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souliebird · 8 months

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[[and then i met you || ch 16]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Words: 4.4k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

You dream of hands.

They are strong, calloused, and scarred, but they are so gentle with you. They dance over your skin, tracing over your belly to your sides and go down to your thighs. They come back up, pushing your panties to the side and examine your most intimate areas, and though you feel desire radiating from them, they do not cross the line into deviant behavior. They do not tease - they explore and memorize and make you feel like something precious.

Once they have soaked themselves in the slick your body can't help but produce, they slide up to just under your belly button and rest there. Everything inside you flutters at the gesture and your body craves to be full - for the hands to feel the push back of a life moving inside you.

They don't linger long - only enough to make you squirm and gasp - before they are moving again. They drag up your center, skirting your breast like they dare not indulge.

They wrap around your throat and give a small squeeze. They are powerful and could crush you without a thought, but they don't. They release you and continue upward. They brush your cheeks, and when a thick digit pushes past your lips and you begin to suckle at it, you finally wake.

Your bedroom is filled with bright sunlight, and you groan with disappointment.

Your instinct tells you to roll into your pillow and try to continue sleeping but your mind is faster than your body and groggy memories of the day before beat against your skull.

Your ear has no problems reminding you that you are ill. As you come more into consciousness, you become aware of how much it aches and how overly warm you feel. You vaguely remember being woken up to have ear drops put in and to coaxed into drinking water. There are flashes of sweet words and praise and being held while you drift back to sleep and gentle little kisses all over your face.

You force your eyes to open and are greeted by the cartoonishly large ones of Scooby. He's right beside your pillow, like he's watching over you, and he's been maneuvered into wearing Minnie’s miniature doctor's coat with her bright pink toy stethoscope clamped around his neck. Your heart sings with love for your little girl and you hug the stuffed dog to your chest, burying your nose in his oversized head.

How in the world did you get a daughter who is so pure and full of compassion and love? It certainly isn't genetic - you don't think your parents knew what compassion was. If this is from what you have taught her, then maybe, just maybe, you have finally done something right with your life.

You stay hugging Doctor Scooby until your bladder complains and you force yourself out of bed.

Your phone is nowhere to be seen, but you don't worry about it too much - you only wanted to check the time. You have a feeling it's around midday, but you can't be too sure - all you know is it feels like you slept forever.

You grab a change of clothes, then head to the bathroom, bringing your toddler assigned guardian with you. After you take care of business, you take the time to clean yourself up a bit before changing into fresh clothing. It does wonders to improve how you feel. Your ear still throbs, and you feel stiff, but you don't feel like you've been wallowing in your own sweat.

As you clean up your small mess, you note the carefully arranged bottles in your bathtub have been switched around. Minnie’s shampoo is in the wrong place and instead of any annoyance, you find yourself smiling.

Matt must have given her a bath. You can imagine how it went, as your daughter enjoys getting clean and playing with all her water-based toys. She also adores helping and following directions, and you can picture her instructing her Daddy on how to wash her hair just right.

You would have thought you'd never trust Minnie with someone so soon after meeting them - there's no way you'd let any of your friends give her a bath - but with Matt it is so easy. He wants so much to be a good father and he and Mouse already have such a good bond. You are just sad you missed their first bath time together.

You take Doctor Scooby and your dirty clothes and leave the bathroom. Your clothes go into the hamper, then you and the toy dog make your way to the living room. You can hear the television going, but it's too low to make out what is playing, and your daughter giggling. The noise warms your heart, and you yearn for her.

The scene you come upon is something you don't expect - Matt is sitting cross legged on the ground, back facing you, with Minnie standing right in front of him. On the coffee table beside her, her toy makeup kit is laid out, with all the different brushes scattered everywhere. Your daughter has a look of pure concentration on her face as she examines her father, a tube of what you know to be roll on glitter clutched in her little fist.

Matt must be getting his first princess makeover.

You can't hold back the delighted noise that comes from your soul at the realization and that of course catches both of their attention.

“Mommy!”

A rocket made of brown curls and a yellow sundress crashes into your waiting arms. You squeeze her tight, trying to absorb her into your being, along with the Scooby plush. The hug only lasts a moment, as she quickly pulls back, slaps her little hands onto your cheeks, and declares, “You're still sick!”

You push your face into her touch, and give a sad laugh, guilt bubbling in your belly, “I am, I'm sorry, Mouse. But I feel better now, I promise.”

She purses her lips at you before dropping her hands from your face and says in an authoritative voice, “Doctor Scooby says you need more sleep.”

You look down at the toy still in your arms, then hold him up to be face to face with Minnie, “My body doesn't want to sleep anymore. Do you think it would be okay if I came out here to be with my family, Doctor Scooby?”

She takes the dog from you and jams his mouth to her ear. She pouts and goes, “uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay,” before turning him so he is looking at you and you feel like you're being judged by him. “He says you have to stay on the couch. And no cookies!”

“No cookies?” Matt asks from behind Minnie, and you finally tear your eyes away from her to look at him. You have to bite your lip, so you don't laugh.

Mouse has gone above and beyond with her princess makeover.

Baby pink eyeshadow has been smeared over his eyelids, up to his thick eyebrows, and blended out to have a border of blue sparkles. His cheeks are rouged enough to make a flapper jealous, and a deep purplely-red stain has been carefully applied to his lips. Or as carefully as a three-year-old can do, which means the scruff around his mouth now has a nice tint to it. To top off his look, stick-on gems have been placed around his eyes, and the deep red color and shape of them mimic the glasses he typically wears.

He looks absolutely fabulous, and you need to find your phone so you can send pictures to Foggy and Karen.

“No cookies,” Minnie confirms, waving her plush at you to get your attention back onto her.

“Okay, no cookies,” you agree. You don't know if you actually have any cookies in the pantry to eat, anyways, so this will be an easy rule to follow. “And I have to stay on the couch?”

Minnie nods vigorously, “Doctor's orders!”

“Okay, if the doctor says so.”

You push yourself back into standing and your daughter takes your hand to practically march you over to the couch. You plop down in your corner and not a moment later, Scooby is back in your arms. Then, Minnie is zooming away from you and to the kitchen, calling back, “Daddy, I need help, please, thank you!”

Matt beams at you as he stands up and even with his face used as a coloring book, he looks handsome as ever, “I'm coming, my love.” His voice is full of joy and pride, and while you feel guilty, he is stuck babysitting while you're recovering, he clearly doesn't feel the same. You have the suspicion that every time Minnie calls him ‘Daddy’, his heart grows bigger.

You don't turn to spy as Matt disappears from your view. Your phone is on the table behind Minnie’s make up kit, so you grab that then pull the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrap yourself in it after adjusting to get a little more comfortable.

There are no urgent or interesting notifications waiting for you - a few emails about sales and calendar reminders about upcoming bills that need to be paid. You swipe them away then turn your focus to the television. It is one of the educational videos about animals your little one has started watching in preparation for her birthday trip to the zoo. The date is coming up fast and you wonder if she's been telling Matt about all the animals she's excited to see. You can't wait to take her to the park for her special day.

Minnie brings you from your thoughts with another yell of, “Mommy!” She hurries into your view and your heart swells with love. She's holding your water bottle, which she shoves at you, “Doctor Scooby says…he says you have to stay hide-rated. I asked Daddy what that means and he said you gotta drink lots of water! I got you water!”

You take your bottle and have to resist the urge to take her up in your lap as well. Your little angel is so sweet and thoughtful, and you very much want to wrap her up in your arms and never let go.

“Thank you so much, sweetie, I'll make sure to keep hydrated. Promise,” you tell her, fully meaning to do just that. You try to drink a lot of water anyways, so it shouldn't be hard to accomplish.

Minnie, however, either doesn't believe you or is over eager to take care of you. She grabs a hold of one of your legs and shakes it as hard as she can, demanding “Drink!” She drags out the word in a way only a toddler can and to soothe her, you take a long sip of water.

“What else did Doctor Scooby say?” Matt asks as he returns from the kitchen, and you can feel the grin in his words.

Mouse takes in the question, swaying slightly as she thinks, then breaks out into a big grin as she recites, “Lots of rest and…and a ...a towel on her ear! To help the ickies!”

“Exactly,” Matt practically cooes as he scoops up his daughter, swinging her around before securing her on his hips. He tilts his head towards you, looking proud as can be, “I think we have a little doctor on our hands.”

“I'm gonna be a veteran!” Minnie declares, puffing up her chest.

You know she means veterinarian and decide you aren't going to correct her. Instead, you're going to tease her about her past career goals, “I thought you wanted to be a hot dog vendor?”

Her eyes get wide at the reminder, and she quickly amends, “I'm gonna do that on the weekend!”

“So, veteran during the week and hot dog vendor on the weekend?” Matt confirms, blue sparkly eyebrows raised.

“Yeah!”

You and Matt both huff in laughter and your little one beams at the attention.

You take in Matt's appearance, with his devastatingly handsome face and boyish charm and a warmth churns in your belly. To push away those feelings, you ask, “are you still going to have time to give Daddy makeovers with all that work?”

Minnie looks at Matt and analyzes him, before starting to wiggle to be put down, “you need says-or-eases!” You guess she isn't done with him yet and talks of her future will have to wait.

He sets her on the ground, asking, “I need what?” but she doesn't acknowledge him, running off to the bedroom to grab more of her toys. You watch as he moves his head in minute movements, brow wrinkling up. He must be trying to figure out what his daughter is fetching.

“What is she getting?” Matt finally asks you and you take a sip of water so swallow down any smugness you have.

“Accessories,” you clarify. “You can't have a makeover without getting some new accessories.”

He mouths the word, and you know he has no idea what is to come - Foggy’s nieces must be too old for dress up and makeovers. He remains standing until Minnie comes waddling back. She's carrying one of the purses you've gotten for her, and she's stuffed it full of costume jewelry and hair clips. She dumps it all out on the ground by Matt's feet with a demand of, “Sit, please, thank you!”

Bewildered, he does as he's told, and your daughter wastes no time trying to determine what looks best with his makeup. She holds a necklace up, looking between it and him before setting it aside with a ‘no!’ This happens again and again as she goes through her necklaces, then clip-on earrings and bangles - none of which fit over Matt's hands and are abandoned - and finally hair clips.

You enjoy the process, sitting back and letting yourself wake up as Minnie describes each accessory to her Daddy as she decides if it matches the aesthetic. You snap photos to send to your new friends and Matt is good enough to even pose for a few.

The final look consists of a giant yellow heart necklace, blue teardrop dangle earrings, and Beauty and the Beast hair bow. He looks very dashing, and you tell him as much as you send the end product over to Foggy and Karen.

“If hot dog vending doesn't work out, your side hustle can be as a stylist,” you tease and Minnie beams at you, enjoying the praise. Matt examines what he is wearing, carefully touching the plastic jewelry to better understand what he looks like as Mouse reminds him of the colors.

As they do that, you check the time. It is a little past Nap Time, so once the conversation starts to change, you address your daughter, “Would you like to clean up your toys and get some juice?”

You know she knows this transition and she doesn't hesitate to nod and start to act. She starts with the things on the floor, stuffing them back into her purse and Matt jumps into Dad-mode.

“What type of juice do you want, Mouse?”

“Apple juice, please, thank you.”

“Half juice, half water,” you advise as he carefully navigates out of the living area.

“Is the cup from last night, okay? The sippy one?”

“The bunny one!” Is the almost haughty reply. The pink bunny is the pre-nap juice cup, and you think a fit might be thrown if tradition isn't followed, so you untangle yourself from the blanket and go to the kitchen. Luckily, no one calls you out for leaving the couch.

You smile at Matt as you pass him, and explain, “I ordered water resistant Braille label stickers but haven't finished putting them on all her things yet.” You open the cabinet that holds all of her various cups and pull out the correct one, then pass it over. “This one I did label.”

Matt takes it and runs his fingers over the surface until he finds the Braille, “Pink with bunnies. For Juice. Nap Time.” His face relaxes into something soft as he retraces the words. You don't know how descriptive you need to be with everything, but you know you don't need to spell everything out for him. His lips twitch into a smile and he whispers to you, “thank you,” before turning to the fridge to get out the juice.

You don't want to make things awkward by lingering, so you shuffle back to the couch and reclaim your spot. Matt joins you a minute later, setting the sippy cup on the table.

Mouse finishes cleaning up her toys rather quickly, then grabs her juice and crawls up to be between the two of you. You change the television over to one of the Pre-Nap shows - something calming to help everyone wind down - and out of the corner of your eye, you see your daughter snuggle into her Daddy's side and begin to sip her juice. Matt wraps his arm around her shoulders and begins to oh so gently pet over her arm.

She's out before she finishes her juice.

You don't miss the opportunity to take more pictures of Matt looking down at Minnie. You know he can't see her with his eyes, but you wonder what input he is getting and if he knows how sweet the pair of them look.

You sit silently and wait until you're sure she won't wake up, then reach to gently touch Matt's shoulders, “Do you want to put her in her bed?”

He nods slowly, his whole being screaming with love for his little girl. You take the sippy cup away as he carefully picks her up after standing and you watch as he cradles her to his chest. He stands there for a moment, holding her close, and you think he must be savoring the moment.

You don't disturb him and after a minute, he starts towards the bedroom. You wait until he's disappeared down the hallway to get up and go pour out the remainder of Minnie’s juice. You clean the cup, then grab some skin friendly wet wipes - you have the feeling Matt may not want to keep wearing his makeup. It feels gummy on your skin so you can't imagine how irritating he finds it.

You resettle on the couch and change from sleepy television to soul crushing television - the midday news.

You usually like to catch the top stories and the weather before switching away, but given Nap Time came a little late today, you miss those. Instead, you tune into the host interviewing some politician and the headline bar tells you he's a senator and they are discussing the Connecticut explosion. You turn up the volume slightly, so you can actually hear it.

“- leaked report states this was not an attack, but the attempted arrest of an Enhanced individual gone wrong. Allegedly, the destruction of a neighborhood and the 634 deaths, dozens of which were children, was all caused by one man with powers. What are your thoughts on this, Senator Kelly?”

You frown at the new information. One person caused all that pain? Or are they just blaming one individual?

“Thank you for having me, Vicki,” the Senator says, and you already don't like him. He gives off a slimy vibe - like he doesn't care about anyone but himself. “I've read the report and I've been on the ground, talking to the people whose lives were destroyed, and I've got one question in mind: why were the good people of Stamford not made aware they were living next to a bomb? This individual, whose identity is still being hidden, only released one attack. One!”

Your eyes go wide at the statement. That can't be true. Can someone really have that much power inside of them? You can understand people like Iron Man with a bunch of missiles strapped to him, but someone who is Enhanced?

“What do you propose, Senator?” Vicki asks and something like dread turns in your stomach.

Matt reenters the room just as the vile man begins speaking again. He comes to stand by the couch, putting his hand on the cushion behind your shoulder.

“The American people deserve to know who they are living next to. We implemented this policy for sexual deviants, and we should do the same for these so-called Enhanced Individuals! The Sokovia Accords talks about registering ‘super heroes’,” Kelly uses air quotes around the word, a disgusted look on his face, “but this man wasn't a hero. He was a literal ticking time bomb and who knows how many more Enhanced Individuals are out there just like him. How would you feel if your neighbor could blow up your house with a wave of their arm, or walk through your walls, or Heaven-forbid, control you with their mind? S.H.I.E.L.D showed us all those people existed! How are we supposed to protect ourselves against that? Whose stopping those people from causing the next Sokovia, or Lagos, or Stamfo-”

You turn off the television. You can't hear any more of that man's rancid words and implications.

You tilt your head up to look at Matt and your heart pangs for him. He's openly scowling and in the corner of your eye, you see him gripping the couch cushion tightly.

Your body acts without thought and you reach up to squeeze his bicep, “Matt...?”

“He's talking about people like they are uncontrollable weapons,” he grinds out, “this is McCarthy Era ‘everyone who isn't you is a threat’ bullshit.”

“I know,” you say to try to soothe some of the anger you see boiling in him. You understand the anger and you are angry, too. You think Matt falls under the umbrella of ‘Enhanced Individuals’ and if so, Minnie does as well. It terrifies you that someone who is supposed to be running the country is spitting out such words, but you want to believe he's in the fringe. You want to believe your government doesn't think your daughter is a threat just because she's different. “He's vile.”

With his free hand, Matt wipes at his mouth, still looking furious, “everything he is saying goes against the Constitution. People have the right to privacy.”

You gently tug on his arm, and he takes the signal to come around and sit beside you. You turn to face him, and he does the same, and you decide to take the initiative. You want him to feel better.

