#i say this with love but you have GOT to read other books

[it-was-summer]

Buy Me Presents, Baby

A/N: Minors; DNI. I DONT CAREEE I WANT HIM!! Anyways, this may or may not be based on true events in my life. If you're reading this also know that I wrote this Christmas Eve and it is now 5am on Christmas Day, the powerhouse of lust. Hope you guys like this because I DID NOT proofread this AT ALL!! I mention the pill (oral contraception), so sorry if this is an issue, I'm just a girl. I KNOW there is a typo in here... i know it. Merry Christmas!! My gift is porn!!- Love you, Em

edit- the typo was fully in the title… go to bed at a reasonable time kids.

Link to the Ao3: Buy Me Presents, Baby Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Woof uhh okay! newly established relationship, Christmas sex, Spanking, Creampie, PnV sex, Reader gets called girl.. I apologize, Oral contraceptives are mentioned at the end, lingerie, that one bow lingerie... yall know which on I'm talking about?, That ONE!! WITH THE BOW YES!!, I had to use the word pussy.. IM SORRT IM NOT HAPPY ABOUT It, dirty talk, cock this cock that, not proofread, merry christmas.

Genre: Porn, no plot. Some fluff? Pairing: Established relationship!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: You and Spencer exchange gifts for Christmas, and one of your gifts happens to be a little physical.

Word Count: 3,669

Spencer doesn’t know what’s gotten into you. 

Though the longer he thinks about it, he should have seen the signs of your recent… restlessness. Being in the BAU came with its challenges, and one of these challenges was— of course— being away from home. Usually, the two of you would find a special time that worked for both of you to meet up and spend some well-deserved time together. 

Lately, it has felt like the world was against you, though. Every time you had free time, he’d plan a date night with you, only for him to be called away on a case. The one time you planned a date, you came down with a cold. The cycle kept repeating in a million different annoying ways. 

The cherry on top? It was almost Christmas. It's nearly Christmas, and neither of you has seen each other for a good three weeks— it’s miserable. 

So imagine his excitement when his phone doesn’t ring early Saturday morning. When he steps out of his shower, he checks it again— nothing. He’s beaming when he calls you, your sleepy voice answering him before he says, “Dinner tonight?” 

There’s a pause, followed by some rustling, “You’re free?” 

“Mhm,” He hums with a grin, grabbing his glasses from the case and placing them gracefully on his face. 

He can hear the excitement in your voice. " You want to exchange presents?” He remembers the playful tone in your voice when you said it, but at the time, he thought nothing of it. He chuckles softly before agreeing, saying a sweet goodbye, and hanging up the phone. 

Dinner begins and ends at your place, decorated in lights and festive trinkets, and presents wrapped neatly under the fake tree in the corner of your living room. The gift exchange went smoothly; you got Spencer some reading essentials, followed by a special edition of one of his favorite books. Spencer, in turn, had bought you a pair of earrings you pointed out back in November and a framed copy of your favorite painting.

It was getting late now, with a warm cup of tea in his hands, you turned and whispered in a playful voice, “I still have one more gift for you.” 

His eyebrows raised at that, bending his head to look at you as you sat with your back pressed against his chest, “More? After the special edition Tolstoy?” 

“More. I was saving it for the twenty-fifth, but…” You trail off, your eyes leaving his as you glance toward your bedroom. “I could go get it ready now?” 

Spencer smiles, thinking about it momentarily before he decides that he might not be home for Christmas. He mutters a soft “Yeah, okay.” 

You stand up quickly, an excited look in your eyes when you tell him, “Okay, stay here!” And then you’re gone. 

Spencer’s watching your bedroom door close with a faint smile. He stretches as he waits, his tea finished, when he hears you call out for him, “You can come in now!” 

He stepped into your room with nothing but good intentions, that is, until he saw you lying on your bed in lingerie. Maroon satin material lays smooth against your skin, and the shape of a tantalizing bow teases him at the center of your chest and your underwear— barely there. 

He clears his throat in a vain attempt to appear calm and collected, though he’s sure you can see his blushing cheeks and growing arousal. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words die in the back of his throat when you sit up on your elbows, pushing your breast out toward him a little more with an innocent tilt of your head. “You don’t like it?” 

His voice cracks when he says, “No! I mean— that is to say, I do like it! I mean, I’m sure you can see how much I–” He nervously adjusts his sweater, shaky hands pulling at the collar. 

You let out a soft hum, relaxing a little. " Are you going to stand by the door the whole time, or?” You tease him with a low laugh. 

He quickly walks closer, shaking his head as he gets closer to the edge of the bed. The bed dips as he climbs onto the edge of the bed. He watches as you roll on your side to adjust for him, waiting until he is lying beside you before you whisper, “If you don’t want to, it’s okay–” 

“I do! I do. It’s just we’ve only–” He motions between the two of you slowly, replacing the word. “A few times, and I wasn’t expecting,” His eyes trail down to your chest, his fingers twitching– itching to feel the material against his palm.  

When he looks back into your eyes, you smile at him with a little sigh, “I know. I just saw it, and I thought of you.” 

Spencer feels like his entire body is on fire when you say that. His pants become increasingly uncomfortable as he croaks softly, “That made you think of me?” 

You hum a sweet-sounding “Mhm,” you lick your lips, “Cognitive association, right?” 

Spencer thinks you’ll break him with the way you’re talking to him; your voice is low and quiet, clearly amused. He holds back a sound when he feels your hand take his and guide it to your barely clothed hip. For some reason, he wants to spew some facts about cognitive association, but in a rare moment, his mind goes blank. 

His mind slows, and the only thing he can process is the feeling of satin material against your body. He drags his hand along your side, higher and higher, until his fingers trace the bra’s underwire. His eyes flicker over to yours as he leans in, pressing a slow kiss to your lips. 

Kissing Spencer always starts soft, tender, and languid. It then slowly devolves into something passionate, heated, rough– something you adore. And you’re starting to feel the shift in this kiss, his tongue slightly grazing your bottom lip– a silent plea you happily fulfill, parting your lips to let his tongue tentatively enter the kiss. 

You’re smiling into the kiss, shifting with him so you’re under him before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him deeper into the kiss. Spencer lets out a tiny sound of surprise against your lips at the rough movement, and he pulls away slightly, his lips barely touching yours when he says, “So aggressive,” His tone teasing as he captures your lips in another giddy kiss. 

With your eyes closed and mouth occupied, your hands get to work. Blindly, you pull the bottom of his sweater, your lips only leaving his to help him pull the piece of clothing off his body. He’s eager to get his lips back on yours, his tongue resuming its work against yours, a kiss that makes your head spin and thoughts go hazy with how intense it feels. 

You move your legs up and around his hips, pushing his hips down to yours with ease. Spencer whines into the kiss, his lips moving slowly against yours until he pulls away to kiss your jawline. His hips grind down onto yours, your breath hitching at the feeling. 

Feeling his hardness through his pants makes you realize just how badly you need him, and it seems it does the same for him. His lips latch onto the lower side of your neck, sucking and licking softly at the sensitive area as his hips grind against yours harder. 

The feeling makes your core squeeze around nothing; the new desire to get something, anything, inside you plants a seed in your lower abdomen. You feel shamefully needy as Spencer continues leaving light red and purple marks on the sensitive skin of your neck, his breathing heavy as he decorates you with marks. 

You’re surprised to see that he’s actually moving lower, his markings getting closer to your collarbone when he pulls away, looking up at you with those lust-filled honey eyes, “May I?” The tips of his fingers tug lightly at the satin red bow covering your breasts. 

Your legs leave his hips as he pulls the bow apart with a simple flick of his wrist. His eyes stay trained on your breast as he takes one into his hand and gently rubs at your nipple, eliciting a soft, quiet moan from you, “So pretty,” Then he dips his head lower to bring your left nipple into his mouth, licking at the sensitive bud with precision. 

A sound— embarrassingly loud— escapes your lips at the feeling, your body squirming against his. You’re sure you can feel him smiling against your breast, his right hand moving to your right nipple, pinching it lightly. 

Your fingers latch onto his hair, gently running them through his hair and occasionally pulling when his tongue does something particularly amazing against the bud of your nipple. You can feel electric arousal coursing through you, soft moans and sighs leaving you with every touch. 

However, he’s pulling his lips away from your breast soon after, his cheeks red as he mutters a low, “Need to make sure you cum,” And you find yourself nodding in agreement as his hands leave your breast, pulling the lingerie’s satin thong to the side as he swipes two fingers along your entrance. 

You let out a little sigh, feeling incredibly needy as his fingers brush against your clit teasingly. “Did dressing up like this make you this wet, or did I?” He asks, his fingers curiously leading back down to your entrance. 

Shifting under him, you let out a breathless chuckle, “A bit of both,” 

He grins at that, his head now to the side of yours, his thumb pressing against your clit slowly as he slides a finger inside you. You tense for a second with pleasure before relaxing as the feelings, his finger gently curling inside of you as his thumb presses down harder on your swollen bundle of nerves. “You’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks, haven’t you?” 

His voice against your ear isn’t something you expect, but you aren’t surprised for long as he slides a second finger into you— your thoughts turning to mush, “Yes,” You whisper, your back arching slightly at his fingers move faster inside you, curling and pleasing you at a medium pace. 

Spencer lets out a low hum, his eyes watching you as you get lost in pleasure, his thumb pressing against your clit a little harder as he finds that sweet little spot inside of you. He can feel the way your walls tighten around his fingers, and he’s envious of his own hand, wishing it was his cock instead. 

Your moans only add to personal envy, his fingers moving and caressing your G-spot with greater precision. He tries not to groan, watching you arch your back off the bed. A cry followed by a string of heightened gasps from you has him wholly enraptured. 

When his fingers start to get rough inside you, you’re already seeing stars, your left hand reaching over to grab onto Spencer’s bicep at the feelings, fingers gently digging into his skin as your body shakes. “Love watching you get close,” Spencer groans softly against your ear. 

His lips slowly resume their markings on your neck, and the added stimulation sends you falling over the edge with a loud cry of pleasure. Your body shakes against him, and your high-pitched moans, accompanied by heavy panting, have pride swelling in his chest as his fingers help you ride out your orgasm. 

His fingers only stop when your body goes slack, his lips leaving your neck to gently kiss at your lips— a gesture you return lazily. The feeling of his fingers leaving you has you feeling empty, but you’re quickly distracted as Spencer drags his soaked fingers to his lips. Your eyes widen for a second as you watch your boyfriend lick off every bit of you on them, “Let me get a taste,” Your voice is soft as Spencer leans in, kissing you fast and rough. Your tongue drags along his to get a second-hand taste of yourself in his mouth. 

You’re quick to pull away, your hands hooking into the belt loop of his pants, gently yanking at the loop. Spencer laughs at the feeling, and he looks into your eyes with a shameful look— lustful and pleading. You know how badly he wants to dive straight in, but his determination to make you cum too many times to count usually gets in the way of his cock. 

“Haven’t seen you in three weeks. You can make it up to me later.” You joke softly, your fingers undoing the top button with ease. 

Spencer grins as he slides his pants down his legs, kicking them off. He finds himself blushing at how your eyes shamefully stare at the outline of his cock in his boxers, precum already wetting some of the fabric. He finds himself doing the same with you, though, his eyes taking in the undone ribbon of the lingerie at your sides, the way your legs are parted to give him a delicious view of your dripping sensitive folds. 

Your fingers slip into the waistband of his boxers, gently tracing his cock with your fingers, a soft, pleasured sigh leaving his lips at the feeling. “So hard,” You mutter, leaning up to kiss a part of Spencer’s jaw. 

Spencer lets out a low hum of agreement. Being as busy as he has been, he hasn’t found time for any kind of sexual release as of late. “It’s been a little while since I’ve–” 

“That’s okay,” You sigh sensually, your hands wrapping around his dick slowly, “Take off your boxers.” 

Spencer’s more than happy to comply, hurriedly discarding his boxers at your request. He watches as you pull your hand off him to take off your underwear, and Spencer squeaks out a nervous, “Leave it on?” 

Grinning, you nod, your fingers pushing the thong back to the side of him. He groans at the action, looming over you now, his hands on either side of you. “Flip over,” 

A jolt of excitement runs through you at the request, quickly flipping over on your stomach for him. A pleased sound leaves your lips as his hand moves to pull your hips up, forcing your back to arch for him. He slides his thumb and index inside the sting on your thong as he slowly rubs his cock in between your folds– the head of his cock gently kissing your clit. 

The worst part about being in an established relationship and having just started having sex with your partner is the anxiety that follows you after you say something risky. Your lips part nonetheless, your hips pushing back against him quickly, “That’s right, get that cock wet with my pussy.” 

You were never dull during sex, but Spencer was not expecting something so vulgar to fall from your lips. His hips stutter against yours before he finds himself incredibly turned on by the sudden confidence and vulgarity in your words. His hands yank your hips back roughly, lining himself up to inch himself inside of you slowly. 

About halfway inside you, he pulls out till it is just the tip and then repeats the motion— it’s infuriatingly hot. You let out a soft whine at his toying with you and start to move your hips back against him, but that is met with a surprising spank to your ass. 

A sharp gasp leaves your lips at the feelings before you blink, lifting your head to peer at him over your shoulder and whisper a little, “Harder,” 

Seeing your half-lidded eyes looking over at him, your soft lips begging him to spank you harder, Spencer feels a shiver shoot down his spine. He’s sure he can feel himself grow harder as he pushes deeper into your pussy and delivers a solid smack to your ass with the flat of his palm. 

He then follows the motion with a comforting rub of his hand against the swell of your ass. For a second, he’s worried about hurting you or making you uncomfortable–  unexplored territory. The feeling of your walls tightening around him for a second, fluttering in a way that has him bottoming out inside you without hesitation, reassures him. 

“God,” He huffs as he sets a pace, his hand occasionally delivering a hard spank to your ass whenever he feels your hips moving with his. You feel terrific; the feel of your reddening ass under his hand, the soft skin of your hip in his other, he’s surprised that he isn’t drooling. 

You, however, are starting to feel yourself beginning to drool. Moans and groans coming from the two of you has your head spinning, the rough feeling of Spencer’s hips against yours making your legs feel weak. 

Spencer pulls all the way out as he feels himself getting close, his soaked cock resting against your ass– the sight is something has him letting out a shaky sigh. He doesn’t need to say anything before you’re flipping over on your back again, legs spread and lips wet as you mutter a needy sounding, “More.” 

Spencer can’t find it in himself to deny you or himself, moving closer to you and lining himself up with your entrance again. As he sinks into you, you move your legs up, your hands holding the back of your knee. The new position lets him sink in deeper, and Spencer’s sure you’re an angel. 

You’re practically sucking him in, his breathing getting heavier as he moves against you, His eyes dipping between your face and between your legs– intelligent eyes watching the way his cock disappears deep inside of you. “You take it so well.” 

His hands reach up slowly, tracing the back of your thighs before replacing your hands at the back of your knee, bending your legs back further. He places a chaste kiss on your forehead, the gentle gesture leaving your head reeling when accompanied by this immense pleasure. 

You gasp out at the slight burn of your thighs, toes curling slightly, when Spencer starts to roll his hips in fast, tight circles. The roll of his hips makes his cock hit your G-spot, your eyes rolling back at the feeling as a guttural-sounding groan joins the lewd sounds leaving your lips. 

Spencer takes that as his sign to snap his hips into yours, his forehead pressing against yours as he moans and whines. “You feel so fucking good. I’ll never leave again.” 

You can feel your lower abdomen tighten quickly at the rough movements. A shaky laugh leaves you at his mention of never leaving, but words fail you as you cry out. The past few times the two of you have had sex, he was never this rough. You aren’t complaining, but his frantic, rapid thrusts are leaving you with the feeling that you’ll beg for a repeat sometime in the future. 

A long whine leaves you as you feel yourself getting closer, your hands holding tight on Spencer’s shoulders, your body jolting slightly with his rough thrusts. “So good! You’re fucking me so good. Please, don’t stop.” You beg without shame, “Need to cum, make me cum again.” You beg through moans. 

Spencer almost cums inside you upon hearing your begging, but he holds off— a new mission in focus. He slows for a second, moving one of your hands off his shoulder and under your knee before he slides his hand down to your aching clit. His thumb makes quick, tight, hard circles without warning— the scream that leaves your chest has him worried for your neighbors. 

“That’s it, tighten around me like that.” He pants out from above you, his eyes locking onto yours as he speaks. He watches the way your eyebrows raise in pleasure, and your mouth starts to let out a mix of silent screams and loud groans. “You look pretty when you cum around my cock, my pretty girl.” 

Your legs are shaking with that, the coil in your abdomen snapping with force as you bite your bottom lip to try and silence the sound of your orgasm– a groan that almost sounds inhuman. Spencer’s quick to follow, his hips roughly snapping into yours with his thumb continuing its torment on your sensitive clit. 

The feeling of overstimulation has you letting out a weak-sounding whine, almost a sob. You’re gasping hard as he keeps going, frenzied thrusts that have your free hand gripping the sheet tight until he bottoms out in you with a shaking groan. His hips thrust into you a few more times as he empties himself into you, shaking hard. 

A moment passes with neither of you moving, your legs moving down to the bed, and the realization sets in. Spencer looks at you with wild eyes, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking–” 

You laughed weakly and held up a hand, “Spencer, it’s okay.” Your voice sounds a little raw as you relax into your bed slightly, with him still hovering over you. “I’m on the pill, remember?” 

“Well, when taken correctly, it’s 99% effective, but if you’ve forgotten a day lately, it’s only 93%.” He pouts lightly when a giggle leaves your lips, but he smiles against his better judgment. “I’m serious, what if…” 

“I doubt it will, but if it does come to that, we’ll deal with it.” You mutter, slowly reaching a hand up to rake your fingers through his messy brown hair. “Clean me up?” 

Spencer notes how your voice sounds: shy and a little desperate. He tilts his head, a playful smile on his face as his eyes trail down to your parted thighs, “Insatiable this evening, I see,” He jokes as he begins to lower himself, soft fingers rubbing against your inner thighs.  

You groan in faux annoyance before you feel his breath fanning against your inner thighs, “Merry Christmas,” You tease softly.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Dick, and Jason being told by their shy gn crush that he doesn't need to do it as he's under the mistletoe with them please?

Dick

Jokes on you if you think this man is going to walk away from this golden opportunity that he had been waiting -and planning for- the entire night.

So needless to say this man was both restless and excited that he finally got you under the mistletoe with him, so much so that it was blatantly obvious for all to see that you were the one he wanted under that mistletoe with him, no one else could elicit such a strong reaction out of him like you could.

When you tell him meekly that he didn’t have to do this only made him all the more eager to prove that this was what he wanted to do, for there was no other better time then this for Dick to easily confess or show his innermost love for you.

Dick smiles sympathetically at you as he raises your head by your chin until you were looking at each other in the eyes, his smile becomes more genuine when you did as he leant towards you with the intention of speaking to you without others listening in.

‘Now where did that come from?’ He’d ask softly.

‘I just don’t want you to feel forced into doing anything you didn’t want.’ You reply. ‘I know it’s a tradition but no one should be forced to participate if they don’t want to.’ You then added on.

Dick made a face of thought before pushing his forehead to press against your own as he said. ‘Well what if I did want to do this? What if I sad that I’ve been waiting to do something like this the entire night that I had it planned specifically for us?’

You started into his eyes with confusion and Dick would be lying if he said it wasn’t adorable because it was. ‘Why?’ You ask him and it felt like the funniest thing he was ever told but he quickly composed himself as you would probably take it the wrong way if he did.

instead he just caresses your cheeks when his hands held your face as though it was precious and priceless treasure that he could ever hold within his hands. ‘Maybe because I like you silly and have been thinking about kissing you for a while and thought ‘hey why not kiss under the mistletoe?’ Dick tells you as he chuckles lightly at your wide eyed expression as though silently asking him if he was serious.

And sweetheart this man was more than serious, way more.

‘So cutie, would you mind if I kissed you under the mistletoe?’ He whispered to you, wanting you to have the choice to make your own decision like you gave him the chance to walk away from this, he didn’t want you to do anything you didn’t feel fully comfortable for.

You placed your hands atop of his own and smiled sweetly at him. ‘I wouldn’t mind it at all, as long as it’s you I wouldn’t want anything else.’ You admitted as dick closed the gap between you two as you shared a sweet kiss beneath the mistletoe, bringing forth a beginning of your new relationship with the most beautiful and wonderful man you have ever met.

Jason

Jason wasn’t the type to be caught under the mistletoe whatsoever ever as he tended to masterfully avoid it however he could, kissing under it was not his thing, but thanks to the unspoken feelings he had towards you and suddenly this man is etching towards the doorway with the mistletoe in hopes that he could coincidentally get lucky with having you there.

So when his wish does come true and you’re both under the mistletoe, it’s anything but like the silly movies and cheesy books that Jason read in his free time, that and because they were on clearance sale in the local bookstore to give way for more room for more books in the future.

Jason didn’t want to put you in a position where you would be made to feel uncomfortable or had no choice in the matter, and yet hearing you tell him that he didn’t have to kiss you under the mistletoe as you looked anywhere but him, made his heart hurt as a result but he knew that if he wanted to advance your relationship then sometimes he’ll have to be the one to take the bold step forward.

However if it was for you? Then Jason will gladly be the one to always take that brave step forward to show you that not everything was scary and that some times were worth the risk.

‘Why would you think that I don’t want to do this chipmunk?’ He’d ask you.

‘You don’t like these types of things, force proximity and the social pressures of making two people kiss for the sake of upholding a tradition,’ you shrugged as you burrowed your hands into your hoodie, ‘you just don’t like those types of things as it forces affection and you’d do anything to get out of Dick’s apparent and away from this little get together before he does something…’

‘Stupid? Ridiculous?’ Jason listed off on his fingers.

‘Dick like is more what I was looking for.’ You chuckled as Jason locked eyes with you and suddenly the you were seen, you could see the love within his eyes and suddenly the room felt warmer then usual when Jason reached for your hands within your hoodie to hold them in his own.

‘Well I can tell you that I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but with you, and since your stood here under the mistletoe I am too, where you go I go sweetheart. You can’t get rid of me that easily as I’ll always want to be wherever you are regardless of my feelings towards it or not because all that matters to me is that I have you.’ Jason tells you, finally getting the words that he wanted to get off of his chest at long, long last.

‘Now would you allow me to kiss you under this cheap piece of plastic mistletoe chipmunk.’ Jason then says in a lighthearted tone, smiling in that charming way that always had you feeling butterflies within your stomach. ‘You didn’t need to ask Jason but yes I would love to.’ You replied.

The kiss you both shared under the ‘cheap piece of plastic’ was sweet, tender and addicting all the same as you both smiled against the others lips, happy to know that there would be new journeys ahead of you both that you can walk through together.

