get a sibling but his understanding of what was happening to his mother only came a little later until he stopped asking altogether. He loves that his house is so full now. 

When Sebastian is fully asleep, he lays him down on his back on the tiny mattress that belonged to Inés before. He runs his palm over the fine hairs on his head for a few moments, just staring down at his baby to commit it to memory. He tucks the blanket around him, turns on the baby monitor, grabs the other, and flicks off the lights. 

When he returns to the kitchen ten minutes later, he finds you sitting by the dining table with a sandwich of your own. Lucas holds a pencil in his hand, your grocery list lying in front of him and his empty plate has been pushed away. 

“I hate broccoli,” Inés says from her own seat, nose scrunched up. The jelly part of her sandwich seems more around her mouth than in her belly. She tries to look over at what her older brother is writing but he is hesitant in his spelling of the word. 

“I hate it because I can’t spell it,” Lucas grumbles with concentration on his face, “B-R-O…”

“C-C-O-L-I,” Javier finishes, announcing his presence to them. You look up at him as he stops between Lucas’ and your chair, setting down the baby monitor on the table. 

“Hey, he’s supposed to learn how to spell it by himself,” you tut gently but without any anger or annoyance. Javier kisses your jelly-tasting lips. You tap the list, “Lettuce.”

Lucas groans in complaint, “Mooom, all these words are hard.”

Inés giggles from her seat, “Lucas is bad at spelling!”

Lucas furrows his brow, looking to you for saving, “No, I’m not!”

You send your daughter a look, knowing you have the right thing to say to bring some justice into the world, “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Inés Peña. You have to practice your counting skills with Daddy.”

Javier snorts at the look of disgust on his daughter’s face. She comically throws herself back into her chair, arms crossed over her chest. He kisses her hair, “No angry faces, Princesa (princess). You’ll have plenty of time to play afterward.”

“Maybe I am bad at spelling,” Lucas says in defeat, heaving a big sigh. 

“You’re doing great, sweetie. It’s all about practice,” you reassure and reach out to rub the back of his neck affectionately, “And I really appreciate you helping me with the grocery list. It’s a big job.”

“How about an easier word?” Javier suggests, silently eyeing your sandwich as he speaks, “Like tomatoes.”

Lucas smiles down at the paper, brightening at the praise you offer as consolation for his struggles. He writes down the newly suggested word with newfound confidence, “T-O-M-A-T-O-E-S.”

“Perfect,” you continue your praise. 

Finally, Javier pulls out a chair to sit down with his family. He chooses the seat next to you but opposite Inés to keep her in line if she decides to have a tantrum. However, she just watches her brother scribble down word after word. 

“What about ice cream?” She asks suddenly with her best pleading expression. She is more hesitant than usual, knowing full well that she overstepped the rules a moment ago. 

“If Lucas can spell it,” you challenge with a sweet smile, raising a brow at your son. 

Inés grabs at the edge of the dining table, moving to stand on her knees instead of sitting. She leans over the table to get a closer look, “You can do it, Lucas!”

“Challenge accepted,” he says with a grin, nearly breaking the tip of the pencil in his eagerness, especially now that his sister is cheering for him, “I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M.”

Both of them look to you expectantly, awaiting your verdict that’ll make or break the oncoming weekend. You nod, “That’s indeed how you spell ice cream.”

The both of them cheer. You laugh along with them, and Javier feels his knees go weak even as he sits down. He leans back in his seat with his shoulders completely relaxed, briefly recalling a time when his body being this calm was only a possibility when alcohol was in his bloodstream. 

“What’s next on the list, muchacho (young man)?” He asks as the laughter dies down once again, casually reaching out for half of your sandwich. He earns a look of mock outrage from you, your hand reaching out to swat his arm. 

“Get your own, Peña,” you scold playfully. He pulls away quickly and bites down into the corner. You roll your eyes, “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“And you love it,” he says around a mouthful of food. 

“Mom, what’s ‘insatiable’ mean?” Inés asks curiously. 

You look at him with a smirk as you reply, “It means Daddy always wants more.” 

“More what? More food?” Inés furrows her brow in confusion. 

“Something like that,” Javier says with his heart beating loudly in his chest at the mere thought of you. He leans closer to you, lowering his voice just enough, “And more of Mommy, too.”

“And I think that’s it for snack time!” You announce quickly after, heat in your cheeks as you push yourself to stand. Javier is pleased with himself as you walk around in a flustered state, “Lucas, do you have any homework?”

“I finished math homework in school,” he announces proudly, “Is the grocery list finished?” 

“Can you add chicken too? Then I think we’re done,” you walk back to the table to gather the plates, not letting Javier put down his sandwich again. He feels triumphant at having caused you to feel like this, a sucker for watching your warm face. 

“C-H-I-K—“ Lucas spells out loud. 

“C-K,” you correct as you put the dirty plates into the dishwasher. 

“Oh,” he turns the pencil around and erases his mistake, “C-H-I-C-K-E-N.”

“There you go, baby, good job,” you praise.

Lucas beams.

—

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly. Lucas goes to his room to play on his Game Boy, its faint beeps echoing through the house from the open door, Inés, after getting her face thoroughly wiped down, falls asleep on the couch after refusing an afternoon nap, and you and Javier begin the usual ritual of preparing for dinner while Sebastian sleeps undisturbed in his bed. 

“You wanted to talk to me about the scan today?” Javier starts a conversation as he chops vegetables alongside you, your hip occasionally bumping into his as you mix a dressing. 

“Yeah, and before you start to worry; yes, the babies are fine,” you reply and absentmindedly run your palm across your belly. 

“But?” Javier puts the knife down to look at you. 

“But nothing. I just wanted to tell you that they know what we’re having and they want us to discuss if we wanna know,” you smile excitedly. You mirror him by putting down the spoon and stepping closer to let him embrace you. 

“They can tell already?” He asks as he places his hands on your hips, rubbing up and down soothingly. He pecks your lips, heart feeling too big for his chest. 

You nod and lean into another kiss, “And they said everything looks great too. Nothing to worry about, and the due date is so far down the road that we can’t wonder about the delivery yet.” 

“Alright, yes. Okay,” he nods in return, an overwhelmed smile on his lips. He releases a small sigh, “But do we want to know? We’ve tried both but I think it’s up to you.” 

“I mean,” you think out loud while Javier takes the opportunity to rub your stomach, “I like surprises but with the stress the delivery will probably bring, it might be nice to know. Just to appreciate it more than when I’m a mess. I don’t know.”

“Well, I guess we don’t have to decide now. We have five or so months, have a think,” he reassures you and presses a soft kiss to your neck. He can feel and hear you draw in a deep breath. 

You are interrupted by Sebastian’s soft noises through the baby monitor, tiny sounds of complaint indicating that he is just about to cry. Javier releases you from his grasp, “You get him and I’ll finish up here. Dinner in twenty, don’t you think?”

“Sure, baby,” you say with a final peck to his lips. You leave the kitchen, ascending the stairs with a little noise, and when Javier glances out into the entry hall, he sees you walk upstairs with a hand on the small of your back. Sebastian has started to cry but you reassure him all the way through the house, “I’m coming, mijo (my son).”

Javier finishes up dinner. He faintly hears you tell Lucas to go set the table, and when your son starts taking plates out of the drawer, Inés enters the kitchen while rubbing her eyes, awakened by the noise. 

“Hola, mi niña cansada (hello, my tired girl),” Javier says as she leans into his side. He turns the pan on the hob so that the handle doesn’t stick out from over the edge, then runs his hand over his daughter’s hair. 

“No estoy cansada, papá (I’m not tired, Daddy),” she protests while fighting a yawn. 

“¿Entonces tienes hambre (Are you hungry then)?” He asks with a hidden, amused smile. 

“Sí (yes),” she wraps her arms around his waist. 

"Si tienes hambre, ayuda a tu hermano a poner la mesa (If you’re hungry, help your brother with setting the table),” he runs his hand over her back, caressing her gently while stirring the chicken and vegetables. 

“Okay, papá,” she says, her stomach probably growling since she’s not protesting hard labor. 

Lucas has finished carrying plates, glasses, and cutlery to the dining table. He pulls out a chair for Inés to stand on, directing her thoroughly on where everything goes until you enter the kitchen again with Sebastian on your hip. 

“It looks so good!” You praise with a big grin, genuinely proud to see both of your eldest kids cooperating so well, “And the cutlery on the right sides!” 

Javier turns back to have a look, holding a hand up to give them both a high five. You send him a smile only reserved for him, walking to put Sebastian into his high chair afterward. You go to the living room to find a few toys he can play with until dinner is ready. 

“Can I watch Nanalan after dinner?” Inés asks during dinner, mouth full of food. 

“If you practice your counting first,” you compromise. 

Without hesitation, Inés starts saying numbers out loud, “One, two, three, four, five, six…”

“Inés,” you say, a crease on your forehead.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Peña,” Javier teases, “But I think you walked right into that one.”

“Shush, you,” you tut and, out of spite, listen closely after any errors in your daughter’s count. 

After dinner, you take on the job of clearing the table and filling up the dishwasher. Lucas gets a free pass from helping so he can go pop the Nanalan VHS tape into the TV, setting it up for you all to enjoy in just a moment. 

Sebastian plays with a few toy cars as he sits in his high chair. He coos softly, making noises to match the tiny red vehicle. 

Inés, still full of energy, practices counting backward with Javier while you wash up the pan in the sink. He can see you listening to them even with your back turned, knows that you are smiling without looking at your face. 

“C’mon, baby. What comes after six?” He asks, having pulled her chair out to stand in front of her. 

“Seven!” She answers confidently and it is technically not wrong.

He smiles with amusement, “We’re counting backward. Down from ten. Try again. Teeeen…”

“Ten… nine… eight…” she says loudly. 

Javier waits patiently. He holds up the number of fingers equal to the numbers she is saying. She furrows her brows in concentration and continues, “Seven… six… five…”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he encourages. 

Inés grips the seat of her chair in excitement, “Three!”

“Are you sure?” He stops her briefly. 

She looks up at him, hesitating for a moment and seeking reassurance, “Four.”

He nods, “You got this.”

She smiles brightly, “Three! Two! One!”

“Bien hecho, Princesa (well done, princess)!” He praises loudly and leans down over her to kiss the top of her head repeatedly, “Eres mi chica lista (you’re my clever girl).”

She stretches up her arms to which he responds by lifting her up from the chair with a groan. She is getting so big, he thinks as he places her on his hip, or maybe he is just getting old. He gets an idea, even if it’ll hurt the muscles in his back, “You know, baby, counting backward is very important. That’s what they do when they launch rockets into space. Try again, see what happens.”

Inés’ eyes light up as she starts counting again. She rushes through it, seeming to do well when something unknown comes afterward. When she gets to one, Javier lifts her high into the air and spins in the kitchen. 

“Liftoff!” He announces, moving around in figure eights to imitate her flying and she squeals with laughter. The sound is one of those that bubble up in her chest, completely unrestrained and pure in its entirety, and Javier’s heart goes into overdrive when he knows that he is the one causing it. There’s nothing that can hurt him in these moments, nothing that can bring him down from the pride he takes in making his kids feel safe and happy. 

“Oh no!” He continues his part, “Inés Peña, well-renowned astronaut, is attacked by aliens from el planeta rojo (the red planet)!”

“¡Papá, no (Daddy, no)!” She giggles and wiggles in his arms as he buries his nose in her cheek, “¡No permitas que me atrapen los alienígenas (Don’t let the aliens catch me)!” 

“Too late!” He tells her before pretending to sink his teeth into her round cheek. He growls like only an alien attacker would and his daughter shrieks with laughter. 

He stops to let her breathe, her little form shaking as she tries to regain her composure. She throws her arms around his neck, looking over at you in secret and lowering her voice to a whisper that’s way too loud. 

“Do it to Mommy!” She demands. 

You perk up at hearing your nickname and turn around with your hands covered in dish soap and water. You watch, like a deer in the headlights, as Javier places Inés down on her feet. He smirks like a devil and you step backwards but only bump into the kitchen counter. Your wet arms come up to screen your face as he approaches you, looking devilish with his arms out in front of him. He makes grabby hands in the air. 

“You are not doing that to me!” You squeak. He leans into you, and the look behind your arms tells him that you know it is a fight that you have already lost. Still, you try to sidestep him but he just cages you with a quick sweep of his arms. 

“I got you now. No hay manera de escapar, mi amor (there is no escaping, my love),” he moves your arms away without caring about getting wet himself and pulls you into a tight embrace. He bites into your cheek a mere moment later, growling like a dog whilst Inés laughs so loudly that your look says that you might let him give you five more children if he wants. The nibbles turn into several silly kisses, eventually turning into a long, deep kiss too. God, he is going to make love to you tonight.

Behind the two of you, Inés makes a noise of disgust, “Ew! Mushy Daddy!” 

Javier pulls away from you and wipes his hands in his shirt. He ruffles Inés’ hair, “Well, you better run to your brother if you don’t want to see Mommy get another big kiss from Daddy.”

Inés dashes off towards the living room with uncontrollable giggles. Once she’s out of sight, Javier turns to see you drying your hands in a kitchen towel. He seeks you out and you meet his embrace by throwing your arms around his neck. 

“Do you think I missed my calling as an alien invader?” He asks with his lips resting against your ear as you hug.

He can feel you shaking your head, “No, husband, I think you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

“Mhm, wife,” he pulls back to kiss you again, and again and again and again. 

“They’re waiting in the living room,” you stop him, a hand on his chest to reluctantly push him away, “I’ll take Seb.” 

The five of you watch a few episodes together in a pile on the couch. Sebastian sits in your lap while Inés cuddles up into Javier’s side. Lucas mutes his video game but chooses it over the children’s show, repeatedly pressing buttons and trying not to make too loud noises when he wins or loses. 

It ends with the usual bedtime routines an hour later. Teeth are brushed, all three children have no complaints during bathtime, bedtime stories are told and forehead kisses are given even if Inés is already out cold. Javier loves this the most, at least when it goes smoothly.

Eventually, the evening leaves your pile on the couch to only consist of the two of you. 

“We put Inés to bed thirty minutes ago and we’re still watching Nanalan,” you note from your side of the couch, looking at Javier out of the corner of your eye and snickering before you reach the end of your sentence. 

Javier tears his eyes from the screen, his body slumped into the corner of the couch and with the blanket draped over his body. He hides a smile, knowing he has the upper hand in this situation, “Well, get the remote then.”

You have your legs pulled up with them crossed underneath you. You grimace and pat your stomach, “Never gonna happen with this belly.”

He cracks a smile, tone serious in a joking manner which he knows always gets you, “Well then you sit there and keep quiet. I’m missing my show. I haven’t seen if Mona learns a lesson yet.” 

With that, he fixes his gaze on the TV again. You throw your head back to laugh at his silliness and accidentally snort. You squirm and he knows you’re trying your best not to pee a little from the giggling. You cover your mouth but Javier’s head still whips around to stare at you again, looking like he should be a cartoon character with hearts in their eyes.