You are slow with your movements, so he can figure out your intentions, and unclip the bow from his hair. His eyes flutter shut before he takes a deep, calming breath, “I can't believe they let people like him on the news.”

You hum, then remove his necklace before going for the earrings, “I can. They love to stir the pot and giving those horrible people airtime gets them more views. They don't care about what's being said, only how much money they are getting for it “

“That's bleak,” he grumbles.

“It's better than the networks believing that bullshit,” you reply, as you pluck the red gems from his face. That makes him huff and a little smile form on his lips.

“You're good at this.”

“At what?” You ask as you set aside the jewelry on the table and grab the wet wipes.

“Defusing the situation, turning the negative into a positive,” he says. He keeps his eyes closed as you start to wipe away the makeup Minnie caked onto him, starting with his rouge.

“Is it a positive the news wants money instead of spewing hate?” You counter, a little bit of a tease in your voice. He reaches out and squeezes your knee and you can't help but smile. “Though, I guess it is better to be a capitalist than a Nazi.”

“That's the American way of thinking,” Matt jokes and you have to stop cleaning away the makeup so you can both laugh.

You fall back into silence as you start in on his eye shadow. He keeps his hand on your knee, slowly beginning to rub his thumb back and forth over your sweats. You can practically see the tension bleeding out of his shoulders and a bit of pride swirls in your chest. You feel guilty for turning on and listening to the news in the first place.

When it comes time for you to wipe away the stain on Matt's lips, you hesitate.

You've been trying to ignore the feelings that have been slowly growing inside you. You thought of them as weeds - byproducts of Matt being naturally charming and kind and the father of your child. You know you are attracted to him - you slept with him, after all - but emotionally?

You're terrified of that.

You're terrified of him not returning the feelings.

You're terrified you only see what he allows you to see, and when the facade drops, someone else will appear.

You're terrified of messing everything up - for yourself. For Minnie.

You don't want to think of your dreams, where you know it's him you are imagining. You don't want to think about how perfect it felt to be held by him and know you were safe. You don't want to think about how he still hasn't left you since you had to be taken to the hospital.

You can't fall down that rabbit hole. It's too much for you.

So, you try to rip away the things growing inside you before they bloom and push forward. You fold the wet wipe in half and begin to remove the last of the makeup. You don't rush, taking just as much care as you had getting rid of the blue sparkles.

“All done,” you say as you finish and pull away from him, turning purposefully so his hand slides off your leg. You pretend to not notice and focus on balling up the used wipes.

“Thank you,” he responds quietly, turning as well so he's facing the television once again. You fear things are going to dip into awkwardness, but Matt speaks again before you get to say something stupid. His words are soft and steady, but strike fear into your heart.

“There was something I wanted to talk with you about.”

You try to swallow down your anxiety and tell yourself that this isn't about your silly emotions - whatever Matt has to say must be regarding Minnie. It's the only thing that makes sense, so you come out a small “Yeah?”

“I wanted to talk to you about my mother.”

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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blueberrylovv · 27 days

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masterlist

@blu3b3rryl0v <- bąckup

the 'think [colour]' series:

#1 green #2 yellow #3 red #4 green #5 brown #6 blue #7 pink #8 orange #9 brown #10 white #11 green #12 orange #13 purple #14 pink #15 green #16 dark red #17 dark purple/black #18 pink #19 orange

if you work hard this could be your spring/summer/autumn/winter the vision boards:

2014 tumb|r a lazy day inside and drinking coffee angel (male) autumn basketball girl batman (male) beach trip black swan ballet bucky barnes/winter soldier (male) can't the leaves turn brown faster cat/neko girl chappelł róan vibes coquette (poc) coquette dark academia dark green emo emo boy (male) estern europe nostalgia/smutno mi boże fairy (poc) girls with glasses girl with horses goth green goddess green it girl horror video game protagonist kogal light academia long hair don't care male poc manifesting this for october mcbling mermaid (poc) morute natasha romanoff/black widow pilates princess pink summer punk boy (male) punk rockstar girlfriend sage selfcare day spiderman (male) spiderman #2 (male) strawberry the 2014 tvmbłr grunge tvmblr 2014 twilight vampire white and chrome winter zombie

you can send in requests my inbox is always open

tags for this blog:

#thinkcolour - the 'think [colour]' series #beagossip - for answering asks that aren't board requests (aka just sweet messages or giving ideas/advice/perspective) #beathechef - pictures of my męąls (if you would like the recipe/ingredients just lmk under the post or via inbox id love to share so you can also make it) #beatheyapper - just for random yapping yk as one does #beaboards

#thinkcolour #beagossip #beathechef #beatheyapper #beaboards

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javierpena-inatacvest · 7 months

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Promises

Summary: When you wake up to find your house quiet, your first reaction is panic. But after you find Javi and learn what he has planned for you this morning, your mood becomes a whole lot better.

Pairing: Dad!Javi x Wife!reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K (Y'all I wrote this in like a few hours I was feeling some typa way)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't do this pls but also they want another baby), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving) creampie, cum play (ig??), praise kink, the biggest, fattest, nastiest breeding kink (... Don't look at me), ass slapping (but affectionately), mentions of body insecurity post pregnancy, Javi being the biggest menace of all time (this man has a MOUTH on him, lawd have mercy), Javi being the best husband and literally being so in love, it's honestly sickening, Chucho patiently waiting for his next grandchild 9 months from now LMAO

A/N: ... Hey... I'm gonna need all of you to not look at me for the next 7-10 business days after this one.... I'm not sure what's in the water over here, but uh... Yeah. I'll leave it at that. Thanks to @endlessthxxghts for letting me share my horny thots about our favorite dad, sorry for waking up on the feral side of the bed this morning 🥴

Part of the Forever and Always Series!

It was quiet.

Way too quiet.

You couldn’t remember a time in the past 5 years where you had woken up to the house being so silent.

No TV, no commotion, no little squeals and giggles from your girls waiting impatiently for you to get up and out of bed, and if you weren’t already confused enough, you rolled over to be greeted by the empty space where your husband should have been, the usual warmth left radiating after he had gotten out of bed before you long gone.

But the real kicker was that when you turned back over again to peek at the flashing numbers of your alarm clock, your eyes went wide at a number that you hadn’t seen since well before kids.

10:39 A.M.

“Jesus Christ…” You whispered to yourself, frantically rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and tossing the comforter off of your body before scrambling out of bed in distress, as your brain pieced together the worst sort of panicked puzzle as to why it was so late, so quiet, and Javi was nowhere to be found.

You pushed open the bedroom door, peeking into the hallway, just as ghostly and empty as you had suspected, each of your daughter’s bedroom doors wide open with neither of them in sight. Rushing back down the hall towards your stairs before stopping in front of Javi’s office, you paused your search at the sound of familiar, muffled humming coming from behind the door.

Pushing it open, you were shocked to see the image of your husband sitting at his desk, leaning back in his seat with a book in his hand and feet propped up against the wooden surface, quietly humming to himself as he turned a page, seeming completely unbothered by his solitude. As the door creaked open further, it caught Javi’s attention, peeking up from over his book with a smile on his face as he dogeared his current page, pushing himself out of his chair to walk towards you.

“Wow, look who’s up! I was gonna give you ‘til 11:00 before I really started to get worried. How’d you sleep, Hermosa?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in for a hug, pressing a soft kiss into the sleepy tangles of your hair, gently cupping your face and forcing your worried gaze up towards him.

“Javi, what’s- what’s going on? Where are the girls? Is everything ok-” Before you could finish the rest of your thought, Javi’s lips were pressed against yours, the familiar bitterness of black coffee and minty gum still lingering in his mouth as he caught the rest of your sentence with his kiss, the hand cupping your cheek now letting his thumb swipe gently across your soft skin.

“Relájete, mi amor (relax, my love)” Javi laughed, pressing another kiss onto your forehead, smiling down at you, “I know how tired you’ve been the past couple of weeks, and rightfully so. You take such good care of our girls- you are the most incredible mom to them, but it’s only fair that you deserve a break every once and a while, too. So,” he smirked, tightening his grip around your waist, letting his hand creep slowly towards your ass, “I asked my dad last night if I could drop Lucy and Elliot off with him this morning so we could have a day just the two of us. He’s more than happy to keep ‘em for as long as we want, so I figured I'd take him up on the offer and I can get some time alone with my beautiful wife to help her relax and show her how much I appreciate her.”

You could the anxiety and worry instantly wash away from your body, the fear that had been consuming you since you had woken up now replaced by excited butterflies swirling in your stomach, heat creeping through your cheeks as you smiled back up at him, tears welling in your eyes in appreciation for how goddamn lucky you were to have someone who cared about you as much as Javi did.

“Thank you.” You whispered, biting at the inside of your lip to try and keep yourself from crying, Javi immediately tilting your chin up towards him in response, softly swiping away the wetness pooling in your eyes.

“Hermosa…” He cooed, looking you up and down with an empathetic smirk, brushing a stray piece of hair from your bed head out of your face, tucking it behind your ear, “It’s the least I could do. Now, why don’t you go get back into bed. I picked up a breakfast sandwich and coffee for you from Leo’s on the way back from Pop’s place, figured you might be hungry, considering you slept until almost lunch time. And after you finish eating,” He rasped, leaning his head down to nip at your neck, the hot words of his breath dancing against your skin, the shift in his tone instantly sparking a fire in your core, “I think I might be feeling hungry, too.”

“You are a menace, I hope you know that.” You sighed, trying with every ounce in you to keep your composure, the tickle from Javi’s mustache at least providing some relief from the tension as you burst out into giggles, Javi playing along by digging his fingers into your hips, running his hands along your sides until you had exploded into a fit of laughter, flailing and squirming in his broad grasp. “Stop it, you meanie! You can’t just promise me food and sex and then hold me hostage like this!”

Finally releasing you, Javi grabbed your face to pull you in for another kiss, this one slow and tender, an electric energy pulsing between the two of you as your lips brushed against one another, only pulling away after Javi’s hand planted a loving smack on your ass, making you squeal in surprise.

“Go get your ass back in bed, Osita. I’ll be back in a second with breakfast.”

“Okay.” You giggled, turning back on your heels out the door, but not before turning back around to peek your head through the doorway with a sneaky grin on your face. “And you’ll also be back with sex?”

“Baby, you have no fucking idea.”

As you jumped back into bed, tucking yourself back into your sheets, it wasn’t long before Javi was back in your room with the first part of his promised bargain- Your favorite breakfast sandwich and an extra large coffee, grinning in delight as he passed both over to you before settling next to you, wrapping your arm around your shoulder as you demolished the better part of your food.

“Oh my god, I haven’t had one of these in so long. God, I love you so much.” You sighed, taking another bite of your breakfast as Javi laughed at the ferocity at which your sandwich had disappeared. “I bet the image of this is really doing a lot turn you on for the second half of your promise. If I would have known, I would have at least put on cuter pajamas.” You snickered, gesturing down to your nearly finished food and Javi’s worn, oversized shirt and boxers you still had draped over your body.

“Shut up. You know I think you look sexy in anything. I love seeing you in my clothes. Drives me fucking crazy. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.” Javi smirked, rubbing his hand along your thigh, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin.

“You just like it when I don’t wear a bra.” You snorted, rolling your eyes at Javi as you crumpled up the wrapper of your finished sandwich, setting it on your nightstand before rolling over to rest your head on Javi’s chest, draping one of your arms across his stomach. “You’re sweet, Jav. Sexy in anything seems like a bit of a stretch, there’s about half my closest I refuse to make eye contact with after having Elliot.”

You let out a quiet sigh, trying to hide the frown pursed between your lips, thinking about how much your body had changed since the first time you had ever worn Javi’s clothes all those years ago. Two kids and lots of time later, you couldn’t help feel a little self conscious about how different you looked from when the two of you had first met. And even though Javi said it to you all the time, it was much easier said than done to always believe it yourself.

“Hey…” Javi replied softly, looking down at you with a frown on his own face, “Osita, you know I’m being serious, right?”

“Well, you’re my husband, you kind of have to be.” You huffed, half forcing your laughter as you immediately began to feel yourself become more and more conscious of your weight laying on top of him, almost trying to shift yourself away before Javi’s hand was wrapped around your back, pulling you over to lay completely on top of him and forcing you to look at his serious expression.

“Out of all the women in the world, you are the only one I ever want. You are just as beautiful, if not even more beautiful than the day I first met you, you know why? Because your beautiful body that I love every fucking inch of has grown and carried our daughters. You’ve made me a dad, you’ve given us a family, you are the most incredible wife and mom I could ever imagine. Baby, if that’s not the fucking sexiest thing, then I don’t know what to tell you.” You could feel the warmth blooming in your chest as Javi looked up at you with his sweet brown eyes, his hands roaming down the sides of your body until his fingers were digging into your hips and ass, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp. “Promise me.”

“Promise you what?” You whispered, an ache beginning to grow between your legs as you could feel Javi’s bulge hardening beneath you, his hands roaming relentlessly around your body, making it hard for you to even think straight.

“Promise me,” He paused, nipping at your neck, the bridge of his nose dragging along the side of your face until his mouth was ghosting over your ear, his words dancing against your skin, “Promise me that you believe me. That I think that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. That I know you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. That I love your body so fucking much, that I wanna put another baby into it.”

His last sentence had your heart literally skipping a beat, a quiet moan escaping from your lips as Javi carefully rolled your body off of his, flipping you onto your back and caging you under his broadness, planting hot, wet kisses down your neck as his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, his hands creeping below the fabric to palm at your breasts, rolling your pebbled nipples between his fingers as he waited for your response. Unfortunately, the best you could muster was a soft gasp of his name.

“Fuck… Javi.”

“That what you want, Hermosa? For me to fuck another baby into you, huh?”

Javi knew it was exactly what you wanted, the two of you agreeing you were going to try for a third a few weeks ago, considering he was almost more ecstatic at the thought of growing your family than you were, and that the thought of knocking you up was something that made both of you absolutely insatiable.

With the wet patch in your underwear growing damper and damper by the second, you barely had enough power in your brain to respond, especially now that Javi had pulled your shirt over your head, letting his kisses travel down your collarbone, chest, and now to your breasts, taking the nipples that he had been toying with between his fingers into his mouth, his tongue flicking and sucking at the harden buds as your moans began to grow like the fire in your belly.

“Yes, oh fuck- yes. I want you to fuck another baby into me, Javi. Please.” You whimpered, your body squirming under his touch as he let his kisses drift down your stomach and hips, his fingers hooking over your shorts to pull them down off your legs, gently nudging them to fall open for him as he nestled himself between, admiring the wet, aching mess you had already become.

“Then you have to promise me,” He smirked, draping each of your legs over his shoulders as he brought his face to your soaking heat, gently kissing your clit and letting the strong bridge of his nose ghost over your folds, “You have to promise me that you believe me. That you believe that you’re the most fucking beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Then, I’ll fuck another baby into you, okay? Can you do that for me, Momma?”

“I- I- pr-promise.” Your voice trembled, ragged with want and desperation as Javi’s mouth hovered painstakingly still over your cunt, waiting for you to fulfill your promise so he could fill you with his.

“There’s my good girl.” He cooed, feeling his smug smile bury itself into your pussy, letting a long, broad stroke of his tongue drag through your folds, the satisfying sensation making you shutter, your hips instinctively bucking towards Javi’s face as his grip around your legs tightened to hold you in place. His tongue languidly dragged across your cunt, slowly circling around your clit, soaking up the juices of your arousal that had been pooling between your legs, drinking up every single last drop.

He let the presses of his tongue become firmer and more focused as he unhooked one of his arms, snaking his arm between your legs to gently press two fingers into your soaking entrance, easily sliding through your slick to curl against the soft spot inside you that had you relentlessly crying out his name.

You couldn’t help but feel your bottom half squirm against your sheets, reaching down to tug at the dark curls of Javi’s hair, trying to find any sort of relief to keep from being a loud, moaning and whimpering mess as his tongue worked along your cunt, lapping you up like a man starved. His mouth latched along your clit, sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers pumped inside you, making the tingle at the base of your spine already begin to build in a needy desperation.

“Javi, holy fuck- oh my god baby, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You whimpered, somehow managing to keep your voice just above a whisper as Javi pulled away to respond, still holding a steady pace with his hand as he felt your pussy start to flutter around his fingers.

“I’ve got you, Hermosa. Want you to soak my face before I feel you cum again around my cock. Give it to me, baby. Cum all over me before I fucking fill you up.”

With that, he was back between your legs, relentlessly working along your heat with his mouth as the coil in your belly wound so tightly, you were on the brink of snapping.

“Javi, Javi, Javi, oh shit- Fuck, fuck, I’m gonnaahhhhhhhhh.”