[yassbishimvintage]

Shut it Down

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

MDNI!

A/N: Merry Christmas y'all.

The sun was shining down in Imani’s face. She had to tear herself away from Terry this morning. Her sister Maya wanted to have breakfast with her to check in. “So now that he’s home how is he?” She asks. Imani sighs. She had to be careful of how she answered the next question. Even though Terry loved her family like his own, he still didn’t want to show weakness. 

Imani sipped her coffee as her sister, Maya, watched her curiously from across the diner booth. They had always been close, and Maya could read her like a book. Setting her mug down, Imani took a moment to gather her thoughts before answering.

"He’s... adjusting," Imani replied softly. "It’s been tough for him. Losing Mike, the stress of everything back in Shelby Springs... it’s a lot to process."

Maya nodded, her brow furrowing with concern. "That man has been through hell and back, hasn’t he?" she said. "But what about you? You okay? I know you’re strong, but you can’t pour from an empty cup, sis."

Imani smiled faintly at her sister's words. "I’m okay," she said, though the truth was more complicated. "I just want to be there for him, you know? He’s carrying so much, and I can see it weighing on him. Some days he’s better, but others... it’s like he’s still fighting a battle, just in his head now."

Maya reached across the table and placed her hand over Imani’s. "You’re doing more than enough, Imani. He’s lucky to have you. But make sure he knows it’s okay to lean on you, really lean on you. Sometimes men like him think they have to bear it all alone."

Imani nodded. "I try to remind him of that every day," she said. "Last night, he... he let me in a little more. It’s progress, I guess. I just want him to see that he’s not alone anymore."

Maya leaned back, studying her sister. "You love him, don’t you?"

"With everything in me," Imani said without hesitation.

Maya smiled. "Then he’s got a fighting chance. But don’t forget—taking care of yourself is part of taking care of him. Don’t lose sight of that."

Imani gave her sister a grateful look, appreciating the reminder. "I won’t," she promised. "Thanks, Maya."

"Anytime," Maya said with a wink. "Now, tell me more about this roast beef dinner you made last night. I’m starting to think you’re spoiling that man."

Imani chuckled. "I might be. But he deserves it."

They spent the rest of breakfast laughing and catching up, Imani feeling lighter after the conversation. She had her sister's support, and that meant everything.She smirks. “Now. How’s the sex?” She asks. Imani nearly choked on her coffee, her eyes widening as she looked at Maya. "Really? That’s what you’re asking me right now?" she said, trying to keep her voice down.

Maya raised an eyebrow, unbothered by Imani’s reaction. "Of course, I’m asking. You’ve been glowing lately, so either it’s the sex, or you’ve found a new skincare routine, and I know you too well to believe the latter."

Imani rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile from tugging at her lips. "It’s… amazing, as always," she admitted, her voice dropping slightly. "He’s just... so attentive. Like, he takes his time, you know? Makes sure I’m good before anything else."

Maya leaned in, her interest clearly piqued. "Girl, go on. Don’t leave me hanging."

Imani laughed softly, shaking her head. "Let’s just say he knows exactly what I need, even when I don’t say it. And he’s so... gentle with me, but not too gentle, if you know what I mean."

Maya grinned mischievously. "Oh, I know what you mean. Big, strong, marine boyfriend who’s soft for you but can turn it up when needed? Imani, you’re living the dream."

Imani blushed but couldn’t help laughing. "Okay, enough about my sex life. How’s yours?"

Maya waved her hand dismissively. "Nonexistent at the moment, but that’s fine. I’m focused on me right now. But seriously, I’m happy for you. It sounds like Terry really sees you and loves you the way you deserve."

Imani nodded, her expression softening. "He does. And I don’t take that for granted, not for a second."

Maya raised her coffee mug in a toast. "To men who love us right and know how to handle business."

Imani laughed, clinking her mug against her sister’s. "I’ll drink to that.” Maya turns her head to glance out the window. She sees a black GMC Dua..ley pull into the parking lot. “Who’s that?” she asks. 

Imani turned to look where Maya was pointing and spotted the large GMC Dually parked a few spaces away. The truck was pristine, its black paint gleaming under the morning sun, with chrome accents that looked freshly polished. It stood out among the sedans and SUVs in the lot.

Imani raised an eyebrow, recognizing it immediately. "That’s Terry’s truck."

Maya’s eyes widened as she leaned closer to the window. "Wait, he followed you here? What is he, your bodyguard now?"

Imani couldn’t help but chuckle. "No, he probably just wanted to check in on me. You know how he is."

Maya smirked. "Yeah, overprotective and a little territorial. But honestly, can you blame him? Look at you."

Imani rolled her eyes but smiled, gathering her things. "Come on, let’s go say hi before he thinks I’m avoiding him."

As they stepped outside, Terry climbed out of the truck, his towering frame and confident stride impossible to miss. He wore a simple fitted T-shirt and jeans, but the way he carried himself made him look effortlessly commanding.

"Hey, babe," Imani called, walking up to him. "What are you doing here?"

Terry flashed her a small smile, his eyes softening when they met hers. "Just wanted to see you. Figured you might want to grab lunch after you’re done with your sister."

Maya crossed her arms, looking between them with a teasing grin. "You’re setting the bar way too high for the rest of us, Terry. Showing up unannounced just to take her to lunch?"

Terry shrugged, his smile turning a bit sheepish. "What can I say? I like spending time with her."

Imani shook her head, trying to hide her amusement. "Well, since you’re here, why don’t you come sit with us for a bit?"

Terry glanced at Maya, who raised her hands in mock surrender. "Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll keep the embarrassing sister stories to a minimum."

He chuckled, holding the door open for both women. "Appreciate that."

Maya smirks and quickly asks him. “So tell me Mr Marine. What kind of sex spell you got on my little sister.” She says

Terry paused mid-step, his brow arching as a slow smirk spread across his face. "Excuse me?" he asked, his deep voice laced with amusement. He glanced at Imani, who was already groaning in embarrassment, her hand covering her face.

"Maya!" Imani hissed, shooting her sister a glare.

"What?" Maya said innocently, shrugging as she took her seat. "I’m just saying. She’s been glowing since y’all got together, and I’m convinced it’s not just the happy weight."

Terry chuckled, taking the chair beside Imani and resting an arm casually on the back of her seat. His eyes flicked to Maya with a mischievous gleam. "Let’s just say I aim to please," he said smoothly, his tone playful but carrying enough weight to make Maya blink in surprise.

Imani gasped, turning to him. "Terry!"

He laughed, leaning over to kiss her temple. "What? She asked."

Maya burst out laughing, clapping her hands. "Alright, I see you, Marine. No wonder she’s hooked."

Imani shook her head, trying to hide her smile. "You’re impossible, both of you."

Maya grinned, picking up her coffee. "Hey, I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so happy all the time. If it’s because of him, then props to you, Terry. You’re doing something right."

Terry shrugged, his expression softening as he looked at Imani. "She deserves to be happy. That’s all that matters to me."

Maya tilted her head, a rare seriousness settling in her tone. "Well, as long as you keep that mindset, we’re good. I’m just looking out for my baby sister."

Terry nodded, his voice steady. "I wouldn’t expect anything less."

Imani glanced between the two, her heart full as she reached for Terry’s hand under the table, giving it a squeeze.

When she gets in his truck she rests her head on the glass. Everytime he drives his hand rests on her thigh.

As Terry drove, the hum of the engine and the subtle rhythm of the tires on the pavement filled the quiet between them. Imani leaned her head against the cool window, her thoughts wandering as the scenery blurred past. The warmth of Terry’s hand resting on her thigh was a steadying comfort, grounding her in the moment.

It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about their bond. His thumb moved in absentminded circles, a habit he had whenever his hand found its home there. She glanced down at it and smiled softly, her fingers drifting to rest lightly over his.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his deep voice breaking the silence.

She turned her head slightly to look at him, the way his strong hands gripped the wheel and how his eyes flicked between her and the road. "I’m okay," she replied, her voice gentle. "Just thinking."

Terry gave her thigh a small squeeze, his way of saying he was there for her without needing words. "About what?"

"About how much I love this," she said softly, her eyes meeting his for a brief second before returning to the passing view outside.

"This?" he asked, his brow arching slightly.

"This," she repeated, covering his hand with hers. "The little things. You driving us, your hand here...it’s just us. I love it."

Terry smiled, his expression softening as he gave her thigh another squeeze. "I love it too," he said simply.

And with that, they fell back into a comfortable silence, letting the unspoken connection between them speak louder than words ever could.

He pulls over. She lifts her head up confused. Terry eased the truck onto the shoulder of the quiet road, the hum of the engine settling into a low idle. He turned to her, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Let’s play 'wandering hand,'" he said, his voice deep and teasing, the hint of mischief in his eyes unmistakable.

Imani couldn't help but roll her eyes, though a soft laugh escaped her. "Terry," she said, her tone half-amused, half-scolding.

"What?" he replied, feigning innocence as his free hand left the steering wheel and settled on her knee. "You know the rules."

His fingers began their slow, deliberate journey, trailing up her thigh in featherlight strokes that sent a shiver through her. Imani pressed her lips together, trying to maintain composure, but the way his touch lingered just enough to tease made her heart race.

"You’re impossible," she muttered, though there was no real annoyance in her voice.

"And you love it," he shot back, his grin widening as his hand slipped just beneath the hem of her skirt.

Imani reached out, placing her hand over his to halt his progress, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her resolve. "You’re going to get us caught, Terry."

"We’re parked," he said, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent heat spiraling through her. "And it’s not like anyone’s around."

She bit her lip, trying to resist the pull of his charm, but when his lips brushed against her neck and his hand resumed its exploration, resistance became futile. "You’re lucky I love you," she whispered, her voice shaky as she gave in to the moment.

His soft chuckle against her skin was his only reply as the game of "wandering hand" took on a life of its own, the world outside the truck fading into the background.

Terry’s hand paused at the waistband of her panties, his fingers teasingly slipping just beneath the fabric. His breath was warm against her ear as he murmured, “You gonna let me keep going, baby?”

Imani’s breath hitched, her body responding before her mind could form words. She glanced at him, her gaze caught in the intensity of his eyes. “Terry...” she began, her voice soft, laced with a mix of hesitation and desire.

His thumb stroked the delicate skin of her hip, his lips brushing against the corner of her mouth. “Say the word, and I’ll stop,” he said, his voice calm but thick with want. “But if you want me to keep going... I need to hear you say it.”

Her heartbeat thundered in her chest as she let out a shaky exhale. The heat of his hand, the gentle yet deliberate pressure of his touch, sent sparks skittering through her. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her words barely audible, but they carried all the permission he needed.

Terry leaned in, capturing her lips with his as his hand slid lower, exploring her with the same care and attention that always left her breathless. The world outside the truck was forgotten entirely as they lost themselves in each other, the quiet intimacy between them deepening with every touch and kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless and tangled in the charged energy of the moment, Terry rested his forehead against hers. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he whispered, his voice low and full of emotion.

Imani smiled, her cheeks flushed. “Right back at you,” she replied softly, her hands resting on his shoulders as the truck’s engine purred quietly in the background.

“Now I’m turned on and we’re no where near home.” She says. 

Terry smirked, his eyes darkening with mischief. “Who said we need to be home for me to take care of you?” he teased, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine.

Imani raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, so you’re bold now, huh?”

He chuckled, leaning in closer so his lips brushed against her ear. “I’ve always been bold, baby. You just bring it out of me.”

Her cheeks flushed as she swatted at his chest. “Terry, you’re impossible.”

He grinned, his hand still resting possessively on her thigh. “Only for you.”

His hand moved up her thigh as they drove down the road. His thumb doing lazy circles on her exposed skin.

As Terry’s hand moved higher up her thigh, Imani let out a soft breath, feeling the warmth of his touch spread through her. She glanced over at him, catching the glint of mischief in his eyes as his thumb traced slow, deliberate circles. Her heart raced a little, the anticipation of their playful energy making her pulse quicken.

That’s when she couldn’t take it anymore. Not the first time and won’t be the last time they had car sex. In her head she thanks him for the dark tint on the windows. Imani maneuvers herself over the console. She straddles him. “You know I hate car sex.” She says.

Terry chuckles softly, his hands resting on her hips as she straddles him. “You always say that, but then you seem to enjoy it once we get started.” He smirks, his lips brushing against her ear as he speaks.

Imani laughs quietly, leaning in closer. “It’s the lack of space. I like to take my time,” she responds, her hands sliding up his chest as she finds comfort in the familiar closeness of his body.

He presses his forehead to hers, his voice turning playful but with a touch of sincerity. “If you don’t like it, we can always find somewhere else next time.”

She smiles, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Next time,” she repeats softly, her fingers trailing down his chest, slowly teasing. “But for now...” she leans in, kissing him deeply as her body melts into his.

Terry, ever responsive to her, deepens the kiss, his hands moving to the small of her back to pull her even closer. As the moment lingers, they forget about the cramped space, lost in the connection they share.

“Now. Let me hear you moan for me real fast.” He says. She moans as his hands reach their destination. One thing that always made sure that made him on rock hard was her moans. In the next breath, “Now. Tell me you love me.” He says.

-

As they arrived at their destination, Imani instinctively reached for Terry's hand, intertwining her fingers with his. She gave it a gentle squeeze, glancing up at him with a soft smile.

“You ready?” she asked, her voice filled with warmth and reassurance.

Terry nodded, his grip on her hand firm yet tender. “As long as you’re with me, I’m ready for anything,” he replied, his tone carrying the weight of his sincerity.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayaesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @haechvn @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @notpradagurl7 @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque

[happypeachsludgeflower]

SVSSS BRAINWAVE JUST HIT! I HAD A THOUGHT ™

An average modern person transmitigates into SVSSS. Mind you, I specifically mean SVSSS and not PIDW. That’s right, our protagonist awakens to find themselves as a NPC in the world of Scum Villain Self Saving System. And they think to themselves upon waking up, “Oh, I’m an NPC in a xianxia novel with a happy ending! Cool!!” and goes about their life being a background nerd geeking out about plants, and monsters, and cultivation in general, and neat flying swords.

But this is a world of sex pollen and wife plots and unfortunately the cure for a lot of diseases is duel cultivation with a heavenly demon, and we all know who that demon is going to end up marrying, so it’s best to mess around with meta cultivation knowledge and prep for the worst case scenario, and honestly, they may as well solve some of the minor issues in the plot while their at it, so they invent some new cultivation techniques from some of those nifty svsss fanfictions they read while alive (I’m specifically thinking of this fic’s explanation of duel cultivation and cauldrons, but other weird cultivation methods could be used from other fanfics and xianxia books), so they can tidy up some things.

For instance, is it really necessary for Zhuzhi-lang to be stuck as a weird snake creature for nearly twenty years? Is it really needed for Yue Qingyuan to have crippled cultivation due to his sword?? Does Tianlang Jun have to be stuck under a mountain and then escape only to slowly die in a decomposing body??

They know they can’t change everything without the system interfering, but small nudges should help right? After all, they’re just a background NPC and Shen Yuan will show up eventually and everyone will fall in love with him and no one will even notice the NPC’s existence even if they had noticed something was up during their miraculous healing and salvation spree.

So they go about fixing those things. They catch Zhuzhi-lang unawares and feed him a sun and dew mushroom seed while he’s confused and do some funky cultivation shenanigans and pat him on the head cause he’s really such a cute weird snake creature and give him some vague warning about not trusting in laws and then fucks off to somewhere else.

I’m still caught up on Metagaming’s concept of duel cultivation transactions where you give and take—like taking something from someone’s cultivation, not just power, and returning something else—and keep getting stuck in a brainrot loop of the NPC taking some bloodmite powers from Zhuzhi-lang when they gave him a fully humanoid form that’s not reliant on Tianlang Jun. So my main idea for how the NPC plots to hold Yue Qingyuan in place is feeding him lesser bloodmites (not full ones because they only took a minor ability and can only hold someone for a few minutes before the bloodmites die), while they hold Yue Qingyuan still long enough to draw some ritual to heal his soul and separate it from Xuan Su. But honestly, I’m sure other ideas could apply here too. My Metagaming brainrot is just too strong right now to think of any.

And Tianlang Jun? Simple. Zhuzhi-lang’s got a humanoid form and can easily get the sun and dew mountain flowers for himself. They can’t stop the man from being imprisoned entirely. The system says no since Luo Binghe needs a dramatic entrance. So while they can’t stop the tragedy, they can put some pieces into play for an early escape, maybe a new plan to get him a better body once’s he’s back, and be a ferry for Su Xiyan’s body to revive her at some point as well.

It’s nice being an unnoticeable NPC, isn’t it? You can do whatever you want and no one’s going to know!!

Except. Someone does notice (as we all could have seen coming). And Shen Qingqiu is suspicious as fuck of this obnoxious Shidi because he notices everyone due to paranoid, and he’s even MORE suspicious of the mysterious character that healed Yue Qingyuan’s soul (and wasn’t that a doozy of a realization to have when Yue Qingyuan burst into his bamboo house one day freaking out because some disguised, powerful cultivator somehow did the impossible after ambushing him and holding him down as they healed his soul, and Shen Qingqiu is still reeling from learning that Yue Qingyuan’s SOUL was damaged trying to save Xiao Jiu and the stubborn asshole never told him because he apparently assumed Xiao Jiu knew there wasn’t a single universe where Qi ge didn’t try to come for him). And so yea, Shen Qingqiu is suspicious as all hell and starts snooping and plotting to catch the mysterious cultivator by combing through Cang Qiong because whoever it is has to have an in at the sect somewhere to know about Yue Qingyuan’s soul.

And that’s not even mentioning how suspicious Zhuzhi-lang and Tianlang Jun are now. They might not have realized what that strange cultivator did when they did it, or understood the cryptic in law mention, but they certainly have some suspicions now that Tianlang Jun was as imprisoned by in law like people, and Zhuzhi-lang kept his humanoid form just fine without Tianlang Jun, and now the hunt is ON for the mysterious benefactor, so they can repay the kindness and find out what the fuck is going on.

The NPC is, of course, oblivious to all of this going on and goes about their merry way thinking they’re being the Best ™ at being lowkey. They are SO good at being inconspicuous!! They deserve an award really!!

And then. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t qi deviate.

Shen Yuan doesn’t show up.

Oh shit, the NPC thinks to themselves as they begin to panic. They even check Shen Qingqiu out themselves to see if it’s Shen Yuan just being really good at acting. Maybe he was a better actor in the book than he gave himself credit for or something?? But no. That’s Shen Qingqiu all right. Shen Yuan is missing in action, and someone has to fix the plot of Cang Qiong is doomed.

Thus begins the NPC’s journey to try and unobtrusively fix PIDW’s child abuse problems (that they’re unaware are already fixed), save Liu Qingge from his qi deviation in Ling Xi Caves, make sure Luo Binghe doesn’t raze the sect to the ground someday and hopefully find him some sort of husband replacement to keep him under control when he does return, possibly dispose of the Huan Hua Palace Master at some point because he’s vile trash, and did I mention there are multiple man hunts for this poor oblivious dude currently on going??

And the most important question for them to solve? Where the fuck did Shen Yuan go??

Hmm I wonder where that man could have gone.

[cosmicdahlias]

Christmas Across the Rio Grande

Logan Howlett x Reader

MINORS DNI

Christmas has come and you’re spending it getting drunk with an old, hardened Logan.

tags: age gap, alcohol use, drunk sex, couch sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

sooo timeline-wise this takes place at the end of 2028. i tried to do my best research as to when caliban comes into the picture and there wasn’t much, but from what i’ve read it seems logan recruited him some time in 2029, so he will not be in this fic. sorry for posting a christmas fic a day late, i only got the idea for this two days ago 😭

Life had not been the same in months. Charles Xavier, once head and founder of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, had developed dementia, leading to frequent destructive telepathic seizures. One such seizure became known as the Westchester Incident, leaving the school destroyed, many injured, and some of your fellow mutants dead.

Having grown up in an orphanage until aging out of the system and spending the first eight years of adulthood on the streets, Charles was the closest thing you’d ever had to a father and the school was the only place that ever truly felt like home. In such a short time you had lost both. Even though Charles was still very much alive, the dementia left him a shell of his former self.

After Westchester the United States government declared Charles’ brain as a “weapon of mass destruction”, leaving you and another mutant to take him and go on the run, fleeing to an abandoned smelting plant in Mexico just across the Rio Grande.

The other mutant was the notorious Wolverine, Logan Howlett. For reasons unknown to you, his appearance had changed dramatically in the last five years. Despite not being able to age he looked like he’d gone from forty to sixty in record time.

Since escaping with you and Charles to Mexico, Logan had taken to going by “James”, his actual name, and worked as a limo driver in the border city of El Paso. He would regularly smuggle in the drugs to keep Charles’ seizures at bay.

In the days before Westchester you were never fond of Logan. He was a loner, seeming to keep everyone at arm’s length, save for those he would bed. Perhaps it was his tendencies towards promiscuity when he claimed to be in love with Jean Grey, a married woman, that irked you more than his personality.

He was passed around the mansion so frequently that from what you’d heard there were times he accidentally “double booked” himself. There was a part of you, buried somewhere deep, that harbored a resentment towards him for never seeking out your affections like he did for nearly any other adult with a pulse.

Living in close proximity since being thrust into exile with him had softened your opinions considerably. The shared trauma of losing everything and everyone had brought you two closer, as close as he would allow.

December was coming to an end. The nights were blisteringly cold and the winds only served to make them colder. The poorly insulated, run-down plant did little to protect you from the elements.

You were heading back inside from painstakingly, but successfully, attempting to medicate Charles. The heavy gales howled, making it a struggle to close the door before finally managing slam it shut. You turned around to see Logan sitting on the couch, bottle of whiskey in hand. He was wearing his typical non-work attire, a white tank top and jeans.

“He finally down?” He asked.

“For now, I swear those drugs used to knock him out for longer. He wouldn’t stop going on about Taco Bell for some reason.”

“Yeah, he uh… he does that a lot now.”

You gave a heavy sigh.

“It just sucks because it makes those moments where he acts like himself again hurt more.”

“What’d he say this time?”

“He just- I don’t know- whenever he actually says my name I know it’s him in there. Most of the time he calls me Jean, but I-“ your voice began to break “I don’t know how much more of this I can take Logan, watching his mind wither away into nothing.” You said, tears forming in your eyes.

For a moment you swore you saw a flicker of concern spread across his face.

“I’m thinking of bringing in some extra help.” He said.

“And what? We risk someone else knowing that we’re harboring a fugitive?”

“With me working that leaves you as the only one here most of the time. If god forbid something happens while I’m out and he hurts you, what then?”

You fell silent. He was right, you couldn’t keep caring for Charles alone when his seizures could be so dangerous and unpredictable. You had no rebuttal.

“Fine, but finding another mutant won’t be easy.”