He starts moving, crawls further toward you, and drags the blanket with him to cover both of your bodies. You shove at him, “Get the remote, Peña.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” He scoffs, cuddling up next to you, halfway lying down and crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m not switching channels here. I like Nana. She’s wise.”

“She your favorite?” You smirk down at him, teasing him still. 

“No, you’re my favorite, mi amor (my love),” he wiggles his brows, staring up at you with every intention of making you laugh, “Stop asking stupid questions.”

“Smooth,” you smile with a shake of your head. You purse your lips and he groans dramatically when he moves up to kiss you, pecking your mouth gently. You reach to ruffle his hair until it is untidy.

“You know, baby, my hair takes all night to style,” he sighs and starts to flatten the stray locks again, “You could be a little more considerate.”

“I’m pregnant,” you argue, “You try being considerate.”

“You’ve been pregnant for nearly two years straight,” his eyes wander back to Nana and Mona.

“And whose fault is that?” You start to watch too. 

“Shut up.”

“I rest my case.”

The both of you watch Nanalan for a while. With a foot, Javier pulls the coffee table closer for you so you can stretch your legs and rest your feet on it. You seem less invested in whether Mona will learn how to take care of the baby bird in Nana’s garden than he is but it doesn’t matter because during the episode, your positions shift and suddenly you are resting against him instead. He feels like a teenager each time this happens, heart racing at having a pretty girl in close proximity, but unlike 16-year-old Javier Peña, he has already gotten the girl and is therefore without clammy hands.

He drapes his arm around your back until his hand rests on your waist, pulling your pregnant body against himself until you automatically lean your head on his shoulder. In the end, you doze off, having gotten into a habit of falling asleep in front of the television. 

When the credits roll over the screen, he nudges you, “Let’s get you to bed.”

You whine so adorably and scoot further into his side, “I don’t want to go all the way upstairs.”

“If you don’t get up, I’ll do it again,” he says, intending to confuse you. 

You pull back to look at him with furrowed brows, “Do what?”

Javier pokes the tip of his nose into your cheek and then imitates a series of bites to your face just like earlier. He makes the noise of a dinosaur this time, growling close to your ear and making you squeal from the tickling sensation it gives. 

“No!” You shriek, “I’ll get up! I swear!”

“Are you sure?” Javier doesn’t stop, only nuzzles further into you and bites the flesh of your cheek for real this time. His whole body fills up with butterflies as you laugh at his torment. 

When eventually showing you mercy, he throws the blanket to the side and pushes himself to stand up. You put your feet on the floor and take his hands when he holds them out for you. He hauls you to your feet. 

After a quick shared shower, you moisturize your belly in the bedroom and pick out your sleepwear whilst he dresses in a new pair of briefs. It is a quiet and relaxing ritual where none of you speak a word, moving around each other in synchronous harmony. 

It’s when you go to pee and change that he notices the little device on the nightstand, plugged in to charge, and he furrows his brow in confusion. The door is closed to the bathroom and he can hear the sound of your toothbrushing, so you won’t be barging in on him as he satisfies his curiosity. 

With quick fingers, he pulls the cord out of the bottom and holds it closer to his face to examine the little pink thing. He hasn’t seen one of these before; staring down into the hole at the top and trying to make sense of what will happen when he presses the button. 

The little thing whirs to life when he does and he can see the way the tip pulses erratically, sparking his interest and triggering the instinct to hold it against the palm of his hand. His brows nearly rise into his hair as he feels the way the vibrator suckles on his skin, so he taps his hand a few times to feel it let go and attach again. It’s when he realizes what it’s meant to do for you that he feels his cock move in his briefs. It happens again when he knows it means that you have used it today whilst being home alone. 

He presses the button on the side again and feels the vibrations become more intense and he nearly throws the cute thing across the room when he tries to turn it off by pressing the button again and the buzzing only gets louder and louder and more and more intense. 

“You two need a moment alone?” You ask from the doorway to the bathroom, smirking as he sheepishly finds your gaze. You have changed into a pair of way too tiny sleep shorts and one of his gray t-shirts, and it looks so naturally stunning on you that he nearly drops the toy. Why is he hard? Christ, he is possibly aching. He wants to throw you on the bed and pull those tiny shorts off and—

“Did you two already have a moment alone?” He asks when he has regained his composure. 

“Maybe, and maybe it was pretty great,” you tease and make your way to him. When you stand in front of him on your side of the bed, your eyes wander downward until you stare at the bulge on the front of his briefs. Your tone is triumphant and sing-songy, “You’re hard.”

“You’re wearing my t-shirt,” he notes as if it’s the most logical explanation in the world. His gaze drops to the way the soft cotton fabric drapes over your tits, leaving just enough up to the imagination but clearly showing off the way your nipples have hardened at the conversation. He twirls the little sucking toy in his hands, wants to make you come with it attached to your nipple until he can see heat rising in your cheeks and then he’ll let the device do its job between your legs. 

“Horndog,” you roll your eyes affectionately, “I can’t even wear clothes? I thought it would be not wearing any clothes that would get you.”

“Can I try this on you?” He decides to be straightforward and just asks while holding the vibrator up between the two of you, “You can guide me.”

“Now?” You raise a brow. 

“Yes, now,” he huffs out a dark, little laugh and takes a step further toward you as if he is a predator caging his pretty prey. You don’t seem affected by it but your nipples might soon poke holes in your shirt, “I mean, I’m a little curious here, so if you’re up for it. I was gonna try to get laid anyway…”

“Charming,” you let yourself fall down into bed, sitting on the edge. Javier places the toy on the nightstand to grab underneath your knees, lifting your legs to help you scoot back onto the mattress. 

“Is that a yes?” He awaits your green light. 

“Yes. Don’t go overboard with it though. It’s pretty intense,” you reply and hook your fingers into the waistband of your shorts. You start to shimmy out of them and he helps you completely out of them when they sit around your knees. Then he bends your legs and spreads them apart. 

“Tell me what to do,” he goes to grab the toy again, kneels between your legs, and awaits orders. He clicks the button and the little thing comes alive once again. You’re just about to reply when he cannot help but ask, “Does it work on your tits?”

“I thought you wanted me to guide you,” you retort but in response to his question, you reach for the hem of your t-shirt and start to pull it up over your pregnant body. He stops you when it sits just above your tits, coming closer to you by spreading his thighs until you drape your own thighs over them. 

“Shut it… and listen to this. It’s pretty loud,” he notes as he feels the little sucker on his palm again, tapping the heel of his hand with it. 

“It’s quieter when it’s in place,” you say with heat in your cheeks, anticipation evident on your face, “So don’t worry about switching up the intensity when I get close.” 

“Ah… but no going overboard,” he nods, grinning down at you. Sure. He drags out the testing on his palm to get you worked up even more, knowing it will only increase the pulse in your whole body until you might cuss him out when he actually goes to work on you. He loves your body when it is pregnant and sensitive, and while he would never let anyone in on what the two of you do behind closed doors, there’s a part of him that wants to brag to Steve about how you cream yourself from getting your breasts played with whenever you have a baby - this time babies - in your belly or your body is raging with postpartum hormones. Oh, he thinks to himself, what a privilege it is to get to see you like he will in just a moment. 

“Javi,” you complain beneath him. 

“Yeah yeah, chica impaciente (impatient girl),” he tuts and finally places the toy against the skin of your cleavage. You suck in a breath, reacting already more intensely than he thought you would. He supposes that it’s due to knowing how it’s going to feel, and he elicits a little moan from you as he drags the head of the toy across your chest. 

“Don’t tease me,” you grumble, squeezing your thighs around his waist. When he looks down between your legs, he can see the way it makes your cunt clench too. You’re trying to stimulate yourself untouched. 

“Christ, you’re a dirty little girl for this thing. What magic does it do for you?” He raises his brows and inches the toy closer to your right breast. He dances around the swell and you bite your lower lip.

“You don’t understand,” you say breathlessly.

“Humor me,” he demands. 

“It feels… like when your teeth nip at my skin,” you explain with eyes that are already glazed over with desire, “It feels like when your mouth is just about to get where I wa— Fuck.”

Javier has covered your right nipple with the toy and between your legs, a damp spot has marked the white sheets. He moves the head of the little sucker around your gorgeous, perky nipple and your moan only increases in volume. 

“Shh, los niños están dormidos (the children are asleep),” he whispers above you, removing the toy to lean down over you and get closer to your face, “Keep your little mouth shut or I’ll need to stop.”

You look desperately at him, shake your head, and whimper at the threat. He pecks your lips with a pleased smirk before you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. It gets even harder for you when he descends on you, gathering spit in his mouth before letting it drip down onto your played-with nipple in an obscene manner. 

“Waterproof, I’m guessing?” He awaits your answer. 

“Mhm,” you nod and then writhe as he covers the peak of your breast again. You let your hand push down into the mattress, making a noise in the back of your throat as he presses the button to turn up the intensity. You fight between throwing your head back and keeping your eyes fixed on what he is doing to you. 

“Eyes on me,” he decides for you. 

“Baby,” you whine and follow through, thighs tightening around his waist as you stare at him. You start thrusting against nothing, lifting your pelvis to squeeze your pussy in time with the still somewhat slow pulses to your chest. 

Javier straightens fully again and your gaze follows obediently. He lifts his left hand to his mouth, sticking two fingers past his lips to wet them with his spit, and then he finds your other nipple. He rubs in soft circles for just a moment before he pinches it between the two digits, tugging at it slightly until he sees slick drip from your aching slit. He cannot help the soft noise he lets out as he watches the drip of your come hit the bed. He is so hard it hurts from just thinking about being inside of you as you continue flexing your pelvis like that.

How the fuck are you going to come from just this? Has he really spent so much time in bed with you that this is something he can force out of you? He is struck by fascination at your trembling body, letting you breathe, even if it’s just barely, by swirling the toy around your nipple. 

“More,” you pant in frustration, swallowing down a frustrated moan to not piss him off, “Turn it up.”

“Hey, that’s not how we ask for things in this family. What’s the magic word?” He teases, finger hovering over the button. He pinches your nipple with the fingers on his other hand, forcing a cry past your lips. You don’t even get to the please. 

Instead, your hand flies to your mouth but you manage to calm your noises again, sliding your fingers into your hair instead. Javier decides then to press the button twice before putting it back on you, watching those fingers yank at your own follicles. You nod and your hips are practically gyrating by now. 

“Javi, fu— fuck,” you gasp out, “I—“

“I know, baby. I can see it on you,” he says, making a noise low in his throat at the way your head falls back into the mattress. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your bottom lip getting caught between your teeth again as you teeter on the edge of your first orgasm. He cannot believe your clit is still untouched because when he dares look down, it peeks out from underneath its hood as if he’s been giving it attention. 

“I’m gonna come,” you announce with a strained voice, still very aware of your noise levels. Quickly, you reach down to cover your mouth with the whole of your palm and then, with furrowed brows, you’re off into ecstasy. It hits you like a shot of adrenaline, your body going rigid before writhing on the sheets. The hand on your mouth turns your moans into desperate whines that stir Javier’s desire even more. His heart races at the sight, his eyes watching hungrily as you come undone the first time of many. 

“Jesus Christ, Mamá,” he removes his hands and turns off the toy when you go from enjoying the tingling of pleasure to shaking at the oversensitivity of your breasts. 

The hand falls from your satisfied smile to lay beside your head. You giggle as excitement is flowing through your veins, “Gimme a second and you can go again.”

“Is it better than me?” He smiles at your cute laughter and wiggles his brow.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you roll your eyes, “Not even close but it’s nice if you’re not available.”

“You know… I would come home during my break if you needed me,” he leaves the toy next to you so he can crawl over you and dip down for a long kiss. 

“I’m sure you would,” you nod at his words, slipping your tongue past his lips. 

He holds himself up with a forearm above you so he can use his free hand to push your shirt further up and over your head. You stretch your arms above your head to help him rid you of it completely, only breaking the kiss for the moment it takes. 

“I’m ready for one more,” you say after a few minutes of just making out with him, arms slung around his neck in a desperate embrace and lips kissing him until they’re swollen. When he sits up on his knees again, he notices the way that his mustache has scratched you slightly and makes a mental note to trim it sometime tomorrow. 

You look so radiant when you’re in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, and while he gets his pillow to place it underneath your hips, he admires the beauty of you underneath him like this. You have your hair tousled, your eyes are half-lidded, barely open from the way remnants of pleasure still hasn’t been washed away from them, and your velvety skin glistens with a sheen of sweat that’ll make you shiver if he doesn’t heat you up again. Javier wants to lick it off, wants to eat you up until he has devoured you. You’re beyond softer and sexier than any other time he gets to witness you. 

“Javi,” you murmur softly when he’s too slow. 

“What, mi amor (my love)?” He pretends not to hear your demanding voice hidden beneath your tired one. 

“I wanna do it again,” you have a playful glint in your eye. 

“Again?” He teases but his cock pulses, heavy between his legs at the knowledge that he will see you come undone once more in just a moment. He chooses the word moment because the little sucker knows what it is doing and if you respond so well to getting your nipples played with, a part of him is afraid that it’ll be over the second it touches your clit. 

“Javi,” you drag out his name in further frustration. 

Javier rubs your thigh soothingly, “You’re obsessed with this thing. How long have you had it?” 

“Uhh, not long,” you reply, visibly clenching at just hearing the toy start buzzing again. You scoot further towards him, presenting your pussy for him.

“So directly? Or?” He reaches down between your legs, the toy hovering over your mound for a moment before he decides to let it suckle on the skin of your inner thigh where he has just touched you. You breathe deeply in through your nose, wanting to look down at what he is doing but your pregnant belly is already shielding it from view. 

“Yes but the lowest setting,” you instruct. Your hand dips down between your thighs to spread your lips, giving him access to your hard clit, “I’m still sensitive.”

“And wet, ¡Dios mío (my God)!” He marvels with suppressed excitement and moves the toy inwards, trailing its tip until it sits right by your hand. You sigh at the attention, dripping even more from your slit in anticipation. 

Your hips hitch up when he finally covers your clit with the hole of the toy, a quiet moan slipping from your mouth as it falls open. Your face goes slack in contrast to the tension in your pelvis, your body subconsciously moving around to seek the most sensation. 

He guides it steadily up and down, barely rocking it but still moving it enough to create just a bit of a tug on your swollen nub. He sees you lose yourself in it and stares down at you while cupping the bulge on the front of his briefs to relieve some of the desperate pain. He moans low in his throat, “Mi chica bonita (my beautiful girl).”

You respond with a little louder noise, an orgasm already creeping up on you. He shushes you gently, “No noise, baby. Try breathing through your nose or I’ll have to cover your mouth.” 

You clamp your mouth shut and make a muffled sound.

“Look at that pussy flutter for me,” he looks between your legs then smiles up at you, pleased with what he is doing to you. He turns up the power on the toy. Your head falls back against the bed. He sees your brows knit together and then he knows, “Come on, baby, that’s it.”

Your orgasm hits you like a lightning bolt. Javier watches with his hand gripping firmly around the outline of his cock and the toy held firmly against your core. You do a fantastic job of making as little noise as possible but the desire to make a racket is there beneath the surface, especially when your high peaks and there’s a moment where you hold your breath just before shivering with the pleasure in your cunt. 