It was barely seconds before your orgasm flooded through your body, pleasure spreading through every inch of you as you clenched around Javi’s fingers, soaking his hand and face with your arousal as you came, screaming out his name as you reached your high.

That’s it, Hermosa.” Javi smirked, squeezing his hand into the meat of your thigh as you rode out your orgasm, still slowly fucking you with his fingers as you came undone around them, your cunt clamping down on the delicious curve of his digits. Javi peeked his head back up as your breathing began to even out, your chest rising and falling in satisfaction as his kisses began to travel back up your body, stopping at your neck to take extra time to nip along your jawline, his teeth tugging at your earlobe as his voice rasped against your skin.

“Such a good girl for me, Osita. So fucking wet. Fuck, I need to feel you, baby.”

Before you even had time to catch your breath, Javi had his arms wrapped around your waist, flipping you over on to your stomach, dragging his hands down your back, stopping at your ass to grab a handful of the plump flesh and smack it, nudging your legs to spread open for him wider, pushing them out with his own.

Javi worked behind you quickly and methodically, shedding himself of all of his clothes to free his painfully hard cock from his boxers, leaking with precum from the minute he had thought of the prospect of putting another baby in you.

He stroked himself a few times, using his other hand to swipe through your folds, coating his fingers in your slick before wrapping them around his cock, now shiny with your arousal as he lined up with your entrance, filling you up inch by inch, almost painfully slowly, until he had bottomed out inside you, his hips flushed against your ass, letting you adjust to the sweet sting of his stretch.

“Javi… Move, baby, please. I need to feel yo- Oh fuck!” You whimpered, your words drowned out by your moans as Javi had pulled himself out, only to thrust his whole length back into, gritting his teeth while a groan rumbled deep in his chest, draping his body over yours, burying one of his hands in your hair, gently tugging at the ends as he whispered into your ear, keeping his slow and meticulous pace.

“You wanna feel me too, sweet girl? Wanna feel me fill you up when I fuck every last drop into you? Fuck myself so deep inside you it’ll fucking take? That what you want, baby?”

“Yes, fuck, fuck, yes, please. Fuck, I want you fuck a baby into me, Javi. I wanna make you a Daddy again.”

Another deep moan feel from Javi’s lips, scooping his hand under you to sit in his lap, your back flushed against his chest, one hand palming at your breast, the other wrapped around your waist, holding you in place as his pace began to increase, just enough to hear the wetness between the two of you with each thrust of his hips.

You couldn’t help but let your bottom half grind deeper into each stroke, pushing yourself further and further down onto his cock, the sweet stretch of his fullness making your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head, the wanton moans and whimpers babbling from your mouth almost as lewd as the sounds your bodies made as they melded into one another as you let him take everything you had to give.

“Fuck me- That’s what you want, Momma? Fuck, I can’t wait to get you pregnant. See how beautiful you look carrying our baby again. Let everyone know you’re fucking mine with our baby growning inside you.” Letting his hand shift from your breast, he began sliding it up your chest, wrapping it around your jaw to tilt your head over your shoulder towards him, staring into his deep brown eyes before engulfing your lips in a long, wet kiss, your mouths becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth without ever relenting his pace.

His other hand dipped between your legs to circle your clit, still sensitive and swollen from your first orgasm, now throbbing even harder from his touch and feeling the heat beginning to bloom in your belly as you felt your second high begin to approach.

Javi knew just as well as you did that you were close to cumming again, feeling your pussy begin to flutter around his cock as his hips slapped against yours, breaking from your kiss to tug your earlobe between his teeth.

“Give me one more, Osita. Cum all over my cock and I’ll fill you up. Fill up this pretty little pussy ‘til she’s fucking stuffed and it’s got no choice but to fucking take and I knock you up.”

“You promise?” You whispered, your breath shaky and legs trembling as Javi rubbed tighter, faster circles around your clit, still cradling your jaw to force your gaze on him.

“I promise, baby. I fucking promise.”

Almost instantly, you could feel the coil that had been winding tighter and tighter in your core suddenly began to snap, screaming out Javi’s name as you felt your second orgasm crash through you, consuming every inch of your body in euphoria, feeling like you had turned to Jello, the only thing keeping you up being Javi’s firm grasp around you.

“That’s it, sweet girl. That’s it. Fuck, I’m close too, baby.” He mewled, his pace becoming frantic and sloppy as he held you up, fucking you through your high with reckless abandon, wanting to, no needing, to make sure he made good on his promise- that in 9 months from now, you’d have one more member in your family.

Even though you were barely hanging on by a thread, you could feel Javi’s grip tightening around your jaw, tilting it back towards him, the firm pressure cupping your face enough to force your eyes open to meet the wrecked and ragged expression plastered across his face.

“Eyes on me, Hermosa. Fuck, I need to- mierda- need to see that pretty face when I fuck you full of me. God, I love you so much, I love you so-ahhhhhhh, fuck.” It was then Javi’s turn to follow suit, only needing a few more pumps before he thrusted up once more, keeping himself buried deep inside your cunt as hot ropes of his spend covered your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop before even thinking of pulling out.

Holding you in place still sitting on his cock, you could feel the mixture of the two of you beginning to drip down your thighs, prompting Javi to gently ease you off of him, letting your back hit the bed as carefully lifted your hips to slip one of the pillows underneath your bottom half, briefly admiring the wet mess between your legs before taking two fingers and collecting the arousal that had leaked from your cunt, attentively dragging it up your thighs and pushing it back into your heat, making you gasp at the sensation.

“Gonna keep you full of me all day, sweet girl. Gotta make good on my promise.” He smirked, leaning down to pepper soft kisses to the inside of your thighs before slowly making his way back up your body, stopping at your lips for another tender kiss.

“Given what just happened, I think you’re trying to kill me before you can make good on that promise, Jav. Jesus Christ.” You sighed, your voice riddled with breathy giggles as you playfully nudged your husband, now lying next to you, pulling you in to rest against the warmth of his bare chest. “You think Peña number 3 is gonna make an appearance soon?”

“Like I said, mi amor, promise is a promise.” He smirked, boyish grin plastered across his face as he laid your hand across your stomach, gently rubbing it back and forth across your skin. “Plus, I think the girls will be thrilled to have another sister.”

“Sister, huh? We don’t even know if there’s a baby in there yet you dork, let alone what it’s gonna be.” You snickered, rolling your eyes at Javi.

“Been right about the other two. I’ll bet you all the breakfast sandwiches you want that it is.”

“You’re absolutely ridiculous, I hope you know that. Thank you for this morning, Jav. The girls and I are so lucky to have you. I love you so much.” You sighed contently, smiling into Javi’s soft skin.

“I love you too, Hermosa. All of you are the best things that have ever happened to me. All of my girls.” He winked, gently squeezing the curves of your belly, gesturing towards the daughter he proudly assumed he would be meeting in 9 months.

“Well, all of us, or your new son and my unlimited amount of breakfast sandwiches.” you snickered, “When did your dad need us to go pick up the girls? We probably owe him a few breakfast sandwiches for watching the gremlins on such short notice.”

“He said any time later today. Which means…” He smiled, caging his body over yours once again, as much time as we need to make sure that I win our bet.”

“Game on, Peña.”

Taglist: @cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

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sunrisesfromthewest · 2 months

Text

First Encounter Part 11 (Final)

Warnings/Summary: Mentions of Hospital | Coma/Medical staff | Pregnancy/Giving Birth/ Fights/Guns | Rafe and Armando 🫢| Reader reunites with Armando with an unexpected bundle of joy😉(Mike and Marcus being proud GRANDPARENTS 😁)

Previous Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

This is the last part for this series hope you Enjoy!💕💕💕💕

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“....……I need you to wake up mi amor.... please........Y/N WAKE UP!” Armando shouts.

Frowning you attempt to shift against your bed at the sound of Armandos voice, but something was weighing you down. Opening your eyes felt like the hardest thing in the world but eventually, you were able to slowly force them open, but the only thing you could see was blurry colors.

Blinking a few times your vision cleared as you move your gaze around the room and to the constant beeping noise making you realize you're in a hospital. At the moment, the room was empty but you could see a whole bunch of balloons and flowers, sitting on a counter. Leaving you even more confused as you look for Armando, but pausing when you feel something shift against your stomach.

Glancing down you see a black furry cat laying against your stomach, tilting your head you reached a hand down to poke it; causing it to purr as it bumps its head against your hand.

“M-Midnight?” you croak out voice hoarse from not using it but the cat seemed to perk up from hearing its name.

Pulling the cat up to lay on your chest, left you concerned when you still feel like you're being weighed down. Using the bed bar to pull yourself up, you glanced at the blanket on you wondering if it’s one of those heavy ones.

After pushing it off of you, you felt no relief which made you whine, but once your eye landed on your stomach you screamed. Moving as fast as you could to get out of the bed, Midnight jumps off of your chest as you stand on weak wobblily legs. Ivs and monitors harshly rip off of you, and crash on the floor along with your frail body after taking a step.

Hearing the alarms go off in your room made Marcus and Theresa drop their coffees, dashing straight towards your room, that was now surrounded by medical staff.

Crying you push at your swollen stomach with fear, as you feel something press back at your hand. Seeing your colleagues try to comfort you only made you more frighten because at the moment you don’t really know why your here and being surrounded by all these people with no Armando only made your heart beat faster with fear.

“Y/N! Baby it’s okay don’t be scared I got you.” Marcus says pushing through the crowd as he squats down next to your weak form, trying to calm you down so you wouldn’t mess up your recovery process.

“What happened? Where's Mando? Why am I in a hospital?” you whimpered as Marcus picks you up to place you back on the bed.

Pausing to look at Theresa who frowns she makes her way over to you, while tucking your hair behind your ear, “Y/N baby we’ll tell you everything after a while but I need you to relax for momma, okay”

Groaning when your head begins to throb made you place your face in your hands, but feeling another shift inside your stomach had you jumping.

“Why the fuck I keep feeling something move inside of me...is it an alien?” you shrieked peering at your swollen belly that is covered by the hospital gown.

Laughing at your delirious state Marcus shakes his head, "Even worse......a Lowrey baby! I kept telling Theresa I wasn’t having those fish dreams for no reason but she didn’t believe me until I finally convinced her to get the doctor to do an ultrasound.”

Pausing he grabs your hand excitedly while gazing up at you with a smile, "My Baby having A Baby!”

Blinking at him a few times your vision begins to fade to black, as you fall back against the bed. “Dammit Marcus! I told you we needed to wait; she just woke up from a 6-month coma!” Theresa says angrily as the medical staff quickly begins to perform procedures.

The news that your father hit you with after just waking up from a medical induced coma, did not sit with you well, and the next day when you woke up you question your friend who just so happen to be your doctor to talk about it.

“Y/N I know this pregnancy caught you by surprised trust me it surprised us as well; we weren’t expecting you to be pregnant." He said glancing at your vitals, and medical charts," But when you kept rejecting the medication we were giving you for your recovery and with your father's persistence we decided to do an ultrasound.”

Stopping he glanced back up at you with concern, “Y/N as a friend and your doctor...... you and that child that your carrying is a miracle......on the way to the hospital I was told that you flat lined in the ambulance and when you were in surgery you died 3 times on the table.”

Shocked you glanced down at yourself, hesitantly placing a hand on your stomach, and smiling slightly when you feel a kick against your hand.

“This pregnancy is going to be rough since you're still recovering but I believe that the little of bundle of joy, you have inside you will encourage you to keep fighting.” He said passing you ultrasound pictures from each month before walking out the door to give you privacy.

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Upon hearing that your awake everyone made their rounds to visit you starting with your sister, nephew, Reggie and your new niece who you absolutely adored. Then Kelly and Dorn who pulled you into a big group hug, talking about how there excited to be godparents, which made you roll your eyes but smile.

Also, Dorn who was showing off his healed bullet wound talking about, "This my dope ass battle scar...and new excuse to see my therapist more, to which you're still going to by the way." causing you and Kells to side eye him like he was crazy.

Next was Rita who brought you an adorable get well soon bear, while telling you about her new man, which made you raise your eyebrow but she assured you he had no dirty on him. After talking with you for a while she was called back to the precinct but before she left, she pulled you into a tight hug saying get well soon and congratulations.

Hearing a knock at the door woke you up out of your sleep, but when you look up you see Mike and Christine walking in with flowers and big smiles on their faces, "What are y’all doing here?” you yawn while leaning up to give Christine a hug then doing the same with Mike.

“Girl stops acting surprised you knew the moment I received that call from your daddy he wouldn’t had stop until I came up here.” Mike says moving back to set the flowers on the bedside table and to get a good look at you.

Chuckling you say I know, while watching their eyes move to your stomach, "Looks like you are going to be a grandparent after all.” you giggled as Mike rolls his eyes.

“I’m too young to be a grandpa and don’t remind me your Daddy already talking about that I need to trade my car in for something more baby proof.” Mike stated, crossing his arms as he makes a face about giving away his Porsche.

“And work on your driving skills.” Christine mutters making you laugh harder as Mike turns to her offended.

” I am an excellent driver thank you very much!” he objected watching as you and Christine glance at each other before laughing.

“The fuck y’all ‘he he heing’ for ain’t nobody said anything funny." Mike grumbles as he walks away towards the door, when he hears knocking but starts grumbling more once he sees who it was.

“Fix that negative energy it ain’t good for the baby!" Marcus says walking over to you as Theresa rolls her eyes at her husband behavior, while actually stopping to greet Mike.

“THERE GOES MY BEAUTIFUL GIRL! How you feeling baby girl!” Marcus exclaims loudly while reaching over to bring you into a tight hug, and then pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Now your loud ass is what’s not good for the baby!” Mike protested, walking back to the bed, as Marcus shifted his attention to Mike, making you and your mom share a knowing look before she pulls you into a tight hug.

Watching as they began to bicker over what’s good for the baby you see Christine leans towards you and your mom while saying imagine when the baby gets here, causing you three to burst out laughing.

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After doing multiple rounds of therapy, and going through many tests for you and the baby. The Doctor finally decided to discharge you after being in the hospital two more months, making you now 8 months pregnant. But not without 24-hour supervision which made you groan already knowing that everyone was going to be a pain in your ass.

Flinching slightly at the small pinching sensation in your shoulder, made you sigh as you continue to slip on your dress. Belly now too big for regular clothes, and with you still healing it was just easier to wear dresses.

Hearing knocks you watch as your parents walk in your room with a nurse following in with a wheelchair, making you shake your head, "That want be needed.” you said slipping into your crocs, and standing up.

But after taking a couple steps towards your parents, your already out of breath, placing one hand on your stomach and the other on your back had your mom laughing as she takes the wheelchair from the nurse.

“Baby I already know.” Theresa says helping her daughter sit in the wheelchair, and laughing more when she hears you release a sigh of relief.

“I’m still not getting used to this whole pregnancy thing.” you sighed watching them gather your get-well gifts and personal belongings. Passing you a few things to hold, Marcus gazes around the room to make sure that was everything before turning towards you.

“I know Y/N/N but look at it on the brightside you’ll be meeting and holding your baby in a month!” your dad beamed, giving you a few things before wheeling you out the room, Theresa walking beside him humming in agreement.

“Yay!” you mumble sarcastically but in all honest you were really excited to see the baby, especially after deciding to wait until you give birth to figure out the gender.

As you enter the elevator you begin texting in the sibling group chat laughing at something dumb, they sent “Y/N/N what are you looking at?” Theresa said gazing at your phone, making you place it on your chest muttering nosey.

“Probably Jr saying some stupid shit...I swear that boy be around your side of the family too much.” Marcus says pushing you out the elevator once you guys reach the entrance to the hospital. Rolling her eyes Theresa moves past him to set the things in the SUV, before smacking the back of his head.

“I see now where you get that hitting from.” Marcus whined as he rubs the sore spot on his head before locking the wheelchair in place.

Groaning as you stand up thankfully with the help of your mom, you roll your eyes at your father's comment while using your good arm to slide yourself slowly into the back seat. “Y/N stop rolling your eyes before they get stuck like that!” your mom said closing your door and moving to the passenger seat.

“Yeah, you better or that baby gonna come out cocked eyed!” Marcus joked, closing the driver door while laughing but immediately stopping as he sees you and Theresa give him the same glare.

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Upon entering your parents' house, your eyes shifted around the foyer wondering why it was so dark in their home, "Hey did y’all forget to pay the light bill?” you questioned as you search along the wall for the light switch.

Finding it you flick it on but instantly jump when you hear multiple shouts of surprise from your family and friends standing at the entrance. Shocked you gaze around the room feeling tears fill your eyes as you see the welcome home signs/slash baby shower decor.