“I’m well aware, but I’m done talking business, you look like you could use a drink.”

Logan extended out his bottle of whiskey, a rare invitation for you to join him. You smirked and took it.

“Look at you actually wanting to interact with someone for once.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

You sat next to him on the moth-eaten couch, drinking a few shots worth from the bottle.

“Thirsty?” Logan asked with a cocked brow.

“Shut up, it’s been a long day.” You retorted, downing another shot and handing the bottle back to him.

Between the two of you the whiskey was finished within half an hour, leaving you significantly intoxicated, him slightly less so. When drunk Logan was far more open, and for the first time since Westchester you actually saw him smile. As the night progressed the two of you reminisced about life before Mexico and shared life stories you hadn’t told each other.

“A cage fighter?” You giggled.

“Yeah, went by Wolverine back then too.”

“Wow, too lazy to even try to come up with another name?” You teased as you looked down at your phone and read the time, midnight of the 25th.

“Oh shit, it’s already Christmas.” You said.

“Honestly wouldn’t have known if you didn’t say anything, the days just run together at this point.”

“No kidding, everything’s so different now.”

“… Yeah.”

A wistful silence hung in the air for a moment before you spoke.

“You know it’s hard not to miss the holidays back at the school… can’t say I miss Jean’s cooking though. I know how you felt about her, but that woman could not season food to save her life. I’m pretty sure she thought salt was too spicy.”

Logan gave a chuckle.

“Can’t disagree with you on that one.”

“I think what I miss most was seeing the kids all happy on Christmas morning, growing up in an orphanage I never got that for myself. Thanks to Bobby they always had a good snowball fight.”

“I miss that kid. Him and Rogue.”

“Kid? They were both pushing 40.” You laughed.

“They were kids when I met them and that’s always how I’ll remember them. Especially Rogue.”

“I always thought she saw you as like a father figure.”

“She definitely did, no matter how many times I told her not to.”

“I miss her so much, she was the first one other than Charles to make me feel like I belonged there. Fuck, I just miss all of them. It was only five years, but it was the best damn five years of my life, actually having something like a family.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You gave a wry smile.

“And in the end out of all of the X-Men to be stuck with of course it had to be you.” You teased, elbowing him playfully.

“You say that like it’s a joke, but you really had it in for me.”

“I mean I did, but you didn’t exactly come off as a nice guy.”

“I can be a nice guy, you just never tried to get to know me.”

“Would you have let me though?”

“Maybe.”

He looked at you in a way you’d never seen from him before, it made your heart do a backflip.

“You know, even if I wasn’t crazy about you back then I’m glad you’re here with me.” You said.

Logan raised a brow.

“Why’s that?”

“Because as much as I hate to say it, I’ve grown to like you.”

“A mistake honestly.” He chuckled.

A cold desert wind suddenly blew against dilapidated smelting plant. Frigid air crept in through the gaps in the walls, eliciting a shiver as it hit you.

“Cold?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah.“

“Alright, c’mere.”

Logan pulled you against him, wrapping his arms around you. His body radiated an incredible amount of heat, a more than welcoming feeling in the bitter temperatures.

“Holy shit, you’re like a fucking furnace.” You said.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“God yes.”

His hands began to wander down to the small of your back. You traced the outline of his pecs with your fingertips. He looked at you, eyes betraying an intense desire as he cupped your cheek, coming in close.

“Merry Christmas, Logan.” You whispered as his lips met yours.

Starting slow and soft, Logan’s kisses quickly turned more passionate, a distinct hunger to them. He moved his hands to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You felt his hard cock press into you through his jeans. You rolled your hips against him, causing him to let out a growl. He lowered his head, kissing and gingerly biting your neck. You moaned as his teeth scraped against the soft skin.

His hands began to drift to the hem of your shirt, gathering the fabric in his fingers and slowly lifting it over your head. He unclasped your bra, sliding the straps off your arms and tossing its aside. You watched his eyes take in the curvature of your breasts.

“Good fuckin’ god, you’re perfect.” He whispered, cupping one of your breasts and circling the nipple with his thumb.

Logan’s hands fell to your hips, tugging down your jeans until they landed on the floor with your shirt. His fingers circled your clit over your panties, the thin barrier of fabric did little to keep you from turning into a whimpering mess.

“Goddam, I love those little noises.“

Logan dipped his head down to kiss your neck again, you moaned and began to grind yourself against him.

“Hmm, getting excited there, princess? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.” You whimpered.

“Yeah? Let me make it feel even better for you, babygirl.”

Logan hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties, sliding them off your legs. He slipped a hand between your thighs, dragging his fingers along the slit of your dripping pussy.

“So wet and worked up for me.”

Logan returned his fingers to your clit, you dug your nails into his shoulders, the feeling of direct stimulation was almost too overwhelming. It had been far too long since you were last touched like this, or even touched yourself. You weren’t going to last much longer.

“F- fuck, I’m- I’m so close.”

“There you go, that’s it. Cum for me, princess.”

Logan pulled you into a kiss with his free hand as you came undone on his fingers, the electric pulses of your orgasm surging through you.

“Oh god, Logan.” You moaned against his mouth.

Logan kissed you aggressively as your orgasm faded. He dropped his head to your breasts, peppering kisses to them as he spoke.

“God, you’re so hot when you cum. You need to see what you’re doing to me, babygirl.”

Logan’s hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it, he unzipped his jeans and freed his already throbbing cock from his boxers. Logan took your hand in his, guiding it to wrap around his shaft. You gathered beads of precum from his head, using it to lubricate the length of his cock as you stroked him.

“Fuuuck, your hand feels good, but I need that pussy. You wanna ride me, princess?”

You nodded.

“That’s my good girl.”

You shifted yourself to hover just above is cock, sinking down onto him, barely taking more than his head before wincing as you felt his massive girth stretch you wide.

“You alright?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah, just been a while. Not used to one this big either.”

“Then take it slow, princess. Don’t rush it.”

You continued to lower yourself onto his cock, following his instructions to go slow. A small shudder escaped his lips.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight.”

You reached the hilt of his shaft, feeling him throb inside you as you began to lift and drop your hips.

“Attagirl, just like that. Nice and easy.” Logan said, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Christ, living with you was starting to drive me crazy. I could barely take seeing you in the summer, your ass in those little shorts. You don’t know how many times I had to jerk off because of you.”

You blushed and whimpered at the thought of Logan getting so worked up over you.

“Hmm, you like that, babygirl? You like knowing you made this old man stroke his fat fuckin’ cock to you?” He grunted as he grabbed your hips, thrusting up into you.

You nodded.

“Use your words, princess.”

“Y- yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

You moved yourself up and down on his cock, sliding him all the way out until only the head remained before taking his full length back deep inside you. Logan’s eyes wandered over every inch of body. His hand moved to one of your breasts.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of these tits, and this ass.” He growled.

He raised his hand and brought it down sharply on your ass, eliciting a yelp.

“Sorry, princess, couldn’t help myself.”

“N- no it’s okay, I like it.”

“Oh? You like it rough, huh?”

“Y- yeah.”

“Well, guess I gotta fuck you senseless then.”

In one swift motion Logan grabbed you by the waist, picking you up and throwing you down onto the couch on your back with him on top of you. You barely had a second to adjust to the new position before he forced every inch of himself inside you. He pinned your wrists above your head as he fucked you with a punishing speed.

“How’s that feel? Am I rough enough for you, princess?”

“Y- yeah. F- feels so good.”

“Attagirl.”

Logan’s breathing hitched, his hips stuttering.

“Christ, that tight little pussy’s gonna make me fuckin’ cum. Where do you want it, babygirl?” Logan panted.

“In me, I need you to cum in me. Please.” You whined.

“Jesus, I know you’re not on the pill, but keep begging like that and I’ll have to knock you up.”

“Oh god, please. I don’t care if we’re unprotected. I need it, fucking breed me.” You pleaded.

Your words ignited something within him. He thrusted furiously into you at a blinding pace, his breathing becoming ragged and heavy. He leaned down and sank his teeth into your neck and gave a loud growl, slamming the full length of his cock inside you as he came hot, thick ropes deep in you.

Logan gave a last few thrusts, his breathing beginning to settle. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“Jesus Christ, princess, it’s been way too damn long since someone’s made me feel that good. I hope you know this is not a one time thing, you’re fuckin’ mine now.”

You laced your fingers in his salt and pepper hair, kissing him passionately. He pulled out and you moved to dress yourself, but were interrupted by him grabbing your waist.

“No princess, you’re staying with me.”

He picked you up and carried you to his room, setting you down on the bed. He laid next to you, pulling you to him with your head against his chest. Between the exhaustion of the day and the warmth radiating from Logan, you felt your eyelids grow heavy. He kissed the top of your head as you drifted off to sleep.

[quzen]

A lovely Happy Birthday to Aya!!

(his birthday is Dec 25th)

Summon: It's far too early for this....Where is my book??

Groovification: My Birthday isn't an excuse to wake me up like this....Though I suppose i can get back to reading.

Home: Do you want to hear about the story I read?

Swap Looks: I hoped the hood would make me less approachable...instead it just gets Atlas to poke fun at it...

Home Transition 1: I think I'll find myself more books today...or a new game. I deserve at least that on my Birthday....

Home Transition 2: Atlas feels the need to drag me out and about for my birthday after he figured it out....I wish he wouldn't.

Home Transition 3: I got a gift from Riddle today, a book I hadn't read yet. We haven't spoke much but I appreciated it.

Home Transition - Login: Sigh...Seriously? Can't even have a break today?

Home Transition - Groovy: I'm pretty sure Housewarden saw me trip over my own two feet while reading...I can't tell if me or him was more embarrassed by that....

Home Tap 1: Don't get used to seeing this...it's embarrassing enough.

Home Tap 2: Despite not having any plans myself, Atlas has practically a schedule for my birthday. I haven't even spoken to half of those people or care for half the activities...But I appreciate that hes trying I guess.

Home Tap 3: Cater got me star lights for my birthday. I'd say I'm not sure how he knew, but i think i know who told him so. Still don't know how he knew I liked stars though...

Home Tap 4: Back home, Ma would've made a cake and a bunch of sweets for today. I'm not particularly fond of them but she made them so, maybe I'll bring some from home some point.

Home Tap 5: I think i may hide away with the Hockey club for the rest of the day, I can at least rely on Mozie not to make a big deal of this...I'd stay in my dorm room but well, Atlas would find me...

Home Tap - Groovy: Oh? You're interested in this book? I'm slowly working through it, but Riddle had given it to me a while back. It's actually pretty good, coming from him that is ehehe.

Duo: [Aya]: Birthday wishes....from you? That's unexpected... [Cater]: Well it is your Birthday! Can even do a photo for the occasion. (might be a bit long apologies)

Birthday Login Message: Hello... Eh? My Birthday? It's really not that big of a deal as others make it out to be. Atlas had me dragged out all day so I'd rather not deal with more social gatherings, even if they had been a little fun....If you really want to celebrate with me, we can play a game or read..quietly.

If you wish to have the Ignihyde Relax BG blank feel free to ask!

[milla-frenchy]

I already said it, but what a gift!! I'm so happy to read them, and I gotta say it moved me a lot 🥹🖤

Raider has a very special place in my heart, and I always melt when I think back to the first chapters, and how he evolved

I love how sweet pea plays a little with him (“something like,” (you lowered your voice slightly) "no one should celebrate me.")

He hiked up your leg

This always makes me feral 🫠🥵

“celebrate each other all night if ya want.”

🥹😍😍😍

He didn't even want the dog in the bedroom, because that was one step closer to the bed.

Possessive king 🖤

He lowered his head to rest on his paws, and looked up hopefully. You petted him, “Shhhh.” His tail was down, but he wagged it a little in what felt like a promise.

He's such a good boy 🐕🐶

He put the cushion under his elbow and later stashed it in a closet with some colder weather clothes he’d picked up for you throughout the year.

Damn, he's so 🫠🫠🫠

I liked the reminder that Joel doesn't read very well, how sweet pea is so sweet and patient with him about that, and... "the killer and his girl"?!!! 😍

“You got it, boss.” Carter didn't know what else to say. He and Joel shook hands and the look they shared told you it might as well have been a hug.

He can live here!! All this is so nice and warm and I love it

He pressed soft kisses onto your neck, then chest, then slid his mouth to your breast and the pull of his lips made you whine. Soon, he became a shape under the sheets, a silhouette stirring between your legs. He knew how to put you to sleep.

He does 😍😍

He opened it and pulled out a thermal Henley, a cable knit sweater in decent condition aside from a few snagged threads. You suspected it might be a little tight on his arms, but he never seemed to mind.

Raider wearing a Henley!!! screaming 😍😍 Ok, now let's imagine him wearing this and a holster over it?! I'm dead

When he finally moved on to the next page, his face turned pink. He quickly closed the book and cleared his throat. “Sweet pea,” he laughed in faux admonishment.

This is just so cute 😁 I guess it must have covered the whole page 😏

“And,” Joel interrupted himself with a weak sigh. “As long as he don't get on the bed, when it’s rainin’ ya can bring it..” he nodded toward the bedroom.

Yippee ki-yay 😍😍😍

Thank you so much Toxy, for these little moments of their life 🖤🖤🖤 I love them so much 🥹🥹

the air cools

2.5k words, raider Joel x f!reader

SUMMARY: A few loosely connected vignettes taking place throughout fall and winter, ending with a raider family Christmas. 🖤⛓️ 🌸🫛🐶👱‍♂️. My gift to those of you who love these characters. I love y'all so much. This is an 18+ blog.

-------

“What do you guys give each other for Christmas,” you asked Joel in early fall, secretly digging for a lead on what to get him for his birthday. It was bedtime and your head was on his bare chest.

“What makes ya think we celebrate Christmas?"

“Yeah I know, it’s a godless world," you conceded, "but it's an excuse to celebrate each other.”

Joel took a breath as though getting ready to speak, but you cut him off, “Don't say it”

“What?” He asked.

“something like,” (you lowered your voice slightly) "no one should celebrate me."

“Wasn't gonna,” Joel claimed.

“Then what were you gonna say?” You challenged him.

“I was gonna say…” he rolled you over and glanced down at your bare breasts before bringing his mouth to your neck. He murmured into your skin, “celebrate each other all the time.” He hiked up your leg, and dragged his lips from your neck to your ear to whisper, “celebrate each other all night if ya want.”

You giggled, then a rush of desire drowned out your amusement as his arousal swelled against you.

—--

\\\\\\

—--

Joel would never let the dog onto the bed. That's where he drew the line. The bed was Joel's domain. It was for you and him, period. He didn't even want the dog in the bedroom, because that was one step closer to the bed.

But one time, it was storming, and Bullet was scratching at the bedroom door. You slithered out of Joel's tight embrace and got out of bed. Joel kept snoring. You were going to take Bullet back to the living room and calm him down, but as soon as the bedroom door cracked open, the dog bolted over to a pile of laundry in the corner of the bedroom and started making a nest in it. You watched him circling and nosing the fabric for a few seconds until he settled in. He lowered his head to rest on his paws, and looked up hopefully.

You petted him, “Shhhh.” His tail was down, but he wagged it a little in what felt like a promise.

You left the door cracked open as if the dog had opened it himself. He was a very good boy all night. Even with loud claps of thunder, his whine stayed very quiet, and neither you nor Joel woke up. Bullet even went back to the living room unprompted once the storm quieted. You quietly washed the laundry the next day.

-

This happened a few more times, and Joel never found out, as far as you knew. Except for one time when he woke up before you and saw the tell-tale dent in the laundry, and, upon further inspection, some light orange hairs. Joel's nostrils flared only slightly, and he shook his head to himself. But he just shook out the clothes and never said anything.

Then, one day, Joel was in the trailer park down the hill, looking for supplies and assessing how dangerous the area was getting. In a trailer that wasn't burned too badly, he saw a sofa cushion with a little dent in it that reminded him of that dent in the laundry. He put the cushion under his elbow and later stashed it in a closet with some colder weather clothes he’d picked up for you throughout the year.

—---

\\\\\\

—---

“I hope he likes this,” You whispered to Joel, hoping Carter wouldn't hear you over the noise of whatever DIY project he was working on outside. You were sitting on the floor, holding a thick, weathered paperback in your hand.

“Lemme see,” Joel said, and you handed it to him.

He chuckled at the cover–a pirate embracing a lady from behind, both their hair windswept. Then he thumbed through the wrinkled pages, stopped at one, and his eyebrows shot up. “engorged member,” he mouthed and his face wrinkled.

“Hard cock,” you translated.

“heaving bosom…” he read.

“That's boobs,” you explained.

Joel closed the book as much as it would close, given the warped pages, and he handed it back to you. “M’sure he’ll like it,” Joel tried not to laugh.

“What?” You asked. “Don't you ever feel bad that he's alone?”

“It's a sweet thought, baby.”

“You didn't want me to write one myself, remember….”

“sure as hell didn't,” he agreed. “don't need to be writin’ about anyone else's engorged anything,” Joel said.

“wasnt gonna do anything graphic. I just thought it might be nice if the main character was a man, and the pirates are girls and guys.”

He couldn't help but wonder, was this the kind of filth you were thinking about when you went to bed early? He had trouble believing it. You knew you were his. But he still asked. “What else ya got? Any more books?”

Joel cocked his eyebrow and warned you, “Leave it.”

Your face heated up and your eyes shifted around. “Nothing like that,” you promised.

Joel studied your face and said, “yeah?”

Your eyes flitted to the floor and his jaw clenched. You cursed yourself for the dead giveaway.

He looked under the bed and pulled out a single, tattered paperback book. “What's this?” He asked before inspecting it.

“Nothing,” you said, with your whole upper body on fire. “Just something I was–”

Joel studied the front cover. It was a battle scene with a man posing valiantly with his shirt wrapped open. A piece of paper was haphazardly fastened to the cover with some kind of glue. The paper covered the man's face but his flowing hair still emerged from the left and bottom edges. The paper was beginning to curling off on that side, and the pencil was fading. Joel swallowed as he took in the drawing. A man from the neck up, complete with a bulging neck vein. Dark hair, dark eyes, a mustache, some scruff, and an unmistakable scowl.

Joel raised his eyebrows and rubbed his lips together.

“It's stupid,” you said and reached for it.

“This what ya read?” he asked as he opened the cover.

“No, I just–when you were gone for a night, I thought it could be-”

The title page, The General and the Girl, had “the general” crossed out and something scribbled above it. He squinted and braced for what he assumed would read "raider," but it didn't. “Killer,” it read. And he wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

“Hm,” Joel observed, then noticed “the” was crossed out too. The Killer and *his* Girl. He thumbed through a few more pages and you had crossed out inaccurate descriptions of both of you and then after the first chapter or so the annotations stopped.

Joel ran his thumb over the scrawled text, and you offered, “He only kills bad guys …”

He closed the book and handed it back to you without further discussion.

A sawing noise vibrated through the wall, followed by something crinkling.

Joel changed the subject back to Christmas. “You know what I think Carter could use?”

“What?”

“Somewhere nice to sleep.”

“He doesn't have one?” you never really thought about it, because Carter always made a point of bragging that he could sleep anywhere.

“How'd ya feel about him movin’ into the trailer?”’

“Really?” You asked.

“Safer for us, nicer for him…”

You smiled and he muttered, “c'mere. You're a good girl, sweet pea.”

You were relieved he didn't find your sketchbook.

—--

\\\\\\

—--

Christmas Eve

It was only afternoon, and you already felt like you wouldn't be able to sleep that night. You and Joel had made up a bed for Carter in the living room, which you barely used anyway. You made sure it was away from the leak. There was a quilt and a pillow. You even nailed a sheet between the kitchen from the living room to serve as a privacy curtain since there was no door. You slid the pirate book onto the shelf among the other books.

“We should do it all tonight,” you suggested.

Joel silently laughed at you, then shook his head no.“C’mon. Let's go for a walk,” he said. He didn't really care about the timing, except that he got a kick out of your enthusiasm. It was better than any gift he could've asked for.

-

After the sun set, Carter came up the hill. “Alright, I know Christmas is tomorrow, but I gotta give ya my present tonight.”

“Me too!” You agreed.

“Sweet pea,” Joel shook his head with a chuckle.

“Aw shoot,” Carter said unconvincingly. “I left the bird behind.” Joel had also shot two birds for the other men, and Carter brought them all down to the house to pluck. He sent both you and Joel down there to get the one you would share. Bullet trailed behind.

Joel poked around the storage area trying to buy Carter some time, then he grabbed the goose and when he came back outside bullet did a happy circle.

When you got back to the trailer, a flickering orange glow was visible in the window. Carter had set up a freestanding fireplace hearth in the corner of the kitchen. Joel didn't seem surprised. After all, Carter wouldn't do something like that without permission. But apparently he had hauled the heavy unit on his own, cleaned it out, and fitted the exhaust pipe to a hole he sawed in the wall. The job looked professional.

You had a cozy dinner in the kitchen and lingered around the table enjoying the warmth together while the men drank a spiced wine you made. When the fire died down, Carter announced he better head off to bed.

You and Joel looked at each other and Joel gave you the go-ahead nod toward Carter's new quarters. Joel's eyes sparkled as your face lit up.

With Carter almost out the front door, you said, “where are you going?” He turned around, and you pointed toward the end of the trailer. “Your bed’s in there.”

Carter looked at Joel, and Joel nodded. You grabbed him by the elbow and led him through the kitchen and held the sheet aside for him.

Carter took in the view, then looked back at Joel in case you had gone rogue. Joel nodded. “Might as well crash here, whenever ya want I mean.” Joel shrugged.

Carter tried to refuse, because he was committed to keeping an eye on things down at the house and keeping things under control. “Ain't no troublemakers down at the house these days,” Joel reasoned. “Rather ya keep an eye on this one,” he nodded toward you and pinched your chin.

“You got it, boss.” Carter didn't know what else to say. He and Joel shook hands and the look they shared told you it might as well have been a hug.

Carter went to bed in the newly improved space. Bullet went to sleep on the kitchen floor, right in front of the hearth, enjoying the heat that still radiated from the metal.

-

After enjoying a leisurely Christmas eve romp in which you tried not to be too loud, you and Joel settled in for bed. As you predicted, you weren't tired enough to sleep.

“Do you know the night before Christmas?” You asked Joel, snuggled into the crook of his arm.

He looked at the ceiling and thought. “Somethin’ ‘bout ma and pa wearin’ hats,” and you nodded encouraging him. He tried to continue, “And, uh…. mouse that can't hear nothin’?”

You giggled and buried your face in his arm, again trying not to be too loud. “What?” he asked.

“not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse,” you recited.

“You're gonna stir all night, ain't ya?” Joel asked. “‘less I tucker ya out,” he mused. He turned over, letting part of his weight onto you. He pressed soft kisses onto your neck, then chest, then slid his mouth to your breast and the pull of his lips made you whine. Soon, he became a shape under the sheets, a silhouette stirring between your legs.