He gives you another break but you shake your head. He looks curiously down at you, uncertain if you mean it, “No? Again?”

“Make it hurt, please, Javi,” you beg and he thinks he might come untouched from those words. It’s so rare to have you like this when the house is still full. He doesn’t doubt whether it is a good idea though, just turns up the heat and sends you hurtling towards another orgasm. 

You gasp towards the ceiling and slam your legs closed while you grab at the sheets. You look like you are possessed, eyes rolling back into your skull as you come a third time. It must be painful because you are whimpering like a wounded animal, nearly ripping the fabric underneath you and begging silently by only mouthing the words in a worse manner than he has ever experienced as a father of three - soon five - children. 

“Keep going,” you demand almost angrily, concentration on your face as he presses the button to the next level of pulses. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, “You’re about to levitate into the air, aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna come,” you inform him breathlessly.

“Already?” Javier’s brows are nearly in his hair. He is stroking himself on top of his underwear now, itching to feel something when you are lying in a pool of tears, sweat, and your come. Seeing you like this, he has no idea how he is ever going to get anything practical done this weekend; he’ll be doing you every chance he gets until you can’t walk. So hard that he’ll have an excuse to stay home with you on Monday just so he can spear you on his aching cock over and over. Even if you scream, even if you drool, and even if you sob.

When your fourth orgasm of the night starts to gain up on you, he observes the way your legs start to twitch. He holds the toy steady, pushing it against your clit as you nearly go cross-eyed with pleasure. His eyes are wide, the concentration lost for just a second too long when your legs start shaking as you near your end. The toy slips just half an inch, losing its grip on your clit and the accident turns you feral. You reach for his hand, yanking the toy out of his palm, and settle it back into place. 

And then you come. So hard that he has no idea what to say or do, watching a steady trickle of pearly white mess gush out of you as your pussy jumps along with your heartbeat. You try so desperately to keep quiet but the sensation seems to be so intense that you might draw blood from your lip if you don’t get to cry. 

“One loud one, no, no, look at me. One,” he tells you calmly, knowing you are probably seeing spots, “Let me hear.”

You don’t hesitate, face scrunched up in ecstasy while you let out a wreaking sob that’s so close to you screaming that he almost (but not really) regrets allowing you to be noisy. You pant, kick, and scream, tears running down your face as you are lost to the world, leaving him with nothing to do but stare hungrily as he thanks the heavens that you have found a toy that makes you look so happy and beautiful. He’d be its lead promoter if someone wanted him to. 

When it becomes too much, you don’t even turn off the thing. You simply just let it fall from your hands and slump into the bed, your thighs sticky with sweat and slick against Javier’s own. He listens for the sound of tiny footsteps down the hallway for a moment but there’s nothing, not even a squeak from the baby monitor.

“Get inside of me,” you half-beg, half-order with barely any breath in your chest. Javier doesn’t hesitate to step off the bed, slipping his briefs off, and stepping out of them when they pool around his feet. Your eyes watch, huge and wet, filled with desperation for being stretched out after only having your clit played with. He will never dream of denying you when you look like that. You nearly hiccup, “Please.”

“Shh, you’ll get it, mi vida (my life), you’ll get whatever you want,” he soothes softly but then continues the rough streak. He curls his hands around the back of your knees and yanks you off the pillow towards the edge of the bed, sliding your body through the mess you have created. 

You are like a siren with the eyes you are sending him, making his cock stand in the air and at level with your empty cunt. He grabs at the base of his length, guiding the thick head through your folds for a few seconds to slick himself up. However, the need to be inside of you, to pound into you, is too much and he pushes into you not long after. 

The feeling of filling you up has Javier’s heart pounding against his ribs, endorphins running through his system as his mind quiets down completely when he has you like this. Your warm and familiar walls engulf his touch-starved cock and the both of you breathe shakily in relief as you melt together. You even manage a mix between a breathless laugh and a quiet moan, a sound that makes him twitch inside of you as he regains his composure. When he starts fucking you, dragging you by your legs down onto his cock over and over again, he realizes that he doesn’t even need to be careful, your walls so wet and soft from how much you’ve been touched. 

He repeatedly snaps his hips forward to cause an obscene smacking noise that bounces off the walls. You nod frantically at the way he moves inside of you, nose scrunching up with concentration on the sensation of his dick slamming into your front wall. Yet it seems as if you’ve become nearly impossible to please from coming so many times; your hands are placed on top of his, frustration evident on your face, “Harder.” 

“Nena (baby girl),” he pants whilst fucking you, “I’m already going hard.”

“I need it harder,” you whine, writhing slightly, “Please.”

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” He asks playfully and earns a glare that you only seem to perfect when you are pregnant and not getting your way. He smooths his palms up and down your sweaty thighs, thrusts coming to a complete halt, “Crawl back.”

He pulls out his cock with a grunt, letting you gaze hungrily at it when you’ve seen it glistening with your wetness. He is the one getting impatient now, snapping his fingers to keep up the part he is playing for you, his role as the man in charge even if it’s hardly true, “Go on then. Back.”

You move with shaky limbs, your body exhausted from its continuous stimulus. You end up lying flat on your back with your legs wide open for him, holding out your arms with a tiny dissatisfied complaint of a whimper, “Javi.”

Javier finally kneels on the bed and moves forward until he is hovering above you. He grabs the still buzzing toy on the bed and reaches for your hand. He places the toy in your palm and closes your fingers around it, knowing what he wants, “I just need you to promise me that you’ll choke my dick when I fuck you with this joining the fun.”

You nod repeatedly and that’s good enough for him to go crazy for you, even wreck the bed if that’s what you want to do. Thank God that there’s no school tomorrow because you’d be hobbling around with how sore he is going to make - and has already made - you. He leans down and cages you underneath him, buries his face in your neck as he bottoms out inside you in one hard thrust. His pelvis touches yours, his chest, your sensitive tits, his body unable to get close enough.

When he rocks his hips this time, he starts really putting his back into it. You slide your free hand up his bicep to cling to his shoulder, saving yourself from being pushed across the mattress with how forcefully he drives his cock into your heat.

He breathes hard as he exhausts his body to give you what you need, knowing that you can take it even if it aches. He can feel drops of sweat slide down the length of his spine, gathering at the small of his back as he switches to harsh rolls of his hips. 

The switch gives you room. He doesn’t have to actively listen for the muffling of the sucking toy’s buzz to know that you have started to hold it against your clit because your whole cunt jumps at the attention. 

You press your mouth into his bare shoulder to muffle your screams, bravely taking on another round of obscene pleasure as his lower belly burns with the desire to come. 

His head swims with the overtaxing use of his muscles, the strain on his thighs that has started to ache from how much he wants to make your head spin. He feels a tear fall from your eye and drop down on his skin, your whimpering voice trying to encourage him not to stop the torture of your cunt. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as the sensations are becoming increasingly more intense. He turns his head to breathe heavily against your ear, breathing damp against the shell of it when he tries to speak while his lungs empty as small puffs of air. He wants to tell you how good it feels, and concentrates on whispering filthy things in your ear, “That’s it, you can— oh God, you can take it, baby.”

You sound like you’re trying to overcome your own body, fluctuating between whines and groans. He goes on, “No wonder you’re always carrying my babies. You take it so fucking well each time, amor (love). Made for it. Made for getting knocked up.”

You lock your legs around his ankles, clinging to him as he crashes into you repeatedly. He hears you desperately move the sucking toy back and forth, hears the intensity being turned up to a higher level than he has even dared. You sound pornographic even in your quietness - like one of those videos where they don’t want to get caught but just cannot keep all noise at bay - as you get fucked by him whilst it sends you through the gates of pleasure heaven simultaneously. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

“And if you weren’t made for it, I’d be sure to mold that little pussy into shape,” he growls quietly. You start to have that dazed look in your eye, have a grip around his cock that tells him exactly what is going to happen, “Oh, baby. You gonna come on my cock, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you squeak. 

“Yeah?” He mocks. 

Javier enters the final sprint, fucking you open in a frantic rush that almost borders on being gross, greedy and animalistic. You mewl pathetically from the intensity, biting into his skin as he makes you come with pleasure slamming through your body roughly enough to make you start crying. 

To soothe you, he pulls back his head to kiss you longingly even if it becomes nothing more than a messy crash of your mouths together. He does it to quieten down himself too, finding that his stomach is tightening and his balls are drawing up from being so close. You’ve tightened around him too because whereas you should remove the sucker from your clit, once again, you don’t, and the questionable choice has your walls clamping down on him in overstimulation, squeezing his dick so heavenly that his hips stutter. He comes inside of you when the smaller fit has him seeing stars, groaning into your mouth as he pulses into you. 

The buzz of the toy becomes louder again but only because it slips from your hand, your body trembling with overwhelming excitement as you come down from your millionth orgasm in a fairly short period of time. You sob without being sad, curling in on yourself as soon as he pulls out of the dripping mess between your legs. He is on you instantaneously, pushing your hair out of your face, turning off the toy, and cooing gently. 

“Oh, Nena (baby girl), you’re okay,” he tuts while you cry quietly, several teardrops rolling down your nose as your body tries to escape itself. He kisses your shoulder, blows a raspberry on it, “You did so good for me. You’re okay. We just went a little overboard.”

Javier rolls off of you but instead of following the instinct to rest his exhausted body by lying down, he sits up in your shared bed. He scoots close to you until he can coax you to drag yourself into his lap with a feeble whimper, wrapping his arms around you and rocking you back and forth like a newborn. He supposes you must feel rebirthed. You sob into his chest, cheek pressed into where his heart hammers, and still overwhelmed with the painful pleasure that you have just experienced. 

“Shh,” he whispers with his lips pressed to the crown of your head. He kisses your hair, rubbing soothing circles into your sweaty back until your cries turn into tiny hiccups instead, “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

The way you cling to him tells him that you feel safe with him. He dares lift your chin, looking into your puffy, red eyes and rubbing a tear-streak away from your face. His voice is raspy from sex, “Are you okay, baby?” 

“I’m okay,” you croak with a tired and tiny smile, shivering as the sweat starts to cool down. He holds you a little tighter. You relax in his arms even despite getting a bit of control back, “Scatterbrained.”

“Lo sé (I know),” he huffs out a chuckle with another kiss to your head. He cups your jaw and dips down for a kiss on the lips too, thumb rubbing affectionately along your cheekbone, “Pero eres tan hermosa (but you’re so pretty).”

“Thank you,” you cover his hand on your face with your own, “I’m ready to conk out.”

“Shower?” He asks and suggests at the same time.

“I won’t be able to stand upright for that long,” you run your hand over your forehead instead, laughing quietly.

“Alright, bath it is then,” he gently runs his fingers through your hair, “Ready?”

“You’re going to carry me?” You ask with a raised brow as he starts moving towards the edge of the bed with you, “I weigh a ton with this pregnant belly.” 

“I do lifts with our daughter on the daily, you know,” he jokes, “Best workout method in years. Even if she talks a lot.”

You yelp with a laugh as he picks you up effortlessly and carries you through the bathroom, crossing the tiled floor with you in his arms bridal style, and sets you carefully on the edge of the bathtub. As he turns on the tap and lets the tub fill, he imagines the cool porcelain is nice against your sore thighs and cunt. 

After testing the water, he gently helps you into the tub with a comfortable silence between you. The content look on your face is a reward in itself, even moreso the sigh that you let out as the water envelops you and turns your tired muscles to putty. 

Javier washes your hair, leaning your head back and scooping water into his hand to rinse out the shampoo. He runs his fingers across your back and shoulders too, relieving some of the tension he has caused tonight. 

“What about dinner tomorrow?” You ask out of the blue and he nearly wants to laugh because, of course, you’re already back to being a mother. 

He puts conditioner in your hair, “I was just inside of you.”

“And that means that I can’t start planning your kids’ best lives?” You tease. 

He rolls his eyes affectionately, “Fine. I think we should just do something easy.”

“Actually,” you say. Here we go, he thinks. You turn your head to look up at him, “The kids have been talking about a picnic in the backyard, and Lucas really wants to try out the new tent we bought.”

“Mhm,” he hums, not protesting. It does sound fun. 

“And I checked the weather forecast earlier,” you add then clarify, “It won’t rain.”

“Baby,” he says with an affectionate smile as he rinses out the conditioner too, “You need to shut down that brain of yours. You do plenty enough to keep us happy.”

“It does shut down sometimes,” you reassure him with a little smile, rubbing your nose in a manner that he always finds adorable. You lean back to simply soak in the warm water, belly just poking out above the surface, “When you touch me.”

Javier lays a hand on your stomach, caressing you in slow circles. He feels playful when he knows you’re getting back into your normal self again, “Guess I’ll just have to keep touching you then.”

“I guess so,” you reply simply, eyes closed and a lazy smile on your face. Jesus Christ, he loves you and everything you have given him. 

“I’ll let you sit here for a few more minutes, really let you cook,” he tells you, bending down to kiss your hair. He pushes himself to stand, “I’m gonna go plug your new friend in all over. I think we drained the battery.”

“Don’t pass out,” you say in a sing-song voice, “Love you.”

“Te amo tanto, mi amor (I love you so much, my love),” he replies and leaves you alone with a hand on your belly. He hears you talk to his unborn children, and it’s almost sad that the time it takes for him to wash the toy gently in the sink, plug it in, and head back to you isn’t long. 

Finally, with his help, you finish the bath. He helps you to the seat of the toilet, hands you a towel, and drains water from the tub.

“I had the same old question today,” he small-talks while you are on the toilet to dry yourself. He steps over the edge of the newly-drained tub to stand in it, pulling the shower head off the wall to wash himself down from the remnants of what you have just done in bed. He’ll hurry up to finish before you so you don’t start changing the sheets in your pregnant condition. 

“Yeah?” You decide against what you are doing and go, albeit shakily, to find a flannel. You soak it in lukewarm water and instantly sigh as you place it between your legs. 

“Lucas wants that damn dog so badly,” he continues as he washes himself, “I told him it was a bad idea. He got pretty upset.”

“Is it? A bad idea, I mean?” You wash the flannel clean after using it and wring out the excess water before hanging it on the side of the laundry basket.

“I said yes but I also said it was you who had the final say in it. I’m not carrying a litter,” he huffs a small laugh and steps out onto the bath mat. He dries himself, “Two babies, a toddler, and a puppy seems like pushing it, baby, no matter how well-behaved.” 

“I had a dog growing up. It was pretty great and made me feel less alone,” you muse. You turn around to lean against the bathroom counter to steady yourself, watching him with a smile in your naked state, “We could find one in a shelter. A grown one.”

God, you are pretty. He hangs up his towel and draws nearer, stopping only when he has you caged between the sink and himself. He leans in for a kiss and you cup his face whilst he talks, “You’re so good.”

“We could surprise him for his birthday. I don’t like those puppies spending time in those cages during August. It’s too hot. They should be running in the grass,” you scratch his cheeks with your nails, pouting slightly. 

He kisses the pout off your face and puts a hand on your protruding belly, “You’ll look so beautiful during August.” 

“This isn’t about me,” you note with a grin and pat his hand, “Focus on your son for a second.”