Opening your mouth to speak only made you burst out in tears as you really take in this sweet moment. Seeing this had everyone concerned until your mom spoke up, "She's okay guys...she’s just overwhelmed. Kelly gone ahead and help her to the living room!”

Taking Kelly hand, you smile at her as you wobbled over to the recliner with her help, "Girl, you should’ve given me a heads up or something!” you sniffed, voice wobbling as you ease onto the recliner, making midnight jump onto the armrest.

Shaking her head she glances around before saying, "And face the wrath of two Grandzillas I don’t think so we’ve been walking around egg shells around those two!”

“Grandzillas! They ain’t been that ba-” hearing multiple voices cut you off with disagreements, had you raising your brows in disbelief.

“It’s been so bad around those two that we can’t even mention baby befo-” as Dorn attempts to explain the drama, they’ve been facing Marcus cuts in.

“Baby!?! Y’all talking about how it’s going to be a girl!” Marcus exclaims happily but Mike shouts in disagreement, “NOPE! We already talked about this, It’s definitely a boy!”

Already feeling a headache coming you glance at Kelly and Dorn with understand as you hear the two start arguing. The day continues with you opening gifts and playing some games before you grew tired, making you step away to take a nap as everyone continues to party.

Hearing Mike call out your name had you stopping in front of your bedroom door, watching him walk towards you with an envelope. “I mean’t to give this to you at the hospital but I felt like it was the wrong time.” he said passing the sealed paper to you.

Lost you asked him what it was, causing him to give you a sad smile, "Before Armando left, he told me to give this to you.”

“Armando?... Have you heard anything from him?” you asked already knowing the answer but choosing to see if Mike will say something different. Peering at you he sees the hopeful look in your eyes, making his own shift away from yours, "I haven’t heard anything from him since the mission, we gave him a burner phone but it’s been nothing but radio silence these last 8 months.”

Frowning you glance at the envelope, smacking it lightly against your hand before sighing, "Thanks for this Mike...I’ve been wondering about him ever since I woke up. Do you have a burner...I want to...” pausing you clear your throat as you feel it tightening up from suppressing your tears. Nodding his head in understand he pulls a phone from his back pocket, "I keep one on me just in case he decides to ever call...If he picks up, please let me know.”

Taking the phone from him you whisper a thank you and I will, as you stand there a few moments before pulling him into a tight hug. Sobbing into his shoulder Mike holds you as close as he could without putting too much pressure on your belly.

Moving from the embrace you wipe at your eyes, “T-thanks Unc Mike.” you say giving him a nod before entering your room.

Wiping tears of his own Mike, decides to make a brief stop to the restroom before returning to the others, not wanting them to see the change in his mood.

Locking the door, you wobble over to your bed, and sit down while quickly ripping the envelope open. Pulling out the letter your gaze immediately land on the dried blood, making your eyes water as you wipe them to read his letter.

Dear Y/N,

If you're reading this Mi Amor that means Mike finally did one important thing for me as my father. I didn’t get the chance to fully explain to you how much I truly do love you, since we only had a limited time together in person. But during that time together you taught me how to love and protect someone other than myself. You showed me that it was okay to allow my emotions to showcase their true feelings without immediately putting up my defenses. Thank you for allowing me back into your heart, and showing me how to forgive and be forgiven; especially after my fuck up in Dorns kitchen. If I haven’t made it back to you yet whenever you read this just know I’m still fighting those odds, and I’ll be with you soon beautiful.

Also, if Marcus was correct about you being pregnant see it as me giving you someone to comfort you until I return and tell them that there responsible of you until I come back.

Your ONLY LOVE Mando

Feeling yourself shake as tears run down your face had you sobbing into your hand as you hug the letter against your chest. Knowing that Armando took his time to write you a short letter; had your pregnant emotions running haywire, you noticed with him it was the little things that always leave your heart aching for more.

Calming down you peer at the burner phone, immediately opening the contacts to see only one number making you pressing it quickly. Putting the phone on speaker you wait anxiously as it rings, and rub your belly as you feel a kick.

The phone going straight to voicemail left you sad but you decided to leave a message just in case, "Mando it’s me Y/n... I-I just read your l-letter...a-and I *sobs slightly* I just wanted to say that-t I’ll be waiting for y-you...... Also, my dad was right...there was a bun baking in the oven, and it almost done...*laughs lightly*.

Thank you for the parting gift by the way......... Mike and my dad are taking good care of me so don’t worry.....Mikes been worried about you tho..... I'll stop here before I start crying again, these pregnancy hormones are a bitch.... *sobs*.... if you get this, I’ll be giving birth sometime next month at the hospital I work at, I don’t know the gender yet so hopefully we can find out together...... I Love you, stay s-safe!” you said tone wavering as you send the voice message and end the call.

Glancing down you watch as the phone begin to shake from your trembling hands, causing it to fall to the floor. Everything becomes a blur as you move to lay down while placing a protective hand on your stomach, which in return made the baby shift.

“Don’t worry mommas alright.... just thinking about daddy.” you whisper as you feel the baby push against your belly, making you rub against the spot as you close your eyes. ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Marcus holds open the door as you wobble your big 9-month self into the convenient store with determination. “Y/N/N why didn’t you stay in the car with Mike, I could’ve gotten your snacks you need to rest before the maternity shoot!" he says walking in himself while grabbing two ginger ales and skittles, before falling you towards the register.

“You ate my candy last time before you even reached the car, then gone have the nerve to say you were tasting it for the baby!" You stated knowing for a fact that he’s been using your pregnancy craving as an excuse to eat junk food again.

Asking the cashier for the candy behind him you hear your dad gasp loudly, “Y/N I know that’s not Tropical Fruit Bubbleicious!”

“I’m sorry it’s the only candy I’ve been craving the last few weeks and skittles ain’t been cutting it lately.” you explained immediately opening the candy and letting out a satisfied moan when its sweet flavors hit your tongue.

Smacking on the candy you hear your dad excitedly asks if you want a big pickle, turning you both stare at each other before grinning hard, "Make it two!” you blurted out while watching him set 4 onto the counter but not questioning it since you know he practically eat the same snacks you do.

Standing at the register as you two continue your big back activities, y’all failed to noticed the man pulling out his gun behind y'all, "I heard them boys taste good with fruit roll-ups wrapped around them!”

He added as he throws the candy on the counter with the rest of the snacks but as he reached a hand back for his wallet a gun enters his peripheral vision.

“Open the fucking register! Now!” the man snapped at the cashier making them freeze in place along with you and your dad.

“Why y’all ass always getting robbed! Y'all aint got no security yet!” Marcus commented as he glances at the cashier who just shrugs muttering, he don’t get paid enough for this.

Dropping the candy from your hand, you lean against the counter while feeling a brief moment of pain before something wet run down your legs, “Oh shit!”

Eyes widening in realization Marcus move over to support your weight while gazing back up at the thief,” Dammit boy you done caused her to go into labor......Fuck Mike finna be pissed!”

Before the man can even question your father's statement he hears the entrance bell ring, making him move his attention and aim at the door.

Stepping in talking loudly, Mike immediately pauses face becoming frustrated at the sight before him, "I told y’all five minutes now we late for the surp-, Marcus what’s all that shit on the register! Thought y’all ass said ginger ale only!”

“Is that really what your focused on right now Mike! The damn snacks!” Marcus exclaims as he hears you taking in deep breaths.

Watching as the two men began to bicker had the thief shift his gun between them anxiously but hearing your scream dragged his attention back to you.

“SHUT THE HELL UP AND GET ME TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL!” you yelled gripping the counter tighter, as you start feeling contractions.

Quickly pulling out his gun Mike shoots the thief in the leg, while telling the cashier to call 911, making them yell aren’t y’all the police.

Putting his gun back in his holster and kicking the gun away from the screaming thief, Mike wraps an arm around your waist while him and Marcus help you back to the car but hearing you say stop makes them freeze, "GRAB THE SNACKS THEY NOT GONNA LET ME EAT WHEN I GET IN THERE!”

“Your right!” Marcus exclaim quickly throwing a 20 on the counter while scooping the treats up with his arms.

Rolling his eyes, Mike keeps a tight arm around your waist while walking towards the entrance, "This baby finna pop out and y’all worried about food!”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Upon entering the hospital, you see everyone and the photographer who was supposed to take your maternity pictures chilling in the waiting room. Confused your about to question Mike but another contraction had you clutching your stomach in pain, grabbing the attention of a few nurses who immediately takes you to a room.

Afte changing into a birthing gown and receiving epidural, you lay against the delivery bed; while angrily chewing on your cup of ice, Mike had snitched on you and your father making your mother take away all the snacks.

“I understand taking his away but why mines!” you snapped shaking your cup hard while you wait for an explanation. “Yeah, why can’t we eat in peace Theresa; you know we’re stress eaters!” Marcus adds.

Pointing an accusing finger at Marcus, she ignores him while directing her attention towards you, “Y/N/N all that junk food ain’t good so I brought you some okra water instead!” Theresa replied, pouring you a cup and placing it in your hands while taking your ice away.

Gagging at the slimey texture, you shake your head frantically as you force the cup back in her hands, "I ain’t drinking that shit!”

Shifting away from them you began mumbling to yourself, quietly cursing everyone out, but feeling a strong contraction hit you, had you grasping the railing.

“Are you oka-” before anyone can get the words out you cut them off.

“I’M FINE! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” you growled, feeling yourself sweat while the pain wears off but the uncomfortable pressure remains.

Hearing a camera click had you snapping your head in the direction of the sound, making the photographer flinch as she freezes at your fearsome gaze.

Not wanting to risk any chances of not getting his deposit back, Mike steps in quickly before you could do or say something stupid, during your angry labor pain episode, "We got a surprise for you!”

Removing your pain-stricken eyes off the frighten photographer you briefly glance at Mike, shifting your tense frame to face away from them and towards the white walls as you mutter, "It better be my damn snacks!”

Ignoring the sound of the room door opening and closing; you hear approaching footsteps. Keeping your eyes forward, your mind runs a mile a minute, as your cravings for food grow stronger.

“You called for a snack, princess.” a familiar accented voice says. Freezing you feel your eyes began to water up as you keep your gaze ahead to scared to look back.

“I waited months to see your pretty face again sweetheart.......please turn around for me.” you hear them beg as you feel a big warm hand caress your swollen hips.

Shaking your head you close your eyes, feeling a dip in the bed as the hand travels towards your protruding belly.

“I received your voicemail baby.......after hearing your scream torment my mind for 8 torturous months I was finally able to hear your angelic voice again.” they say making you bite your lip as you feel tears rundown your face.

Rough but soft warm hands embrace yours as they shift your tense form, towards them, “Please let me see those beautiful eyes, mi amor.”

Blinking away the cloudy tears, your gaze fall onto Armandos smiling bearded face, as he moves a hand up to wipe your tears away, “There's my pretty girl.”

Launching forward you bring him into a tight hug, sobbing into his neck as he tightens his hold on you, while letting out quiet sniffs.

“I got you baby.... I got you.” he comforted, pressing hard kisses against your head, while slipping a hand between the back of your open gown to rub soothing circles onto your warm brown skin.

Pulling back, you stare up at him taking in his changed appearance as you watch him do the same with you, "I-we missed you.” you whispered watching his moist eyes shift down towards your belly with a smile.

Placing a hand on your stomach he rubs his thumb against it, moving his teared fill eyes up to yours before pulling you into a passionate kiss.

Setting a hand into his fluffy out grown hair you press your lips against his harder, as he swipes his tongue over yours before separating your lips causing a wet popping noise to be made.

Seeing a single tear fall from his eye made you press a soft kiss on his cheek as he sucks in a breath from your comforting touch, "I missed y’all too.... more than you’ll ever know.”

Moving his hand towards your face he pushes your thick hair behind you ears before placing it on your flushed brown cheeks, "Always said these words in my native tongue during our time together but never to your face......I fell in love with you the moment I made eye contact with those tear-filled eyes,2 years and 9 months ago......and now as I’m able to stare into those same moist eyes all over again......I want you to know that I truly love you Y/N.”

Swiping away the tears that fall he watches you smile brightly at him before saying love you too, Mando. Letting out a content hum, he briefly gazes around the room, noticing everyone left to give you two a private moment.

Bringing his attention back to you, he noticed the frown on your face as you shift your hips, "What's wrong mi amor!”

“It’s time!” you said feeling a strong pushing sensation come from between your legs, causing you to squeeze Armando’s hand tightly. Before you could tell him to get the other’s you feel heavy weight fall on top of you making you snap out of your painful moment to gaze down at him.

“Armando?” you questioned going to give his shoulder a pinch, only to stop once you realized what happened......this fool done passed out.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Once Armando was woken up by the help of Mike and slipped into a sanitary cover up, you endured 6 agonizing hours of labor filled with screams and I can’t do it’s with Armando’s assertive tone whispering into your ear you can, while supporting your pushing form.

One last hard push brings your beautiful 8 pound crying boy into the world......huh, no wonder you were craving Tropical Fruit Bubbleicious.

Hearing your friends/family congratulate you while the doctor places your crying son against your exhausted form, had you bawling as you hold your baby against your beating heart. Kissing your forehead, Armando presses his hand lightly against his son's tiny back as tears of his on trails down his olive tan cheeks, while thanking you.

After cutting the umbilical cord, he follows the nurse out the room as she leaves with the infant, he'll be damned if he let his eyes leave his son for even a millisecond, fugitive or not he doesn’t give a fuck about who sees him. He seen to many things growing up involving the cartel harming the innocent for no reason, even babies as small as his son.

Following behind Armando, everyone walks out the room except Theresa and Marcus, who decides to stay behind to check up on their baby, while holding your hand as the nurses clean you up. "You did good Y/N/N.” you hear your father say as he pressed a kiss on top of your head before leaving Theresa with you to go check on the baby.

A few hours later and with the help of Marcus, Armando sits in the recliner by the bed as he holds his son against his bare chest. Whispering a few things in Spanish he leans his head down to press a soft kiss, onto his son chubby cheeks making the infant squinch his face before relaxing.

Hearing everyone let out a noise of admiration he turns his gaze towards Mike, who stands beside him with a proud expression.

“Damn that Lowrey DNA really is a bitch; our genes didn’t even try." Marcus says peering at the baby as well, making Armando laugh but quieting down when he feels the infant move before relaxing.

“Do you wanna hold him?” Armando asks his father after seeing his eyes shift between him and the infant.

“I don’t know....” Mike commented, fear keeping him standing in the same spot. Seeing this Marcus supports his friend by moving him forward, while making him sit down beside Armando.

Carefully placing the child into Marcus hands, Armando watches him stare down at the baby lovingly, while instructing Mike to fold his arms against his chest.

With the help of Theresa, Marcus places the child into Mikes awaiting arms, making the man suck in a breath while keeping his unsure eyes on the sleeping baby.

“I want him to have a last name that holds a good meaning behind it.... not bad.” Armando mutters, watching his father eyes water while gazing down softly at his new grandson in his arms.

Releasing a breath of surprise Mike look towards Armando with a hesitant smile, "You sure.” Giving him a firm nod, he watches Mike smile brighten as he pulls him into a side hug, still being mindful of the baby in his arms.

Moving away from the embrace he allows his father to have a moment with his grandbaby, while walking over to your resting form. Leaning forward he presses a sweet kiss against your forehead, keeping his eyes on your sleeping face before turning away at the sound of a knock.

“The fuck are you doing here!” Dorn growls, tall muscular form blocking the view of the person away from everyone else.“Calm down beanstalk, I didn’t come to start any mess, I just wanted to speak with Y/N.” the person replied with annoyance.

Frowning he walks away from your resting figure and towards the door, "Who is it?” he asked Dorn making the blonde hair man shift his attention to him with worry, while raising up his hands with caution.

Hearing the voice call for you had him tilting his head to the side but frowning when he sees who it is. Before anyone could stop him Armando shoves Dorn to the side launching at Rafe, who wasn’t expecting the attack.

Ignoring the calls of his name, he scowls at the man throwing quick punches while keeping a tight grip on his collar, “Maldito bastardo, ¿cómo te atreves a aparecer aquí?(You damn bastard, how dare you show up here?)”

Before he could throw another punch, he feels multiple hands dragging him away from the man, body filled with pure fury, Armando attempts to pull away from the hands dragging him back.

” Why the fuck is he here? I thought his ass was locked up!?!” Rafe snarled, slouching against the wall while wiping away the blood from his bleeding nose, before walking towards the room pissed.

Pulling him back into the hospital room, Mike keeps Armando away from the door as the squad quickly drags Rafe towards the small waiting room and away from Armando furious eyes.

Shooting awake you watch alarmed by the sudden commotion, franticly searching the room for your baby and before you could start panicking Christine walks over to give you your startled baby.