He knew how to put you to sleep.

—--

Christmas Day

In the morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee. You dragged a paper bag out from under the bed. You'd drawn stars and trees on it in pencil and labeled it “J. Miller” Joel and Carter were already in the kitchen and there were presents wrapped in old newspaper and string.

You asked Joel to open his first but he refused, wanting to drag out your eagerness as long as possible.

Joel gave you an assortment of sweaters, just in time for the cold weather. Different colors and textures. Cozy and perfect. The last package he handed you wasn't as fluffy.

You carefully untied it and saw corduroy. You ran your hand over the ribs and the fabric was still smooth, however many years after it was made. You held up the garment and it was pants. He willingly gave you pants.

After a moment of silence, Joel mumbled “might not be *that* cold just yet, but–” Carter laughed at him.

You went and sat in Joel's lap and handed him his gift bag. He opened it and pulled out a thermal Henley, a cable knit sweater in decent condition aside from a few snagged threads. You suspected it might be a little tight on his arms, but he never seemed to mind.

The last thing in the bag was a spiral-bound notebook. Your sketchbook. He opened it and his face went serious as his eyes poured over every detail–sketches of him. Joel wiping his sweat with a rag, holding a wrench. Joel sleeping. Joel holding a figure that could only be you. His face softened and his jaw twitched as he studied that one. When he finally moved on to the next page, his face turned pink. He quickly closed the book and cleared his throat. “Sweet pea,” he laughed in faux admonishment. You could've given him that one in private, but you didn't want to tear anything out of the book.

“I drew what I like,” you shrugged, and kissed him on his burning cheek.

“You’re talented, baby,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas,” you wished him, and he kissed you on the forehead. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“I'll make breakfast,” Carter offered.

“Oh. One more thing,” Joel said. “Can't forget the big guy.” Joel eased you off of his lap and stretched before going to the supply closet and retrieving the cushion with the little dip in it.

He plopped it into the floor and bullet came over and sniffed around it, then scratched at the fabric before settling into it.

“And,” Joel interrupted himself with a weak sigh. “As long as he don't get on the bed, when it’s rainin’ ya can bring it..” he nodded toward the bedroom.

You wrapped your arms tight around Joel and he cradled your head. “Alright,” he said. “I'm gettin’ hungry.”

------

Thank you for reading 🖤🖤🖤

[irndad]

Christmas Wrapping- a.h.

a/n: i'm back and this is sad (no, really, it's a sad christmas fic. merry crisis!! also writing this made me think of @hotchfiles lol- lari i hope u like it <3 summary: 2 years ago, hotch broke up with a lovely but eccentric woman, and is thinking about this while attending a christmas party.

It’s Christmas, and it’s New York, and Aaron doesn’t want to be here. 

He always feels guilty when he misses Christmases with Jack, and it’s painful to admit that it’s happened more than once. He’d been understanding, but Jack is almost ten now, and the resentment in his voice is subtle, but sometimes Aaron could swear he could hear Haley’s voice in it. 

This dinner wasn’t optional- a director that was above him mentioned that if he wanted his career to advance, he couldn’t afford not to attend events like tonight. Which as far as thiny veiled threats go, is one of the lease concealed ones he’s received in a good bit. 

New York always makes him think of her. Even though their relationship ended two years prior, she sticks in his mind like a song, the melody never quite getting to be grating. She’d loved being called his girlfriend, and Aaron had loved the way she loved it. She was younger than him, by a little over a half-decade. But still, she’d worn it better than he had. He still remembers the sight of her, meeting him at his office (never inside, lest the team tease him endlessly), in her green shoes and multicolored scarf, hair in a clip that had been lazily thrown up, and a smile that dazzled him. 

“Are you ready, Mr. Hotchner?” he remembers her saying, on the other side of a memory lit in warm, glowy lights. 

“I don’t think I can endorse whatever you have planned for me.” He’d replied back in jest at the time. 

The walk from his hotel to the host of the party’s home is cold. He think it might be colder in Quantico, but his memory feels colder and seeps into his bones. 

He might’ve married her, Aaron muses to himself. It all feels so silly to think about. But she was hard not to think about when she was his to ponder over, and she sticks in the back of his mind even after he had made he decision not to. 

She’d been generous with him, the entirety of it all. Gentle with him when he mentioned that he wasn’t ready to tell the team, even if she’d known that he hadn’t waited eight months with Beth. More than that, she was beautiful. not just in her appearance, which was lovely in and of itself, but in how she carried herself. Warm, and kind- Jack would’ve loved her. 

He thinks of her laugh, how she’d picked off all of the salmon roe on their fancy 5 month anniversary dinner, and eaten the meal without it- how she booked Amtraks to visit family, because it gave her more time to read on the way, and no one would make her drive once she got there. How she traced hearts into his wrist when  she could tell he was anxious, read him like a book he never gave anyone permission to see. Loving her was a pleasure, an indulgment. An expensive wine sipped with leisure. 

A honk of a cab shakes him out of his memories, but it doesn’t stick. She’d loved Brooklyn, loud cabs and overpriced brownstones all the same. Sometimes, when doing monotonous paperwork, he’d fantasize about buying her one, a new home in her dream city, Jack and maybe a sister. 

The way it had fallen apart was one of the least proud moments of his life. Because she was different- not polished, or withdrawn in how she carried herself. It was what made her a pleasure to know- she smiled with her whole face, hugged people like she knew they might need it, wore her favorite colors because she wanted to see them whenever she passed a mirror. And he was a behavior analyst. 

“Could I meet your friends?” he’d frozen, when he’d heard it. Her voice was soft, like she was nervous. “I know you were wanting to wait, but you know- you’ve met my graduate school friends. They were thoroughly impressed.”

He didn’t feel impressive to them, and he suspects she might be being kind in this moment. 

“I just think you wouldn’t like them, honey.” He feels rotten lying to her, but the idea of it- of the team knowing that she is the person he loves- it feels like a magnifying glass under the sun. 

“I find that hard to believe, Aaron. And either way, I’m telling you, it would mean the world to me to know them.” 

He’d been backed into a corner, he’ll tell himself, later. This will be a lie, and it’ll be a lie he knows, even as he tells himself it. 

“I just think we shouldn’t do that until we’re sure about eachother.”

The silence that had followed felt chasms wide. She’d been silent in front of him before- when he’d come to her apartment too tired to speak but still needing to be held, and she’d lit a candle and massaged his hands, easing the carpal tunnel from writing paperwork. Or when she held his hand waiting for Jack’s results, when he’d gotten a fever they hadn’t been able to shake. This silence was different. Long and dissapointed, and Aaron felt like he couldn’t breathe under the shame of it. He watched her wipe a single tear from her eye, and grab her novel that had been sitting on his coffee table for the last six months. 

“I can’t make you sure about me, Aaron. I don’t really want to try.” 

It had ended like that. Reminiscing on the whole affair had made the walk feel short, although he could feel a tear welling in his eyes. His body knew her absence, and still does. Even now, walking to this party he doesn’t want to go to, he imagines what it would be like to have the shape of her pressed into the side of it. 

Aaron thinks to himself, before buzzing into the building, that he wasn’t ashamed of her. He’d wondered since the end of the first relationship he’d felt held in, if he left it because he was ashamed. But he wasn’t. He was unwilling to submit to the plain, unmediated joy of her touch. 

He was almost done ruminating on this, until he knocked on the door, and there she was. 

Aaron- he almost wonders if he’s hallucinating, because there she is. And she’s fucking gorgeous. She always is, but she’s so lovely tonight. Maybe it’s the fact he hasn’t seen her in so long, or maybe it’s just that she is that lovely, but the warm light of the party and Christmas Wrapping playing in the background- she looks like vision plucked from a movie. 

She’d kissed him at midnight to this song, once. 

Now, she’s beaming at him, opening her door to welcome him as a stranger into a party. 

“Aaron! Is that you?” it’s a physiological response, the jump in his chest, when she says his name. “My god, it’s so good to see your face!” 

She hugs him, and she still wears the same perfume. Her arms are warm and her face is in his chest, and even though it’s less intimate than all the ways she’s held him before, it feels kind. 

“It’s so good to see you too- what are you doing here?”

It’s a blunt question, but she doesn’t seem to mind, as she ushers him into home. It’s a family apartment, old-school and clearly well-loved.

“My husband liasons with the FBI, actually! His boss said they needed a get-together space, and so we offered up our apartment. It’s cute, right?” she’d walked him right up to a man, wrapped her arms around his middle, before turning back to Hotch. “Peter, honey, this is my old friend, Aaron Hotchner! He works for the BAU.”

Husband. She has a husband. She is a beautiful woman, who he has had the honor to love, to run through the rain while laughing with, who is known and seen and loved by someone else. Hotch takes a look at her, really drinks in the sight. She’s got on a green sweater, new- he can tell by the shape of it. Earrings that seem like they’re gifts, and her hair’s pinned up lazily despite the occasion. 

She looks happy. 

“Oh hey! I’ve heard so much about you- I’m glad you were able to come!”

Peter has a wedding band on hsi left wrist, and Aaron can’t help but analyze him. He’s wearing an ill-fitting dress shirt and slacks, and Hotch thinks he might not have had too much choice in hosting. Owning real-estate is uncommon in New york, and your boss knowing you have a place to use might have been enough to strong arm him into using it. it’s a relative’s clothes, and it’s casual in a way that would suggest ease and friendless. An arm rests on the small of his wife’s waist. 

The whole rest of the night is a blur. Jealousy doesn’t feel like the right word for it- it feels uncanny, to see her so open and warm with a man who so unashamadly loves her. There’s engagement photos on the walls, and Aaron studies them like he’ll be tested. Maybe he’s testing himself. They’re not real photos, just a photobooth they’d gone too, her ring in the foreground of all of them. Peter is a wiry, thin, dark-haired brown-eyed man who is younger than Aaron, and a year older than her. 

He hears someone say they met in high school, and Hotch dimly wonders if he ever had a shot with her. He thinks this, while looking at a photo of the two of them at prom together (but not together). It’s self-comfort, he knows. Because she’d asked him, to take her seriously. 

She’s drinking grape juice, instead of champagne. Aaron thinks he knows why, from the way she runs a gentle hand over her stomach when she thinks no one’s looking, and how Peter’s eyes are always trained on her midsection.

He wishes he didn’t know how to be this observant. 

When the night ends, and Aaron comes back to Quantico, and people asks him how the party went, Aaron tells them it went well, and says that he saw an old friend who he’d missed a great deal out there. 

He figured it’s probably better to admit to loving her in some way, at some point. Even if it’s far, far too late. 

[justagalwhowrites]

Joyeux Noël - A Lavender AU Christmas Story

Joel and your daughters plan something special for you for the holidays. A Christmas one shot set in the Lavender AU Universe.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut. No outbreak AU. Fluff fluff fluff. Christmas fluff. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 3.6k

A/N: JOEL AND DOC ARE BACK FOR THE HOLIDAYS BECAUSE I MISSED THEM (and hopefully some of you did, too.) This can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that Joel and reader are a married couple with a shared biological daughter as well as Ellie and Sarah. I hope you enjoy this tooth rotting-ly sweet fic!

AO3 | Lavender Masterlist | Lavender AU Masterlist | Full Masterlist

December 24, 2024 

“You’re sure you’ve got everything?” Sarah asked, her son, Carson, squealing in the background. 

“Pretty sure,” Joel said, frowning a little. 

“Put me on FaceTime,” she said. “Show me.” 

Joel sighed and fussed with his phone until it became a video call, Sarah on the other end with a smudge of flour on her nose. 

“Busy over there, baby girl?” He teased. 

“Your grandson got me in the face when we were making sugar cookies,” she said. “I haven’t had the chance to get cleaned up yet, the kitchen is a disaster but that’s beside the point, show me Mom’s suitcase.” 

Joel fussed with the phone again - having to search for the little button that let him do it, not a fan of figuring out technology without the help of any of his girls - and got the camera to flip around. 

“So I put in some of the sweaters she wears a lot,” he said, showing Sarah the stacks. “Some of the pants she likes, too. Got this one dress she looks real good in, real good…” 

“Ew,” Sarah said. 

“Shut it, kid,” he said. She laughed. “Got the shoes she says are comfortable, some that are pretty, too…” 

“Do you have a bag for her?” She asked. 

“What do you think you’re lookin’ at?” 

“Not that kind of bag,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean a purse.”

“Wouldn’t she just bring the one she uses all the time?” He asked. 

“Dad, you’re going to be walking around Paris,” Sarah said. “Spending hours in museums and in stores and lounging at chic cafes, she’s not going to want to carry that giant thing around. In her closet, in one of the dust bags at the top is a smaller bag that Ellie, Evie and I went in on for Mother's Day, grab that one. It’s cross body so she can just wear it, she likes that when she’s walking around a lot. Also, do you have her hair stuff?” 

“Hair stuff?” Joel frowned. “Don’t they have that in the room?” 

She sighed.

“See, this is why I make you show me,” Sarah said. “Yes, there’s shampoo and stuff but she uses serums and oils and things, she needs those. Bathroom next.” 

Joel obeyed his oldest daughter’s instructions, thankful that the two of you were so close that she’d know these kinds of things. He got what she told him from the bathroom and packed it. 

“Alright,” she said. “I think you’re all good! Just let her get a book or five at the airport and you’ll be golden, old man.” 

“Thanks, kiddo,” he smiled a little. “You still good to take your sister for a while?” 

“Of course,” she smiled back. “I love Ellie and Evie can stay as long as she wants until she wants to go back to school. Plus Brandon could use someone to give him a run for his money on this new video game, he’s getting over confident.” 

“Thank you for keeping an eye on Ellie,” Joel said. “We’d like to get all you girls on a trip like this with us sometime but for the first one…” 

“It should just be the two of you,” Sarah finished for him with a smile. “She’s going to love it, Dad.” 

He sure hoped so. 

Joel had been planning this for a while. Decades, really. 

Back when the two of you were young and flat broke, a trip to Paris had been a pipe dream. You talked about it that way, the same way Ellie talked about going to the moon now, something that you dreamed about but didn’t expect to ever have. 

Then Evie came along. Then you were in med school and then you were an intern and resident and attending and Sarah got married and Ellie joined the family and life had just gotten in the way, as it always seemed to. 

But it had been a beautiful life and you’d never even come close to complaining about not getting to visit France the way you’d dreamed. As you’d always done, you put everyone else’s needs and wants before your own, constantly looking for a way to make Joel or your daughters’ lives better before thinking of yourself. 

But the Paris trip was possible now. The two of you had made more money than Joel had ever dreamed of making, Sarah and Evie were off on their own and Ellie was in a good enough place that she could spend a few weeks with her sister. Things were even calm at work for both of you - Tommy could run the business for a few weeks and Joel had coordinated with your boss to get you time off. It was the perfect time to finally give you something you’d been dreaming of as long as Joel had known you. 

Joel didn’t want to put more work on your plate, though, so he worked with Sarah, Evie and Ellie to plan everything. Sarah traveled a lot - she’d made it to Europe long before Joel ever had - and knew how to find a good hotel. Ellie told Joel about the different museums to visit, her passion for art coming in handy as he was planning. Evie - who had even taken after your knack for language - helped Joel learn a few phrases in French (though he was going to be pretty dependent on you to get around.) But that was fine. As long as you were happy, he didn’t care if everyone around him was speaking gibberish. 

“Dad!” Ellie yelled from down the hall. “Mom just texted, she’s almost home!” 

“Shit,” Joel said, zipping the suitcase quickly. “Stall her for me, will ya?” 

“Can do!” She yelled back and he heard her pounding down the stairs to intercept you. 

Joel hauled the luggage downstairs the best he could, stashing the packed bags in a room just off the garage so he could wrestle them into the trunk later. He finished just as the garage door opened and Ellie went racing past him to catch you in the car, giving him a chance to slip into the living room unnoticed. You joined him just a minute after he got there, flopping on the couch next to him. 

“Tough day?” He asked, putting his arm up so you could snuggle into him. 

“Just long,” you sighed. “That early start the day before a holiday made this shift feel like 20 hours, not 12. But at least I have Christmas off to spend with you and the girls before I’m back in on Thursday.” 

Joel tried to keep from smiling at the fact that you didn’t know that, by this time on Thursday, you’d be across the world. 

“Want to watch a movie?” He asked. “Your pick.” 

“Sure,” you snuggled closer. “But let’s see what Ellie and Evie want to watch, I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you guys.” 

He kissed your forehead and called the girls down, the two of them settling on Elf followed by Die Hard and you not even putting in a vote for your favorite because you never tried to put yourself first in anything. That’s why Joel was doing all this, to make sure it happened at least now and then. He made you a plate of Chinese food and you fell asleep against him when you finished it, still wearing the Christmas-themed sweater and earrings you’d worn that day to the hospital. 

“Alright, girls,” Joel said quietly. “Upstairs, Santa can’t come ’til you’re in bed.” 

Evie and Ellie shared a look before looking back to Joel. 

“Goodnight, Dad,” Evie said, getting up and helping Ellie to her feet, too. “I hope Santa can get Mom upstairs OK…” 

He snorted and watched the girls go to their rooms before laying you gently on the couch. He went and got the presents out of your closet and stashed the suitcases in the back of the car. He stuffed the stockings - you sleeping peacefully the whole time - and set up the living room the same way he’d done since Sarah was little before gently rousing you from your long winter’s nap. 

“C’mon, baby,” he said softly, cupping your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “Bed time.” 

“But…” you sat up, groggy. “We gotta set up Christmas and…” 

“Already done,” he smiled. “Let’s go, sleepyhead.” 

You sighed contentedly as he looped an arm around your waist and guided you groggily to your room. 

“You’re the best husband in the world, you know that?” You said as you burrowed against his chest once you were both in bed. 

He smiled. 

“Doin’ my best, baby.” 

*** 

You definitely missed having little kids on Christmas morning but having older ones had its perks. 

You woke up before Joel, your unreasonably early day - and bed time - on Christmas Eve rousing you before the sun.

Your husband was still snoring gently and you just watched him for a moment, a peaceful look on his face in the red and green glow of the lights on the eaves outside. You smiled. There was something so damn beautiful about the man you’d married more than 20 years ago, just getting to look at him while he slept made you feel unreasonably lucky, like you were getting away with something you shouldn’t. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, slow and gentle, and he stirred, smiling every so slightly before delicately catching your wrist and bringing it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your pulse. 

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered. 

He smiled broader, his eyes still closed. 

“Merry Christmas.” 

“Want one of your presents now?” You asked and he opened one eye so fast it made you giggle. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

You leaned in close and kissed him softly, almost chastely, before moving down his body and nudging him onto his back as you went. Your lips went over the firm expanse of his chest, the soft warmth of his stomach, down to the top of his pajama pants where his thick length was already hardening for you. 

You tugged the pants down enough that you could get at his cock. You licked the tip of him, tongue circling his head before you wrapped your lips around just the very end, sucking softly at his precome. 

“Goddamn baby,” he said, already breathless, his hand coming to the back of your head as you took the whole of him slowly, tantalizingly into your mouth. 

Once you swallowed him into your throat, you moaned and held him there, sucking and savoring him before starting to move over him. You pressed your tongue against the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock, making his head run along the roof of your mouth as he started to move in shallow, gentle thrusts, working himself deeper, groaning as he did. 

“Can I have that soft little pussy, too?” He asked eventually, sounding desperate, his grip tightening on your head. “Because goddamn baby if I don’t need you right now.” 

You sucked him all the way to the tip before releasing him from your mouth. 

“You can have as much of me as you want,” you said, breathless yourself. “I’m all yours.” 

Before you had the chance to start sucking him again, he tugged you back up his body, laying you beside him before rolling to face you. He gripped your thigh, tugging your leg over his hip and tucking your panties to the side before petting at your leaking entrance. 

“Good,” he whispered. “Just the way I want you.” 

The tip of his cock replaced his fingers and he thrust just the head of himself inside of you, stretching you enough that you had to press your face into his chest to muffle your moan. 

“How do you always feel so goddamn good, baby?” He asked, tugging you closer as he pushed inside. He tucked your head below his chin, one arm below you and around you, his fingers spread wide between your shoulders, his other on the small of your back holding you in just the right place. You were completely enveloped by him as he filled you to the root, everything about your husband completely surrounding you. “Don’t deserve something as good as you.” 

You just groaned in protest, not really able to form words, too overwhelmed by the way Joel was completing you. 

Instead, you rocked your hips against him and he responded in kind, the two of you moving slowly, firmly against each other. Heat drew low inside you, concentrated on where Joel was shaping you to him and you grew tighter and tighter around him, your orgasm growing sure and steady. 

“You gonna come for me?” He whispered in your ear. You moaned and nodded against him. “Good, want you to come for me, let me feel it baby, milk me dry, c’mon.” 

You let out a strangled little sob as you obeyed, your channel fluttering and rippling around him. 

“There she is,” he breathed, keeping his pace inside you, the tip of his cock pressing into the soft place within you that made your back arch and toes curl as he ground himself deep. “That’s it, baby, keep coming, come on my cock. Fuck, you take it so well, come so pretty for me, just keep… keep…” 

He squeezed you tighter, thrust impossibly deeper and you felt him come apart inside you with a needy grunt, throbbing deep and hard as he filled you, drawing your orgasm out as he did. 

You went limp in his arms as your climax eased and his hold on you loosened just enough that he could kiss you, his lips gentle on yours as both of you came back down to earth. 

“Dunno that anything’ll top that present,” he teased lightly and you laughed. 

“One of the upsides to not having little kids running in here at six in the morning,” you smiled before kissing his chest and snuggling closer. His cock was softening inside you, the combination of his come and yours starting to drip from you. “Can we just stay like this for a while? I miss you when you’re not inside me.” 

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers trailing over your spine. 

“Course baby,” he said softly. “Think we got a bit before the girls start moving.” 

You luxuriated in the slow start to the morning, drifting in and out of consciousness with Joel’s cock nestled inside you, your husband thrusting slowly and gently now and then so he stayed deep. The sun had just started to peek through the blinds when you heard a toilet flush down the hall and you kissed Joel one last time before slipping him from you, adjusting his pants and your panties before the girls were knocking on your door. 

You loved Christmas morning with your family, loved the sense of joy and closeness as you watched your daughters open presents while you sat on the couch, snuggled up to Joel with a cup of coffee in your hands. You’d never had a holiday quite like this one growing up, always just you and your grandmother making the best of it. You treasured that, too, but it was different now, when you were surrounded by the people you loved more than anything else who loved you in return. 

Ellie was super excited about a set of really nice markers you’d asked Andrew for help in researching, Evie shrieked with glee over concert tickets for her and her girlfriend and Joel kissed you so deep when he opened the fancy coffee maker you got him the aching place between your thighs throbbed again. 