“We’ll never be able to top that birthday present,” he says with his eyes glazed over by love, “Just saying.”

“But he’ll remember it for the rest of his life,” you argue. 

“Guess we’ll have to browse the local places then,” he gives in, sliding his hand around your waist. 

“You’re a great dad,” you return the caress by laying your palm on his bare chest. His pulse is high when you look at him like that, saying those things. 

“Don’t or I’ll have you right here again,” he threatens playfully. 

Despite your previous state, you respond cockily by turning around so your ass is level with his dick. You lean forward slightly but only to grab your toothbrush for the second time tonight and disappoint him. 

“Anything else happen today?” You ask as if nothing has happened whilst putting toothpaste on your brush. It matches his. You look at him through the mirror and he takes a moment to think, collecting his thoughts instead of getting hard again. 

“Oh, right, uh,” he gives up and takes a step to the side, reaching for his own toothbrush. You hand over the tube of toothpaste to him. He puts it back in its holder when he is done using it, “Well, there’s a new kid in Inés’ class. I ran into her mom or rather… Inés ran into her.”

You raise a brow in the mirror.

“Anyway, she was real friendly,” he recalls the moment earlier and speaks around his toothbrush, “They’re new in town and she wanted someone to show her around. She actually invited us for coffee.”

You turn to him now, having stopped brushing your teeth. It looks like you are trying not to laugh at him, “Javi…”

“Yeah?” He turns to meet your gaze and furrows his brow. Oblivious. 

“I’m sure she was super excited to invite you and your wife for coffee,” you chuckle, and a bit of toothpaste dribbles down your chin. You reach to wipe it off, “You’re so stupid.”

“Hey,” he clicks his tongue at you. 

“Did you give her your number?” You ask casually. 

“No… I told her that I would find her contact info on the class sheet,” he tells you and you laugh for real this time. 

“Ever the romantic,” you snicker, “Oh, you broke her heart with that.”

“Fuck, do you think she was trying to come onto me?” Javier realizes the true meaning behind the interaction. 

“Well, duh,” you start to brush your teeth again but cannot help giggling throughout the rest of cleaning them, “I bet she was batting her lashes at you.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. I thought she was just being friendly,” he continues his own brushing. 

This happens more and more often. You are so deeply ingrained in his mind that his time as a casanova is so far behind him that he sometimes cannot pick up on these things anymore. He wants to say that it’s a conscious choice to be oblivious but it honestly is not. There’s just no one else but you.

“So are you gonna call her? Is it serious?” You taunt him after rinsing your toothbrushes together. 

“You’re in for a smack to your ass if you continue,” Javier rolls his eyes in an attempt to hide the color of embarrassment in his cheeks. He hurries to go change the sheets before you start doing it.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you blink at him as you pass him to get your clothes from the bed before he has crumpled them up into the dirty sheets. 

He smiles and gets dressed with you afterward, standing on each of your respective sides of the bed without saying much. 

In bed, you kiss and say your ‘I love yous’. He falls asleep after a few minutes of listening to your slowed breathing. Just like he has done thousands of times before. It never gets old.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[triiiplegoddcss]

Tag dump: Relationships

[simpleeindulge]

What You're Getting for Valentine's Day!

Info: Fem/reader x One Piece Men, Monster Trio, Eustass Kid, Trafalgar Law, fluff, minor suggestive ideas, soft Headcanons

He's no Casanova, but the man does pay attention.

While Sanji, Nami, and Usopp are trying to hook him up with the usual stuff, Zoro will get you something you want.

That journal and pen set you liked, that hairpiece you thought was cute, or even the shoes you thought would look good with a dress you haven't worn yet.

He doesn't do it to be different or because he thinks the day is dumb, which he does; he does it because he knows you will like it (and prove to the cook that he does know something about romance).

But yes, he will give you all the gifts the rest of the crew had ready for him anyway.

His gift surprises you because you don't think he pays attention, but the man does.

Now, he is new to this and does and does not get it. He loves you every day, so why is today different. After getting schooled by Franky, Usopp, and Sanji, Luffy is on board. (Nami offers help, but the boys tell her they got this.)

What follows is some chaos. He will beg Sanji to show him how to make chocolates, ask Usopp to help make a teddy bear, and beg Nami to find an island so he can find flowers. (Robin did offer hers, but Luffy wants to do this on his own.)

What you get is truly something from the heart. A box of lumpy-looking chocolate hearts, a bear that, for some reason, shoots lasers (Franky's idea), and a bouquet of poisonous jungle flowers.

It's hard not to smile at Luffy when he looks proudly at you with his gifts.

You know Luffy cares, and it feels good to see that he had fun treating you.

The whole nine yards and then some. You're drowning in chocolate and smuttered with flowers. It's so bad that the other men beg Nami to dock the ship so they can escape. (They'll be back later for the food.)

That's fine by him because he has other things planned for you, starting with a long white box with a dark red bow.

Yes, it's lingerie, but it's good quality and something you would wear.

He'll romance you into it by making you a bath, lighting candles, and setting out all your favorite lotions and oils.

The man may be a pervert, but he knows how to turn up the charm and treat you special.

You're basically going to have the Valentine's Day the stores wish they could promote.

Valen-what-now?! HaHAHAHhahaaa!

Okay, but seriously, Kid is going to that guy who remembers at the very last minute and could give a shit.

Killer is your savior in this department because he knows how to speak "Kid" and what could motivate him. You and sex.

Expect lingerie, flavored oils, heels, jewelry, strawberry chocolates, whipped cream (you know why), silk rope in your favorite color, and candles (to be used differently if he can talk you into it.)

Killer will help set the mood with roses and candles(different ones) and leave the rest to Kid.

Kid may be a rough diamond, but he knows how to turn on the charm, and you won't see it coming till it's too late.

I would laugh here as well, but Law is an intelligent man. Happy girlfriend equals...PEACE!

He'll do the three essential gifts and think that he is set. It should keep you happy, right?

Well, it will, but after getting a second option from Ikkaku, Law is shocked to learn that he is boring with his lazy Valentine’s wooing. His gifts are fine, but he has no other plans, just the usual daily work!

In a panic, Law will rethink his plan just in time to order the ship to find land. He'll ask you to go with him to a nice restaurant and maybe a walk to see the sunset.

It's cheesy and still predictable, but you love it because Law does not leave his comfort zone for anyone except you (and Bepo). While the flowers are lovely, his time and attention are a better gift.

[carolmunson]

modern!eddie x tipsy!reader

“Ooh, someone had fun,” he giggles from the couch while you stumble into the living room. He knew what to expect the moment he got your texts an hour ago.

omg can’’t t wait to duxk u when i home get t ho home* duck***** fuck u***

tell me they were at least good quality shots

casa migos i

aw come on, i taught you better than that

and wine

yeah? what kind?

.rose?

rosé?

all day lol and espresSo

martini?

😎 ya

sweetheart, did you eat at all?

yes!! we’ee getting za we ate before and now done dri nking

okay, will i see you soon?

ya soon we can sex

He laughed at that one, a hearty belly laugh. You’re only like this when you’re wasted. Clawing and snarling like a starved animal at the sight of him, the thought of him.

When you stumble in you’re lucid for the most part but your eyes are glassy with evidence of a good night. He can tell you smoked too, which means you’ll need more ibuprofen than you normally do when you drink.

You drop your purse and jacket next to the door, kicking off your heels by the TV stand. He’ll pick them up later.

“Hi baby,” he smirks coolly while you make your way to him on the couch.

“I had so much fun,” you respond, unbuttoning your jeans and shimmying them off, “But I never wanna wear ‘standing jeans’ again.”

He doesn’t know what you mean by that but he doesn’t ask, just nods, welcoming you with open arms while you straddle his lap. The second your faced dips into his neck he knows your promises of ravaging him are long broken. Your body relaxes, sinking in against his chest.

“I’m glad you had a good night, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly, hand sliding up and down your back. Your breaths come in slow, he can feel your lashes fluttering against his skin while you force yourself to stay awake.

“Would’ve been funner if you were there,” you say into the crook of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “You make everything fun.”

Eddie’s heart swells, “You think?”

You lean up, looking at him with glassy eyes, more tired than wasted, “I know.”

He leans his head back between the cushions, bangs dusting his eyes, “You make everything fun for me, too.”

You grin, a sloppy one, “You know how I can make tonight really fun?”

Your fingers skate up his chest, sending a shiver through him that stirs in his sweatpants.

“Sweetheart…” he warns gently.

“C’mon,” you whine, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, “Please.”

“Doll, you’ve been drinkin’,” he reminds, reaching up to cup your cheek, “You know I don’t like playing around like that.”

“I’m not drunk though,” you protest, “I can do the drunk driver test. I swear.”

“By the way you’re falling asleep sitting up, I doubt it,” he laughs. He leans up, supporting you on his thighs while he goes in to plant a loving kiss on your lips, “I think we should head to bed.”

“Lame,” you frown, scrunching your face. You shimmy off his lap and cross your arms, walking down the hall to the bedroom.

“Kissin’ me like that like some kinda Cassanova…” you grumble. He rolls his eyes, getting some water and aspirin for you while you change into some pajamas.

“That’s what the call me. Eddie Casanova Munson,” he grizzles, leaning against the door frame with the glass and pills and hand, “Your libations, princess.”

Your sour look doesn’t fade when you take them, but you to say a quiet thank you when the pills pass your lips.

“Am I not fun anymore?” he teases.

“No, you’re still fun,” you sigh, crawling into bed where he follows. Eddie takes a silent win when you wrap yourself around him after sliding between the sheets.

“I’ll be more fun tomorrow,” he smiles, burying himself in your neck. You feel his warm scratchy chin and shiver, soft kisses following it, “It’s gonna rain.”

“That doesn’t sound very fun,” you murmur, the bed feeling cozier with every passing moment while the alcohol rushes in you for one last sleepy hurrah.

“Yeah it is,” he responds quietly, feeling you grow heavy and slack against him, “We can stay in all day.”

“Boring.”

“Boring huh?” he smirks, “I don’t know, I thought maybe we could revisit your texts.”

[yan-snowcave]

♥️ Love is in the air~ ♥️

Reader x Yandere boys, Valentine headcanon's + drabble's

Words : 1K

Yandere's featured here :

- Alan [@hatchetmanofficial]

- Keith & Tenebris [@dualityvn]

- Casanova [@cannibalsweetheart]

- Friend [@stnaf-vn]

- Robin [@turnthepagevn]

A/N: While all of these characters have a drabble I'm not that confident in the Friend & Robin one I wrote ^^" I'm still trying to learn more about Friend and Robin but for now I will see this as a small test, so sorry if they are OOC

Also happy Valentines! Who needs a partner when you can have cheap chocolate the next day and yandere boyfriends >:3c

🪓🦌 Alan Orion 🦌🪓

• Instead of buying you chocolates or a bouquet of flowers he whittled a wooden heart locket for you with a love message on the back.

• Prepared a picnic under the starry night near the river where a lot of animals come by to drink or rest.

• He would be over the moon if you gave him chocolate filled with honeycomb.

[Drabble]

Pointing at the diffrent animals, Alan's head rested on your shoulder as he whispered facts about them. Whenever your eyes met you could see his love & devotion glistering in his eyes.

One of Alan's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a passionate kiss.

Yes, you're sure that this is where you belong, next to your beloved Hatchet Man.

🪴🌹 Keith 🌹🪴

• Makes his own chocolate in the shapes of roses, if you like white chocolate he will even dye them red with green leafs.

• Takes you to a botanique garden, pointing at flowers that remind him of you before revealing their meaning. He also brought a cute, little lunchbox with food that you can share.

• At home you would be pulled into a comfy, cuddle session, while he showers you in kisses and tells you how lucky he is to have you by his side.

• He gives you a bouquet of flowers, it contains red, white (and even a black) Rose, red & white Carnations, pink Asters, magenta Zinnia's, Heliotropes, Hyssops, Sweet Pea's and White Gardenia's.

[Rough Meaning : Sweet love but also eternal obsessive, he will shower you in long lasting affection & won't ever forget you. You make him happy and he's willing to sacrifice anything to stay by your side since you're perfect in his eyes]

[Drabble]

A hand runs through your hair, sweet nothings are whispered into your ear, followed by a kiss on your cheek.

Flowers from the bouquet are tucked behind your ear as you return his affection through kisses, nuzzles and whispered praise.

Causing him to blush as your fingers intertwined at last.

🎮🌹 Tenebris 🌹🎮

• Failed at making chocolate so he just decorated the cupcakes with it, some slightly resemble those cute animal cupcakes. Just with very melted faces and wonky chocolate ears.

• Tenebris plays a love song that he composed for you on his guitar. If you praise him for it he will blush.

• Doesn't really get why valentines is that important to some people. He also buys the chocolate the next day when it's on sale & shares some of it with you.

• Thought the mistletoe tradition was also used on valentines day. He was very disappointed & confused when he learned that it's a Christmas exclusive thing. ("But it's all about kissing and Valentines is all about this shit! Your kind is really confusing, y'know that?")

[Drabble]

You two sat on the ground, backs leaning against the couch as the sound of button mashing echoed in the room.

Curses, popcorn and the occasional tease were thrown around. A few kisses were thrown in to distract the other from winning the game.

Of course, this lead to where you two are currently now; on the ground, laughing, arms wrapped around each other as Tenebris purrs in delight.

🫀 Casanova🫀

• Will bring you still beating human hearts instead of chocolates. One heart has a love message carved into it but you can barely read it with how mutilated it looks.

• Cooked a fancy dinner for you two, the table would be covered in rose petals with candles illuminating the room.

• Casanova would swoon [And be his overdramatic-self] over whatever gift you give him. Get ready to be praised, hugged and kissed, for best results get him a red & black coloured fancy knife tho.

• If you ever hinted (be it serious or jokingly) interest in owning a chainsaw he would get you a custom one, so that you two could match.

[Drabble]

Sitting next to a grave wasn't what others or you yourself would call romantic. But Casanova just knew how to change that.

Sitting on one of the Valentine gravestone's you listened to him, serenading a love song to you, his duo-coloured eyes never leaving yours.

Fiddling with the onyx ring on your finger, you slowly reached out to him. Silencing him with a kiss.

💛 Friend 💛

• Brings you your favourite sweets in a custom made box [tri-coloured like his shirt with stickers of your favourite animal/s on the box.] Which a custom, self-made plush swan is holding onto.

• Friend will take you to the cat café where you confessed to each other. He orders the valentine special, which is a strawberry milkshake with two straws and a plate full of diffrent sweet treats to share. [He will try to feed you and if you refuse he will pout, if you do feed him he will be happy but alsontease you.]

• Don't joke about marrying him on valentines, he will go and buy a ring if he doesn't have one already waiting in his pocket.

[Drabble]

Friend nuzzled his cheek against your neck, arms wrapped around your waist as he looked towards you.

Pink glowing eyes were reflecting the love he held for you. Such a deep love that simply couldn't be explained by mere words.

With a teasing grin, he took a bite out of the treat you held. Licking his lips as he whispered into your ear.