Hearing the cries of his son made him move away from Mike, quickly walking over to you with stressed eyes, "Mando, what's going on?” you questioned as Armando runs his hand through his hair, while shifting his conflicted gaze between yours and the baby who cries has settled down.

Grabbing his hand you stare at his bruising knuckles concerned, "Don't worry about that, princess.” he states pressing a kiss on your hand before looking up at your concerned expression.

Sighing he rubs at his frustrated face before muttering a name that leaves you shocked, "Rafe!?!......Why is he here?” you say rocking the cooing baby on your chest.

“Didn’t give him a chance to speak.” Armando whispered keeping his eyes on the infant, and missing the way you stare at him with admiration.

“If it wasn’t for little man and the fact that I just gave birth, you definitely would’ve gotten some." you say smirking when you see Armando raise his eyebrows at your words.

Moving forward he gives you a kiss on the lips before pulling back with a smirk of his on, “I’ll just take your kisses for now.”

Glancing back at the door, his jaw flexed as his grip on the bed rail tightens, making you place your hand on top of his, "Baby, look at me….what did you want to name him?

Returning his gaze back to yours, his angry features relaxed at your words, mind now focused on thinking of a name.Rubbing his knuckles with your thumb you wait for his response, peering down at the infant who is snuggled against your chest.

“My mother's name was Isabela……. what do you think about Isaiah?" Armando answered peering at you while waiting for your reply.

Nodding in agreement, you give him a reassuring smile, "I like it Mando…. little Isaiah.”

“Isaiah Matias Lowrey” he decided moving forward to pick him up, but hearing approaching footsteps made him turn back to look at the door. Seeing everyone and Rafe had him ready to swing but you grab his wrist making him peer back to see your worried face.

“Before I was rudely interrupted with a punch," Rafe paused to glare at Armando who returned his gaze with the same intensity, "I wanted to say congratulations....and to bring a peace offering.”

Scoffing at his words, Armando moves to hit him again but your voice and tight grip stops him, "I appreciate the kind gesture Rafe but it’s not needed; the peace offering your claiming to bring me has already been filled so please leave.”

With a nod of his head, he pulls out a ring box, setting it on the counter before looking at your surprised gaze, "Like I said didn’t come here to start mess.... just thought you could pawn this to put towards the baby.”

And with that he walks away leaving you shocked and Armando agitated as he walks forward grabbing the box and throwing it in the trash.

“Aye boy, I know you mad as hell right now but that’s money you throwing away!" Marcus exclaimed from the door, making Armando curse angrily in Spanish while walking back to you.

Picking up the baby, he moves to sit back in the recliner, muttering how his family don’t accept things from low life trash.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

With Armando still on the run he would visit every other month while keeping a low profile but that didn’t affect his growing relationship with you and his son.You always made sure to call and Facetime him keeping him updated on moments he misses while away.

When you both start to feel lonely you would stay on the phone talking with each other until you fall asleep or stay up looking through the portfolio with pictures of your reaction of Armando’s return and the birth of Isaiah.

Also, ever since Isaiah was born his weak bond with Mike has grown stronger making him grow to love the man he needed growing up.

Even though he really didn’t have a choice since every time he came Marcus would force him to have a heart to heart with his father, muttering it helps heal the scars.

Although he was very appreciative of Marcus for his relationship with his father, he was more grateful of him for bringing you into his life again. During his visits Armando enjoyed being a father to his son and a loving partner towards you......hopefully who he could call his fiancé, when he comes back to stay for good.

Before he would leave you and Isaiah, Armando always spends your last day together tangled in the sheets with you...... or at least attempting to when your 2-year-old wasn’t terrorizing your favorite Godparents and Midnight.

Both groaning before laughing when you hear your phone ringing, had you two getting dressed to head towards the parking garage in your new apartment building; to meet Kelly and Dorn who had bags under their eyes while Dorn holds an energetic Isaiah who’s cheesing while saying dada which had you rolling your eyes in fake jealousy.

Before he would leave Armando always spent some time talking with Isaiah while sitting on his bike causing you to take one of your favorite photos till this day.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Author’s Note🎙️:I enjoyed writing this series so much,I’ll be going back over all the parts to actually revise and edit them😭.Until I decide to start writing again peace and love💖💖💖💖.

Also,leave some comments below if you think I should write some one-shot of the ammo squad✍️✍️✍️

#armando aretas #bad boys ride or die #x black fem reader #Armando #jacob scipio #armando armas #bad boys #new writers on tumblr #Armando aretas x black reader #mike lowrey #marcus burnett #Will smith #martin lawrence #Armando x daughter Burnett reader #x black y/n #x reader #First Encounter Series #black fanfiction #black fem reader

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writefightandflightclub · 8 months

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here.

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it.

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!).

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table.

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.”

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering.

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it.

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying.

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height.

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment.

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head.

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar.

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself.

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you.

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems.

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned.

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift.

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies.

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two.

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear.

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!”

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour.

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill.

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger.

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all.

Will be hard.

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you.

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you.

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving.

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide.

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual.

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow.

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.”

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too.

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done.

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target.

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man.

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening.

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted.

You are done waiting.

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention.

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours.

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully.

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table.

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself.

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie.

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched.

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.”

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament.

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning.

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed.

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.”

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?”

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation.

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks.

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.”

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets.

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend.

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door.

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit.

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances.

There is a beat.

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts.

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him.

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally.

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz.

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you.

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently.

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them.

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to.

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once.

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him.

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is.

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion.

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.”

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all.

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger.

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.”

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now.

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way.

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go.

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again.

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose.

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him.

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?”

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does.

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you.

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it.

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it.

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side.

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical.

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again?

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.”

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments.

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good.

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks.

“I see you, baby.”

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him.

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark.

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words.

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand.

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth.

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in.

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you.

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?”

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender.

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?”

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly.

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are.

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you.

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end.

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could.

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms.

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer.

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm. You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners.

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now.

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe.

“I’m just gonna leave,” he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying.

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow.

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him.

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at.

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words.

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.”

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are.

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do.

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly.

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man.

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion.

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second.

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him.

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that.

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet.

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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madwomansapologist · 26 days

Text

Autumn Thunderstorm | Chapter 11 - Starlight

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series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attencion. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

eleventh chapter synopsis: Surrounded by pain and grief, Thranduil found himself willing to be something more simple than a king: he was just a man in love. [2K]

warnings: female!reader. pre-Smaug. angst. hurt no comfort. trauma. baby boy is having a difficult time.

notes: so, here i am. i wrote this chapter and it was so, so, so sad i had to actually rewrite it. like it was sad to the point y'all would ask me if i have something against love.

glossary: Idril: Treasure, sweetheart┆

Most days he can ignore the discomfort. There was once a time Thranduil would fear being unable to stop himself from tearing his face appart. A time long gone by now.

“The Elf-path was affected in multiple points”, his advisor continued the report. “Fallen trees and dead spiders block the way. Give the order and we are ready to clear the path.”

Today is not most days. The cold breeze feels like needles piercing his face, like smoke penetrating his nostrils. The collar of his robe rubbed against the sensitive skin of his neck. The perfected illusion spell hid so much of him. It recreated the bone structure of his jaw, the fat of his cheeks, his left eye. It even covered the smell of rotten flesh.

“There is no need to clean the path”, Thranduil waived his hand, dismissing the emergency council. How luck. During a tornado, one that was able to bring the oldest of trees down, the only blood spilled in the Elvenking’s domain was his own. “We are not expecting any visitors.”

We are not welcoming any visitors, he left unsaid. Soon winter will reach Woodland. The sindars, knowing the forest’s secrets, are free to cross it whenever they wish. Others will have to wait until spring.

Or die trying to reach his Halls.

“What an interesting statement”, Tuor smirked. With the other members of the council far away, nothing stopped Tuor from leaving his place as a captain and acting solely as a friend. Thranduil sighed. “A winter without visitors. No carriage or wagen crossing our land. No one enters.”

“And those who try shall face winter’s cruelty”, Thranduil descended from his wooden throne. He paused near Tuor, then continued his way down the hall. “Nature has always protected us from the rotten, my friend. Do not forget it.”

“I agree, my king. No wanderer daring to deal with wild’s harshness can be trusted near our people.” Tuor glared at Thranduil’s back before following him. Just one more thing to burn Thranduil. “It surprises me. That only now I realized something else.”

“And what is it?”

“That if no one enters, no one leaves.”

Thranduil stopped walking. He turned around, his robe sliding against the stairs. “What are you implying?”, he asked, staring at Tuor from bellow. As if he did not already knew. It was the only thing he could do.

“A new jewerly came from Erebor. One that is not on display”, Tuor walked down the stairs keeping him away from his friend. It felt wrong to look down at a king. Unnatural. “And she did not slept on her chambers.”

A blush made to Thranduil’s long ears, who so easily forgot his place as a king. “Are there any rumors-“

“No”, Tuor interrupted him. “I went looking for her this morning, to inform our trainings will cease for a while. Her reputation continues immaculate, but only because a tornado stole everyone else’s attention. You should had know better, Thranduil.”

Oh, he knew. Thranduil knew it was not right. It was not a behavior a king should manifest, not a sort of request an elve can speak out loud without feeling ashamed. Thranduil knew a lover deserves respect. That the bare minimum one could do is care for the other’s comfort and safety.

And still, he did not stopped himself.

“Stay”, Thranduil whispered. “Please, do not leave me alone.”

Your gaze burned him. For so long you stared into his eyes, and for the whole time Thranduil felt that you could see something beyond him. Where you searching for his intentions, for any hidden meaning, for a way of stopping whatever this is from continuing? Thranduil confessed, stripping the very fabric of his soul naked for you. His heart, bare for you to do as you wish.

That is why it took me so long, Thranduil admitted for himself. How vulnerable it is to not hide the truth.

Your fingers continued steady against the doorknob. He feared you changed your mind again. Thranduil averted his gaze, head turned towards his balcony. The destruction was long gone, but the wind was cold and strong still. What a privileged vision of a chaotic night.

It is late. Past midnight. It has been hours since you decided to not walk away. Enough time for you to decide it was a bad choice. Enough time for you to regret ever laying your eyes on his dead skin and putrid scars. Enough time for you to realize Thranduil is as disgunting as he thinks, and your sweet home is better than this ancient one.

The bed creaked, and his eyes immediately found a way towards yours. Slowly, as if every move had to be delibered, you lay down besides him. Your eyes glistened, the moon reflecting on them, returning his gaze. You smiled, and something inside him froze.

“I feel the same”, you confessed, voice soft in the night. “About everything.”

Thranduil gasped. His throat ached, a sudden need to cry almost taking over him. “Oh, what a relief”, he whispered again. There was no need to, you both were alone. “Thank you, idril.”

One of your hands found a home deep into his long hair. A caring stroke. As the minutes passed, you intertwined your fingers with his. Such a cold hand. Thranduil brushed his open lips against your knuckles, breathing warm air against your skin.

The sweet carress came to an end, so Thranduil looked up. He saw your eyes closed, lips appart from one another. The night was darker. The moonlight felt so cold now. You looked calm.

Gazing upon you, the Elveking rested.

Was he being scolded? A king being lectured by a captain. That would be enough to guarantee Tuor some time in the dungeons. Or it would have been, if he was not right. In the absence of a response, a chuckle came out of Tuor’s throat. “Does that means you finally confessed?”

“Enough,” Thranduil growled.

Tuor heard his king’s words. For the sake of his amusement, he simply ignored them.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

There is no medicine for his pain. After the fire went out, what remained there to be healed already was dealt with. His face itches, the ligaments of his muscles twitch, the burning on his face is constant. Meanwhile the pain is there, his body is not.

Where does a leg begins? One might say right before the thigh. Other would chose the pelvis, or at the basin. Both would be wrong. It starts and ends in the brain. Lose a leg and all the nerves shaill remain there searching for something that ceased to exist. A mind griefs, a brain does not.

His cheek is gone. His neck is gone. His left eye is gone. And it hurts. It feels cold and hot, it tingles and shocks. He can feel muscles that do not move, the need to scratch a skin that is not there. It is a real, anatomical pain.

Thranduil cannot stop it, no medicine can end a fire that is not there, but a few things can help.

Near his chambers, mere minutes away from his bed, a private garden embraces him when pain and worry is too much. Surrounded by this controlled nature, Thranduil breathes the smell of roses and wysteria. The perfume calms his nerves down.

Looking at the box between his hands, the stiffness came back to his shoulders. Inside it was a request, one the dwarves of Erebor carefully crafted. A necklace made of pure starlight. Each of the almost endless white gems came from the Elvenking’s personal collection. Except by one.

That pendant he found back in Rivendell. A tear shaped crystal, with snow locked inside it. Such a beautiful jewel. Such a cruel reminder of the time you both stayed appart, shattered.

Thranduil wondered about the moment he would be able to look at you, aware that you understood his feelings. He dreamed about you looking into his eyes, feeling the same. But Thranduil never imagined it would happen as it did. Yesterday was… not how it was supposed.

You found him crying, bleeding, deep into a filthy dream disguised as memory. You heard his screams, felt his warm blood against your skin, saw his true face. You held him, kissed him, and for a second almost ran away from him.

Thranduil can do more. He can be more.

The doors creaked open, and Thranduil forgot about how worried he was.

A sweet perfume welcomed you into this garden you have never seen before. Usually you would have admired it, but all you did was to look straight into his sore eyes. They fell towards the arms that held you close last night. To the war knuckles resting on top of an armchair.

“Your quartermaster said-”, as you noticed what filled this room, your voice betrayed you. “-you called me.”

In front of Thranduil, there was a table covered by green linin. You saw pearly folded napkins and golden cutlery. In such a intimate place, a proper supper was served. Meat and pies on display, bows with fruits and deserts. So much wine.

Thranduil breathed deep. “Would you join me for this evening?”

It was not different from any other meal you both shared. From the very first meeting, it was always the same. Thranduil would hear, you would talk, and the rest of the world would be successfully ignored. And like always, it was good. It was right. To be just the two of you.

But it was so different too. Impossible not to feel your face heating up, hands soaking in sweat. You saw the tip of his ears bright red. That made you bite back a chuckle.

How could Thranduil look into your wonderful eyes without becoming tongue tied? Or how could you look at the hands of a king serving you more wine and not remember how right they felt against your cheeks?

Listening about the destruction of the tornado, you noticed that he tastes like fine wine. Hearing you speak about your trainings, Thranduil kept on trying to discover what was the scent of your perfume.

As you tried to finish the apple pie on your plate, Thranduil moved on his seat.

“I made…”, Thranduil hesitated. Never before he felt difficulty speaking out loud. Decided to not make a fool of himself, he placed the box besides your plate. “You are so dear to me. I hope the beauty of this gift can make you as happy as you make me, idril.”

Speechless, you alternated your gaze between Thranduil and the masterpiece in front of you. Truth be told, any gift would have make you rejoice after what he said. And still, the beauty of it made you stutter. “Is this really for me?”

“I can… Help you. With it”, Thranduil managed to said. He felt the need to punch his own face, but decided that would make his situation even worse. “If you want me to.”

Looking at him, you used all your courage to answer. “Only if we agree to stop being so awkward. I want to be here. With you. And I know you feel the same. I do not want to ruin this by thinking too much when there is nothing to think.”

“You always says the thing I last expect you to”, Thranduil whispered. Biting the insides of his cheek, he nodded. “I agree. I want to be with you. Nothing else matters.”

You had to stop yourself from jumping on him. Instead, you placed the necklace at the base of your throat and turned around. It was so heavy. If it fell on your lap, it would have bruised. His fingers were so careful. So right against your skin.

Thranduil should have wanted to see how it looked on you, but he could not move his hands away from your shoulders. You should have wanted to show him, but you did not wanted to move away from his touch.

You both knew it was perfect.