After cinnamon rolls and bacon and coffee made with Joel’s new toy, the four of you headed to Sarah’s, laughing as Carson showed you everything Santa brought him and giving Joel a look when he gave his grandson candy behind his daughter’s back. 

“Well,” Joel said, downing the last of his beer as your entire family sat around Sarah’s table after dinner and dessert, you tucked contentedly against his side. “I’m afraid we gotta hit the road.” 

You frowned, twisting to look at him. 

“What?” You asked, looking down at your watch. It was barely five. “No we don’t, I don’t need to be in until tomorrow afternoon, we can hang out and…” 

“No, Mom, you do really need to go,” Sarah said, a serious look on her face. 

“Yeah,” Ellie nodded. “Don’t wanna be late.” 

“Late for what?” You said. 

Evie looked up from her phone. 

“I just checked and everything is on time,” she said. 

You laughed, looking around at your husband and daughters. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked. “What’s on time, everything is closed. Are we going to a movie?” 

“I mean, we can when we get there if that’s what you wanna do,” Joel shrugged. “But you’d have to translate for me the whole time.”

You frowned, looking around again, all your children looking like they were about to burst with excitement. 

“Can someone clue me in?” You laughed again. “Because I’m at a loss…” 

“Oh, right,” Evie said, going into her purse, pulling out an envelope and handing it over. “Guess you’ll need that.” 

Joel was trying to hide his grin but you knew him too well for that and you just raised your brows at him as you opened the envelope. He just shrugged a little, his smile getting harder and harder to conceal. 

“What are you all up to?” You teased as you opened the envelope, unfolding the papers that were inside. 

“Guess you’ll have to look,” Joel shrugged. 

You rolled your eyes good naturedly before looking at the pages in your hands. 

It took you a second to realize what you were holding: a flight itinerary. 

You frowned. 

“Joel?” You asked looking over at him. 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Joel, this…” you looked back at the paper, your heart racing. “Joel, this is a plane ticket.” 

“Is it?” He asked, smile apparent in his voice. 

“Joel,” you looked at him again. “This is a plane ticket to Paris. And it leaves in four hours.” 

“Technically, I think it’s two plane tickets,” Joel said, sitting up to look over your shoulder. “First class, in case you wanted some room to sleep on your first overseas flight.” 

“But…” Your eyes ranged over the ticket before looking around, all your daughters grinning like the cats who ate the canaries. “I have work!” 

“Well, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Joel smirked. “Talked with your boss back in October, you’re not due back to the hospital for a few weeks.” 

“I…” you looked down and back up again. “I need to pack!” 

“Wrong again, Mom,” Sarah smiled. “Dad took care of that. And I checked his work, you’re good.” 

“We need to plan…” 

“I gave him a list of all the coolest museums,” Ellie said proudly, cutting you off.  

“And I helped Dad be a little less totally useless in French,” Evie added. 

You looked around at all of them, tears stinging at your eyes. 

“You all planned this?” You asked, a lump in your throat. “For me?” 

“Been a long time coming, baby,” Joel smiled, his large hand cradling your elbow, thumb rubbing gentle circles over you. “You deserve it. Have for a while.” 

“He’s right, Mom,” Sarah smiled, too. “After taking care of all of us over the years, it’s about damn time.” 

“You’re the best mom in the world,” Ellie agreed. “Figured it was time that you see some of it.” 

“You always do everything for all of us,” Evie said. “We really should return the favor now and then.” 

You looked back at the tickets, covering your mouth with one hand, giving up on trying to keep from crying. 

“I…” you sniffed. “I don’t know what to say!” 

“How about we just say bon voyage,” Evie said. “Because you need to get on the road or you’re going to be late for your flight!” 

You let your children usher you and Joel to the car and you gave everyone hugs as Evie and Ellie got their bags from the trunk so they could stay with Sarah. You hugged them all goodbye, having to dry your tears every time you realized exactly what was happening: You were finally going to Paris, a place you’d always wanted to go, on a trip planned by the people you loved most. 

Joel drove the two of you to the airport, you practically glowing the entire way. Joel didn’t let you carry your own bags and you were still in disbelief as you settled into your seat on the plane, a glass of champagne in your hand as you waited to take off. 

“So,” Joel smiled, watching you. “You excited?” 

“I can’t believe it,” you said, laughing a little. “I can’t… You really shouldn’t have done all this, not for me!” 

“Oh baby,” Joel reached out and cupped your cheek. “You’ve done nothin’ but take care of everyone else as long as I’ve known you. Don’t think I can ever do enough to repay you for that but you gotta let me try, at least at Christmas.” 

You smiled and leaned over to kiss him. 

“I think I can handle that.” 

He smiled. 

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said. “Or should I say… joyeux noël? That right?” 

You laughed, his accent comically bad but so charming you had to love it. 

“That’s right,” you said. “Joyeux noël.”

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 100)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (76) / Alexia Putellas x Character (52) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (29)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Appreciate you all coming along on this 100 chapter journey with me!

A reminder that I've spent a lot of hours creating an online community for anyone to join in and chat about everything from WOSO to everyday life (you can be as anonymous as you want in there!) Don't be shy! Come on in and my DMs are always open.

Follow the link below for the following:

LUMOS BY JAE - Join our little BRAND NEW online community on Discord! Come along to chat and hang out, make friends, and follow along with live games. (Updated link as the old one had an expiry!)

JaegerAether Tumblr link

JaegerAether A03 link

JaegerAether Wattpad link

JaegerAether X (twitter) link

((5.6k))

YFN POV

“I need it to be perfect.” She said frustrated and a little disheartened. She read through her notes again, skimming along with her finger.

A strong hand took hers and gently lowered it. She willingly fell into the comfort of Lucy’s deep, green eyes. “Little one, it is perfect. You’ve made sure of that.”

“And the book-”

Lucy put her hand on the book to hold it down before she could pick it up and overanalyse every word. She paused to smile at the words on the front before she spoke. “The book too. Both are perfect.”

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t make me call Ridley.”

YFN crossed her arms at the threat. “Go on then.”

Lucy chuckled and shrugged, taking out her phone. She pressed call and put it on loud speaker, staring at YFN as if waiting to stop her. But she was stubborn, after all.

“Bronze. How’s doing?”

“I’m alright, just need your help with something. You busy?”

“I have a Spaniard between my legs, but go ahead.”

The sound of Alexia telling her off in the background was amusing. It sounded as if they were fighting over the phone before their faces popped up. They were clearly in the pool, Alexia lounging between Ridley’s legs and both very topless it seemed.

“We are swimming,” Alexia said in her cute Spanish accent. “Don’t listen to her.”

YFN chuckled. She always loved to see how happy they were. “I’m surprised to see you back already.”

“I missed home.” She said, exchanging a look with Alexia. “And I wasn’t lying but hey, we can Facetime you later on when it gets more sexual if you really want.”

“Riddlesss.” YFN warned to her cheeky grin.

“I’m jooooking. Christ. I’m a one woman type of girl. Voyeur elsewhere Bronze.”

“How the fuck did I get roped into this?!” Lucy defended.

The trio chuckled.

“What can I help you with?”

“YFN won’t stop trying to change the speech. She’s insisting it’s not perfect. I figured you’d have the right thing to say.”

Ridley shrugged nonchalantly. “Perfection is subjective.”

YFN’s mouth dropped open slightly. How had she not thought of that?

“And, before you start big-braining around whose perception of perfection is more important, just remember that you’re emotionally involved and biased having spoken to Mark and written both the book and your speech, so our perception is more pure. We are the audience, after all.” She got closer to the phone. “And baby… believe me when I say it’s perfect.”

She felt her lower lip tremble.

Ridley smiled at the look on her face. “That’s my girl. Now don’t you two have better things to be doing?”

“Speaking of perfect,” Lucy answered. “I do have the perfect day planned. First things first, I need you to put on this blindfold.”

“That is our time to leave.” Alexia said.

“Aw, sure we can't stay and watch?” Ridley asked.

“Goodbye you two.”

“See you tomorrow!” YFN said warmly.

The day was perfect, by any standard. Sex in the morning. A phone call with their friends. A surprise picnic in the park where they kicked around a football and then laid around, napping and reading their books. By the time the sun began to set, they packed their things back into the car and wandered hand in hand down towards the coast.

She’d been so distracted by their conversation and flirting that she hadn’t even realised where they were headed.

“So there’s the event and then the business afterparty, and then we can all catch up for food and drinks after while the footballers have a few days off..” she rambled, not knowing they’d stopped.

She looked up at Lucy who seemed to be smiling down at her, patiently listening and waiting for her to realise where they were. Turning, she saw the beach she’d met Jordan on. The exact same spot. The little alcove between the bushes, staring out over the sun setting.

“Oh, Luce…”

Lucy sat and pulled YFN down in between her legs, cradling her there. Taking in the moment, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath in and out. The sea breeze whipped a few strands of hair out of her messy bun, which Lucy tucked behind her ear. YFN opened her eyes to look at the last rays of daylight as the wind shifted. A storm was coming – she could feel it. She smiled and looked up at the darkening clouds. She loved the feeling of the darkness creeping in, and the storm. She was unsure whether it was the potential violence of it, or the uncertainty, but she still loved it nonetheless. She felt comfortable in that space. Leaning back, she felt the warm comfort of Lucy. How much things had changed..

She looked around the beach and saw nobody. Sparing a thought for Jordan then, and where she was now, made her smile. How good the country had been to her.

They stayed for an extended period, until the sun had fully set and the sky was overcast with dark, angry, yet comforting clouds.

“It’s getting cold, my girl.” Lucy murmured into her ear.

She nodded, having thought the same herself. “It’s time to go.”

They walked up the beach and ascended the stairs as the wind worsened. She turned to look one last time before they headed back towards their car. Halfway back it began raining suddenly. Large, heavy droplets of water soaked them in an instant, though they weren’t too concerned. Laughing, they ran to the closest shelter they could find.

Lucy grabbed her by the waist and backed her into the little alcove, her eyes darkening. Fuck, she looked good when she was wet.

Unable to resist, she reached up to tangle her fingers in her soaked hair and drag her head down to hers. It would never get old, kissing Lucy. She was talented in everything she did, including intimacy. She pressed her body up against her offering her no escape, something YFN obsessed over, and tilted her head to deepen the kiss. They tongues met and she moaned into the taller woman’s mouth. She tightened her grip on her jacket in response to Lucy’s thigh pressing up against her and Lucy moaned in return.

“F…fuck. Little one.” She gasped, pulling away slightly. “Not here, it’s too public.”

“You really want to stop?” She challenged, pressing herself harder against Lucy's thigh, rocking slightly into it as her mouth found the soft flesh under her chin and sucked.

Lucy groaned.

“Fuuuuck. More.”

YFN hummed at the power she had over her, rocking her hips and getting the pleasure she needed from the friction of rubbing against her.

“Arghhh.”

Her hand let go of her jacket and slipped down, taking Lucy’s and guiding it up under her own. Lucy didn’t need any guidance from there, her hand kneading her naked breast, thumb brushing over the peak.

“I need.. I..”

“Mmn, what do you need, Luce?”

“I need you.”

“Then take me home and have me.”

Lucy pulled back and seeing that look in her eyes, she knew just what the rest of their night held. “Mmn.” She looked around to make sure no one was looking, and realised the rain had eased off just slightly. “Let’s get home. I need you.”

Chuckling, the two disentangled and Lucy took a slight step back, waiting for YFN who was looking around with a sentimental expression.

“Luce?”

“Ready?”

“I… do you realise where we are?”

Lucy looked around confused and then it hit her. “Oh… it’s... where we met.” That first evening with Jordan, and the rain. “If only I’d known.”

“Known what, Luce?” She murmured with pure happiness at the significance of where they stood.

Lucy took her hand and raised it, kissing the gold band she was so proud of. “That I’d met my wife.”

JORDAN POV

Jordan was finishing the last of her stretches on the balcony outside their London apartment when Blu came bounding out from the kitchen to involve himself. He’d been running between the two of them, excitedly padding around with his short little legs, and was beginning to get tired.

Jordan felt his tongue lick her cheek and chuckled. She grabbed him and rolled into her back, raising him over her like he was Simba. He loved that. His little legs moved as if swimming and he shook with excitement.

Jordan sat up and cuddled him to her chest, giving him a kiss on the head and looked inside through the glass doors to where Leah was watching them with a smile and a spatula awkwardly in her hand. She wasn’t a cook by any means, though she was trying, and that’s all that mattered to Jordan.

The slightly older woman released him and he bounded back inside to his other mother. She was on cooking duties today, though Jordan was just about to go in and keep her company.

She rolled up her gym mat and stepped inside, putting it back in its place and wandering over to where the delicious smell was coming from.

“Need any help?” She asked.

Leah turned and gave that genuine smile of hers. “Want to keep my company?”

“Of course.”

Without a hesitation, Leah picked the smaller woman up and sat her down on the edge of the countertop. “You can just stay right there, then. I have this under control... I think.”

“It smells amazing.”

Leah stirred the pot and then stood with her back against Jordan’s chest. She didn’t hesitate to wrap her legs and arms around her, kissing her cheek a few times. “Those lessons have been coming in handy, it seems.”

“I still can’t believe you went and did that.”

Leah shrugged and turned to steal one of the cheek kisses with her lips. “It was for us. Of course I did.”

Jordan happily hummed and rested her chin against Leah’s slightly taller shoulder. “What is it?”

“Just this… us. It’s all very domestic.”

“Well I’d like to think so after we had to convert the third bedroom into our closet.”

Jordan chuckled. “Hey, my place isn’t much better. Lucky YFN is living in London full-time with Lucy now – her room has almost more clothes than this one! She barely has room when she stops in for a few nights.”

“God, I just want to live with you already.” Leah grumbled, turning and resting her forehead against her collarbone. Being the only person who Leah let comfort her was not lost on Jordan. “Why can’t we have that?”

“One more season..” Jordan reminded, reassuringly stroking her back. “And then I’ll move to London.”

“Just let me move there, Jord.” Leah almost pleaded. It wasn’t the first time.

“I’d never let you choose me over Arsenal. It’s one year.. what’s one more season?”

Leah groaned, ditching the spatula to wrap her arms around her. “One more season away from my wife.”

A shiver ran down her spine. She loved when she called her ‘wife.’ It was even better than seeing it around social media. Leah and Jordan Williamson-Nobbs. They’d decided to hyphenate rather than choose like their friends.

“I’ve already begun to do some work with YFN.. can you give me one more season?”

Leah pulled back to study her. “Of course. Of course. I don’t mean to pressure you at all, I’m just being needy.”

Jordan draped her hands over her shoulder. “I love it when you’re needy.”

“Yeah?” She whispered, kissing her softly. Just tasting…

“One more season with a Christmas holiday in amongst it... this time with your folks. And as for the neediness, I say we Facetime more and pay your therapist extra.”

“Poor girl.” Leah chuckled.

“Until then, let’s make the most of it...” Jordan mumbled, pulling her close. Leah grabbed at Jordan’s oversized clothes, tugging her to the edge of the bench and sliding her hands under to feel her. Their mouths connected and as they did so, Jordan smelled burning. Looking over Leah’s shoulder, she saw the pot begin to bubble over the edge.

This wasn’t exactly unusual, even when Leah was watching it.

Instead of telling her, she smiled into her mouth and let herself enjoy the taste and feel of her for a few more seconds, knowing their night would probably end like it usually did…. with takeaway.

ALEXIA POV

Alexia dodged left to avoid an incoming Mapi. She used her body to protect the ball from Ona before dodging right and kicking to Caroline on the far side. With the defenders' attention now away from her, she chased forward quickly, pushing her legs to outrun them as she pointed to the spot where she wanted it.

Alexia yelled for the ball. Caroline kicked. The ball came directly to where she’d pointed of course, unimpeded even by Ona sliding through. Alexia’s boot connected exactly where she’d wanted it to, left foot and straight into the top right corner. Cata leapt and missed by barely an inch.

Perfect.

Alexia felt the grin lighting up her face at that glorious sound of the ball hitting the back of the net. The final whistle blew just as it did so and before she could really react properly, her training team swarmed around, all trying to get a piece of her. She usually didn’t let her team celebrate her too hard, but this felt special.

Everything was good.

“Yes, Alexia!” Keira yelled from behind her as she grabbed her.

“LA REINAAAAA!” Patri yelled into her ear far too loudly.

She felt her body being shook from every direction and tried to let herself enjoy it for once.

“That’s it for today!” Pere called to the team. “Well done to Alexia’s team. Go enjoy your event and I’ll see you all on Monday.”

The girls gave their thanks in amongst the celebrations, as the rest of the team came over to congratulate them.

“You want to take my trophies away again, huh?” Aitana joked.

“God, you shot so quick,” Ona smiled, genuinely happy for her friend.

She heard a person whistling in celebration and rolled her eyes. “Okay okay, enough celebrating now.” Alexia said, yet unable to stop her grin.

“Oh, that wasn’t us,” Mapi teased, jerking her head towards the sidelines.

Alexia’s heart jumped as she looked over and spotted Ridley sitting on the fence. She was back, and looking as relaxed as ever with Alexia’s sunglasses on, her legs slightly spread and a proud looking smile on her face as she watched from afar patiently with Chiquito sitting by her side.

Alexia tried to ignore the teasing from her group. Chiquito looked up at Ridley and then back to Alexia in a sort of question.

“Chiquito!” Alexia called.

He didn’t need to be called twice. The little, fluffy grey cat abandoned his spot to trot over to where Alexia and the girls were standing. She bent down to pick him up, saying her hellos before he was kidnapped by the rest of team. He’d become somewhat of a team mascot, having been around them all so often.

Alexia smiled as she watched him share the love and attention of the girls around, though her attention was now elsewhere as her feet took her towards her Australian.

As she reached her, she parted her legs further with her hands, her palms sliding up the bare skin of Ridley’s thighs and wrapping around her back. She tried to withhold the urge to groan at the comfort of it. Of her.

Her warmth. Her smile. Her touch. Alexia’s home. Ridley held her softly, leaning her head against Alexia’s and presumably watching the girls play with Chiquito over her shoulder.

“Congratulations, my girl.” She murmured in Catalan. “Amazing, as always.”

Alexia hummed against her, happy that she’d seen it. She’d never been the type to be too publicly affectionate, though that had shifted slightly with her relationship with Ridley, especially after their headline-making event with Bashir. Now she wanted to be near her wherever she was. It was such a strange, lovely feeling to have her on the sidelines at games, sitting amongst her family, and at training, talking to her teammates.

“You’re back..” she murmured into her, happy that she didn’t have to wait until that night to see her.

“Mmn. I saw an opportunity to come home earlier and I took it.”

That sent a nice shiver up Alexia’s spine for multiple reasons. Not only the fact that she’d called her ‘home’ but that she’d left her military family who she was so close to, just to come home earlier to her.

Alexia squeezed a little harder before pulling back to see her face. Ridley moved her sunglasses to the top of her head and tucked the sweaty strands of Alexia’s now more brunette looking hair behind her ears. She looked at the scar the bullet had left her with, cutting from just above her eyebrow and disappearing into her hairline. It was now a faded pink colour and looking less aggressive every day. She reached up to stroke it with her thumb, forever grateful that it hadn’t been deeper.

Ridley let her play with it, closing her eyes as Alexia’s thumb moved down and across the one on her cheek. She caught her hand as it reached her jaw and turned her head to kiss the pad of her thumb, and then her thumb, palm, wrist.

“Ready to go home?”

Before she could answer, the girls came over. “What time are you picking us up tomorrow?” Keira asked, handing Chiquito back to Alexia.

“Will we be flying in the Barca plane you bought for us?” Patri interjected.

“First of all, the bus will pick you all up from here at 9am. Secondly… Alexia wouldn’t let me buy anything. Barca has a long-term lease on that plane from my company instead.”

She pouted as if she were unhappy, but she’d still managed to work her way around the problem, of course. Alexia’s stomach fluttered at the cocky look in her eyes.

“But no..” Ridley continued and then chuckled. “No, we’ll be in something much faster and less conspicuous. Management don’t exactly want unnecessary trips while Lucy and Mariona’s faces are still on the plane.”

“You’d think they would have planned ahead.”

“It’s not like I didn’t warn them..” she murmured cheekily. “But never mind that, I’m here to take this one off your hands.”

“At least let her shower first!” Ona exclaimed as a few more of the girls came over.

Alexia stayed quiet as usual and turned to Ridley who looked her up and down with a smirk. “I think I’ll shower her myself at home.”

She rolled her eyes, having expected her to say something similar. “Do you mind waiting? It’s been a really hot day and I want to get these sweaty clothes off me as soon as I can.”

Ridley looked her up and down, seeming to enjoy the enjoying the ‘sweaty clothes’ and gave her a calm but hungry look. Like she hadn’t seen her in a week. Which was about accurate. “I’d wait forever for you.”

Alexia tried to hide her smirk and ignore the teasing noises from her teammates as she took a step back. She was eager to get showered and back home with her. As she’d expected, Ridley moved to follow, sliding off the fence and entering her personal space again. She was slightly taller which meant Alexia had to look up to see that smirk of hers.

A week was the longest they’d been apart since before the island. She could barely keep her hands off her now let along the thought of when they finally got home.

The group made their way into the changing rooms for their showers. Alexia forced herself to go slowly, knowing how frustrating it would be for Ridley, and even though she was annoyingly good at hiding it, Alexia was slowly getting to know her little tells of frustration and impatience. The shifting of her weight onto one foot, the clasped or pocketed hands as if to hold them back from reaching, her head tilt to overcompensate and remind herself to slow down.

Alexia checked herself in the steamed mirror one more time and dropped the towel in the basket as she left the showers. She walked into the changing rooms to see an array of her half-naked teammates all in different stages of dressing and talking. Her eyes found her locker and below it was Ridley sitting calmly, her eyes on Chiquito alone as he sat on the table in the middle of the room with multiple people patting him. The small smile on her face showed how proud she was of him.

Alexia’s first step into the room was met with was Ridley’s eyes flicking to her. Her head tilted as she looked her up and down. Regardless of how turned on she was, she knew the one thing they both wanted more than anything. A hug. She guessed her need to touch and show love was that Spanish side of her, but for Ridley it was different. She wasn’t necessarily a touchy person, unless it was with Alexia. It seemed to be growing on her as a comfort, and so it was never a thing that the Spaniard shoved aside or refused.

Alexia walked right up to the Australian, her knees in between her own and leant over her completely as she put her clothes away. She felt Ridley chuckling into her chest as she did so, gently grasping the backs of her thighs as if to hold her there.

“Ready to go home?” Alexia mimicked from earlier, looking down at her.

Ridley held up Alexia’s car key. “I’ll drive.”

“9am sharp!” Ridley called out to the girls as she drove off.