"As sweet as these are, I much prefer to take a bite out of you, Sweetheart.~"

📖 Robin 📖

• Made a reservation at a restaurant so you could share a classic romantic meal together, dance on the roof under the moonlight and share a special moment fit to be in a romance movie.

If you prefer an at home date, he would of course spoil you with a home-made meal & cuddles in his semi-eldritch/human form.

• His gift to you besides the classic flowers, jewellery, chocolate (made by Ellie because his somehow caught fire and almost burned down his kitchen.) Is a book he wrote for you, filled with every reason why he loves you and hopes that you stay with him until time itself ends.

• Would love to get a book you wrote yourself in return. He would treasure it and keep it somewhere safe, not wanting to risk it getting damaged by anyone.

[Drabble]

The moonlight shone down upon you two, candles burned gently as the wind rushed through your hair. As you took a sip of your drink your eyes locked onto Robin.

Who sat there silenty, skimming through the book you gave him before suddenly closing it. Grabbing your hand he placed a kiss on each knuckle, whispering a gentle promise against your hand.

"I will treasure this gift like I treasure you, my beloved.~"

[multific]

Alejandro Vargas NSFW Alphabet

Alejandro Vargas x Reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Alejandro is big on aftercare. He would always ask you what you need. Let that be strawberries, a massage or a shower, he is all for it. 

He could be described as a cuddly bear who likes to hold you close at all times.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his mouth, since he can do so much with it, he likes the pleasure it can give you while he also likes how you giggle when his beard scratches your skin. 

Your favourite bodypart of his has to be your waist. He loves to hold your waist, pull you close and show the world who you belonged to. He also loved how his hands fit perfectly around you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He is not really fascinated by it, yes its a way of him claiming you but he doesn't really have a fascination with it, he does like it however when after a blowjob, you show him his cum on your tongue.

D = Dom or Sub (Are they more dominant or submissive?)

Switch.

He would like to dominate you, but he also loves to see you on top. Seeing you under him gives him a confidence he never felt. Not even when holding a gun. 

He loves just as much when you are in control, he loves it when you tell him what to do. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He has a lot of experience. One would say he is a casanova. Rather was. He didn't even look in the direction of another woman. 

He knows what he is doing but not in a soft way. He was used to quick one night stands.  

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position where he could see your face.

He loves to see the pleasure on your face, seeing how good he made you feel. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not Goofy at all, he is more serious during sex than during a cartel takedown. 

But he doesn't mind if you are a bit playful and goofy. It eases his mood and worries.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He would keep his hair nice and organized. He doesn't want the bush to hide the main event. He also feared you might make a comment on it if he was unkept. He liked to be clean and keep things about himself clean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very romantic.

After missions, he would have rose petals all over the floor and bed. He is a Latino so, romance comes to him naturally. Even during sex, he can be romantic and say such romantic things, they would make you cum immediately. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Why would he take away the opportunity from you to do it for him? 

Why would he do it alone in the bathroom during showers?

It does happen, but rarely.

He likes it more when you touch him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Alejandro likes to leave hickeys all over your body. Especially on visible places so everyone would know you belong to him. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bed, couch, or table. For him, it doesn't really matter as long as you are comfortable. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

His biggest motivation is when he arrives back home to you after a dangerous and long mission. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that has to do with blood or includes pain.

He killed many men. So even if you ask him to choke you, he would say no. It would remind him of the many times he killed someone. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He is a master in giving, lets not lie. 

But he also doesn't mind receiving some love. Especially in the mornings, he loves to wake up just you going down on him, and sometimes he would do the same. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depending on his mood and how desperate he is, most of the time he takes his sweet time to please you, but there are times when he can be rough.

Quickies (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He likes quickies. 

Imagine going out with him to a bad with your friends, you get drunk and horny and he has to take you to the bathroom. He loves those moments.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He likes to experiment and bring new things into the bedroom. But he is also very open to your ideas and suggestions.

You two can always come to an agreement.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last a long time. Usually up to about four or five rounds before he needs a little break. But he always observes, he always watches you and your reaction, trying to see if maybe you are too tired before he keeps going.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't have toys, and he doesn't want you to have any. He would be jealous if you had one, it hurt his ego that a plastic thing can be better than him.

No matter what you say, how you explain that it can never replace him, he wouldn't care. 

No toys on his watch.

But then, he learned about buttplugs. Now those were a completely different thing. He doesn't want them to be used on him, but he would love to see one in you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can be a big tease, but he doesn't like to be teased. He doesn't like it when you tease him, but he will have to learn that if he wants to be a big tease and do it to you, he also has to take some.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is a big groaner. Loves to tell you how he likes you around him. 

Not loud, he only wants you to hear, but there are moments when he can get very loud and forget about the open balcony window.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is muscular, based on his training. He is bigger than you, he has nice abs and a great ass. 

his cock fits his body perfectly, you often just stare at him when he is getting in or out of the shower. He has a very sexy body and he is not afraid to show it off. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He has a very high sex drive. Contrary to what many people might think intimacy is a lot more important to him than sex. Yes, he loves sex, but he prefers to have you close and keep you close to him. Cockwarming is one of his favourite things to do.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He is rather quick to get sleepy but he wouldn't go to sleep. He would listen to you or try to listen and answer but it mostly comes out as a "Hmm." or a "Yes, Mi Amor." 

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @paola-carter​​ @stunkbiggu

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

[sapphicromanoffxo]

Angels like you

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Natasha, known for her promiscuous reputation, decides to pursue a relationship with her sister's best friend, Wanda. Wanda gives Natasha a chance, and they enter into a relationship. However, doubts linger about whether Natasha has truly changed her ways for the sake of their love.

Warnings: minor fluff (lol), major angst, lots of cursing, mentions of alcohol, marijuana, and drugs, misunderstanding, college au

Word count: 2,539

╰┈➤ Masterlist Part 2

Natasha Romanoff, a person who has a reputation in bedding women from left to right. She is someone who relentlessly pursues what she desires, seeking satisfaction above all else. She wholeheartedly embraces the "fuckboy" label and her ability to make women fall at her feet.

This Casanova persona has been established because Natasha refused to acknowledge her deep affection for Wanda. Wanda is her little sister's best friend and she's known her ever since they were in elementary school, and has held a special place in Natasha's heart. However, Natasha has denied her feelings for far too long, opting for a reckless path rather than confronting her true emotions.

Wanda, on the other hand, secretly harbors the same affection for Natasha. She has never mustered the courage to express her feelings openly, and even Yelena remains unaware of these unspoken emotions, as Wanda believes that pursuing a romantic relationship with Natasha would likely lead to nothing but heartache.

Their college semester break came in and Natasha decided to stop her fuckboy persona and tried to clean her name the best that she could. She stopped sleeping around during the previous semester as she is planning on confessing her true feelings to Wanda. She is already planning what she's going to do if her confession will be in favor of her or not. But if Wanda rejects her, she will not give up right away since she needs to prove her feelings for the girl.

In her dorm room, Natasha dedicated herself to crafting a heartfelt poem, intricately handcrafting paper roses, and selecting adorable stuffed toys she knew Wanda would love. She's trying to keep these all under wraps because she doesn't want her sister to find out. She couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that Yelena might interfere with her plans, which weighed heavily on her heart.

Natasha planned the day pretending to seek Wanda's help in finding a birthday gift for Yelena. Her request may be true, however, she has her own motive. After they bought the gifts, Natasha asked if they could go see a movie and Wanda happily agreed and is rejoicing with their alone time together. Natasha subtly put her hand on Wanda's lower back as she's guiding her inside the cinema. Nothing too touchy happened as Natasha doesn't want to scare the other woman. After the movie, Natasha once again asked if Wanda would like to come over to her dorm and for a home-cooked dinner. Wanda agreed and even picked the food that she wanted.

While they were eating, Natasha was feeling nervous and just decided to leave the table abruptly. This left Wanda feeling confused and her mind went into different directions when she saw Natasha coming back holding a bouquet of paper roses, cards, and stuffed toys. Wanda is so touched by all of these gifts and the poem that Natasha rose made her heart flutter.

"I wanted to court you for so long, but never had the courage to ask. I know you probably think badly of me, since I have this bad reputation and I would understand if you reject me."

"Natasha… I don't know what to say."

"Wanda, I have liked you since we were in high school but you had a boyfriend back then. Since then, I suppressed my feelings and ended up sleeping with everybody. Gosh, this is embarrassing."

"It's okay, Natasha. Go on."

"I just wanted to ask if I could court you, Wanda. I want you to be my girlfriend."

Wanda felt giddy all of the sudden, but she did not let her emotions cloud her decision.

"I will be giving permission to court me, but it does not mean that you will be my girlfriend eventually. I will need to see that you are not playing with me and are indeed serious."

"Yeah, I can do that. Thank you for the chance, Wanda."

The courtship went on for months and Natasha stayed true to her words. She devoted all of her time with Wanda. Strayed away from any parties and she even stopped smoking for Wanda's sake.

Wanda observed Natasha's determination and decided to give their relationship a chance. Natasha joyfully kissed her with passion, it was a special moment. Yelena, hearing the news, eagerly joined in the celebration of their newfound love. Although Yelena doesn't entirely approve of this relationship, she is happy for them nonetheless.

As their relationship grew, they remained blissfully unaware of the whispers and doubts surrounding them. Among those skeptical was Maria, Natasha's ex-fuckbody who couldn't help but find it amusing that Natasha had chosen someone like Wanda.

Five months into their relationship, Natasha received an invitation to a party. In all honesty, she missed her wild nights of returning to her dorm inebriated, but she certainly didn't miss the casual sexual encounters. Natasha had refrained from rushing into intimacy with Wanda, a gesture that Wanda deeply appreciated.

Natasha told Wanda that she'll be going to a party and will shoot her text once she arrives and leaves the party. Wanda, the angel that she is, let Natasha go and decided to just stay in their dorm.

The scent of alcohol and marijuana filled the air at the party, and Natasha wasted no time in grabbing drinks and reuniting with her friends. It had been too long since they'd partied together, and they were eager to catch up on their lives. Natasha learned that Maria was also present but chose to ignore her presence entirely.

At 1:36 AM, Wanda received a call from Yelena, who insisted that they needed to pick up Natasha, knowing she'd be too intoxicated to drive her bike. When the pair arrived, they began searching for Natasha but stumbled upon a scene they never expected. Natasha was sitting on the couch, in a highly compromising position, with her back to Wanda. Maria was straddling Natasha's lap, draping her arms around her girlfriend's shoulders.

Wanda stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to believe her eyes. She had strongly believed that Natasha had changed and would never return to her old ways. Maria noticed her and leaned down to kiss Natasha's lips.

Wanda's vision blurred with anger, tears started streaming down her face and she stormed out of the party, with Yelena hot on her tail, calling her name repeatedly.

Yelena made sure first to drop off Wanda to her dorm and went back to the party to get her stupid sister. How dare she break Wanda's trust like that. She shook Natasha awake, as she screamed at Natasha to get up and leave the party. Natasha, still groggy, complied without much protest, stumbling into Yelena's car.

Yelena seethed in her seat, her anger lingering in the air but she refrained from venting her frustration aloud. She knew that once she started, there would be no end to it. She drove Natasha back to their dorm in tense silence, practically tossing her onto the bed. Then she noticed all of the lipstick marks on Natasha's face.

Frustration and disappointment welled up within Yelena as she decided to leave her sister alone to deal with the consequences of her actions. Instead, Yelena quietly made her way to Wanda's room, determined to watch over her, knowing that she needed the support more than ever.

The following day, Yelena, filled with curiosity and concern, made her way to her friends' dormitory. She sought out Steve initially, as he seemed the most level-headed and sober among the group, still holding on to his morals. When she finally located Steve, he seemed reluctant to face her, but Yelena was determined.

"Steve, are you seriously going to hide from me?" she questioned.

Steve winced but knew he couldn't evade the conversation any longer. "Uhh... no. Are you here because of what happened last night?"

"Yes," Yelena replied firmly. "I need to know why on earth my sister's face has Maria's lipstick all over."

Steve looked at Yelena with remorse in his eyes. "It's my fault," he admitted regretfully. "I should have warned Natasha about Maria's unhealthy obsession with her. All Maria did last night was try to get close to Natasha, desperate to win her back. She just couldn't let go. Natasha, of course, wasn't having it and they had a heated argument," he sighed and continued his confession. "From then on, we thought nothing major would happen, so we continued drinking and smoking. It all slowly happened because we were confident Maria would eventually stop. However, out of nowhere, we saw them on the couch, Maria kissing Natasha. That's when both you and Wanda walked in and witnessed the scene. Right after you chased Wanda, I managed to pull Maria away from Natasha's lap and noticed that Natasha was nearly unconscious. Tony and I tried to wake her, but she was unresponsive. That's when it hit us – Maria might have drugged her to have her way."

Yelena felt a wave of shock and regret wash over her as Steve's explanation sunk in. She realised that she had misjudged her sister, and jumped to conclusions way too quickly. Determined to clear her sister's name, Yelena hurried back to their dormitory, where Wanda was waiting.

Meanwhile, Natasha began to stir in her bed, her head throbbing with the aftereffects of a wild night. As her vision cleared, she saw Wanda sitting at the edge of her bed.

"Hi, baby," Natasha groaned. "My head is pounding. I must've really drunk a lot last night."

Wanda's expression was stern as she replied, "Yeah, you were so drunk that you cheated on me."

Natasha's eyes widened in shock, and she scrambled to sit up, almost losing her balance. "Cheated on you? What are you talking about?"

"I genuinely thought you have changed, Natasha," Wanda's voice trembled with hurt and anger. "But it seems like everyone was right about you being a heartbreaker who enjoys toying with people's emotions. I can't stand this. You're even denying it to my face!"

Natasha was still bewildered, trying to process everything Wanda was accusing her of. "Wanda, please, just calm down. I need to understand what's going on. I was only with the guys last night. We drank and smoked. Nothing else happened!"

Wanda's resolve remained unshaken. "Keep lying, Romanoff. We're done. I'm breaking up with you."

Desperation crept into Natasha's voice as she pleaded, "Wanda, no, no, no. Please, don't do this, baby. I'll figure this out. I don't even know what I did, but you have to believe me!"

Wanda's voice was resolute as she responded, "If you have any respect left for me and yourself, I suggest you leave me alone. I don't want to see your face ever again. I shouldn't have trusted you." With those words, Wanda stormed out of the dorm room, slamming the door behind her, leaving Natasha standing there, wondering how she had ended up in this heartbreaking situation.

Natasha went to the bathroom and to freshen up and will get this shit right. Upon checking the mirror, she saw all the faded lipstick stains on her face and neck. Fuck! Wanda surely saw all of these and she doesn't even know who she got them in the first place. First, she's going to call Yelena and Steve, second, talk to Wanda after she got her answers about what happened last night.

After taking a shower, she got her phone. No, she will not call Yelena or Steve. She went straight to Wanda's room and try to speak to her. She at least needs to make things right and assure her that she did not cheat on her with anyone.

She knocked on Wanda's door softly and called out her name. There was no answer and Natasha went for plan B, she had a spare key and let herself in. Her heart broke into a million pieces when she saw Wanda crying at the foot of her bed, hugging her knees closely to her body.