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM: @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish @whore-of-many-hot-men @h0ly-fire @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @homewhereitsat @instantnoooodles @hungrh4yyy

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #autumn thunderstorm #thranduil fanfic #thranduil oropherion #thranduil headcanon #thranduil of mirkwood #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil #thranduil x reader #middle earth #mirkwood #thrandaddy #thrandilf #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction

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earlycuntsets · 29 days

Text

earlycuntsets.org sourced - where I got all my mcr pictures

pt. 1

parts (2, 3, 4)

first of a series. due to tumblr limits on how many links you can post. this full idea will be continued on future posts. for now here's 2002- 1/2 of 2007. this is pictures. will make a separate post for youtube/recordings.

been needing to fully source my website so here we go! wanted to share with other kool mcr fans.

old fansites/website appearances:

most popular - theimmortalityproject.com

mcr's old website [2002, 2003, 2004, 2005]

magazine scan archive - mcrhollywood.blogspot.com

more mcr flyers here than anywhere - theydrewblood.blogspot.com

gerard pic/interview 2003 - artsucks.com

show pics:

(8/18/2003 & 04/28/2004 washington dc, 08/20/2004 gillette stadium foxborough ma and 06/13/2004 baltimore md) - brokenvoices

(09/13/2004 & 01/21/2005 birmingham academy) - blackvelvetmagazine.com

(rainbow montreal 01/06/2003, kool haus toronto ca 02/10/2003, salle lx montreal ca, 08/25/2003) - junkedcamera.com

(bottom of the hill sacramento ca 1/23/2003) - sacramentomusicarchive.com

I do not know this show, 2003 - idolize magazine

04/03/2004 majestic theater detroit mi - schwegweb.com

05/07/2004 bakersville ca - rocksandiego.com (kira olsson-trap)

10/13/2004 kansas city mo - grrphotography

03/11/2005 taste of chaos cobo arena detroit mi - schwegweb.com

03/13/2005 taste of chaos st louis - grrphotography

03/16/2005 td waterhouse arena orlando fl - jencray.com

03/20/2005 st paul mn - shatterthelens.com

07/16/2005 fairgrounds, salt lake city - trent nelson

08/07/2005 warped tour orlando fl - jencray.com

08/08/2005 warped tour verizon wireless lot charlotte nc - josh hofer

08/12/2005 warped tour tweeter center camden nj - musicmattersmedia.com

11/01/2005 wolverhampton civic hall, wolverhampton england - blackvelvetmagazine.com

03/17/2006 emos austin tx - brooklynvegan.com & andrewkendall

10/26/2006 webster hall ny - dontbescene.com

11/15/2006 nottingham uk - blackvelvetmagazine

1/21/2007 big day out gold coast australia - kylie keene

03/25/2007 cardiff - blackvelvetmagazine.com

07/03/2007 helsinki - deadflowerphotography

flickrs (show pics):

7/25/2003 farmingdale ny - gaelen harlacher

08/16/2003 toronto ca - allfalldownphotography

I do not know this show, 2004 - joel

01/13/2004 night and day cafe manchester uk - tony woolliscroft

04/28/2004 cotton club atlanta ga - mike white

06/15/2004 mr.smalls theater, milvale pa - scapularemix

08/20/2004 gillette stadium foxborough ma - futurebreed

10/26/2004 roseland ballroom nyc - alyssa

01/30/2005 cologne germany - johanna bocher

07/02/2005 warped tour piers, san fransisco ca - laurentertaining

07/06/2005 warped tour pampano beach fl - internetpirateradio

7/28/2005 warped tour quebec city, quebec @ the pepsi colisée parking lot - alec hartman photography

08/05/2005 warped tour st petersburg fl - todd cynic

08/10/2005 warped tour nissan pavillian va - jessica

08/13/2005 warped tour nyc ny - christine natanael

08/23/2005 underworld london uk - sammi hills & lauren siohan

09/02/2005 &09/03/2005 rock in idro milan italy - matteo galli

09/13/2005 station park providence ri - katie o'keefe

09/15/2005 columbus ohio - stacy chambers

09/20/2005 st paul mn - matt birhanzel

10/14/2005 tweeter center camden nj - kristin

03/17/2006 emos austin tx - nicole herbst & allison7821

03/19/2006 recording academy san fransisco ca - james

05/12/2006 sun god festival la jolla ca - sam litvin

08/06/2006 nyc - heather marie ryan

08/25/2006 bramham park leeds uk - dancelike.hell

10/12/2006 virgin megastore london uk - stephen kallao

10/28/2006 & 10/29/2006 voodoo festival new orleans - mandi & voodoo music

10/31/2006 house of blues hollywood ca- veronica murietta

11/09/2006 e-werk cologne germany- sabrina & himychemicalromance

11/21/2006 milano italy - rodolfo sassano

1/24/2007 brisbane austraila - conradpayton

2/04/2007 perth australia - richard giles

03/04/2007 denver co - selene locke

03/07/2007 las vegas nv - heather marie ryan & pamela zabala

03/11/2007 anaheim - scarlet lark

03/21/2007 brighton england - peter hill

04/21/2007 seattle wa - steven friederich

04/22/2007 ft lauderdale fl - heather marie ryan

04/28/2007 williamsburg va - andrew s

05/05/2007 east rutherford nj - maria newman & mimie7981

05/01/2007 toronto ca - liz lulu

05/20/2007 vancouver ca - amy sept

05/21/2007 seattle wa- ciera walters

06/08/2007 leicestershire uk - sara bowrey

06/21/2007 bilboa spain - patriciana

06/23/2007 madrid spain - juan the fly factory

06/24/2007 lisbon portugal - mario guilherme

06/30/2007 hovefestivalen tromoya norway - kim erlandsen

07/08/2007 naas ireland - james quinton

07/25/2007 seattle wa - ciera walters

livejournals:

04/04/2004 bottom lounge chicago il - mechanical_riot

05/11/2004 san francisco ca - from strawberyxlove

01/05/2005 newcastle university england - open_heart_zoo

03/06/2005 daytona ohio - xxmeansyourhxc

03/10/2005 taste of chaos cleveland - dyanna

04/07/2005 barrowland, glasgow uk - elite_cru

part 2 here

#stay tuned i'm on some crazy bs rn #sources for you #I own nothing #lol i'm a thief but my taste is so refined etc.#my chemical romance #mcr #gerard way #frank iero #mikey way #ray toro #revenge era #bullets era #shows #2005 #2002 #2003 #2006 #2007 #earlycuntsets.org

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luvhhannie · 10 months

Text

yes or no | x. minghao x reader

𓇢𓆸 synopsis: where jaehyun is forced to be yn’s wingman for mingyu, but unbeknownst to him, mingyu is also getting some help from his friend.

𓇢𓆸 genre: romance, fluff, sprinkle of crack, tiny bit of angst, series

𓇢𓆸 cw: twt/text fic, smau, AOT SPOILERS, non idol au! college au! swearing, anime references, silly drug and alcohol use

𓇢𓆸 a/n: idk what to say but pls enjoy! reblogs and likes are appreciated, and so are feedbacks! <3

𓇢𓆸 taglist (open!): @writingbarnes @90s-belladonna @leewonkyeom @to-mi-yo

masterlist

00:00

00:01

12:00

1 | spidey senses

2 | thirst trap

3 | average baroque enjoyer

4 | your fault

5 | eremika exhibition?

6 | ophelia

7 | judie’s rose toy

8 | HOMOPHOBE ALERT

9 | always the artist, never the muse

10:10

10 | ladybug and chat noir

11 | blast from the past

12 | yves boyfriend girlfriend

13 | judie vs soonyoung (& jun)

14 | dancer beef over

15 | hot pot dinner

16 | deja vu in a frat party?

17 | …

#svt fic #svt angst #svt fluff #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen x you #kpop fic #kpop #text fic #minghao #xu minghao #minghao x reader #xu minghao x reader #the8 #kpop smau #smau #svt smau

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 1 year

Text

Criminal Minds | Masterlist

SERIES

Begin Again:

Chapter One: The Savior

Chapter Two: Room 304

Chapter Three: I Know Who Did It

Chapter Four: Swimming Pool Kisses

Chapter Five: Ninety-Nine Percent

Glitter & Crimson:

Glitter and Crimson

Reader is keeping a secret from the rest of the team and they're adamant to find out. When they do, they're absolutely gobsmacked. One of them more than others...

Steady As A Drumbeat

And that ends in a night neither of them will ever forget.

A Little Less Conversation

+ The Aftermath

ONE SHOTS / IMAGINES

Memoriam

Season 4 Episode 7 rewrite -- Spencer's childhood best friend helps him on the Riley Jenkins case. Working together after years of not seeing each other brings up old memories and new feelings.

Do Re Mi

Spencer's next-door-neighbor comes into the BAU, distressed, saying that her ex-boyfriend was the person responsible for the recent string of kills happening in D.C.

Truly Madly Deeply

Spencer comes home from a case and wakes up next to reader. Inspired by One Direction's 'Truly Madly Deeply'.

Johnny and Dora

Spencer and Reader go undercover together to catch the most prolific identity thief in New York. What happens on the case might spark a shift in their relationship. Inspired by the Brooklyn 9-9 episode with the same name.

When?

Reader is tired of always coming in second place. Even when her and Spencer have split up, she's still looking over her shoulder as though he'd still be there. When will that end?

When The Girls Talk Boys

Spencer and Reader talk to their friends about one another, which causes their co-workers to find out about their secret relationship. Inspired by Girls Talk Boys by 5SOS.

Nothing is Accidental

After hearing Spencer's talk on a conference, Reader tests her luck and talks to the young Doctor. It sparks a new friendship, partnership and maybe even more. Rewrite of Season 7 Episode 11: True Genius

Dream Away The Dark

Four times where Reader comforts Spencer after a bad dream and one time where Spencer does the same for Reader.

Hunting Monsters

Halloween is Reader's favorite holiday and she plans to implement that love into her child's life, too. When little Poppy tells Reader she doesn't want to go trick-or-treating, Reader and her husband's co-workers help her convince the tiny genius.

I’m Recharging

How Spencer and Reader's ritual of 'recharging' began.

Tongue Tied

Reader is invited to her best friend's birthday party where she meets Dr. Spencer Reid. An instant connection is made.

Meet Me On The Courtyard

Spencer encounters his neighbor from across the yard, dancing around in her apartment until she catches him. They decide to properly meet on the courtyard.

You Owe Me A Date

Spencer and Reader plan to go out on a date. When she doesn't show up, Spencer gets worried.

You Knock The Wind Out Of Me

Spencer clearly dislikes Reader, but when she tries to ask him why, he evades the question. Only her boyfriend being disrespectful towards her forces her to admit his true feelings.

A Man After Midnight

Spencer and Reader are best friends since they were kids. When Reader is set to marry James, Spencer decides to give her the bachelorette party of her dreams. Only he wishes it were him she was about to marry...

Girls Can't Drive

Where a case hits reader a little too hard. Spencer doesn’t get why it’s hitting his girlfriend so hard until she finally tells him how hard it is to be a woman sometimes.

Annotations

Spencer finds a book in the breakroom one time and when he starts reading it, he noticed the notes in the margins. What quickly develops as a love written in the margins of several books, might have to step out into the real world soon.

King of My Heart

Spencer has always taken care of reader. Whether it was giving reader food before they realized they were hungry or buying them coffee, ... Tiny gestures that made it impossible for reader not to fall in love with him.

This Love Is Ours

Reader and Spencer are best friends with obvious feelings for one another. When Spencer ends up in prison, Reader gets angry at him, which keeps them from visiting him. But once she does, there's no pane of glass that would keep them apart.

Mine (Spencer's version)

Spencer reminisces about the first time he met Reader.

New Romantics

After a bad breakup, Reader and her friends go out to party where she meets one young FBI agent. Suddenly, she'd forgotten her ex even existed and was more interested in getting to know the stranger.

I Can See You

When Penelope's best friend comes to help out the BAU on a couple of cases, there's an immediate connection with the youngest of the team. After longing glances, soft touches and wild fantasies, the truth comes out accidentally. What is the resident genius going to do with that information?

There's A 100% Chance I'm Gonna Marry You

The team doesn’t even know of her existence but when Spencer can’t get a hold of her, he gets worried. Now he has no other choice than to tell his coworker about her.

I Think He Knows

JJ invites her best friend, a linguistics professor, to help out on a couple of cases. When she and Spencer work together, something sparks between them.

Maybe We'll Take Some Time

Spencer and Reader broke up five weeks ago. When he comes knocking on her door, crying about a friend's death, their love is resparked.

HANDS

Spencer's hands are lovely and as he placed them on Reader's cheeks, it was the only way to calm her down. So, when Reader comes home breaking down after a difficult day at work, he's quick to calm her down.

The Stranger

Spencer and Reader are coworkers and best friends. When Reader gets hurt on a case, Spencer's feelings for Reader are bared.

Floored Decisions

Many decisions were made on the floor of their apartment. One day, she asks him a very important question.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #jj #jennifer jareau #elle greenaway #emily prentiss #david rossi #penelope garcia #fanfiction #nele's masterlist

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wosohavemyheart · 6 months

Text

TORNADA PT. 2

He vueltooo, os dejo aquí la continuación de esta.. vamos a llamarlo serie porque tengo otros dos capítulos hechos y seguramente surgan más, no lo se...

Disfrutad.

Parte 1

2 meses han pasado desde que Alexia volvió a pisar el césped, un par de días después volví a Mallorca. No nos habíamos visto desde entonces pero hablábamos a diario.

Le conté que había ido a ver varias veces a Paula y también le hablé de Alexandra pero no el porqué de estas visitas. No quería distraerla con mis cosas, tenía que ganar la Champions cosa que hizo y celebraron por todo lo alto.

Yo por otro lado me quedaba un partido que era decisivo para ganar la liga y firmé por dos años con el Barça.

En un mes me mudo a Barcelona junto con Ale así que quería aprovechar ahora que viene unos días para ayudarme con la mudanza a presentarle a Alexandra y decirle mi locura.

Ahora mismo estamos de camino al partido que tienen las chicas, como a Paula la han subido de categoría juega junto a Alexandra.

Llegamos justo a tiempo para ver cómo se alinean y se saludan, así que nos sentamos al lado de Marta.

-Hola- Saludamos

-Hola, ¿que tal el viaje, Alexia?

-Bien, cortito, Mallorca es increíble.

-Eso dicen todos los que vienen- Se ríen y entablan una conversación hasta que empieza el juego.

Ale pone su brazo encima de mis hombros.

-¿Paula es el 11?- Pregunta Ale

-Si, cariño y Alexandra el 10

Están todo el partido jugando sucio contra Paula al verla más pequeña piensan que es más débil, están metiendo piernas y cuerpo cuando no hay porque y el árbitro no dice nada.

-Y el árbitro este para que esta? - Dice Ale enfadada y se levanta- Pero mira coño, van a por ella a muerte.

-Siempre pasa lo mismo, piensan que con ella lo tienen fácil al ser más pequeña pero luego ven que no y se frustran y van más a por ella- Digo acostumbrada de verlo en partido si y partido también.

En ese momento una compañera le pasa el balón a Alex a la que le vienen dos rivales y como puede les regatea dejándolas a ambas en el suelo y enseguida se la pasa a Paula que se había desmarcado. Ella chuta y la portera rival no puede hacer nada.

-Vamoss- Me levanto a celebrarlo y abrazo a Ale.

-Son muy buenas, tienen buena técnica- Comenta Alexia- Destacan entre las otras

-Lo sé- Digo orgullosa

Nos volvemos a sentar y continuamos viendo el partido pero por detrás escucho como unas madres cuchicean.

-¿Has vista la niña esa? La 11?

-Si, no sé que hace aquí, esa tiene que estar con su categoría. Aquí se va a hacer daño siendo tan poca cosa

-En algún momento sale volando por querer jugar con los mayores- Se ríen

Me voy a girar para decirles de todo pero Ale me pone una mano en el muslo y se gira ella.

-Ahora se donde han salido vuestras hijas- Suelta Alexia.

-¿Perdón?- Dice la vieja rubia

-Digo que vuestras hijas son igual de groseras que vosotras, no se como podéis desearle el mal a alguien y menos a una niña pequeña- Pausa y veo como se callan, suelto una risita- Y para vuestra información la número 11 se llama Paula y juega con los mayores porque tiene más talento que todas, solo hay que ver cómo les está pateando el culo.

Dicho esto se gira para seguir viendo el partido y yo no puedo evitar reírme fuerte de las caras de las viejas.

Me acerco a su oído

-¿Te he dicho ya cuanto te quiero?

-Si, pero no me cansaré nunca de oírlo

-¿Y sabes lo que me pones cuando te pones en plan protectora?- Le doy un beso en el lóbulo y veo como se tensa.

Le beso la mejilla y me separo para seguir viendo el partido.

El partido finaliza 3-0 con los otros dos goles de Alex con asistencia de Paula.

Estábamos esperando a un lado del túnel a que salieran las chicas.

-T/n- Viene corriendo Paula y me abraza y detrás de ella veo que Alex viene también pero despacio, con cautela, mirándonos con desconfianza sobretodo a Ale- ¿Has visto esos goles?

-Sii- Digo eufórica mirándola- Ha sido increíble, habéis jugado genial- Fijo mi mirada en Alex ahora.

Detrás de ese muro que se ha construido veo un poco de emoción aunque intenta ocultarlo pero conmigo no lo consigue y le sonrío.