Alexia reached out to play with her hair as Ridley pet Chiquito who was curled up in her lap.

“He missed you..” she murmured.

“I missed you both.”

“Will you need to go back soon?”

“The team will handle the clean up, Lex. There’s no talk of needing me back anytime soon.”

Alexia hummed happily at that until she spotted a gash with dried blood behind Ridley’s ear. She inspected it with her fingertips. Before she could speak, Ridley did.

“I wasn’t on the front line, Lex, I promise. Wombat got a little too carried away with the working out.” She said calmly, making Alexia chuckle at the image. Since the incident with Bashir, she’d promised to not go front line again unless it was absolutely necessary for her team, or others. “Besides, you already know this. I know you and Duce talk behind my back. What a rat.”

“I like her.”

“She’s just trying to stay in your good books. They’re still getting used to knowing a bit of my personal side.”

“A bit?”

She rolled her eyes. “The biggest part of my personal side.”

“I’m very likeable, you know.”

“Jesus, I’m back for thirty minutes and I’m already copping it.”

“Of course. Someone needs to remind you that not everything is about you.”

Ridley’s mouth dropped open slightly which amused Alexia to no end. She loved every time she surprised her. It was rare.

Before she could get her composure, Alexia reached over and closed her mouth for her.

Ridley’s jaw twitched in amusement and she shook her head. “You’re a pain, you are.”

“You wouldn’t like me so much if I were easy.” She shrugged. “And besides, I’m your pain.”

She hummed in agreement. “That you are. And just to be clear, I’m not surprised you two like each other.”

“It doesn’t bother you at all..?”

“Honestly? The opposite.” She pulled up in front of Ridley’s house which they now shared, and turned to her. Alexia fell into those dark eyes of hers gladly and tightened the hold she had on her thigh. “It doesn’t bother you that I talk to your family often?”

Although she’d been hesitant at first, Ridley had eventually slipped into the fold of the family. It was a bit impossible not to with them, especially after they’d bombarded her at Christmas. “The opposite.”

After they’d made up for a week apart, the pair had spent the rest of their day snacking by the pool. It had been incredible to have a longer pool for the rehab and recovery of her knee back to a solid form. Ever since, she’d made it a habit to do pool workouts a few times a week. Ridley usually watched, sitting and reading a book or playing with a guitar as she did so. She’d been interested and invested in her rehabilitation and everything that went into it.

Ridley was also getting used to being in a relationship. Allowing herself to love and be loved. The island had been a start, but Alexia had known that. She’d never complained, though. They’d always communicated their needs and fears, no matter how difficulty, and were growing together.

It meant a lot less independence, and more teamwork. Less decision and more compromise. This included Ridley adjusting to become more physical. Able to touch, instead of look respectfully from afar. This meant pushing aside that military side of her which needed her hands free. Learning to be the one to initiate contact. To get used to sleeping with that warmth and skin to skin contact.

It also meant that as Alexia sat at the shallow end of the pool, Ridley could come up behind her, dipping her legs into the cool water either side of the Spaniard and cradle her arms around her, stroking her arms with her fingertips, her neck with her mouth.

Both of them had been rather hesitant with it – the worry of falling too deep – though they’d both had a realisation on the night that Bashir had died as to just how far they were in it already. There was no safety net now. They were all in, together.

“It’s almost 4pm,” Ridley murmured in Catalan as her lips explored along her cheek.

Alexia didn’t answer, because she was more than happy right there instead. She kept her eyes closed, head tilted back as she enjoyed the feel of Ridley everywhere. She could feel herself getting wet, even in the water, and her nipples hardening almost to the point of pain.

“Alexia,” she said again, this time in a more warning tone. Her movements stopped and she covered her cold nipples with her palms. The warmth was glorious. “Your interview.. and I don’t like how cold you’re getting.”

She opened her eyes and realised that the sun had set so low that they were fully covered in shade.

Alexia finished with her interview after an hour and wandered through their large house, in search of Ridley. Although it was very comparable to the way it was when she’d first moved in, due to their similar tastes, it now held pieces of herself also. Jerseys and trophies and sentimental pieces here and there. It felt more like them together, rather than just one of them.

She checked by the pool, the office, her art studio, the library, their bedroom. She checked her bedside table for the passport she’d need the next day and found it exactly where she’d left it, with Ridley’s note tucked into it. Smiling, she put it back and turned to see Chiquito at the door. He must have been spending time with her, as he’d missed her the past week.

“Take me to her…”

Ever the intelligent cat, he turned and led Alexia to the last place she could be if she was still in the house.

There by herself in the darkened studio, was Ridley. Her headphones were around her neck, her hand resting on a keyboard and eyes closed as she listened to the track back, presumably checking a note or lyric. It sounded perfect to Alexia. Something she hadn’t heard before. If she had to describe it, it would be… obsession, and adoration.

Although it was dark, she could still see the silhouette of her face, the emotions written across it as it slightly changed with each part of the song.

Just before it ended, Ridley opened her eyes as if she knew she was there. Her lips tilted up at the confirmation and watched Alexia as she listened to the end of the song with her. From the look on her face, she didn’t even need to ask what the song was about.

It was hers.

YFN POV

YFN shook with nerves as her Lumos team introduced her to the stage. She looked at the clicker in her left hand and the notes in her other, pausing as she decided to leave the latter behind. She knew what she wanted to say.

She walked onto the stage accepting the applause as it rang through the crowd.

“Really good job up there.” She praised her team as they passed each other. They gave her proud smiles and “good lucks” as she took centre stage and stopped to take a breath.

She pressed the clicker and turned to see the new company logo once again adorning the screen.

“We here at Lumos began with so much drive and passion that we forgot to introduce ourselves. Tonight, we remedy that. Good evening, my name is YFN, and it’s my honour to be the first to introduce you to Lumos – the first women’s sports media titan.” She took another breath to steady her heart. “When we started twelve months ago, we had one goal: to change the narrative, to give women’s sports the recognition, respect and platform it deserves and tonight, I’m proud to say we’ve taken our first bold steps and accomplished what no one has before. Lumos is now the primary media outlet for women’s football, covering all the top leagues across the globe with plans to expand into all women’s sports in the future. This is just the beginning, but what a beginning it has been!”

She paused to hear that warm, encouraging applause filling the room. Her gaze briefly met Lucy’s proud look in the crowd which steadied her, as well as Alexia and Ridley’s. Ridley being proud of her meant more than she realised and she felt so supported, surrounded by the people she loved most.

“Tonight, we want to share our story with you – not just where we’ve been, but where we’re going. You’ll see the heart of Lumos – our culture, aspirations, and our commitment to innovation and inclusion. You’ll see our platforms, culture, charity and philanthropic initiatives. But for now, more than anything, you’ll see the power of collaboration. This moment, and everything leading up to it, would not have been possible without the extraordinary women who live and breathe the game. Female footballers, and their fans from around the world have trusted us with their stories, their triumphs, their challenges. Their voices have shaped what we are unveiling tonight, and their courage continues to inspire everything we do.”

She paused to look at Mark, his cheek twitching as he realised who she was referring to. She softened her tone as she continued at that heart of her message.

“Lumos is more than a media company. It’s a mission. And at the core of that mission is a promise to shine a light on every untold story, to give a platform to the overlooked, and to honour the dreams and passions of those who came before us. At the heart of Lumos stands a charity dedicated to the legacy of a young girl who shared the same passions and dreams as we do. Her legacy is our promise: to stand for hope, inclusion and possibility.”

She let the weight of her words linger as the room fell into a deeper silence. Then, with quiet strength, she began her conclusion.

“And to begin our journey, comes the launch of our book… a prequel of our life so far, if you will. It is a reflection of the journey we’ve all taken together. From the friendships, to the love stories, football, the headline-making incidents, footballers, and to the charity at the heart of us. This book is about believing in the power of possibility, about working for something greater than ourselves. We’re here because we believe women’s sports can inspire and unite the world because women too, deserve the spotlight.”

She pressed the clicker in her hand and saw the screen behind her reflecting on the crowd and it were as if the world slowed as they stood to cheer. She took as much of it in as she could, appreciating the moment and all of the hard work she’d put into making the moment what it was. Her eyes flickered over the people in the crowd from Lumos who had made it possible, over Kate and a still unsuspecting William as he clapped for a company he had no idea his wife had created. She looked over the footballers, Katie, Caitlin, Kyra, footballers from Arsenal, Barcelona, and such. Alexia and Ridley were sat at the front with proud smiles alongside Lucy who was clapping loudest of all. She chuckled lightly at that and tried to hold back her tears.

After she took it all in, she smiled and turned to the giant screen behind her which was illuminated with a simple title: Sunsets and Footballers by YFN Bronze.

[obsidiannebula]

How to Spot AI-Generated Reference Texts

This morning I celebrated a lovely Christmas with my family. My 3 year old was ecstatic, I made my brother tear up, it was a good time. But I received something that at first, seemed like the kind of thing I would very much like to own... until I started actually looking through it. I quickly realized that this book is unmistakably AI-generated slop and should not be used or trusted as an actual reference guide. Having not been written by an actual expert in the field or even compiled by an actual researcher citing sources and synthesizing information, these books are at best three hundred pages of reading the first couple of sentences of a search result for each topic, and at worst full of dangerous misinformation that can get people killed, as with the rise of AI-generated mushroom foraging books. These are in no way reliable reference guides for anything, but especially for anything with potential health risks like ingesting plants and their compounds.

So today I'm going to try and get some good use out of this book I now own by using it to demonstrate how to spot AI-generated scam books.

The first red flags jump out at us right from the cover. This is "The Home Apothecary Full Collection: Your In-Depth Holistic Guide with Natural Herbal Remedies for Long-Lasting Wellness and Optimal Health." Yeesh, what a mouthful. A soulless, artless mouthful, I must add. But hey, maybe this author is a very clinical or verbose type. Except a quick search for the author's name, Megan Morren, quickly makes it clear that this is not a real person. There is one bare-bones Facebook profile for a Megan Morren, and no social media beyond that. No LinkedIn or Pinterest or mentions in an article, nothing. Every other result shows her books: this one, and two others nearly identical to it, with slightly different names but the same "1500+ Remedies/Extra Content" claim in the same corner, utilizing the same fonts and each with a very similar AI-generated background.

That's right, we've got a pretty bog-standard AI-generated image for the cover of this book, showcasing a variety of vaguely herbal plants and jars as well as several nonsensical non-objects.

Okay, so the cover was definitely made by AI, but maybe this author is writing under a pseudonym and visually just not very creative. Let's open it up and took a look at...

Oooookay so that's how we're getting the "40 books in one" claim touted on the cover. What most people would call a chapter is here billed as an entire book, with each subtopic considered its own chapter. There's not more than two or three "chapters" per "book" and most of the chapters are only one or two pages long, which is some James Patterson-ass shit. At least if Patterson had written this book there'd be a little character to the narration and an attempt at wit, but as we'll soon see, the actual writing is... wanting, to say the least.

Obviously the first observation here is that formatting is for the BIRDS. No paragraph breaks or indents, and the paragraphs are all of roughly similar length. Furthermore, the writing reads like a copy/pasted Wikipedia page. Scratch that, I went ahead and typed "history of herbal healing" into a search engine and found the actual Wikipedia page for "History of herbalism," which actually does provide more detail on the topic as well as FIFTY-FOUR ACTUAL SOURCES and some recommended further reading, making it vastly superior to this slop. Because there's not a single source cited in this entire book, nor is there an author bio here or online that remotely suggests that the author might have some experience and expertise from which they are drawing to write or even fact-check this book.

On top of that, there is truly no authorial voice whatsoever. Even if you wanted to be very academic about it and avoid using first-person in your reference book, there should at least be some synthesizing of sources and information, expanding on the ideas presented and combining them to draw new conclusions or illustrate points. But everything here is incredibly surface-level, like someone copied the first sentence or three from the first Google result and stuck it there and then moved on to the next bullet point in the outline.

Seriously, this whole book is just page after page of walls of text. It's a nightmare to try to read if you have any sort of reading-impairing disorder like dyslexia or ADHD, and it's also just kind of ugly. And in a book supposedly about herbalism, there is not a single image or diagram. That's wild to me. There is nothing in here to aid with plant identification or demonstrate the tincturing or decocting processes or anything. I've never read an herbalism book without a single picture or diagram. Granted, I've only read a handful, but still, it seems very strange to me. And god did these endless blocks of text need SOMETHING to break them up.

Also these introductory paragraphs just scream "obligatory" to me. They're all a single paragraph of approximately the same length, providing a perfunctory and colorless overview of the subject matter. I mean, seriously? We're starting off "uplifting herbs for depression" with "Depression affects millions globally. It is characterized by x and y. While it is conventional treated with medication and therapy, there are also some herbs that can improve mood." It's so bland and robotic and uninformative. I think most fifth graders could write a better introductory paragraph, as long as we didn't penalize them for spelling or grammar.

I'd really like to get back to spending the holiday with family, so I'm going to leave it at that. It's just so frustrating to see books like this pushing legitimate texts written by real people with real expertise or at least personality out of bookshelves and searches, propagating useless or even dangerous information in place of sharing real knowledge and traditions. I had to rant a little bit and get it off my chest.I wish everyone a safe and happy holiday season, and all the best for 2025. Everyone, that is, except "Megan Morren." Whoever you really are, I hope you step on Legos every day for the rest of your life. It's the least you deserve for publishing trash like this.

[menteycorazoncito]

𝐇á𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐏𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐢 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐳á𝐥𝐞𝐳

ᥫ᭡: pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x reader

ᥫ᭡: warnings: angst to fluff, breakup, lmk if forgot smth

ᥫ᭡: a/n: I was listening to Tayc while writing and the idea to combine some lyrics in the fic came to me. Criticism and feedback are always welcome. Enjoy :)

navigation | request guidelines

It has been a few weeks since you had last seen Pedri, a few weeks since you have heard his voice, felt his warmth or laughed about his foolish jokes and humorous banter. It all used to seem insignificant, yet now, it was all you could think about. Still holding onto the faint memories for dear life.

Things had changed between you two. It was nothing dramatic. No big fight or disagreement, just a dull emptiness that replaced the connection you once had. You got too caught up in your own life and insecurities to even notice. So close, yet so out of reach.

Pedri laid wide awake in his bed, staring out the window at the beautiful Barcelona skyline, wondering when he got to the state he was in right now. Long sleepless hours, filled with thoughts and regrets that drove him crazy. He didn’t exactly know what he had done wrong. But there must have been an explanation as to why you left.

His phone on the bedside table mocked him with its silence. He grabbed it and for the umpteenth time that night his finger hovered over your contact, before setting it back down and sighing into the darkness of his empty bedroom. 

He missed you. The way your perfume lingered in his flat, even after you left reminded him of you, and it was killing him slowly inside. 

Pedri couldn’t get himself to call you; not in the state he was in. He desperately needed to see you.

You were sitting on the couch with a cup of tea, reading your book. Yet, you found yourself rereading the same page multiple times, unable to focus on the words. Your thoughts drifted to a certain Spanish brunette.

You jumped at the sound of doorbell ring. Who could it be at this hour? You asked yourself in denial because deep inside you knew who it might have been. 

“Pedro.” you said, his name stuck in your throat, as you opened the door.

He stood in the hallway of the building blankly staring at you, looking worse than ever. The shadows under his eyes more prominent than they already were, his hoodie wrinkled, and his hair messy. His posture reminded you of a lost puppy. It looked like he had cried, eyes red and puffy. Did he really let himself go like that? 

He stared as if you would disappear if even moved his eyes ever so little. You on the other hand tried to keep composure after seeing him.

“Can I come in?” he finally spoke.

“Why are you here?” you asked, desperate to know the reason for his visit at this hour. 

“We need to talk…” he said, his voice barely audible. “I deserve an explanation.”

Against your better judgement you opened the front door wider to let him into your flat. You stepped aside as he shuffled inside and sat on the sofa of your living room. 

You trailed behind him and for a moment there you didn’t believe the sight in front of you: Pedri, the man you love(d) sat in front of you in utter silence. His big doe eyes glazed with tears, reflecting a sadness that mirrored your own.

The room was silent, broken by the sound of Barcelona’s traffic outside. Both of you did not know what to say or do. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife, as you wondered how it has gotten this bad.

“What happened to us…” he finally asked.

You were silent, the words got caught in your throat. Truth is, you had imagined this moment endless times. Each scenario playing differently in your mind. Yet nothing could have ever prepared you for this encounter. 

“I though we were doing fine. All of a sudden it’s like we don't know each other. You gave up on us at the first hardship of our relationship. It’s like you never even fought for us, at least not like I did.” he said, his voice cracking. 

Utter silence. His words hung heavily in the air. Still you remained silent.

“Talk to me…” he urged. “Talk to me, even if it’s to insult me. Tell me that you hate me, just don’t ignore me”

Tears filled your eyes as you realised how much you actually hurt him. “I didn’t fight for you because I thought you’d be better off without me, Pedro” 

He flinched at the use of his full name, his fists clenched, nails digging into his palms.

“You think I would be better off without you?” he scoffed, his voice laced with sarcasm. “You are everything I have ever wanted. Do you know how much it killed me to hear nothing from you? I analysed every single move I have ever made in our relationship to see if I ever wronged you. It killed me to see the person I love slip away from me day by day. I did everything I could to at try and make you stay but I wake up one day, your things are gone, and I am blocked everywhere.” His sadness quickly turned into frustration. 

You blinked emptily at him. His words hit you like a tidal wave and for the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to crack.

“I- I thought I was protecting you. All the pressure, the media, the traveling. You were away half the time, and I didn't know how to deal with it. It was never my intention to hurt you. I thought letting you go would be what’s best of us, before any of us get attached. No matter how much it hurt me. I was so selfish that I ended up hurting you too in the process. Plus, it was too late when I came back to my senses. The damage was already done, and I don’t know how to fix it,” You confessed, your voice quiet and high pitched. Pedri wouldn’t have heard you if you weren’t sitting so close to each other.

“So that’s it? After everything, you’re just giving up” He was growing more frustrated by the minute

“I never felt enough for you. You are this amazing footballer that all girls dream of, and I am- I am just… me. Plain me.”

The walls you had built came down, showing how fragile you were in reality. Ashamed of your vulnerability, you looked away, finding a sudden interest in the bookshelf of your living room as the realisation hit you like a thousand bricks.

You had ruined everything. You lost everything to your own insecurities. 

“Mira cariño, I didn’t come to fight,”  he reassured you softly, his gaze softened at the sight of the tears glistening in your eyes. “You were enough. You always were. I came here because I really miss you. This emptiness is killing me.” 

He scooted closer to you, taking your hand in his, looking at you with a look of sympathy. The same look he had always given you when you were upset. As you allowed the tears to finally fall, he gave your hand a squeeze. 

“I miss you too.” your voice cracked in between the sobs. “I miss us.”

He cupped your cheek, forcing you to look at him, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to get lost in his eyes that make you fall in love over again. 

“We can fix this, mi amor, you just need to want it too.” he reassured you, getting his own hopes up.

You nodded, not knowing what else to do. As he pulled you into a hug you began to sob even more (if that was even possible). How missed him. The scent of his woody cologne filling you with nostalgia of what you had, the way his arms wrapped around you, the way he made everything into a joke. You put your head on his chest as he put his chin on your head whispering sweet nothing to you. The sound of his heartbeat calmed your sobs a bit and for the first time in weeks you felt a little bit of relief.

“I want you back,” you admitted through tears. “No matter how much I tried to move on and live without you, but I found myself hanging onto every single things that reminds me of you. I can’t sleep without you here, the bed feels too big and the flat feels quiet. I can’t live without you, Pedrito.” 

The two of you spent what was left of the evening, silently in each others arms. Pedri occasionally pressed kisses to your head and hands like he always used to do. And for the first time in what felt like forever, a sense of peace and a flicker of hope warmed your cold heart. 

“Estoy aquí para ti, siempre” he whispered reassuringly in your hair before you two drifted into a deep sleep.

Maybe, just maybe, this time you would get it right.

[hyperpotamianarch]

Hello. Today, I'd like to make some random anecdotes about Rabbi Avraham Ibn Ezra - poet, commentator, linguist, mathmatician, probably not too bad at chess and cursed to be poor for the entirety of his life.

After a cursory look at his wikipedia page, I must admit I didn't really know much about his life: only that he was born and raised in Spain, went travelling, had terrible luck with everything, wrote his commentaries on the Torah for money (which I think didn't help with the "cursed to be poor" thing), befriended Rabbenu Tam in France, possibly married the daughter of Rabbi Yehudah HaLevi and promptly died... somewhere... oh, and also wrote lots of poetry in the middle.

Historically speaking, he lived at the end of the Golden Age of Judaism in Spain, around the 11th-12th centuries CE. This puts him right after Rashi - which allows him to snark at everything he thinks Rashi was wrong about, but before Rambam - which means he doesn't get to snark at everything Rambam got wrong. His commentary on the Torah leans a little towards the linguistic side, though he has a couple of other things going on as well, like roasting people he disagrees with (Ben Zuta is the only friend a bull has, anyone?) and dancing around verses he thinks were added later to the Torah, like every time it says "to this very day".

He also wrote one of the first math books in Hebrew - Sefer HaMispar, he wrote a poem about chess, one about how whatever he'll work at he won't get enough money. And generally, he wrote poems. Quite a lot.

I suppose at this point I should mention something: Hebrew linguists were, at the middle ages, predominantly Sepharadi. I mean, sure, there could be a non-Jewish Hebrew linguist, but for some reason I don't hear much about those. And there probably were Ashkenazi linguists, but there weren't many of them. Rashi does deal with linguistics - but half the time he does, it's using the books of two famous Sepharadi linguists. The Sepharadim, living in Muslim lands as they were, simply had a better background with learning Hebrew, since they were surrounded by speakers of a closely related language - Arabic. And Ibn Ezra's deep understanding of Hebrew led to him loving linguistic riddles, which I can never figure out - and I was reading an eddition with footnotes! Though maybe I didn't make enough effort or something.

But no, the reason I wanted to talk about Ibn Ezra was the impossible standards for poetry, as set by Sepharadi poets. You see, Jews were always influenced by their surroundings, in multiple facets. and poetry is definitely one of them. So, the influence from Arab poets includes strict rules for rhythm and - and this is what I actually wanted to talk about - rhyming.

The rythm thing is bad enough. Only once in my life have I tried keeping up with that. It was very, very hard. It's probably because I'm not used to this, but no song I write can keep a consistent rhythm and meter, and that's without trying to apply the standard Sepharadic rules. So trying to have such a strict meter... didn't work well for me. I guess I'm the frenchman from

וּמִי הֵבִיא לְצָרְפַתִּי בְּבֵית שִׁיר,

וְעָבַר זָר מְקוֹם קֹדֶשׁ וְרָמָס;

וְלוּ שִׁיר יַעֲקֹב יִמְתַּק כְּמוֹ מָן,

אֲנִי שֶׁמֶשׁ, וְחַם שִׁמְשִׁי וְנָמָס.

which was actually written about Rabenu Tam, but I'm a distant relative of his so this might still be applicable. Besides, as far as you know my name is Ya'akov, just like Rabenu Tam! (Sorry for not providing a translation, the gist is "how dare a frenchman trample all over poetry?!")