"Wanda, baby. Please. Talk to me. I want to make this right."

Wanda, who usually refrains from cursing, has unleashed every ounce of her anger towards Natasha.

"How fucking dare you step into my space! You're a cheater!"

"No, no. Please, I don't understand what you're saying, Wanda. I have zero recollection from last night, and I doubt very much that I've done something to break your trust," Natasha pleaded, her eyes searching Wanda's for any hint of understanding.

Wanda just scoffs. "Classic cheater. Pretends to not remember and blames their actions on the alcohol."

"I am not pretending, Wanda. Please help me out here." Natasha pleaded with desperation.

"Why would I even help you when you fucking put me in this situation!" Wanda screamed and continued berating Natasha. "I can't believe I fell for someone like you. I used to think highly of you and admire you sincerely. That's why I have given you a chance despite your habits. But the saying is real, old habits die hard."

Wanda chuckled to herself, not really minding the words coming out from her mouth. "Who fucking knows! You were probably sleeping secretly with someone else, or probably with Maria since you can't fuck me and get your way with me!" She's now blindingly accusing Natasha with whatever comes into her mind.

"Oh is that it? You were all over her last night because you can't get laid with me. Wow. That's fucked up, Natasha."

Natasha is left stunned once again from all of the insults and accusations that Wanda is throwing at her.

"Maria? What does it have to do with Maria? I have not spoken to that woman since I dumped her. Although she was there last night, I paid her no mind."

"Oh hush now, Natasha. Don't ever fucking lie to me now. You were kissing all too fucking good last night. I saw it. Yelena even saw it too. So don't ever fucking lie to me!"

Natasha, completely lost at the moment and doesn't know what to say anymore. Wanda is saying things she can't remember and she was probably right. She's a cheater who could never be satisfied with her partner.

"What? You're just going to stand there and not say a damn thing? Because I'm right? You're busted? You're pathetic, Natasha. A sly motherfucker who likes to play with people. Is that where you get your pleasure from? Seeing girls fall at your feet and leaving them in hell just for the fun of it?"

"You're hurting me now, Wanda," Natasha replied, her voice laced with sadness.

"You've hurt me more, Natasha. Get the hell out of my room. I never want to see your pathetic face again. I want nothing from you."

Natasha simply nodded and slowly walked to the door. But before she opened it, she cast one last look at Wanda. "I love you, you know." It was the first time either of them had attempted to utter those words.

"Well, I don't," Wanda retorted without hesitation, shattering Natasha's heart even further.

"I understand. Goodbye, Wanda." Natasha's voice cracked as she spoke, determined not to reveal her crumbling emotions.

Perhaps their love for each other had never been enough, and their relationship had been doomed from the very beginning.

This is loosely based on Miley Cyrus' song obv. I can't stop thinking that this could be a wandanat song tbh. So I hope you like this!

@vlake77 here ya go 🫶

[wrxsslin-hours]

Hey, Lover (Chapter 1)

next chap |

Bret was only supposed to deliver flowers to Shawn, not fall in love with him.

(Quintessential Delivery Boy x Househusband bretshawn au)

a/n: Hi hello, how y'all doing? Remember that one time I wrote this fic? A year ago, I think? Wild. Since Christmas break is coming along and I don't have classes until the 22nd, I was thinking I should finish this small fic-let. Thank you for readin'

I've rejected affection for years and years. Now I have it, and damn it, it's kind of weird. He tells me I'm pretty. Don't know how to respond. I tell him that he's pretty too. Can I say that? Don't have a clue - "Valentine", Laufey

The flower shop was the apotheosis of all flower shops—small but brimming with buckets and pots of flowers. A tender farrago of lilies, carnations, and hydrangeas filled the room. The floor was a mess of leaves and rogue petals; the shelves above, a nest of ribbons and silk. Wrapping papers crumpled, and the radio sang. Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains and bathed the room in warmth; dust and pollen danced in its rays. It was a peek into the world through pink-tinted glasses, a sea of reds and whites. And in the middle of it all, Bret arranged roses as if he were a man on a mission.

Like clockwork, Bret tied a bow around the neck of the bouquet and gently placed it beside the others he had made. He rubbed the underside of his nose to block the overpowering aroma of flowers. The corners of his lips tugged into a frown. Customers would say the scent was heavenly; Bret would beg to differ. Curly black tresses framed his face as the sound of hushed giggles drowned the staccato melodies of the radio. An annoyed huff sliced through the air. Bruce, Bret’s brother, let out an exasperated sigh, his nose buried between the pages of his newspaper.

“Would you two stop poking your noses where they don’t belong?”

Bruce’s reprimand fell on deaf ears. Bret turned his head to Owen and Elizabeth, the sides of their faces glued to the cracked door of their parents’ shared office. It wasn’t too long ago that a tall man came barreling down the shop doors, wallet in his hands like a rifle ready to shoot through every assortment of tulips and orchids. The stranger was a far cry from their regular customers. He didn’t have the caved shoulders of a shy teen or the worried lines of a husband who forgot his anniversary. He was confident and sharp, savvy like a businessman with a heartthrob smile. He wasn’t the average Joe. And after such a slow day of work, his intrusion caught everyone’s attention. It’s been ten minutes since their parents whisked the man away into their office, and Owen and Elizabeth sat fixated on the shadows that shifted underneath the gap in the door.

Owen waved his hand, and his sandy blonde hair swayed as he did so. He reeled his head back to face his brother’s furrowed brows with furrowed brows of his own. “Pipe down, Bruce. I can’t hear a thing over your yapping.”

The older Hart gritted his teeth, ready to crack from the tension of his jaw. Before he had the chance to stand, roll his newspaper, and whack Owen upside the head, Elizabeth squealed and stopped him dead in his tracks. Four pairs of eyes darted to her as she slid her back down the wall, her hands on her flushed cheeks.

“He ordered fifty roses.” She swooned, the skirt of her lilac dress pooling around her as she sat on the floor. Owen scrambled beside his sister, his head cemented onto the door once more. As the conversation beyond the door rambled on, Owen hung onto every faint word his ears could decipher.

“Fifty roses!” Owen gasped, disbelief in his eyes. The blonde turned his head to his brothers and wiggled his eyebrows, “Talk about a Casanova.”

Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet, leaves on her skirt. “Isn’t it romantic?” she mused starry-eyed. “I’d love to get a bouquet like that,” she sighed, her head tilted heavenward.

Jim rolled his eyes at her daydreaming, gaze as dark as the stem-covered marble counter he lay on. He pursed his lips and twirled a flower between his fingers, “Fifty roses are daylight robbery. Pretty sappy if you ask me.” He plucked a leaf from its stem. “This guy must be loaded to make an order like that.”

Bruce sat down on a stool, the soles of his shoes balanced on its footrest. He shrugged his shoulders as he opened his newspaper and went to the page he left off. “That just means there’s more money for us.” He leaned his head back and laughed.

The office door suddenly flew open and thwacked Owen square on the face. A groan escaped the blonde’s lips. But his pain was left muted by the gruff voice of the man that opened the door. “Watch it, twerp,” the man snapped, his face red and his suit white.

Cowboy hat on his head, chocolate-colored eyes pointed to the studded watch on his wrist. The man’s black loafers, shined to perfection, smacked against the checker-tiled floor. Like a tornado, he stormed out of the shop and knocked every pot that stood in his way. Bret stared as the stranger crossed the street, entered his eggshell-colored limousine, and drove off. Bruce grumbled as he, Jim, and Elizabeth picked up the pots the man pushed down. Owen shakily stood up beside Bret with his hands on his nose and redness on his forehead. “I’m not delivering for that jerk,” he sneered. He patted Bret on the shoulder, “He’s all yours.”

Before Bret could retort, their parents strode into the room, an argument along with them. “We can’t possibly have fifty roses ready for today,” Helen bickered as she unfolded the napkin their customer gave, her hair brown like the apron she wore. “We won’t have them restocked until Saturday.”

Stu huffed as his eyes darted around his shop before they stopped on the rose bouquets on Bret’s work table. He grabbed the flowers and began to unwrap them. He piled the roses into a hill and cast everything else aside. Bret sputtered, his shades sliding down the bridge of his nose as he did so, “Dad, those were an order for Miss Mae–”

“Miss Mae can wait, Bret.” Stu wrapped the roses with precision. Helen sighed beside him as she plucked a notecard and began to write down whatever their latest client scribbled on the coffee-stained napkin. “Mr. Layfield is paying big money to have his delivery done today,” Stu explained. “It’s the biggest order we got since we opened, so we should make him happy.”

It didn’t take long for Bret to have a behemoth of a bouquet in his arms and a clipboard tucked under his chin. Bret could feel the dull pinch of thorns on his biceps; the aroma of roses bombarded his nose as it completely buried his upper body. With one last tweak on the bouquet from his mother, Bret was out the door and into the delivery truck. Before he could drive off, his father’s voice rang in the breeze. Bret peeked over the roses to see Stu waving at him. “Take off your sunglasses!” he exclaimed, hands around his mouth to amplify his words. Bret fought to roll his eyes as he dragged his sunglasses to the top of his head and steered the truck into the busy streets.

Bret passed a flurry of saloons and office buildings. The world outside the truck was a blur of greens and grays. White picket fences turned into towering hedgerows, wooden street lights turned into metal lamp posts, and mismatched row houses turned into palatial mansions. Bret’s delivery truck stuck out like a sore thumb in the presence of luxury sedans. A low whistle escaped his lips as he slowed to a halt in front of the rose bouquet’s intended.

A mansion stood tall in the presence of neatly trimmed hedges and surrounded by an army of limousines and cars. Upon the home’s slate roof was an array of leaves connected to twining vines that hugged its brick walls, and behind those vines were large arched windows, like hair that covered soulful eyes. Bret could faintly make out the beige curtains behind the glass panes. He grabbed the bouquet and reveled in the manor’s beauty. It was the picture of pristine perfection, a scene straight from the home magazines his mother would regularly read. Bret would’ve been impressed if the mansion didn’t look like every other house in the cul-de-sac. He grabbed the rose bouquet and slipped his clipboard on top of it. The gravel path crinkled underneath his feet as he walked to the manor’s grand double doors. The sun bore onto his skin as Bret pushed the doorbell with his elbow. He rolled his eyes at the sound of cowbells that echoed in his ears. The doorbell tune was ostentatious as the roses in his hands.

Silence filtered the air. Bret clicked his tongue and pushed the doorbell again, the sound of the doorbell more annoying than the first. He juggled the flowers in his hands as he looked down at the address written on his clipboard. The idea of being in the wrong house filled his mind, but before Bret could turn his back from the door, it swung open. ‘Finally,’ Bret thought. With his eyes still on his clipboard, he tilted his head to the side. “Does Mr. Shawn Layfield live here?” he asked.

“Well, hello to you too, handsome,” a voice drawled, sweet like honey and slow like molasses.

Bret’s head shot up as a chill ran down his spine. His dark eyes landed on the man in front of him, his breath hitched. Bret balanced the bouquet in one hand as he tugged on the collar of his pink shirt with the other. He expected the thick velvet of a butler’s tuxedo, not the glossy sheen of a silk robe. He expected thinning silver hair, not damp blond curls that clung to tanned skin. Bret was ready to smell the musk of dust, not the aroma of cigarettes and Parisian perfume. He shook his head in a vain attempt to escape the other man’s allure. “I have flowers for him.”

Shawn’s smile widened, “Are they from you?”

“They’re from–” Bret read his clipboard – “Mr. John Bradshaw Layfield.”

The blond’s smile left as fast as it came. He pursed his lips like he was chewing on a lemon rind and leaned against the door frame. “A bit over-the-top, isn’t it?”

Bret gave a wry grin. “I wouldn’t know. I’m just the delivery boy.” Bret waited for the other to take the bouquet from his hands. But the door only opened wider. The delivery boy raised a brow; his head cocked to the side.

“What?” Shawn shrugged; his robe slid down his shoulder as he did so. “You don’t expect me to carry all of that, do you?”

Bret blinked owlishly. Shawn seemed perfectly capable of carrying the order. He gazed at the taut muscle underneath Shawn’s clothes for a moment. And at the drop of a hat, Bret’s eyes stayed pointedly on the blond’s bedroom eyes. “You’re a delivery boy,” Shawn continued. He stepped to the side, his brow in a sly arch, “Go on and deliver.”

Bret frowned and took a wary step. Shawn guided him into the living room, and Bret followed as if God watched him. Cautious and guarded, Bret took each step as if it was his last. The shuffle of carpet slowly replaced the sound of shoes against the wooden floor. And Bret caught himself in the company of lush couches and intricate cabinets as Shawn excused himself to get a vase. He tapped his toe against the white tiger rug underneath him as the chandelier shined above his head. To say Bret felt out of place was an understatement. The living space was lavish, just like everything else in the mansion. Bookshelves as tall as the ceiling covered half of the room, each shelf overflowing with novels and encyclopedias. In the corner was a grand piano, free from dust and fingerprints. Paintings upon paintings hung from the walls, bronze candelabras scattered along the corridors. Bret narrowed his eyes. There were no framed pictures or lightly stained patches on the floor. The house was opulent, but it didn’t seem as lived-in as it should be. His contemplation was interrupted by Shawn’s call.

“Tell me, delivery boy, what do these flowers mean?” He asked as he placed the water-filled vase on the coffee table and situated himself on one of the many chairs in the room. “Don’t they have meanings? The language of flowers and whatnot.”

Bret hesitantly unwrapped the bouquet and propped the roses inside the porcelain vase. He handed the notecard to the blond with a rehearsed smile, “That’s what cards are for.”

“You are so boring.” Shawn stretched on the chair; his legs dangled on its cushioned armrest. “Read the note for me.”

The delivery boy exhaled through his nose and closed his eyes. Bret would’ve left ages ago if his father wasn’t so insistent about pleasing their clients. Not wanting to waste any more time, he began to read the card. “Love of my life–”

“Is it too late to return the bouquet?”

Bret couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him. The corner of Shawn’s lip quirked up at the sound of his laughter. He twirled a strand of his golden hair between his fingers, “You should rest a bit before you go.” Shawn stood up and strolled towards Bret, “You must be tired.” He brushed his hand against Bret’s forearm and grinned at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I should go, Mr. Layfield–”

“Call me Shawn.” He peeked up at Bret through his lashes, “You’ve got a name, delivery boy?”

“What I do have are other deliveries to do.” Bret felt his cheeks warm as he raised his clipboard and offered the other man a pen, “I need your signature, Mr. Layf– Shawn.”

Shawn pouted, his shoulders sagged as he took the pen and clipboard from Bret’s grasp; their fingers brushed against one another. Bret bit his top lip as Shawn signed the paper with a flourish and gave the clipboard back to him. The delivery boy could feel the tension leave his body; this whole fiasco was finally sealed to a close. “It’s been a pleasure, Shawn.”

The blond took an abrupt step towards Bret’s personal space; their chests flushed together. Shawn tucked the pen behind the other’s ear. “The pleasure’s all mine,” he purred.