-Habéis jugado muy bien- Choca los cinco Ale con Paula y se gira a Alex- ¿Alexandra, verdad?- La niña asiente precavida- Tienes un pie izquierdo asombroso.

Asiente con recelo.

-Soy Alexia, por cierto- Mi novia sonrie cálidamente presentándose.

-Alexandra-

-Podemos ir a cenar algo para celebrar la victoria no?- Miro a Ale y a Marta que asienten con la cabeza y miro a las niñas.

-Siiiiiiii- Grita Paula y se gira hacia su amiga- Porfi porfi porfi Alex, nos lo pasaremos bien. Te lo prometo- Le suplica.

-Esta bien- Cede dándole una pequeña sonrisa que quita cuando ve que la miramos- ¿Qué mirais?- Se cruza de brazos.

Alexia niega con la cabeza y suelta una sonrisa.

-Creo que ella y yo nos llevaremos bien- Me susurra en el oído- Se parece demasiado a ti

El resto de la tarde pasa. Conocemos más a las chicas o por lo menos lo que nos dejan sobretodo Alex que sigue mirando todo con recelo y contestando a la mayoría de cosas con respuestas cortas.

Pero ahora de camino a dejarlas en el orfanato veo que Alexandra y Alexia están unos metros por delante de nosotras hablando animadamente.

-Parece que Alexia se la ha llevado al bolsillo- Comenta Marta.

-Tiene ese don, conmigo también lo consiguió y eso que me hacia la dura.

-Alex solo necesita un poco de cariño, seguridad y confianza- Suelta de repente Paula que estaba agarrada a mi mano- Yo no tengo recuerdos fuera de ese orfanato pero ella sí, ella a tenido una vida antes de eso y eso hace que le cueste confiar y abrirse a nuevas personas.

-Lo entiendo y no hay prisa, Paula. Conseguiremos que se sienta así- Le prometo- Ella y tú.

Después de despedirnos y dejar a las niñas Ale y yo volvimos a mi casa.

-Hola Thor- Acaricio a mi perro

-Que pasa grandullón, yo también te he echado mucho de menos

Me río al ver a mi novia y mi perro emocionados saludandose.

Cojo la correa para ir a pasearlo

-¿Vienes?-Le pregunto

-¿Contigo? Pffff... Al fin del mundo

-Eres un amor- Rodeo sus hombros y la beso.

Pasa sus brazos por mi cintura y pone las manos en mi culo mientras intensifica el beso pero cuando me quedo sin aire me separo.

-Na na, primero Thor.

-Tienes razón- Con un último beso me suelta pero entrelaza nuestras manos y salimos de la casa.

Paseamos disfrutando del silencio y de la compañia de la otra ya que no hemos podido tener todos los momentos así que hubiéramos querido en estos casi 4 años de relación.

-Echaba de menos estar así contigo- Pasa su brazo por mis hombros

-Y yo también

-Menos mal que esta es la última vez que vamos a estar separadas.

-Si, solo unos días más- Silbo para llamar a Thor y le tiro la pelota de tenis. -Vamos a los bancos esos.

Nos sentamos y la miro queriendo abrir la boca

-¿Qué pasa, cariño?- Me mira preocupada

Ahí va, sueltalo ya

-Quiero adoptarlas- Suelto rápida y jadea

Muy bien t/n, rápido y sin anestesia. Si no fuera porque estoy acojonada me estaría partiendo de risa con la cara de Alexia.

-¿Qué? ¿Adoptarlas? ¿En plural?- Abre la boca- Creo que cuando vaya a revisión médica le voy a decir que me miren la audición

-Has escuchado bien Ale, adoptarlas, a Paula y a Alexandra.

-Pero...

-Dejame terminar, luego me dices lo que piensas- La interrumpo- Se que es una locura. Voy a empezar una nueva etapa profesional y tú volviendo de tú lesión lo único que quieres es seguir jugando y centrarte en tú carrera. Pero cuando vi a Paula ese día y me enteré de una parte de su historia algo hizo que quisiera protegerla y que sintiera que tenía una familia. Luego está Alex, ambas podían haber sido adoptadas ¿sabes?- Le digo y niega con la cabeza.

-¿Si?

-Sí, solo que separadas y han hecho hasta lo imposible para que las volvieran a juntar y no voy a ser yo quien las vaya a separar ahora. Alexandra me transmite tanto sin decirme nada... ¿Sabes? Desde el momento en el que te ha visto la has impactado como con Paula la primera vez. No se esperaba que su ídola apareciera ahí y mucho menos de una manera tan mundana, pero no lo ha demostrado.

-Es muy buena, entonces- Suelta una risa.

-Cuando la conozcas un poco más te darás cuanta de que es pura fachada y que se muere por un poco de amor y atención.

-Estoy segura de ello- Me mira con adoración.

-Pero al caso, no quiero que te sientas presionada ni nada de eso, somos dos en esta relación y si no quieres voy a entenderlo. Puede que me haya precipitado un poco- Le cojo la mano y se la aprieto encogiéndome de hombros- Alomejor no es tu momento de formar una familia o alomejor no quieres formarla o no conmigo... Pero lo entenderé

-Ey, para el carro- Me da un apretón y pone su otra mano en mi mejilla- Claro que quiero formar una familia contigo, mi amor, quiero hacer cualquier cosa contigo- Pausa- Y sí, puede que me haya venido esto de sorpresa y que sea un poco precipitado- Se ríe y me seca las lágrimas- pero quiero hacerlo, me enamoré de lo poco que conocí ese día a Paula y ahora que he estado con ella más y Alex... Creo que podría tener una buena conexión con ella.

-Lo he notado- La abrazo fuerte y me acurruco en su cuello- Vas a ser una buena mamá.

-Tanto como tu seguro que no- Me besa la frente.

Nos quedamos así en silencio mientras Thor juega en el césped.

No pude dormir mucho esa noche y llamé pronto a Marta. Le comenté lo que hablé con Alexia y me dijo que se iba a poner con los papeles para que la adopción sea cuanto antes pero faltaba una parte importante, hablar con las niñas.

Y en eso estamos, esperando a que vengan las niñas al patio.

Y de pronto todos los niños que habían ya alrededor empezaron a murmurar.

-Esa no es Alexia Putellas?-Dice uno

Ale llevaba una gorra así que se camuflaba un poco pero es imposible con 40 miradas encima.

-¿Quién?- Pregunta otro

-Ahhh si, esa que a ganado dos balones de oro- Dice otra niña

-Creo que me suena de la tele.

Ale se acerca demasiado a mi para susurrarme

-Me siento un poco observada.

Pero antes de que pueda decir nada veo a alguien correr y estrellarse contra mis piernas. Paula.

-Hola, cariño.-La saludo dándole un beso en la mejilla.

-Hola t/n- Se separa y abraza a Alexia que me mira con sorpresa pero le corresponde.- Hola Alexia.

-Hola pequeña, ¿cómo estás?

-Bieen, ¿vamos a ir otra vez de paseo?- Pregunta ilusionada.

-Podemos ir- Le revuelve el pelo y hace un puchero.

-¿Esas están interesadas en las antisociales esas?- Escuchamos que dice una y enseguida a Paula se le cambia la cara.

-¿Pero quien las va a querer? - Dice otra.

Veo que Alexandra aparece. Ha escuchado todo y veo como esta apretando los puños lista para abalanzarse.

-Quieta ahí, señorita- Me pongo enfrente y hago que me mire- Te dejaría que le pegaras dos hostias bien dadas pero queremos salir con vosotras y si te castigan eso no va a ser posible.

Me mira y luego mira a Paula y Ale que se habían acercado.

-Sí- Alexia pone una mano en su hombro para tranquilizarla y parece que surge efecto ya que destensa las manos- ¿Os apetece un helado? Luego podemos ir al parque a jugar o lo que queráis un rato.

-Si, porque luego tengo el último partido de la temporada

-Vamos a ir a verlo ¿verdad? - Le pregunta Paula impaciente a Ale.

-Si, quiero ver cómo les pateas el culo al Villarreal.

-Me haría mucha ilusión que vengáis-Les sonrío y Ale pasa un brazo por mis hombros.

-Venga, vámonos que no nos dará tiempo a todo.

Íbamos hablando de lo que estaban haciendo estos últimos días en el cole de camino a la heladería.

Una vez tuvimos los helados nos sentamos en una mesa y asentí con la cabeza a Alexia.

-Chicas, tenemos que deciros algo importante- Comienzo.

-Ayer, T/n y yo estuvimos hablando...

-Os habéis cansado de mi ¿no? De nosotras. Y por eso ahora os vais a ir, no vais a volver.- Habla Alex y es la primera vez que la veo con los ojos llorosos- He escuchado que te vas a Barcelona, sabia que no podía ser tan bonito- Habla mirándome fijamente y se quita una lágrima con rabia.

-¿Qué? ¿De que estas hablando Alex?- Se gira a mirarme la pequeña- ¿Eso es verdad?

-Primero de todo-Agarro la mano de Alex aunque se rehúsa un poco- Alexandra, no me he cansado de ti y no me voy a cansar nunca de vosotras- Digo sería mirandolas

-Ni yo tampoco- Interviene Ale agarrando la mano de ambas niñas- Os he conocido hace poco pero ya tenéis una parte de mi con vosotras y siempre voy a estar cuando me necesitéis.

Joder. Me he enamorado más de ella y no lo creía posible.

-Y sí, es verdad que me voy a Barcelona, me ha fichado el Barça. Sois las primeras en saberlo.

-¿ENSERIO? Eso es genial, t/n- Dice emocionada Paula.

-Si que lo es- Ale sonrie orgullosa.

-Queremos que vengáis con nosotras- Les digo.

-¿Qué?- Dicen ambas a la vez.

-Queremos adoptaros- Dice Ale- Si vosotras estais de acuerdo- Añade nerviosa

-¿Adoptarnos? ¿A las dos juntas?- Dice la mayor.

-Juntas- Afirmo.

Paula y Alexandra se miran sin decir nada durante un minuto y luego nos miran.

-Vale- Dicen

-¿Si? -Me levanto emocionada de la silla y empiezo a esparcir besos a las 3- Siiii

-Entre nosotras y yo- Hace como que les cuenta un secreto a las niñas pero la oigo- Esta un poquito loca, así que os podéis ir acostumbrando pronto- Las niñas se ríen cuando le doy un golpe en la nuca

-Estoy loca si, pero así me quieres y lo que te queda por aguantar- La beso sentándome en sus piernas-

-También es un poco bipolar - Les susurra y intento levantarme pero me agarra fuerte de la cintura- Así te quiero

-Y yo te quiero a ti- Me giro a las niñas, Paula tenía una sonrisa boba mirándonos y Alex aunque lo intentara ocultar tenía una mirada soñadora- Queremos que os sintais en familia, queridas y protegidas con nosotras y enserio no tenéis la obligación de llamarnos mamás por adoptaros, es algo que sale solo y si no sale nunca también estará bien.

-Gracias por todo- Dice la mayor mirándome- A las dos- Gira a la capitana.

-No es nada- Mira el reloj la catalana y abre los ojos- Hay que irse, cariño. Tienes un partido que ganar.

POV ALEXIA

Estábamos en las gradas del campo de fútbol. Habían unas 500 personas alrededor, la mayoría apoyando al equipo mallorquín.

-Woah. Hay mucha gente con pancartas de t/n

-Es la mejor, hace magia con el balón-Dice la menor- Ojalá llegar un día a ser como ella-Susurra

-Pensaba que yo era la favorita de las dos- Hago como que me ha dolido

-Ella no lo sabe, se piensa que eres tú. Pero ella es increíble.

-Pienso lo mismo, te guardaré el secreto- Le guiño un ojo

Me da una media sonrisa y se gira a mirar el partido.

-La mayoría de esa gente han visto crecer a T/n y la han ayudado cuando era pequeña- Comento señalando un grupo de 15 personas todos con camisetas de ella.

-¿Qué quieres decir con esto?- Pregunta la menor

-Ella tampoco lo tuvo fácil cuando era pequeña y se merece todo lo mejor al igual que vosotras- Les sonrío un poco triste.

-Ella es una buena persona- Dice la número 10.

Sonrío de acuerdo y ya lo próximo es ver el partido y comentar todo lo que sucede.

-Alexia- Me llama Alex

-Mmmh? - La miro

-Ver contigo un partido es diferente- Comenta- Siempre tienes algo que aportar para ajustar, te adelantas a lo que puede pasar, ves cosas que otros no ven...

Me sonrojo sin decir nada

-Si, es increíble. Ver contigo un partido es muy guay- Dice ahora la otra.

-Bueno, vosotras también habéis visto cosas que no todos llegan a ver. Tenéis una muy buena visión de juego y eso lo lleváis dentro- Halago porque de verdad que siendo tan pequeñas me ha impresionado las cosas que han comentando.

-¿Has pensado en ser entrenadora cuando te retires?- Dice Alexandra

-Vaya, me estas llamando vieja?- Digo divertida y ella niega eufórica

-No, no, no, eres Alexia Putellas por favor- Dice escandalizada y me río de su cara

-Era broma- Informo y veo que respira más tranquilamente- Pero si, cuando me jubile, que espero que sea de aquí a muchos años, no pienso dejar el fútbol así que entrenadora es una buena opción.

-Hagas lo que hagas lo harás genial- Dice Paula y sonrío tiernamente.

-Gracias pequeña

El partido al final terminó 2-0 con ambos goles de mi novia.

Bajamos al campo y viene corriendo hacia nosotras con su medalla colgada.

-¿Habéis visto eso?- Dice toda emocionada

Paula la abraza primero, después Alex y por última yo.

-Han sido dos golazos, nena- Digo orgullosa.

-Sisi, ese caño de tacón y luego el chute a sido impresionante

-Y y ese regate de las 4 defensas para luego marcar- Dice exaltada Alex- Puffff

-Increíble, nena- La beso orgullosa de ella.

Viene la fotógrafa y nos pregunta si queremos fotos y T/n le dice enseguida que si.

Primero ella sola después conmigo y luego ella con las niñas

-Ven Ale- Me llama Paula y me acerco.

Me pongo al lado de T/n rodeando su cintura y ella mi cuello con una mano luego la otra mano la pone encima del hombro de Paula y yo en la de Alex, la copa está frente a las niñas que con sus manos la tocan y la medalla la tiene Pau en el cuello.

Desde ese momento se volvió una de mis fotos favoritas y también de T/n porqué nos la pusimos de fondo de pantalla.

#futfem #woso #espwnt #futbol femenino #woso imagine #woso soccer #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #fc barcelona #fcb femení #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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usafphantom2 · 10 days

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Where are the SR 71’s today?

They are all on display in America with one exception. #962 is at Duxford, Great Britain. this SR-71 was the one that was the most frequently stationed in Great Britain It’s a permanent loan from the United States to Great Britain with our thanks.

Arizona

#17951 flew on March 5, 1965, and served as a test bird throughout its career. It is currently displayed at the Pima Air Museum, Tucson, AZ.

California

California is home to more SR-71 aircraft than any other state. It houses six of them, listed below:

•SR-71A #17955 - AFFTC Museum, Edwards AFB, CA.

•SR-71A #17960 - Castle Air Museum near Atwater, CA.

•SR-71A #17963 - Beale AFB, CA.

•SR-71A #17973 - Blackbird Airpark, Palmdale, CA.

•SR-71A #17975 - March Field Museum, March AFB, CA.

•SR-71A #17980 - NASA's Dryden Flight Research Center as #844.

Florida

In Florida, specifically at the USAF Armament Museum, Eglin AFB, FL, the SR-71A #61-7959, also known as the "Big Tail," is on display. This nickname dates to 1975, when it was chosen as the platform for a new series of sensors placed in an extension towards the rear of the aircraft . The last flight of this aircraft took place on October 29, 1976

Georgia

At the Museum of Aviation, Robins AFB, GA, the Blackbird SR-71A #17958 is on display. According to various records, on July 28, 1976, this example facilitated a human being (pilot captain Eldon W. Joersz and major RSO George T. Morgan Jr.) to reach the highest speed ever aboard an aircraft.

Kansas

SR-71A #17961 accumulated 1601 flight hours until February 2, 1977, the date of its last flight. It is currently on display between a Northrop T-38 Talon advanced trainer and a life-size replica of the Space Shuttle at the Kansas Cosmosphere and Space Center, Hutchinson, KS

Louisiana

At the 8th Air Force Museum, Barksdale AFB, LA, the SR-71A #17967 is on display, one of two examples reactivated in 1995 for USAF service before the program was canceled in 1998. Over the years, this aircraft accumulated more than 2700 flight hours.

Texas

At the USAF History and Traditions Museum, Lackland AFB, TX, is SR-71A #17979, which was used as a reconnaissance aircraft during Operation Giant Reach in the Egyptian-Israeli war.