But rhymes. Oh, the Ibn Ezraic rhyming standards.

According to Ibn Ezra, one must always rhyme with the entire syllable. So no, just the last sound isn't enough. In Ibn Ezra's book, rhyme and dime don't actually rhyme - though I don't think he'd care about English at all. For the Ibn Ezra, shor and ḥamor can't be rhymed with each other; shor can rhyme with Mishor, and ḥamor can rhyme with har hamor, but you can't rhyme any other pair of those with each other. And I can't stay up to this challenge. It's nearly always impossible for me to find proper words to rhyme even without the extra demand for the rhyme to be the entire syllable. With English I don't think I even bothered or ever will. You have too many weird syllables for me. But with Hebrew... I do try with Hebrew, really. But I can't keep this up. And the most frustrating thing? It doesn't appear other Ashkenazi writers had this problem.

Now we get to the interesting part. I have been trying lately a new possible format for my very-anticipated-and-definitely-not-only-I-want-it Jewsade fanfic: introduction, preface and Haskamot to books. I just really enjoy reading prefaces for books, and one of my recent favourite pieces of writing is the conclusion piece of the Vilna edition of the Babylonian Talmud. If you're interested - it can be found in most editions of the Talmud at the very end of Masechet Nidah. The piece describes the trouble they went through to publish this edition of the Talmud and it's very interesting. Another favourite piece of mine is the preface of the Levush, a slightly obscure Halachic book from the time of the Shulchan Aruch. If you've ever seen me talk about the race to Halacha - this is my source for that, because the poor author was upstaged about three to four times by other people doing exactly what he planned on doing. I highly recommend this piece as well, though I don't know how easy it is to find. And the Levush - Rabbi Mordechai Yeffe - is a nice Ashkenazi guy. So he must be more lenient with his rhymes, right?

Well, I guess I didn't establish that part. Yes, the preface to the Levush starts with a poem. It's fun. It's great. It's also up to the Ibn Ezraic standard, while my attempt to write an equivalent is... not.

Huh. This post is oddly rambly. Ah well, maybe someone will like it. Anyway, the preface portion that really takes the cake is actually one from a fairly recent obscure book - like, this one was written barely a century ago. I only found it because one of my favourite singers, Aharon Razel, made a song out of it, but the song doesn't really capture the hilarity of the piece. Do ask me if you want to hear more, this one's great.

Signing off with a "darn you, Ibn Ezra! Why must you set such high standards!"

[deanmarywinchester]

best sf/f/horror I read in 2024

hello esteemed colleagues. here’s stuff I read in 2024 that I liked, in no particular order outside of the ranking tiers. find previous years of this reclist here

top 5

the bright sword by lev grossman: “lev grossman wrote a shockingly melancholy, hopeful, and expansive novel that hurts a little to read, about a young man who dreams of the age of heroes but finds that that age is over” and other unsurprising statements. this one is a take on Arthurian legend that happens after Arthur is dead, and is really interesting to me for how it portrays England as abandoned once by Rome’s great architects and then once more by the magic of Arthur’s court. with the age of legends twice dead, can anyone bring it back for real or can they only try to make it RETVRN?

the traitor baru cormorant + sequels by seth dickinson: there was a version of this post, before I went back and checked my list of what I read this year, where the top 5 was only Seth Dickinson books. these books are about how far you’ll descend into evil (ie how many war crimes you’ll commit as an imperial operative) to save your colonized home. they’re all good but the first one goes CRAZY. the author was a police bias researcher and it shows. portrays lesbian desire really really well. “hard fantasy” isn’t REALLY a thing but it’s this, they’re barely fantasy and more political drama

exordia by seth dickinson also: what if a reality-warping anomaly was hotly pursued by the US military while they were hotly pursued by aliens with planet-killing power? what if you got your whole village killed as a child and now you’re in a romcom with an alien? the Acknowledgements say, nearly word for word, “i wrote this between Barus for fun because those really take it out of me. anyway I’d like to thank the researchers who helped me with astrophysics, nuclear weapon functions, Kurdish feminism and history, and translation into five languages.” read if you like meticulously researched thrillers, Annihilation, and Challengers situations.

everything for everyone by eman adelhadi and m. e. o’brien: told with a framing device whereby the authors mention their own experiences with activism and revolution after the 2020s and compile an oral history of the future anarchist New York Commune, each chapter of this book is an interview with someone about a different aspect of how they contributed to revolution and setting up a new society. my gripe with this book is that I wish it talked more about problems that will still (or newly) exist in utopia, but I still loved it.

we have always lived in the castle by shirley jackson: I finished this book and immediately went to that blog that was running the literary incest tournament earlier this year because I was certain that Merricat and Constance had placed and lo and behold they had. those gothic themes are gothic themeing. read if you want jackson’s theme of small-town distrust and paranoia and isolation taken to the extreme

honorable mentions

the raven tower by ann leckie: what I love about ann leckie is her ability to write non-human protagonists without sci-fi jargon and with totally alien concerns and viewpoints that you can nonetheless buy into. this protagonist is a rock living on a hill that is a local god. read if you like folktales, loners, and twist endings.

the sapling cage by margaret killjoy: even though this is middle grade, all you had to say to me was “Margaret From Podcasts does transfem anarchist Song of the Lioness” and I was in. in a medieval fantasy world without a concept of transness, a trans girl swaps places with her friend so her friend can become a knight and she can become a witch and discover who is leaching the life from the forests for their own gain. the witch politics/interpersonal drama is done with the eye of someone who’s lived in communes most of her life and the way it straddles lingering love of knight tales and distrust of armed people with the legal right to kill you is refreshing

do you dream of terra two by temi oh: the most elite graduates of a cutthroat boarding school are selected for a mission to explore a potentially habitable planet in this character-driven meditation on what it takes to believe in something you can’t see and may have to give up your whole life for

monstrilio: a piece of flesh from a woman’s dead son grows into a person of its own, initially shaped like a monster but molded by his parents into a more-or-less normal-looking young man with a taste for human flesh. cringe moment but this is what Jack Supernatural could have been. to me. litfic with themes of monstrousness/normality, grief, and the various meanings of consuming flesh.

long live evil by sarah rees brennan: listen I know how it sounds but I’m putting this book so high up this list because I had a blast. a teenage cancer patient gets isekai’d into a book series that her sister loves but that she only half remembers, and has to use her vague memory of the plot to avoid execution long enough to obtain a magic item that’ll cure her in the real world. it has something to say about how it feels to live in a body that’s healthy after being desperately sick but it’s also just catnip for your inner teen fangirl daydreaming about getting your first kiss from a tortured prince

the terraformers by annalee newitz: in three different stories of people at different times in the planet’s political development, the story of a privately-owned planet terraformed to be habitable is told. this is for you if you like future politics about privatization and the rights of non-human persons a la Murderbot

silver under nightfall by rin chupeco: this book was selected for me by my friend and favorite bookseller @literally-irreverent because i like romance IN things but I don’t usually like when romance is the whole plot. anyway this is about solving a dangerous strain of vampirism while having a vampire/vampire/vampire-hunter romance that is. mwah. chef’s kiss. read if you like politically disastrous polyamory and The Witcher

the adventures of amina al-sirafi by s. a. chakraborty: i read the daevabad trilogy and I liked it but didn’t love it, but I liked this book a lot. mostly I think it’s really fun to have a seagoing adventurer who’s a mom, and it was done with a lot of care for her perspective.

runners up

to shape a dragon’s breath by monquill blackgoose: in an alternate history New England, an indigenous teenager finds a dragon egg and must become the first non-European to attend a school for dragon riders near her island. YA with prose that skews young and easy to read but with a good story. themes of colonialism and resistance.

things have gotten worse since we last spoke by eric larocca: I don’t love larocca’s prose but I felt like this book succeeded because it’s written in internet dialogue + therefore hid larocca’s tendency to get purple prose with it. horror about the quick rabbithole that is getting socialized/groomed mostly online.

the lion will slaughter the lamb & the barrow will send what it may by margaret killjoy: novellas where a group of wandering punk-house dwellers find out what’s raising supernatural horrors and how to stop them from killing again

running close to the wind by alex rowland: this felt like an attempt to bottle the Our Flag-type chaos and comedy pirate romance vibes without feeling like straight-up fanfiction. a pathetic meow meow of an ex-intelligence agent tries to sell state secrets without getting caught aboard his ex’s ship, while the two of them bet on who can break a hot monk’s vow of chastity first

the gone world by tom sweterlitch: this felt like christopher nolan writing a detective novel, as government agents travel to parallel realities to solve a murder

autonomous by annalee newitz: in a future society, this follows a scientist on the run from the governments and pharma companies that are out to get her for her work to make patented medications available on the black market, as she tries to fix a mistake she made in making an addictive treatment available to the public. this book is broadly about intellectual property and about the concept of property at all

the deep sky by yume kitasei: weirdly this book is a very different take on the same concept as another book on this list, do you dream of terra-two, where graduates of an elite school are sent on a generation ship to start a new colony. the twist is that all the characters are expected to bear two children to carry on the generation ship, which leads to some wild mostly-unexplored gender dynamics. this one is much more sci-fi/mystery to Terra-Two’s character-driven drama.

the atlas six by olivie blake: well-written dark-academia thriller that is obvious booktok fodder. with the vibes of the mortal instruments (everyone is so hot and powerful and tortured!) meets the secret history, a group of young magicians is recruited to learn the secrets of the library of alexandria

Ursula, kill this clown: dishonorable mentions

I don’t have enough dishonorable mentions for their own post this year but HOLY FUCK. THE FIVE BOOKS OF ROBERT MOSES. this book is FOURTEEN hundred pages of absolute dogshit that I should have DNFed but I liked the concept so much that I wanted to find something to like in the execution. Nope! the pitch is “a dirty bomb turns NYC into a wasteland and the city is picked up and moved wholesale, with the maps of the five boroughs remaining more or less the same, into a Nevada desert refugee camp guarded by the army, and a major character is Robert Moses’ disaffected younger brother.” on a petty level, this is the New Yorkiest pitch possible for someone who absolutely doesn’t give a shit about developing the new desert New York with any interest or fidelity. on an unpetty level, this is a slop “political” “thriller” that doesn’t develop a strong political perspective and moves at a sloth pace. skip.

[worldly-fluster]

WARNING: ANGST

Talk of wanting to commit unalive.

You have been warned.

The LADS boys when...they find your 'Diary'

--Zayne-- Part 3 of 4

This is gonna be...fun lol

Zayne-

•He knew, somewhat, of what happened. In the time that he was gone, he knew something happened.

•Before he left, when you were younger kids, you were so...bratty. He may have looked like he hated it but he just couldn't get enough of you, as you were.

•He left in order to learn more, to help your heart.

•But when he was finally able to come back, when he saw you again...it was like whiplash.

•You were so quiet. So...withdrawn.

•This won't do.

•He knew you didn't speak about your family anymore. He didn't pry, they were full of themselves before he left, probably nothing changed with them so he saw no point in worrying.

•So he worked, even more, to get you to come back. His little bratty childhood friend.

•He succeeded after a while. You were confident again, acting like the kid you were a long time ago but...more mature this time.

•Though he may not like that your job puts you in harms way, but he couldn't force you to stop something that made you happy.

•He saw your eyes gleam when you saved lives. He couldn't, wouldn't ever even try to take that away from you.

•Today was no different.

•You just successfully defeated one of the most powerful Wanderers the association has seen in a while, yeah there were casualties but there were more survivors than wounded. Thanks to your quick thinking.

•He took you out to celebrate, after checking you were unharmed.

•You both went to an old restaurant that you used to go to as kids, he wanted to see you happy with memories.

•What he didn't expect was to run into your Mother and...some random man?

•You all stared at each other for a few seconds before Zayne stepped between you and smiled, stiffly.

•"Oh Hi Zayne, it's been a while. How are things?"

•While Zayne talked with your mother, he figured out a few things.

•Your parents got divorced, and your mother is... a complete narcissist.

•She married another narcissist, perfect for each other.

•The whole conversation took a turn however when they asked what you did for a living...

•When told, your Mother frowned.

•"So you were one of the people who failed so save those innocent lives lost?" "No wonder they died. Maybe you should have tried harder."

•When you told her that you got hurt trying your best, she frowned deeper.

•"Still, if I were you I would have tried harder and if that wasn't enough I would have sacrificed myself. I wouldn't be able to live with myself, like you, because I have a soul."

•Upon hearing this, Zayne understood more of why you stopped being around your mother.

•Zayne quickly came up with a work emergency, saying that he was your ride and you left most of your things in his car so he'll take you with him.

•He took your hand gently, paid the bill, and led you away to his car.

•He could feel icy hot anger creeping up his back, he knew if he heard anymore he would accidentally use his evol.

•He loved you since the beginning. He couldn't stand hearing that and knowing that you used to believe that... hopefully you don't anymore, not if he can help it.

•He drove you home and both of you decided to stay inside to read a few books you have yet to read.

•When you got home, you immediately went to take a shower, to get your thoughts together, while Zayne looked through the surprisingly large selection of books.

•While searching, he saw one of your old notebooks that he would see you write in sometimes. He's asked about it and you told him he could read it at a later date.

•He figured now was the later date, so he picked it up to read.

•Only a few pages on and he realized what you ment by 'later'.

•This notebook is the equivalent to writing a Will...and he didn't like how you were 'talking' about your death coming sooner or later whether it be by natural causes or your own hand...he definitely didn't like that part.

•He kept reading, thinking that maybe he should have convinced you to therapy, but he saw something about how you have been to too many therapists and you're sick of it, so he decided not to worry about it quite yet.

•He got to the last entry, which seemed pretty recent, when he heard your shower stop so he immediately snapped the book shut and put it back where he found it, picking up a random book next to it. Something called 'Forgiving what you can't forget', he doesn't know where you got this one nor does it look like something you would buy yourself.

•The entire time you all were reading together, he kept glancing from his book to you and the notebook.

•He decided he was definitely going to make sure that nothing in that book will come to fruition. If it's the last thing he does.

**I'm working on Rafayel's as we speak lol the last one, and imma try and make that one extra angsty cause I'm realizing most of you are Rafayel girlies 😘**

[niallerspayno]

About Last Night - Part 3

Masterlist

You and Louis continue to navigate your pregnancy and relationship together.

Tags: Louis x reader, a lot more fluff, smutty smut too

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

…

The morning is unbearable. It’s not the nausea or fatigue this time, but something far more insidious. You’re hot, your skin tingling, and it seems like everything the boys do only makes it worse.

Louis lounges on the couch in the green room, his t-shirt riding up slightly as he scrolls through his phone. You can’t help but notice the way his muscles shift beneath the fabric, the curve of his shoulders—God, how do you never notice these things?

Harry sits nearby, running a hand through his damp curls, fresh from the shower. You catch the glint of water droplets clinging to his neck, and your stomach flips in a way it shouldn’t. Niall is eating an apple, his jaw working in a way that you definitely don’t need to pay attention to.

Meanwhile, Liam stretches his arms above his head, his t-shirt tightening across his chest, and Zayn just stands there with his quiet, composed presence that somehow still draws your gaze.

Shit. You’re a walking hormonal disaster.

You sit stiffly on the armchair, gripping a book as though it’s your last defense, though you haven’t turned a page in the last ten minutes. Every little movement or sound seems to draw your attention: Louis laughing softly, Niall humming a tune, Harry leaning back with that lazy, confident smile.

You try to focus, but everything feels so... different.

“Y/N?” Louis’s voice pulls you back to reality, and you blink at him in confusion.

“What?” you say, a bit too sharply.

He raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement. “You okay? You look… distracted.”

“Fine,” you reply quickly, burying your face in your book, but you can feel his eyes on you, and it only makes everything worse.

“Sure, she’s fine,” Niall says, his voice full of teasing skepticism. “Look at her, gripping that book like it’s her last defense.”

You glare at him. “Shut up, Niall.”

“Someone’s snappy,” Harry says, smirking as he leans forward. “What’s got you so worked up?”

You groan internally, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Nothing’s got me worked up.”

“Sure,” Zayn adds with a knowing look, his sharp gaze catching yours. “You’re red as a tomato, love.”

“I’m not!” you snap, but your protest only makes them all chuckle.

Louis tilts his head, studying you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “She’s definitely flustered. Wonder why…”

“Maybe it’s the hormones?” Liam offers, shrugging. “I read that they can make you… you know, extra emotional. Or, uh… other things.”

That’s when it hits the rest of them, and you can see the realization dawn on their faces.

“Ohhhh,” Niall says, drawing out the word with a mischievous grin. “So that’s what’s going on.”

“It’s not,” you lie quickly, your voice high-pitched and unconvincing.

Harry laughs, leaning back in his chair. “It totally is. You’ve been eyeing us all morning, haven’t you?”

You freeze, looking between the boys, all smirking now. “I have not!”

Louis raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Even me, love?”

“Especially you!” Niall chimes in, earning a sharp glare from you.

“You’ve been checking us all out, huh?” Zayn adds, crossing his arms with a knowing, amused look.

You feel the heat in your cheeks turn up several notches. “I’m not—”

“Don’t worry, love,” Niall says, a wink in his voice. “We’re all here for you.”

“You are?” you snap, trying to sound exasperated, but even you can hear the breathiness in your voice.

Louis leans forward, his smirk replaced by something softer. “I mean, if you need help with anything... you know, I’m happy to step in.”

Your heart skips, but you roll your eyes, trying to keep your cool. “Oh yeah? You think you’re gonna help me out, Lou?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice suddenly low, teasing. “I think I can help you out.”

“You guys are impossible,” you mutter, standing abruptly to make your exit.

But before you can reach the door, Louis is right behind you, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulls you back toward him. “Hey, I’m serious,” he says quietly, his smirk now replaced with something genuine, something soft. “If you need anything, I’ve got you. Anything at all.”

You can’t help it. The moment Louis pulls you closer, the warmth of his body against yours, his breath against your skin—it all feels too much, but in the best way possible. Your body hums with anticipation, your nerves buzzing with an energy that you can’t seem to shake.

Louis smiles down at you, his hands resting lightly on your hips, the touch warm and comforting but undeniably charged. He knows, as much as you do, where this is heading.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his voice husky, his thumb stroking along your lower back in slow, soothing circles.

You nod, biting your lip, trying to suppress the growing tension between you. “I’m fine. Just... been thinking about this all day.”

His eyes darken slightly, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What, me?”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice.”

“I definitely noticed,” he grins, then leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’ve been looking at me all day like you wanna pounce.”

You shiver at the low tone of his voice, feeling the heat pool in your stomach. “Well, I’m not gonna wait any longer.”

Before you can even think about what you’re doing, you grab his hand, tugging him toward the hallway that leads to the more private part of the venue, away from prying eyes. The adrenaline and heat coursing through your veins make you bold.

Louis follows you, a smile playing on his lips, but there's something in his eyes—something that makes your heart beat faster, the anticipation almost unbearable. “You sure about this?”

You stop in the hallway, pressing your back against the cool wall, your breath coming faster. “I need this. I need you.”

It’s heated, messy, and full of pent-up desire. His hands slip around your waist, lifting you off the ground as you wrap your legs around him, the two of you moving instinctively toward the nearest private space.

When you reach a small, unused room, Louis kicks the door shut behind you with his foot, his hands already tugging at your clothes. You don’t stop him. You’re desperate for him, for the closeness, for the way your bodies mesh together like it was always meant to be this way.

His hands roam your body, firm but reverent, sliding over your waist, your hips, your thighs. You’re already tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin against yours. He lets out a low groan as you manage to pull it over his head, and the sight of his bare chest makes your pulse race.

“God, I need you,” he mutters, his voice rough as he presses you back against the wall, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a blazing path in their wake.

“Then take me,” you breathe, your fingers tangling in his hair as your back arches instinctively, your body pressing closer to his.

Louis lets out a low, needy sound, his hands sliding under your shirt to lift it over your head. He pauses for a second, his eyes roaming over you, dark with desire. “You’re stunning,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, and the sincerity in his tone sends a rush of warmth through you.

You don’t have time to respond before he’s kissing you again, his hands fumbling to remove the rest of your clothes as yours do the same to his. The cool air against your skin is nothing compared to the heat radiating between you, and when his hands grip your thighs, lifting you, you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist.

The hard press of the door against your back contrasts with the softness of his lips, the roughness of his hands as he holds you steady. He pauses for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you panting as the tension between you reaches its peak.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice husky but laced with concern.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling but certain. “Please, Louis.”

That’s all it takes. He shifts, his hands guiding you into position, and then he’s pushing into you with a slow, deliberate movement that makes you gasp.

The sensation is overwhelming, the feeling of him filling you completely, his body fitting perfectly with yours. He stays still for a moment, his hands gripping your hips as he presses his forehead against yours.

“God, you feel amazing,” he groans, his voice strained as he starts to move, his hips rocking against yours in a rhythm that has you clinging to him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

The pace is unhurried at first, almost teasing, but it doesn’t take long for the desperation to take over. The rhythm becomes faster, more urgent, your bodies moving together as if they were made for this.

The room is filled with the sound of heavy breaths, muffled moans, and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Your hands find his hair, tugging gently as your head falls back, a gasp escaping your lips as he hits just the right spot.

“Louis,” you whimper, your voice shaky as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable level.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of affection as he grips you tighter, his movements becoming even more precise, more deliberate.

You can feel the tension coiling in your stomach, the heat spreading through your body as you approach the edge. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, and when you finally tip over, the pleasure crashes over you in waves, leaving you trembling in his arms.

Louis isn’t far behind, his movements becoming erratic as he groans your name, his body shuddering against yours as he finds his release. He holds you tightly, his face buried in your neck, both of you catching your breath as the aftershocks ripple through you.

For a moment, the only sound is your breathing, the quiet intimacy of the moment sinking in as he gently lowers you to your feet. His hands stay on your waist, steadying you, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter now, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you rest your forehead against his. “Better than okay.”

He grins, that familiar mischief returning to his expression. “Good, because I don’t think I’m done with you just yet.”

You laugh, swatting at his chest, but the warmth in his gaze and the way he’s still holding you like you’re the most important thing in the world—it’s enough to make your heart feel like it’s going to burst.

...

You and Louis sneak back into the green room, trying your best to look composed, but the slight flush in your cheeks and the way Louis’ hand lingers on the small of your back make it impossible to hide what just happened.