The tension left Bret, and his soul might as well follow along with it.

A stormy haze engulfed Bret’s consciousness, and it didn’t clear up until he was seated in his truck. The events that transpired minutes ago replayed in his mind like a broken cassette tape. He combed his fingers through his hair, and the pen balanced behind the shell of his ear fell on the passenger seat beside him. His eyes darted to the clipboard on his lap; the name ‘Shawn Michaels’ written on the signature line mocked him. He glanced at the mansion’s reflection on the crooked rearview mirror, and with the thoughts of Shawn plaguing him, he drove off.

Shawn didn’t cross Bret’s mind again until a week later. He was sat on the counter redoing the messy ribbons Owen hurriedly tied beforehand when his dad lumbered into the shop with a box of lavender colored craft paper in his arms. Bret raised a questioning brow at Owen, and their father placed the box on the counter. “Big order coming up,” the older Hart mused.

Bret could already feel the sleepless hours they will undoubtedly spend making flower arrangements. Owen groaned at the very thought. Their father cleared the counter from leaves and petals, letting them drop to the floor. “Mr. Layfield has a soiree in a week and since he loved our flowers the last time, he wanted us to arrange flowers for it.”

Owen groaned even louder and slouched in his chair. “Hate that guy,” the blonde grumbled under his breath, a sour taste still in his mouth from the last time their rich client last visited them. “That guy is paying for our food on the table, son,” Stu tutted.

As both Harts bickered back and forth, Bret gulped. Bret usually didn’t think of the people he delivered flowers to; their faces stay blurred for the short time they linger in his thoughts. But Shawn, with his not-so-subtle interest and that damned silk robe of his, was the exception.

“I bet his husband didn’t even like the bouquet!” Owen complained. Their father scowled but couldn’t disagree. The younger Hart wrapped his arm around Bret, “Right, Bret? The guy didn’t like it, did he?”

Bret ignored his brother, instead feigning nonchalance with a cross of his arms. He turned to Stu, “Say, do you know anything about Layfield’s husband?” Stu hummed, rummaging through the box he carried in, “The boy got married to Layfield the moment he graduated college. Layfield paraded the young man around like a prized diamond to his even richer friends. That’s about everything people know around here.” Owen butted himself into the conversation, “He doesn’t have good taste, then.” Stu shooed his younger son away with a roll of ribbons.

Bret fiddled with the ends of a flower stem, distracting himself. Stu gave him a knowing look, and Bret shifted his eyes to the lone pair of scissors on the floor, far more interesting than the squinted look of his father at that moment. “His husband is coming here later to discuss decorations. I won’t be here—” Owen clapped his hands, already aware of where their father was hinting at. “Oh, would you look at the time, I should really help Lizzy with the groceries. Okay, bye!” Owen bolted out of the store in a breath, the front door bell jingled when he set foot outside and left his family staring at his retreating form.

Stu clicked his tongue before he fished out his notepad from his back pocket. He handed it to Bret, “Just make sure to keep the customer happy.”

It wasn’t that Bret was avoiding Shawn, far from it. But when presented with the chance to flirt back with a man married to someone who could buy all of Bret’s possessions that he’s had or will ever have, he’d rather steer clear of it. But there was something about Shawn that Bret could not stop thinking about. From the beauty mark underneath his lashes to the way he smirked at Bret’s flustered state, Shawn was beautiful, and he knew it all too well. He seemed to know just the right buttons to press to make Bret second-guess his words. And the Hart was trapped between a rock and a hard place when Shawn finally visited the flower shop, an hour late from schedule.

Looking at Shawn made Bret unconsciously smooth out the wrinkles of his shirt and fix his hair any chance he got. Under Shawn’s gaze, Bret felt awfully small. When Shawn entered the store, he brought in an air of sweetness, the type that makes Bret’s mouth water. It was a nice change from the aroma of flowers, and for once, Bret didn’t have the urge to hide his nose behind his hand. Shawn dressed simply, but with the way he carried himself, it proved otherwise. He was fond of silk, Bret noticed, as his eyes trailed from his silk shirt to the jeans that hugged his waist.

“Hi, delivery boy.”

Bret blinked; his eyes shot back to Shawn’s face. “Welcome, Mr. Layfield,” Bret managed to utter. Shawn pouted, “I told you not to call me that.”

The blonde locked his gaze on the array of flowers behind Bret, his pout melting into a grin. “Those are pretty. I wish I got those bouquets instead.”

Bret turned to where Shawn was staring and laughed, “50 roses not good enough for you?” Shawn smiled, “Not even good to begin with.”

[neptuniadoesstuff]

ITS A TRAP! /hj (Adrastea's Official Ref)

So I have been working on this fella for a while (In Ibispaint it says like 26 hours but in reality its been a few days) ever since I decided to take a small break from working on Ryan. BUT I may have uh.... Got into some chaos since MY PROGRAM CRASHED LIKE 2 TIMES, ONE TIME FOR THE IMAGE & ANOTHER FOR THE FILE RECOVERY! But in the end I was able to finally finish it. So.... yeah... :')

This guy (Yes guy, I'm not sure you read the title but this is infact a MAN) is for a DT I'm having with a frend based on my Lil universe/story called "A Stargazer's Diary" & this guy is a antagonist in the story.

On the left is his Drag Queen/Dancer get up while on the right is his Gang leader get up. Yes he's a gang leader & will brutally myorder you if you lose to a game of poker with him). He is often referred to as Mr. Casanova when he is in his gang leader suit but when he is not & working as a dancer/entertainer at the casino/Hotel he owns, he is referred to as "Queen Rosette". (& yes teh rose motifs are everywhere)

If you wanna read some of his info, you can go here (The Tumblr bio) or here (His official file created by me on TH).

Theres some extras but here's a warning: One of the extras contains LARGE AMOUNTS OF BL00D! The other extra is just him but with shorts & a crop top on bcs I don't know if I can show his full body without being murked to deth.

Extra 01:

This is the gang leader get up but with LARGE amounts of bl00d on it. (Bcs he is very brutal to his victims in this ver of him)

Extra 02:

Just a image of him but it's actually showing his face & w/o his long ahh hair that was a struggle to draw. (Why do curly hair gotta be so gosh diggity hard to DRAW!)

Btw he does have a tail but it's pretty small due to him being a Humonculus of a exo-human + plant alien hybrid created by a evil space colony.

Anyways.... hope this enjoy this hellhole I went through bcs IbisPaint decided to be a lil jerk to me & crash on me for no reason.

Character was created by me but made for my frend Al.

Art: Mine.

Program: IbisPaint x

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my blog's pinned post clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PLEASE CREDIT ME!

[sofasoap]

Surprise

Pairing :    John “Soap” MacTavish. X f!reader 

Summary: Little short drabble about our Soap boy and domestic fluff. Continuation of A quiet moment – John “Soap” MacTavish. 

Part of “ Mini MacTavish verse” , The character who was the flatmate of Mini which I gave her the name “Emma” in other fic, but here you can place any name you want here in this fic.

Warning : Mature theme, hint of smutty time.  talk of pregnancy. Domestic fluffs.

Character of Mini MacTavish is from @saltofmercury fic  “The Favorite MacTavish” which she graciously let me borrow and write a bit more expanded universe. Please go read her wonderful story to get bit of background, 

“masterlist” for the prequel to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse. For you, @saltofmercury, now get off my back about Price fics LOL. 

A warm savoury smell hits your nose as soon as you open your front door.  

“Hey Bonnie, welcome home!” You heard John yelling out from the kitchen. Taking off your shoes and hanging up your coat, you make your way to the kitchen. There you were greeted by the sight of candlelight and roses pedals. 

“What’s the occasion darling? OH gosh that really smells good.” 

“Do I need an occasion to treat my wife?” he replied as you put your bags down. “Go have a shower first, dinner will be ready soon.” “Where’s Simon?” “He’s at Big Simon’s house. Mini said he can have a sleepover with his cousins today. None of you have a shift scheduled tomorrow right? Just relax.” 

You chuckled at the nickname. The nickname was coined by Mini’s daughter, when they all came and visited the baby as a newborn.

“Tiny, Aileen, you want to come and say hi to your cousin?” 

“... What is his name?” Aileen asked.

“Simon, we named him after your daddy.”

“.... So he is little Simon, and Da is big Simon.” Mini and John laughed their heads off while Simon just grumbled. And the nickname stuck ever since.

Fresh and relaxed from a hot shower, you sat down by the dining table, sipping on the wine John just poured for you.  That’s when realisation hit.

“... John, WHY ARE YOU NAKED UNDER THE APRON?” “ You only just realised?”  He replied with a cheeky smile as he twirled himself around. 

You narrow your eyes. He is certainly up to something. “ Are you trying to get into my pants tonight?” 

“ Maybe? Maybe not? Can’t you just appreciate your husband’s body for now?” he chuckled as he faced away from you, with a slow and deliberate movement, bending over to check the cottage pie inside the oven. This man will be the death of you, you swear. And he nearly worked you to near death with all the love making that night. 

“Twins?”

“Twins.” “Does my brother know?” Mini asked excitingly.

“Not yet… I haven’t even told him about the pregnancy yet.” “Well, you two certainly have been busy.” 

You slapped your good friend on her arm, blushing furiously.

“I still got the twin’s newborn clothes if you need them.” “ Thanks Mini, it will be much appreciated. I still got some of Simon’s.But I am sure I will need more.” 

Putting the last of the washings on the line, you feel someone tackle hug you from behind. “Johnny! Didn’t expect you to be back so early??” You turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck, happy and surprised he is home. 

“Mission went smoother than expected. Plus I miss my family so much.” John picked you up with ease while peppering you with kisses. You let out a little scream,

“ Careful of the babies Johnny!!!” “... Babies?” 

He sat you down gently on the ground, looking at you, confusion clear on his face. He looked behind you, all the baby clothes on the line. Grabbing his hand gently from behind you, moving it to your stomach, you smiled at him. “ Yes casanova, babies.” “ Plural? Babies?? Two? Oh please don’t tell me there’s three.”

You laughed, “ oh gosh no, just two, there’s only enough space for two in here.”

He burst out crying with joy. Again.

“Congratulations! You have twin boys…You got names for them already?”“Jonathan and Kyle.”

Now MacTavish/Riley households named all their kids after 141 team members 🙂 There's always a lot of confusions during gatherings.

Thank you for reading! Any likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated. 

[kalims-pessimist-bestie]

Take a Break

Jin x Royal Scientist!OC

CW: none, just some sickening sweet fluff

Word Count: 1583

Part of the Ikemen Library Valentine’s Gift Exchange

A gift for @olivermorningstar

Thank you @ikemenlibrary for hosting :) 

–

Valentine’s day wasn’t something Oliver really cared about. When working in the palace, everyday is just another work day. He was appreciated among the rest of the staff, receiving little tokens of appreciation while he continued to work in his lab. Sometimes he’d hear a distant “Happy Valentine’s Day!” from down the hallways, and a face would briefly cross his mind before resuming his work. He had work to do. There has been a small outbreak of sickness in the townships closest to the palace, and Sariel entrusted the task of creating a cure to him. It wasn’t an illness that was fatal by any means, but the people were suffering regardless. 

Jin, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about what he could do to impress the good-natured scientist. Despite the casanova of Rhodolite’s 7 princes, he was at a loss for what he could do to make this day special. Everyday since he started working as the Royal Scientist, Jin would find an excuse to stop by the research labs, letting Oliver ramble on about the newest information and how close he is to finding a cure. He knows it’s been harder recently though. Oliver’s rants have gone from excitement and anticipation to confusion and frustration. This illness appears harder to cure than he previously anticipated. Jin believed in him. No one else in all of Rhodolite could whip up antidotes and cures quite like Oliver, and he wanted him to know that. That’s when the idea hit him.

Oliver banged his fist on the desk, frustration consuming him entirely. This shouldn’t be so hard to solve. He knows he’s cured harder illnesses than this. Why was this one giving him so much trouble? The scientist was so focused that he didn’t hear the door to the labs creek open, the 1st prince walking in and taking a seat on the counter near him. 

“Any new updates, kid?” Jin asked, fully expecting Oliver to vent out his anger. Instead though, Oliver looked over at him, tears of anguish threatening to spill over. 

“I can’t let Rhodolite down. The people need me but I don’t know what to do,” his fists hitting the desk again, his cup of pencils rattling slightly. “I’ve visited with infected patients, taken samples of saliva, blood, and grosser bodily fluids. I’ve spent days doing everything I can in my power to figure out what kills this illness, just to come back with nothing!” The tears finally fell, dotting his cheeks. Jin walked over and crouched down next to him, his hands gently swiping away the sadness on his face. 

“Let’s take a break, Oliver,” Jin’s face in a gentle smile. He handed him a lollipop, one of the many Jin keeps with him. 

“I can’t afford a break right now!” Oliver let out a frustrated sigh. “Sariel gave me a task and I need to complete it.”

“When does this task need to be completed by?” Jin asked knowingly.

“Well,” Oliver thought for a moment. “There isn’t necessarily a due date for this, but there are people that need my help! I can’t go and take a break.”

“So there’s no due date but you’d rather work yourself half to death than rest for let’s say, an hour?” The look on Oliver’s face told Jin everything he needed to know. He knew Jin was right. He knew he wouldn’t get anything done in this state. Jin gestured forward with the candy one more time before Oliver finally took it. 

“Thank you for checking on me.” The gentle smile Oliver gave was enough to send butterflies through Jin’s whole body. Now it was time for Operation: Break Time.

-

The rose garden was empty except for Jin, Oliver, and the mountain of sweets in front of them. The smell of the garden mixed sweetly with the smell from the pastries, made by Yves. 

“I don’t remember the last time I had the opportunity to indulge like this!” Oliver’s eyes sparkled at the food, scouring around for which to choose first. Jin was already half finished with his first one.

“You looked like you needed some sugar and sunshine, kid.” Jin patted his head affectionately. His hand fell to the side of his face, gently stroking his cheek with his thumb.  “Now tell me what’s stunting your progress with your task.”

With a mouth-full of pastry, Oliver rambled on about how the side effects were similar to food poisoning, but it’s unnatural for food poisoning to affect such a large population. 

“So it’s not contagious, but it’s widespread. I’ve made an antidote that works temporarily, but results don’t last much longer than a few hours. I can’t pinpoint it.” The dejected feeling of failure was part of the scientific process, but he’s never been stunted on progress for this long. The mountain of pastries shrank before them until there was nothing but a few crumbs remaining. 

“Let’s go take a walk around the town. Maybe you’ll find some useful information out there.” Jin offered his hand. There were more reasons why he wanted to take him into town, but this was the easiest way to justify it to Oliver.

-

Oliver felt like something had to have been set up here. The town was livelier than usual, but maybe it was just Valentine’s Day. He looked up at the prince that escorted him around the town. Music playing from nearby musicians drifted through the streets and the townspeople looked happy. Jin looked at Oliver’s hand, pushing himself to grab hold of it before he heard a child complaining to his mother about a painful stomach ache. It also caught Oliver’s attention and he ran over to them. 