Niall is the first to notice. He’s sprawled across one of the couches, scrolling on his phone, but his eyes flick up as you walk in. His lips immediately twitch into a knowing smirk. “Well, don’t you two look... refreshed.”

Louis scoffs, but his grin gives him away. “We’re just fine, thanks.”

“Sure, mate,” Harry pipes up from the other side of the room, his legs draped over an armchair. “You’ve got that smug post-shag glow. It’s practically blinding.”

Your face burns, and you swat at Louis’ chest. “Couldn’t you have waited until we were far, far away from them?” you mutter under your breath.

Louis only shrugs, his arm slipping around your waist. “What can I say? You were irresistible.”

Zayn glances up from where he’s fiddling with a guitar pick, his brow raised. “You two do realize we all know, yeah? You’re not exactly subtle.”

Liam clears his throat, leaning forward from his spot near the mini-fridge. “Honestly, I think we’d all appreciate a bit more subtlety. This is a shared space.”

The teasing is relentless, and despite your best efforts, you can’t stop the embarrassed laugh that escapes you. “Okay, okay! We get it. You’ve all made your point.”

“Just one more thing,” Harry adds, his grin downright wicked. “You might wanna check your hair, love. It’s a bit... tousled.”

You groan, running a hand over your head while Louis glares playfully at Harry. “Oi, leave her alone,” he says, tugging you closer. “She’s already been through enough dealing with you lot.”

“Dealing with us?” Niall scoffs, feigning offense. “Pretty sure she’s got her hands full dealing with you.”

The room erupts in laughter, and you can’t help but join in, despite your embarrassment. Louis presses a kiss to your temple, whispering, “Don’t worry, love. They’re just jealous.”

You glance up at him, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “If this is what jealousy looks like, I think I’ll survive.”

The playful banter continues as you and Louis settle onto one of the couches, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. For all the teasing, there’s an undeniable warmth in the way the boys interact with you both—a silent show of acceptance and affection.

And for a moment, in the midst of their laughter and your quiet contentment, everything feels perfectly right.

...

You’re sitting on one of the speaker cases at the edge of the stage, sipping on a bottle of water and watching the boys rehearse. The soundcheck is in full swing, and Louis is front and center, mic in hand, as he belts out the final chorus of one of their songs. His voice is strong and warm, and you can’t help but smile.

It’s been a good day so far. You’ve felt more energized than usual, and being back on stage—even if you’re just sitting there—makes you feel like part of the band again.

Then it happens.

A strange, fluttering sensation low in your belly. It’s soft at first, almost like bubbles or a gentle nudge from the inside. You freeze, your hand instinctively pressing against your bump. The sensation comes again, a little stronger this time, and your breath catches.

The baby.

The baby just kicked.

“Everything alright over there, love?” Louis calls, noticing the stunned look on your face. He’s stopped singing now, the rest of the boys turning to look at you with concern.

You blink, a smile slowly spreading across your face as you wave them off. “I’m fine!”

But Louis isn’t convinced. He hops off the stage, jogging over to you with the mic still in hand. “What’s going on?” he asks, his voice laced with worry.

You grab his hand and place it on your belly without a word. For a moment, nothing happens. His brow furrows, and he opens his mouth to say something, but then—there it is.

The baby kicks again, this time against Louis’ hand.

His eyes widen, his jaw dropping as he stares at you. “Was that…?”

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes. “Yeah. That was him.”

Louis lets out a breathy laugh, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. “He kicked. He actually kicked!”

“Wait, what?” Niall’s voice cuts through, and suddenly all the boys are rushing over, crowding around you with wide eyes and eager grins.

“Did the baby just kick?” Harry asks, practically bouncing on his heels.

“Yes, but one at a time!” you laugh, overwhelmed by their excitement.

“Lemme feel!” Niall says, reaching out before Louis swats his hand away.

“Oi, back off!” Louis says with a smirk, still keeping his hand firmly on your belly. “This is my moment.”

“Don’t be selfish, mate,” Zayn jokes, nudging Louis with his shoulder.

Liam kneels next to you, his voice soft. “How did it feel?”

“Like a little flutter at first,” you explain, still smiling through your tears. “Then it got stronger. It’s the weirdest and most amazing thing.”

Louis leans down, his face inches from your bump now. “Hey, little man. That was a good kick. You’re gonna be a footballer like your dad, huh?”

“Or a dancer!” Niall suggests, earning a laugh from the group.

The boys are all talking over each other now, making jokes and suggestions for the baby’s future, but you’re only focused on Louis. He’s still crouched in front of you, his hand on your bump and the softest smile you’ve ever seen on his face.

He looks up at you, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “I can’t believe we made him.”

Your throat tightens, and you nod, brushing a tear off your cheek. “Me neither.”

In that moment, with the sound of the boys’ laughter and the warmth of Louis’ hand on your belly, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

…

The tour bus hums steadily beneath your feet, the low vibration doing nothing to ease the persistent ache in your lower back. You shift in your seat at the small dining table, propping a pillow behind you in an attempt to get comfortable. But at 22 weeks pregnant, it doesn’t help.

“Ugh, this sucks,” you mutter, pushing the pillow onto the floor in frustration. “I swear this baby is doing gymnastics in there.”

Louis looks up from his phone, his brows furrowing in concern. “You alright, love?”

“No, Louis, I’m not alright,” you snap, immediately feeling guilty but too irritable to rein it in. “I’m sore, I’m tired, I feel like a whale, and this bloody bus is making me dizzy. Can we just get off already?”

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he gets up and crosses to your side, sliding onto the bench next to you. “Hey, hey,” he says softly, his hand finding your knee. “Take a deep breath, yeah? We’ll sort it.”

You roll your eyes. “You keep saying that, but unless you’ve got a magic wand hidden somewhere, I doubt it.”

“You never know,” he quips, trying to coax a smile from you. “I might surprise you.”

Across the bus, Niall looks up from his guitar, his expression cautious. “Did you eat this morning? Could be why you’re feeling dizzy.”

You glare at him, though it’s half-hearted. “I tried, okay? Nothing sounded good. And when I did eat, I felt like I was going to puke.”

“Right,” Louis interjects, standing abruptly and tugging you to your feet. “That’s it. We’re handling this now.”

“Louis, what are you doing?” you demand, but he’s already steering you toward the back lounge where Liam, Harry, and Zayn are sprawled out.

“She’s feeling like crap,” Louis announces as he marches you inside, ignoring your protests. “We’re fixing it. Ideas?”

Liam sits up straighter, his brows knitting. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you snap before immediately contradicting yourself. “No, I’m not fine. Everything hurts, and I’m sick of being treated like I’m breakable.”

“Whoa, okay,” Zayn says, holding up his hands in surrender. “Nobody’s saying you’re breakable.”

“Really? Because all of you have been acting like I can’t handle anything lately!” you retort, crossing your arms.

Harry exchanges a look with Liam, then stands up. “Alright, how about this: I’ll make you some tea. Ginger or mint might help with the queasiness.”

“Tea isn’t going to fix everything,” you mutter, though your tone softens slightly.

“Maybe not, but it’s a start,” Harry replies, his voice calm.

“Foot rub,” Zayn suggests, leaning back lazily but giving you a small smile. “That’s my go-to for stress. Works wonders.”

Liam nods. “Or some light stretches. I can guide you through a few if you’re up for it.”

Louis cuts them all off with a wave of his hand. “Tea first, then foot rub, then stretches,” he declares.

You roll your eyes again, but this time it’s accompanied by a reluctant smile. “You lot are ridiculous.”

“And you’re stuck with us,” Niall calls from the front, grinning cheekily.

By the time Harry hands you a steaming mug of tea, Louis has settled you onto the couch, propping your feet up on a pillow. He sits at the other end, pulling one of your feet into his lap and beginning to massage it with firm, practiced movements.

The relief is immediate, and you let out a soft sigh despite yourself. “Okay, maybe this isn’t so bad.”

“Told you we’d sort it,” Louis says smugly, his grin infectious.

As the boys continue to fuss over you—Harry adjusting your tea, Zayn offering snacks, and Liam jotting down stretching tips—you feel your frustration start to ebb away. The soreness remains, but the unwavering care and attention of the boys remind you that you’re not alone in this.

Louis leans down to press a kiss to your ankle, his touch tender. “Anything else, love?”

“No,” you murmur, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “This is... good. Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” he says softly, his gaze steady. “Always.”

And as you look around at the boys—your family—you realize that even on your worst days, you’re in the best hands.

...

You sit cross-legged on the couch in the green room, arms folded over your chest as the muffled sound of the band’s soundcheck seeps through the walls. It’s not like you don’t understand why they insisted you sit this one out. You’re twenty-four weeks along, your feet are perpetually swollen, and exhaustion seems to be your constant companion. But understanding doesn’t make it hurt any less.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You’re part of the band, not some sidelined spectator.

The door creaks open, and Niall pokes his head in. “Hey, you alright in here?”

You glance up, plastering on a weak smile. “Yeah, just resting. Like everyone’s so keen on reminding me.”

He frowns, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “C’mon, it’s not like that. We’re just looking out for you and the baby.”

“I know,” you sigh, rubbing your belly absentmindedly. “It’s just... I miss being out there. I miss being part of it.”

“You’re still part of it,” he says firmly, sitting down beside you. “The boys wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t feel like it. I mean, I get why they’re being careful, but every time I have to sit something out, it feels like I’m losing pieces of myself.”

Before Niall can respond, the door opens again, and Louis walks in, his face lighting up the second he sees you. “There’s my girl.”

“Hey,” you mumble, your voice lacking its usual enthusiasm.

Louis narrows his eyes as he sits on the arm of the couch. “Alright, what’s wrong?”

“She’s feeling left out,” Niall supplies, earning a glare from you.

“I don’t need you to speak for me,” you snap, though the edge in your voice is more from frustration than anger.

Louis tilts his head, watching you carefully. “Left out, huh? You do realize you’re the heart of this band, yeah? Baby or no baby, that hasn’t changed.”

“It feels like it’s changing,” you admit quietly. “Like this pregnancy is slowly taking me away from everything I love.”

Louis slides off the arm and crouches in front of you, his hands gently resting on your knees. “Listen to me. You’re not being taken away from anything. This—” he nods at your belly “—isn’t the end of something. It’s the beginning. And yeah, it’s gonna be different, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less a part of us.”

“Exactly,” Niall chimes in, grinning. “You’re stuck with us. Pregnant or not.”

Louis reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “You’re still our chaos queen. Don’t think for a second we’d let you go anywhere. And if you need to yell at us now and then to remind us of that, go ahead. We can take it.”

You let out a soft laugh, your chest feeling a little lighter. “I do miss yelling at you guys.”

“Good,” Louis says with a smirk. “Means you’re still you.”

“Now,” Niall says, clapping his hands and standing up. “How about we smuggle you a snack from catering? Soundcheck’ll be done soon, and then it’s showtime.”

You smile as Louis leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, his voice low and warm. “We’ve got you, love. Always.”

And for the first time that day, you truly believe it.

...

The arena vibrates with energy as you glide across the stage, microphone in hand. At 26 weeks pregnant, performing has become more challenging, but you refuse to let that stop you. Singing with the boys keeps you grounded, reminding you that you’re still part of the band.

But tonight, something feels off.

It starts as a dull ache low in your abdomen, then shifts to a sharper, more persistent pain. You grit your teeth and push through, determined not to draw attention to yourself. Louis’ voice cuts through the music, full of charisma as always, but even his reassuring presence can’t distract you from the discomfort building inside you.

As the next song begins, the pain intensifies, and a wave of dizziness crashes over you. You falter mid-step, your hand instinctively going to your bump.

Louis notices immediately. His eyes widen, and he steps closer, his voice momentarily dropping out of the harmony.

You lean into the mic, your voice shaky. “I—I need a moment,” you manage before turning and heading offstage, gripping the wall for support as you navigate the wings.

“Y/N?” Louis’ voice is urgent behind you. Within seconds, he’s at your side, helping you into a chair. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“It hurts,” you whisper, wincing as another cramp grips you. “It’s my stomach—I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Louis kneels in front of you, his hands hovering protectively over your bump. “Stay with me, love. Just breathe, yeah?”

Back on stage, Harry notices the commotion and steps up to the mic. “We’re going to take a quick break, everyone,” he says smoothly, though concern flickers in his eyes. “We’ll be back soon.”

As the crowd murmurs, Niall and Liam rush backstage, their faces etched with worry.

“Y/N?” Niall’s voice is gentle as he crouches beside you. “What’s going on?”

“She’s in pain,” Louis answers, his jaw tight. “We need the medic.”

Liam is already flagging down a crew member, who hurries off to fetch help.

The medic arrives moments later, their presence calming as they kneel beside you. “Tell me what’s going on,” they say, their tone reassuring as they check your pulse and gently press on your bump.

“It’s like cramps,” you say, biting your lip. “And I got really lightheaded.”

After a few moments of examination, the medic looks up. “It seems like growing pains,” they explain. “Your body’s stretching to accommodate the baby, and you’re probably a bit dehydrated. I don’t think it’s labor or anything serious, but you need to rest.”

Louis exhales sharply, his relief evident. “Rest. Got it.” He turns to you, his tone firm but gentle. “You’re sitting out the rest of the concert.”

“No,” you protest weakly. “I’m fine. I can do it.”

“Love,” Louis says, his voice low but resolute. “I’m not asking.”

“Louis is right,” Niall chimes in, his hand on your shoulder. “We’ve got this covered. You need to take care of yourself and the baby.”

Liam nods in agreement. “The fans will understand.”

Reluctantly, you nod, tears stinging your eyes. “I don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You could never let us down,” Louis says softly, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll finish the show. You just rest, yeah?”

The boys head back to the stage, and you’re left backstage with a blanket draped over your lap, sipping water and trying to breathe through the soreness. As Louis’ voice carries through the arena, you close your eyes, grateful for him—and for the little life growing inside you.

…

The crowd’s cheers echo through the arena as the boys take their positions on stage. You’re seated at the edge of the platform, where they’ve set up a comfortable chair. Despite your protests, they’ve insisted you sit for the remainder of the tour performances to keep you and the baby safe.

It’s hard not to feel sidelined, but the boys go out of their way to make sure you’re still part of the magic.

As Niall picks up his acoustic guitar for the next song, he glances back at you and grins. “Mind if I join you for this one, love?”

“Of course not,” you say, smiling despite yourself.

He hops down from the stage and plops onto the floor beside you, guitar in hand. The intimate sound of the strings fills the air as he strums the opening chords of Little Things. He leans into his headset, his voice soft and soothing as he begins to sing.

The audience swoons, and you can’t help but laugh as he nudges you with his shoulder mid-song. “Still got the best seat in the house,” he teases, his eyes twinkling.

Before you can respond, Louis saunters over during a break between songs, pulling you into a quick side hug. “You’re not bored over here, are you?” he asks, his voice warm and teasing.

“Not when I’ve got Niall serenading me,” you reply with a smirk.

Louis rolls his eyes dramatically. “Figures. Always stealing my thunder.”

“You’re free to sit here too, mate,” Niall quips, patting the ground on your other side.

“Tempting,” Louis says, his hand drifting to your bump for a brief rub. “But I’ve got a show to finish. Keep her company, yeah?”

“Always,” Niall says, strumming a playful tune on his guitar.

Harry and Liam check in between songs too, taking turns to chat or joke with you, making sure you don’t feel left out. Zayn even tosses you a wink from across the stage at one point, which earns cheers from the crowd.

By the time the concert ends, your cheeks ache from smiling. The boys come offstage, sweaty and energized, but each one of them makes a point to check on you before anything else.

“How’re you holding up?” Louis asks, crouching in front of you.

“I’m good,” you say, your heart full. “Better than good. Thank you for keeping me part of this.”

Louis leans in to kiss your forehead. “You’ll always be part of this, love. You and the little one. Always.”

…

You sit backstage, legs crossed and bouncing impatiently as the boys rehearse. It’s been a long morning, and at 30 weeks pregnant your body is aching in ways that make you want to scream. Your back is sore, your feet feel swollen, and your hormones? They’re wreaking absolute havoc.

You tried fixing things yourself last night—twice—but it just wasn’t enough. Now, every glance at Louis, or any of the boys for that matter, is enough to set your teeth on edge. Louis, especially, is not helping. He’s standing front and center, his shirt clinging to him just enough to outline his shoulders and back, his voice cutting through the air as he sings.

Your mind drifts somewhere it shouldn’t, and you press your thighs together in a desperate attempt to calm the growing heat low in your stomach. It doesn’t help.

You force yourself to look away, but it doesn’t matter because Niall’s there, perched on a stool, his arms flexing slightly as he strums his guitar. And then there’s Harry, who has sweat beading along his neck.

“Oh my God,” you mutter under your breath, dragging a hand down your face. You’re absolutely feral, and it’s getting harder to keep it under wraps.

Louis catches your eye mid-verse and grins, his boyish smile making your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with the baby. He finishes the line, winks, and you’re done. Absolutely done.

When they wrap up the song, you’re out of your seat in an instant. Louis barely has time to register your approach before you grab his wrist. “We need to talk,” you say, your voice low and urgent.

He looks surprised but doesn’t resist, letting you tug him toward a quieter corner of the backstage area. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern flickering across his face. “You okay?”

You glance around to make sure no one’s watching before stepping close, your body practically pressing against his. “I’m not okay,” you whisper, your voice strained. “I need you, Louis. Right now.”

His brows lift, but the corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk. “Oh,” he says softly, his hand finding your waist. “That kind of need.”

“Yes,” you hiss, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ve tried handling it myself, but it’s not enough. And this bump…” You gesture at your stomach, frustration spilling out in your voice. “It’s making everything harder.”

Louis lets out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “You should’ve come to me sooner, love,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough that his lips brush the shell of your ear. “You know I’m always happy to help.”

Your breath hitches, and you tug him closer. “Then help me now,” you plead.

He glances around, then takes your hand, leading you toward the dressing room with purpose.

Louis locks the dressing room door behind you, and the sound of the latch clicking feels like a promise. He turns to you, his blue eyes softening as he takes in your flushed cheeks and the way you shift uncomfortably on your feet.

"You've been struggling, haven't you?" he asks, his voice low, filled with something tender.

You nod, the weight of his gaze already making your knees weak. "It's the hormones. The bump. I can't... I just need-"

He steps closer, his hands cupping your face as his lips brush over yours, soft but deliberate. "Say no more, love. I'll take care of you. Let me."

Your breath stutters as his hands drift down your body, tracing the swell of your bump with reverence before settling on your hips. He guides you backward until the backs of your thighs hit the plush couch in the corner of the room.

"Sit," he murmurs, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You obey, your heart pounding as he kneels in front of you, his large hands spreading your thighs gently. The position feels vulnerable, but the way he looks at you-like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen-makes your insecurities melt away.

"God, you're stunning," he breathes, his lips trailing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The warmth of his breath sends a shiver through you, and you can't help the way your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly.

"Louis," you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

He glances up at you, his smirk equal parts playful and reassuring. "I know, love. Just relax for me, yeah?"

His hands slide up your thighs, pushing your skirt out of the way as his lips follow, leaving a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses. Every touch feels electric, and by the time his mouth finds you, you're already a trembling mess.

The first brush of his tongue makes you gasp, your head falling back against the couch as a moan escapes your lips. He hums against you, the vibration adding to the overwhelming pleasure.

"Louis," you whimper, your thighs threatening to close around his head, but his hands hold you firmly in place, keeping you open for him.

"Let me," he murmurs, his voice muffled but full of intent. "I want to make you feel good."

And he does. His tongue moves with a precision that leaves you breathless, alternating between soft, teasing strokes and firm, purposeful movements that send waves of heat through your body. He knows exactly how to unravel you, how to read every gasp, every arch of your back, and adjust his movements accordingly.

Your fingers tighten in his hair as the pressure builds, your body trembling beneath his touch. The ache in your muscles and the frustration that's been building for days dissolve under his ministrations, replaced by a consuming heat that leaves you on the brink.

"Louis," you cry out, your body tensing as the climax washes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling. He doesn't stop until you're squirming from the sensitivity, and even then, he presses a final, gentle kiss against you before pulling away.

His hands rub soothing circles on your thighs as he looks up at you, his lips glistening, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Better?"

You nod, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. "So much better," you manage to whisper, a smile tugging at your lips.

He grins, rising to his feet and leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Good. Because there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, love."

You reach for him, pulling him down for a proper kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. The moment is soft, tender, a quiet reminder of just how deeply he cares for you.

"I love you," you whisper against his lips, and the way his eyes light up makes your heart ache in the best way.

"I love you too," he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

Louis helps you fix your hair and straighten your clothes, his smirk never fading. “You look ravishing,” he teases as he smooths a wrinkle on your skirt.

“Shut it,” you mutter, though the heat rushing to your cheeks betrays you.

He grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, let’s head back before they come looking for us. Niall’s got a knack for barging in at the worst moments.”

You let out a soft laugh, following him out of the dressing room. Your legs are still a little shaky, but Louis keeps you steady with his arm wrapped protectively around your waist.

The moment you step into the green room, four pairs of eyes snap to you and Louis. Niall is the first to speak, his grin so wide it practically splits his face.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to rejoin us,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Harry raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Took you long enough. We thought we’d have to send a search party.”

Liam clears his throat, trying to look serious but failing miserably as a smirk creeps onto his face. “You two are terrible at sneaking off, you know that, right?”

Zayn doesn’t say anything, but the amused quirk of his lips and the knowing look in his eyes speak volumes.

You groan, sinking into a chair and burying your face in your hands. “Can you all not?”

Louis, on the other hand, looks entirely unbothered. He plops down beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “Jealous, are you?” he quips, grinning at the others.

“Jealous of what?” Niall shoots back. “The two of you disappearing for a quickie? Hard pass, mate.”

Your cheeks burn as Harry chuckles. “I mean, considering how you two look right now…” He gestures vaguely at you and Louis, his eyes twinkling.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Louis says, though his tone is more amused than annoyed. He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Zayn finally speaks up, his voice calm but laced with humor. “We’re just glad you’re happy. Both of you.”

You glance at Louis, and the soft smile he gives you makes your heart swell. Despite the teasing, you can feel the genuine support radiating from the boys, and it makes you realize just how lucky you are to have them in your corner.

“Thanks,” you mumble, your voice quieter now. “For everything.”

Niall waves a hand. “Ah, don’t get all emotional on us. Just… maybe keep the sneaking around to a minimum, yeah? Some of us are trying to enjoy our snacks without mental images we didn’t ask for.”

You laugh despite yourself, and Louis squeezes your shoulder. “Noted. We’ll try to be more discreet next time.”

Liam shakes his head, but his smile is warm. “There’s no hiding anything with this group. You should know that by now.”

“Trust me, I’ve learned,” you reply, leaning into Louis and letting the warmth of the moment wash over you.

…

Part 4