“Hi, my name is Oliver. I’m the royal scientist in charge of finding a cure to the stomach bug going around town right now.” After introducing himself, he reached into his bag and brought out a bag containing an orange, powdery substance. “Jin, can you please fetch me a cup of water? It’s a water-soluble antidote that should help.” The child’s mother looked fondly at Oliver and thanked him for his help. Jin returned with the water and handed it to Oliver. He began to pour the powder into the water before he noticed the water had speckles of something in it. 

“What’s wrong? Should I go and retrieve a different water?”

“Jin, where is this water sourced from?” The gears turned in Oliver’s head. He had a lead.

“The well that was recently put in town. It’s made it easier for the townspeople to get their water supplies.” A crease formed between Jin’s eyebrows. He knew Oliver had an idea and was ready to help in any way he could.

“The well has been such a big help to our town,” the woman mentioned. “Not only is there fresh water nearby, but people say that it grants wishes.

“Wishes?” Oliver and Jin said at the same time.

“You throw a coin into the well and they say any of your dreams can come true.”

“THAT’S IT!” Oliver began to run to the nearby well and sure enough, there was a pile of coins resting at the bottom. He pulled up a bucket of water from the well to inspect and the water had speckles of stuff in it too.

“Do you think?..” Jin began to trail off, looking at Oliver.

“I most definitely do. I think the older coins have begun corroding at the bottom of the well, releasing a toxin into the water.” Oliver turned to the lady and her child who followed them to the well. “Please use a different source of water for the time being. Mix this powder in with the different water and have him rest for a few hours. He’ll be better in no time.”

-

Back in the lab, Oliver ran tests on the tainted water, as well as the effects of the antidote on it. Jin sat nearby, watching in awe as he consumed another lollipop. 

“I think this is it!” Oliver penciled in some last pieces of information before closing his notebook. His eyes sparkled as he looked over at Jin, his face filled with relief. Jin could hear his heart beating in his ears. This might be why he liked the scientist to begin with. That look on his face indicating a job well done was Jin’s only kryptonite. 

“I didn’t doubt for a second that you would figure it out,” Jin placed a hand on Oliver’s head, roughing up his hair for a moment. He looked up at the 1st prince. Their eyes met briefly before they both turned their gazes away. Then a quick thought jumped into Oliver’s mind.

“Jin?” the young scientist asked.

“What is it?”

“I think I can take a proper break now.” He beamed up at Jin, who was already way ahead of him. 

–

The rose gardens were always the most peaceful at night. The stars in Rhodolite always twinkled brightly, and nothing in the world was quite as calming. The two of them sat on a blanket, discussing various things that Oliver might have missed while engrossed in his research.

“Most of all, kid, I missed getting to hang out with you.” A genuine smile graced his face as he finally reached over to hold Oliver’s hand. The blush creeping onto his cheeks was evident, but they paid it no mind. They were too lost in the stars they saw in each other's eyes.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

[v1nsmoke]

𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒂 | 𝒈𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒊 | 𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒑 | 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒋𝒊 𝒇𝒂𝒏

hey, welcome to my corner! name's maya, and i write silly stories and make silly fanarts, mostly one piece related!

𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒔: one piece, resident evil, the boys, the last of us, red dead redemption 2/1, far cry, fnaf, game of thrones, stranger things, arcane, naruto, star wars, marvel, dc, hunger games, kingsman, final fantasy, devil may cry, you, the walking dead, the council, mortal kombat 11 and mk1, western movies, and just movies in general

my ask box is always open if anybody has questions or needs a listening ear ♡

clicking on the underlined parts will take you directly to the post itself!

༄ ‧₊˚ 𝑽1𝑵𝑺𝑴𝑶𝑲𝑬𝑺 𝑺𝑷𝑶𝑶𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 (𝔬𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱)

𝚂𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

-> Wine & die // Shanks x reader (zombie apocalypse au) -> Guns n' Roses // Cult leader!Law x reader

-> House of Blood and Death // Vinsmoke Sanji x vampire!reader (re8 x one piece)

-> Guns N' Roses // Cult leader!Law x reader - PART 2

-> Party Killer // Slasher!Zoro x reader

-> Guns N' Roses // Cult leader!Law x reader PART 3 -> The Circus // Buggy x reader

-> Family Dinner // ASL bros x reader

༄ ‧₊° 𝑴𝒀 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺

Prince // Vinsmoke Sanji x reader (full fanfic out on wattpad)

Hanahaki Disease // Vinsmoke Sanji x reader (angst oneshot)

Officer Friendly // cop!Shanks x reader (oneshot)

Save a Horse... // cowboy!Rick Grimes x reader (oneshot)

Match My Freak // John Hancock x reader (fallout 4 oneshot)

Cure For Boredom // Frenchie x reader (the boys oneshot)

Casanova // Sonny Corleone x reader (oneshot)

For Old Time's Sake // Soldier Boy (multi-chapter fanfic) CHAPTER ONE

༄ ‧₊˚ 𝑴𝒀 𝑭𝑨𝑵𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑺

Sanji playing pool at a bar uncoloured coloured

Slasher zoro (spooktober oneshot inspired)

Nami

The Godfather 2 poster (digital art featuring robert de niro's vito corleone)

Egghead arc Sanji

Taz Skylar as Sanji

One Piece Live Action - Baratie fight

Shokugeki no Sanji panel redraw in my style

Sanji w/ gloves

Human version of Foxy from fnaf

Wano Sanji screenshot redraw

Kimiko x Frenchie fanart (the boys)

༄ ‧₊˚ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

v1nsmoke's taglist - comment what posts you want me to tag you in♡

༄ ‧₊˚ 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑺𝑻

Casanova // Sonny Corleone x reader (oneshot)

༄ ‧₊˚ 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹

A LETTER TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN... (update about my recent inactivity) FIND ME ON AO3 FANFIC WRITER EMOJI ASK

© v1nsmokes 2023. Do not modify, translate or rewrite.

[psychicreadsgirl]

yunho as boyfriend? 🤔

Rated r- read at your discretion

Yunho is a bit of a casanova. He's interested in dating/having flings with many different types of people. He wants to experience s*x with like married older people, even a friend's parent, someone from a different ethnicity etc. It's a bit like a conquest for him like reaching goals?? I just had a scene of a board game so it's like strategy game for him, love.

He's interested in "conquering" someone. He can do a lot of sweet, romantic, and loving things when he's pursuing someone. He can surprise them with like 99 roses on their graduation day or he can send them a postcard each time he's abroad on tour. He can record wakeup calls for the person or call them even though he's overseas for that morning call. This is all during the "wooing" stage. Once he feels he has that person's heart, he becomes bored and doesn't feel those butterflies. He moves on. He'll break up by using excuses like how his company has caught onto the dating so he has to break up but he really loves them or like how he needs to focus completely on his career bc he wants to provide better life for them so they need to have a long break.

The first s*x with the person is the most exciting for Yunho. After the first time, things get boring for him because he feels he knows the person already. He needs a lot of excitement and stimulation when dating. He'll enjoy s*x in different locations, maybe the public washroom at a subway or like sex at the balcony of a high rise apartment etc. He wants some risque situations because the riskiness of potentially being caught excites him.

Yunho isn't too rough or too gentle for s*x. He is, however, not very careful and doesn't care that much for wearing condoms. He feels that going raw is more comfortable. He also likes to ej*aculate within his partners entrance(s) or in their mouth or on their body. He also likes when someone eats his s*men or swallows it. He has fantasies of mixing his s*men in like pancakes and feeding them to his partners or eating sushi off of a person. He also enjoys sticking objects into his partners like not specifically sex toys but could be everyday objects or vegetables like a carrot/eggplant/a hairbrush etc. He has to be careful about this because this can cause his partners to have infections or have items stuck in their private parts/ass. A visit to the ER because of that would not be pleasant...

Yunho likes taking control during s*x. He prefers being the one that leads.

[felikatze]

Tell us about the German translations of keyblades? 🥺

I SHALL. there's a couple things that haunt me

Firstly, basics. A keyblade is called Schlüsselschwert, meaning "key-sword." Quite apt, but I find the german term more pleasing since it's a clear alliteration of the "sch" sound ("sch" is identical to a harsh s sound, like the ch in chapter. not 100%, but you get it yes)

It is possible to make a one to one translation of "Schlüsselklinge" but this lacks the charming alliteration, and the word Klinge itself has.. harsher connotations than Schwert does? Like, a Schwert in an RPG is whatever. But Klinge? you are going to cut a motherfucker

funnily enough, the X-Blade is called the X-Klinge. This is a mystifying choice to me, but the pun is lost in german either way. WAIT since its said as "Ki-Klinge" they named it klinge so that one is also alliterated. i take it back this is genius.

Aaaas i have mentioned before, I'm so confused by DDD. The Kingdom Key is the Königsanhänger, the "King's Keychain." It's snappier than any alternatives that use the word Kingdom, Königreich, and since the name does refer to the keychain itself, it's perfectly logical to boot.

But, dream drop distance. Oh, dream drop distance.... calls it the Kingdom-Schlüssel. The laziest, most obnoxious use of a foreign word when a german name had already existed for a decade.

it's so stupid. why did they do this. hey squeenix localizers. talk to me. look me in the eyes. what were you DOING for ddd.

other keyblades! my thoughts keep running back to Oblivion and Oathkeeper. They're iconic keyblades, but their translations captivate me in different ways.

Let's start with Oathkeeper. It's called Sternentreue, "Star Loyalty." Treue has similar connotations to faith? Sparkly white magic shit forr jrpgs.

It's a simple name that plays on the obvious symbolism of it. Loyalty symbolized by stars. Star Loyalty. And yet, the word oath... It's much more impactful. Treue is what makes an oath, but an oath is like... more. It's quite a bit more romantic, in my opinion! Treue is also an impactful word, don't get me wrong, but just slapping Sterne in front of it cheapens it a bit. I wish it had the same impact, but it just doesn't! Get a little more spicy with it.

Oblivion though. Oh my god. German Oblivion is called Memoire. I'm never getting over that. It's called MEMOIRE. jesus christ. the definition here is the same as for english btw. a reminder, or, an autobiography. the totality of a life, summarized. the opposite of oblivion. and yet

thinking abt the relationships Oblivion symbolizes, Sora and Riku, Roxas and Xion, encapsulated by Memoire makes me bonkers. As though these relationships are everything. All encompassing. In lurid detail. Does Roxas not receive Oblivion at the end of his own memoire? Insane.

It's such a different name for the exact same thing. And somehow it conveys the same thing. Like all the romanticism wasted on Star Loyalty? THIS is where it is. it's called Memorie jesus fucking christ

Soul Eater is called Seelenfänger, Soul Catcher, instead, which is super fun, because down the line, Dream Eaters are called Traumfänger, Dream Catchers, too! It's a parallel I literally never noticed until now! Woo! The rikublade truly. Also because Seelenfresser (like, soul devourer. "Fressen" is eat, but exclusively for animals) just sounds too fucking beastial, and Seelenesser ("Essen" is eat, but for humans!) sounds stupid.

It being the same across two languages is either a neat coincidence, or deliberate. You decide!

The funniest change is Lady Luck though. It's called Herzensbrecher. Heart-breaker, like some kind of bad boy casanova blade. (bcuz the concept of "lady luck" as such doesnt exist in german, unless it's like, Frau Holle, but she's an entirely different thing that could not apply here)

One name I actually just don't get, is Divine Rose? It's called Zentifol, which is a word that doesn't exist as such. Like, if you look this word up, first thing you get is the kh wiki.

wait i googled more. it's probably from the latin name for roses, rosa centifolia, or the Zentifolien family, in german. This is like a WILD reach for the name. I have to wonder if they didn't have anything with more, yknow, symbolism on hand, besides just naming it Rose.

Same thing for Pumpkinhead, oddly enough! It's called Cucurbita, from some latin pumpkin name.

There's a lot of literal translations, too, of course, though that's not really worth talking about, ykno. Löwenherz is Lionheart, Feenharfe is Fairyharp, Diamantenstaub is Diamond Dust. Average.

Mysterious Abyss ended up as Mysterious Ditch though (Mysteriöser Graben, instead of "Abgrund", which both sounds cooler and means Abyss instead of Ditch). Epic win

There's sooo much more I could talk about. How clever calling Two Become One "Zweisamkeit" is that I can't even translate it without an extensive Translator's Note. The closest I can muster is "two-ness" but that's not it! That's not it. It's. Woah that is shmart.

AND HOW DAYS MUCKS THIS UP BY CALLING IT "AUS ZWEI WIRD EINS" IN A ONE-TO-ONE LITERAL LOSER TRANSLATION. kh handheld games, good lord.

i'm looking through a list of keyblades rn and is. is Destiny's Embrace called Schicksalswink. Schicksalswink. Fate's wave. but wave as in, waving. Not the ocean. Literal waving, like as a greeting. Objectively perfect name. God.

fucking props for naming Vanitas' keyblade in actual latin! Clavis Vanitatum. Which is latin forrrrr (drum roll please) Vanitas' Key. Is this Divine Rose all over again?

I'm gonna call it quits here.

TL;DR: there are some literal translations, some very literal names hiding behind a latin veneer, names I think are lame, names I think are decent, and Memoire, which I'm never getting over, ever

[literatemisfit]

You know what I think is funny?

I finished Broadchurch s3 on Sunday for the first time and now I find myself watching fan-made videos of Alec and Ellie and reading fanfiction at work. And I'm realizing that David is part of so many fictional fan couplings.

Alec x Ellie

10 x Rose

10 x Martha

10 x Donna

10 x Jack

David x Billie

David x Catherine

Crowley x Aziraphale

David x Michael

Kilgrave x Jessica

Benedick x Beatrice

Casanova x Bellino

And I'm just like. No matter what phase of his career we're in, there's always one ship that people hang on to and swear is real. It's just so silly.

[scrawlingskribbles]

still endlessly fascinating to me that the whole "Casanova"/"romance" angle of Raymond's character is just a word-of-god informed trait that we never actually.... see, in-show?? Like, if you're Just watching the episodes without any other contact to fandom/Krew stuff, Raymond is purely just a haughty sports-themed bot with a bit of a flair for the dramatic, so Ernesto's jab at him in Let's Watch The Boxmore Show about needing to "pick a lane" between Sports or Romance feels like it comes?? completely out of left field????? 😂😂 (yes, sports pun intended lol) Like... is it just because of his whole roses/flowers motif??? Is that really all it takes to somehow constitute "romance" here?? Because I call BS on that honestly xD 'Romance' as a concept has way more depth/complication than simply "the existence of roses/flowers"; not to make another pun so soon, but It Takes Two To Tango as the saying goes, and the only person Raymond ever (sort-of?) tangoed with was Rad but that dance battle was definitely Not romantic-coded, so?? xD (Insert joke here about Second First Date largely consisting of a date-fight with a focus on flowers which Was supposed to be romantic-coded but SHHH x'3c) But at the same time, if the flowers aren't supposed to be the reasoning then W H E R E are we supposed to have seen any kind of ""romance"" from Raymond for Ernesto's line to make sense??? Please, I am genuinely asking to be shown the logical thread here, it's been killing me for years now and I simply Cannot see it jhgjshgkjsg x''3