Michigan

Two trainer variants were built, denoted SR-71Bs. One crashed on approach to Beale AFB on January 11, 1968, while the other, SR-71B #17956, is displayed at the Kalamazoo Aviation History Museum in Kalamazoo, MI. This SR-71 has more flight hours than any other Blackbird, nearly 4000, and is believed to have been photographed more times than any other.

Nebraska

At the Strategic Air and Space Museum near Ashland, NE, SR-71A #17964 is on display. Its first flight took place in 1966, and the last in 1990, when it was delivered to Offutt AFB, NE, to be permanently exhibited

Ohio

The first operational ( Jerry O’Malley and Ed Payne) mission of an SR-71 was carried out by SR-71A #17976 before concluding its career with about 3000 flight hours. It is among the first SR-71s to be permanently exhibited and best preserved. It is displayed at the National Museum of the United States Air Force, Wright-Patterson AFB, OH.

Oregon

Below the right wing of Howard Hughes' H-4 Hercules at the Evergreen Aviation Museum in McMinnville, OR, is the most complete and accurate SR-71, SR-71A #17971, which has accumulated over 3500 flight hours.

Utah

As mentioned, after January 11, 1968, when half of the SR-71 trainer fleet was lost due to the crash of #17957, a replacement trainer was built, designated SR-71C #17981. This aircraft is currently on display at the Hill Aerospace Museum, Hill AFB, UT. Irregular maintenance procedures and aftermarket construction caused constant yaw of the aircraft; therefore, the SR-71C was used on a limited basis between 1969-1976.

Virginia

The state of Virginia hosts two SR-71s:

•SR-71A #17968 is displayed at the Science Museum in Richmond, VA. 2. The #972 at Udvar-Hazy

Chantilly,

Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

#sr71 #sr 71 #sr 71 blackbird #aircraft #lockheed aviation #skunkworks #usaf #mach3+#habu #reconnaissance #aviation #cold war aircraft

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literary-illuminati · 5 days

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2024 Book Review #47 – City of Last Chances by Adrian Tchaikovsky

This book was recommended to me by a few different people, and in any case I am generally a pretty big Tchaikovsky fan. So of course I’m only getting around to reading it now, however many months later. Having put it off so long for no good reason at all, I can say that the book is in fact very good. Not Tchaikovsky’s best work (that’s still Children of Time in a walk), but a good read and one that left me curious (if not exactly excited) about checking out the sequel.

The story takes place in Illmar, the eponymous City of Last Chances – scarred and oppressed, tyrannized by cursed dukes and conquering imperialists, built upon a dangerous and unreliable route to other worlds and forever attracting the sort of people with no better options available to them. While the book has any number of characters, it’s really the city itself that is the star of the story – a story of how the theft of an imperial magistrate’s ward before he makes an experimental voyage through the gateway in the woods leads to a whole series of byzantine intrigues and bloody misadventures, culminating in an abortive revolution against the Pallseen who occupy and rule them. Which in one sense is an absolutely massive spoiler and in another just feels like stating an inevitability that was obvious from the first chapter.

The book was apparently quite heavily marketed as harking back to the whole New Weird trend of a decade or two ago – marketing that is lived up to wholly and entirely. The whole book absolutely drips with Mieville and Vandermeer. The oblique worldbuilding, the mundane day-to-day life built around the opportunities and inconveniences of some intrusion of the sublime, the awkward intersection of ancient magic and industrial bureaucracy, and so on, and so forth. The Reproach in particular feels very Area X (or very Roadside Picnic, as you prefer), but in general the city feels like absolutely nothing so much as Bas-Lag with the weirdness dial turned down from an 11 to a 5 or 6.

It’s a real triumph of the book, I think, that the world genuinely feels vast and strange even beyond the points where it matters to the story - that all the little asides and the ways something affects a certain character feel like just small parts of something far grander and more uncanny than anyone can hope to understand. Maybe I’m just painfully tired of rpg-system worldbuilding, but it’s an effect I dearly love.

Much like Bas-Lag, Ilmar is very clearly a magical fantasy city going through a magical fantasy 19th century industrial revolution (instead of steam engines its demonic slave labor contracted and imported from the Kings Below). The meat of the book is playing into the whole tradition of the idealistic, virtuous but tragic liberal revolution – 1848 in Berlin or Vienna, the June Days and Commune in Paris, Warsaw a dozen different times, Les Mis. You know the type. Students singing patriotic old songs, workers rising up against class oppression, ‘revolutionaries’ who are mostly cowardly nobles pining after lost privileges and criminal syndicate putting on airs being caught flat-footed by events. You can probably tell the basic story in your sleep. But for such a venerable genre, this book's honestly probably the best rendition of ‘fantasy 1848’ I can recall. Something which won it my instant affection.

The other thing the book just overwhelming shares with the Mieville’s Bas-Lag books is a very keen sense of the necessity of revolution combined with an extreme cynicism towards anyone who might actually carry it out. The university students are sincere believers, and also naive sheep the narrative views with condescension (at best). The professional revolutionaries are all power-grabbing hypocrites who have wrapped themselves in the flag. The workers syndicates have a real sense of solidarity among themselves, and also none at all to the demon slaves that are used and broken powering the mills and factories. And so on. The overall thrust of the book is a tragedy not in the sense of railing against the inevitable, but in the sense that triumph and revolution were absolutely possible – indeed plausible – but for the flaws and frailities of the revolutionaries who might have accomplished it.

Not to say that it's misanthropic – the book is very humane towards the vast majority of its POVs. Of which there are enough for ‘vast majority’ to be a meaningful term. It was something like 130 pages in before any character got a second chapter through their eyes, a feat I had previously only seen in Malazan – and that’s not including the chorus chapters which just give a half-doze vignettes from across the city. But yes, most characters (even the ones who are really just viscerally repulsive) are shown through their own eyes as someone who is at least understandable, if not particularly sympathetic. The sheer size of the cast in a 500 page book mean that no one character or set gets that many chapters from their perspective (you could easily have written as long a book about roughly the same events with half or less of the cast), but some of the dynamics that are very lightly touched on are just incredibly compelling. Its enough to make you wish this was a series that would ever get any fanfiction written about it, really.

Given the way the book is so deeply concerned with oppression and violence on the basis of culture, class, and nation – imperial occupiers, native population, refugees and immigrants used and scapegoated by both – it is kind of fascinating that this is a world where misogyny and (possibly? Not very explored, the only example of a queer relationship we see is hardly going to be concerned by normative society) homophobia just flatly don’t exist. Which would be less interesting if it was unusual, really – the same could be said about very nearly every recent sci fi or fantasy book on the same lines I can recall. Interesting because it is very much not the case in Melville’s stuff – the cultural impact of Ancillary Justice continues to echo down the years, I guess. So yes the imperial police inspector will extort sex out of a brothel owner in exchange for not stringing up the entire workforce for peripheral involvement with the resistance, but also this is entirely gender-neutral. Something very modern about how oppression is imagined relative to the ‘90s or ‘00s (or just a different genre of self-consciously feminist novel a few book shelves to the left).

But yeah, great book, I am compelled. No idea where the sequel would be going, but will probably hunt it down sooner rather than later.

#book review #adrian tchaikovsky #city of last chances #the tyrant philosophers #sff

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forjongseong · 1 year

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dive // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: secretary!jay x CEO!fem!reader (minisode part 11 of the series)

genre: office!au, smut (minors dni) // warning: older reader; Jay calls reader “Boss”; oral sex (f. receiving, obviously) // wc: ~2.5k oops

previous chapters:

part 1 - carmesí part 2 - mi reina part 3 - millones part 3.5 - hasta los dientes part 4 - vente conmigo part 5 - tusa part 5.5 - apaga y vámonos part 6 - versos de placer minisode part 1 - cuando nadie ve part 6.5 - yo te quiero más minisode part 2 - la niña de mis ojos part 7 - aeropuerto minisode part 3 - falling autumn minisode part 4 - night night part 8 - ambulancia minisode part 5 - subtítulos part 9 - al caer la noche minisode part 6 - after last night part 9.5 - the way you look tonight part 10 - mon soleil minisode part 7 - daylight minisode part 8 - subside minisode part 9 - your princess, my queen part 11 - qué bonito part 11.5 - enchule minisode part 10 - meet cute

next chapters:

click here for the masterlist

summary: you've been sleeping with your dearest secretary for a while and you're dying to know how it feels when he goes down on you.

author’s notes: here's the second treat of the week--minisode part 11!!!

I know, I know. I just released minisode part 10 yesterday but that's the best thing about owning a blog and writing your own series--you can post whatever you want, whenever you want!

to be honest, I had a different minisode prepared that was sfw and takes place way before yn and Jay started their thing, but I was chilling and putting Spotify on autoplay and it played this song:

go google the lyrics... maybe then you'll understand why I felt compelled to write this minisode.

taglist: @thots4hee @jayked @end-hyphen @nyanggk @yoursjaeyun @maggstar @bucketofhiros @dimplejaehyuncutie @excusememissiloveyou @shinkenprincess-oh @mochimchimo @jongseonglogy

(send an ask if you want to be added or removed)

Staying at a luxurious hotel over the weekend was one of the very few indulgences that you would let yourself have. Normally, you would never splurge on a suite for just two nights, especially when the hotel is not out of town. Fortunately, this time your suite was a complementary gesture from the event that hired you as one of the keynote speakers.

Unfortunately, though, since the event was downtown and you did not have to travel, you handled everything alone. You could not ask your staff to accompany you to do something that was not part of their job, and not when the task did not concern your company either. You even sent Mr. Lee home early the day before, claiming that you could just take the bus or ride the subway to the hotel.

The first day of the event ended right on time, and you were invited to the gala dinner in the main ballroom. You attended, ate just enough to keep your stomach satisfied, and then you excused yourself to go back to your suite. You wanted to take advantage of the huge bathtub and treat yourself to a nice hot bath, thinking that you deserved it after all the talking and walking around in heels.

Maybe because it was in your nature to do things fast, your pampering session ended quickly. Your hair was half dry, and you were already lounging on the loveseat, playing a series you already finished on Netflix. You just needed the background noise, you thought, as you scrolled through your phone. It was a Saturday night, so most of the people you followed on Instagram were posting stories of their night out.

You wondered what Jay was doing at the moment.

Your thumb stopped scrolling and you eyed the clock in the corner of your screen. It was almost eight, yet you feel bored, but it was too late to get ready to go out. Where were you going to go anyway? Taehyung’s jazz club would be way too crowded, and it’s not like any of your close friends were within reach—your two best friends lived in other countries, and it wasn’t the scheduled night for your monthly video calls.

You mindlessly opened your phone’s gallery and found pictures of documents and a couple of videos from the meetings that were held the past week. You clicked on one that showed Jay giving a short presentation, it was on the day that you were not feeling your best, so he stepped up and filled in for you. You focused on the way he was gesturing with his hands—and the way his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His hair was slicked back, and his jaw clenched whenever he was emphasizing a word. You then looked at the way he repeatedly licked his lips, and you noticed yourself breathing a little heavier.

Great, you thought. A little pathetic, actually, that you were sitting alone in a hotel, thirsting over your secretary whom you started sleeping with since, what, a couple of weeks ago? None of you were keeping count. This behavior of yours was a little uncalled for, and you got suspicious of yourself that you opened the app that tracked your period.

And of course, you found out that you were ovulating.

Usually, you would always take the more practical path. In this case, you could easily watch videos, or look at pictures of Jay and imagine him touching you as you touch yourself.

But why would you do that when he was literally just one call away?

“Hello?” You heard his voice as he picked up your call. “Is this an emergency? I didn’t get a text from you.”

You heard him entering a room and closing the door behind him.

“Boss?” He called for you after not hearing a reply. “Everything good?”

“I need you to come over,” you replied.

There was a brief pause before Jay answered.

“Alright,” he said as he took a deep breath. “On my way.”

“Not to my place,” you hurriedly added. “The hotel. You know my schedule.”

“In that case,” Jay said, seemingly shoving something into his pants and opening the door again, “I’ll be there in ten.”

You frowned but Jay ended the call before you could even say something back. You decided to retreat to the bedroom and check your reflection in the mirror. Your black silk camisole was tucked into your beige cotton shorts, and you still had your hair down after the bath you had. You then remembered that you had not put on any fragrance yet, so you rummaged through your makeup pouch and spritzed on the first fragrance you could get your hands on.

The bell rang and your heart almost dropped to your feet. You did not think ten minutes would go by so fast. You grabbed the satin robe from the bathroom and quickly wrapped it around your body as you made your way to the front door. When you opened it, Jay stood in front of you with a confused look on his face.

He was wearing rimless glasses, which you doubt were a fashion statement, and underneath his denim jacket, he was wearing a graphic tee of some sort of logo you had never seen before. It seemed like he was going for a comfortable look, judging from the chinos he had on in place of jeans. The Converse shoes also made him look like a regular college student going for a fun night out in town.

“I was in the area,” Jay explained without waiting for you to ask him. “Which is why I could come fast but also unprepared. Did you need your iPad?”

“Just come inside,” you said softly, holding the door wide open for him. He hesitated before taking a few steps in. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Jay frowned, but at the same time, he started looking around and admiring the suite. “This is a nice view,” he stated, gazing outside the window. “So, what do you need me for?”

“You’re really going to make me say it?” You asked back, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

Jay took off his denim jacket and set it on a lounge chair. If he had to be honest, he actually sprinted here, determined to reach you as fast as possible even though he wasn’t quite confident if the reason he thought you called him was the actual reason you had.

At the sight of his arms, you breathed out dramatically, and it just made Jay even more confused.

“I just didn’t want to be alone,” you confessed, taking your robe off and throwing it to the same spot where Jay had placed his jacket.

You boldly took the couple of steps that you needed to reach him, and when you did, you carefully took his glasses off before circling an arm around his neck, making him instinctively pull you in by your waist.

“I wanted company,” you continued, placing his glasses carefully on the table nearby. “Your company.”

Hearing your confession, you could clearly see the way Jay’s lips curled up into a smirk.

“I canceled plans with my friends to be here,” Jay spoke in a whisper, gradually leaning in towards you.

Your eyes fell to his lips. “Why would you do that?” You asked back, also in a whisper.

“Because,” Jay said, hanging his sentence so he could graze his lips against yours.

“Don’t say because I’m your boss,” you spoke, purposefully against his lips.

Jay chuckled softly, and all you wanted to do for the rest of the night was to breathe the air that he exhaled.

“Because I think I’ll like it better here,” he said before sealing your lips with a deep kiss. You had to fight back a moan to not give him the satisfaction, but you still reciprocated his kiss.

“You think?” You said as you pulled back. “You’re not sure?”

Jay squeezed your waist, turning your legs to jelly. The moan you tried hard to stifle eventually found its way out of your lips when you felt his mouth latch on to your neck. You began caressing the back of his neck, squirming as he was determined to leave marks on your skin.

“Jay,” you breathed. “Fuck.”

“Hmm,” he hummed before pulling back to look at you. “Do you want me to continue?”

You cupped his face before smashing your lips onto his, making him take a step back to keep his balance. After that, you took his hand and dragged him to the bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him in by his neck, and after a short fight, he finally threw his body on yours, kissing you fervently as his hands tugged your shorts down in a rush.

When you felt his fingers trace your thighs, you felt the heat rush up to your cheeks. Your lips were still pressed on his, and his tongue was still tangled with yours, yet you were desperate to feel both elsewhere. Jay’s hand managed to slip in between your legs and your body jerked the moment he palmed your clothed core.

“Jay,” you called as both your hands grabbed his shoulders.

He answered you with a look in his eyes, demanding you continue what you wanted to say.

“I want to see what your head game is like.”

You weren’t expecting Jay to laugh, resting his head in the crook of your neck as his shoulders moved up and down.

“Ask and you shall receive,” Jay said after containing himself. “You really called me over so I could go down on you?”

“Okay, can you stop being so patronizing?” You moved your hand over to his chest, pushing him away.

“Whoa, whoa.”

Jay propped himself up with his elbow as he took your hand and brought it up to his lips.

“I’m sorry if it came off that way,” Jay spoke with his lips against the back of your hand. “I will gladly show you my head game.”

The way he emphasized the last phrase made you roll your eyes. Jay chuckled lightly, kissing your cheek as you looked away from him.

You relaxed once he started peppering kisses down your jaw and to your neck. At the same time, his fingers were skillfully pulling the straps of your top down, revealing your breasts, and perfectly matching the timing of his lips. He kissed your nipple softly before circling his tongue around it and sucking it gently, only to release it with a pop.

“Close your eyes,” Jay said. You were in no position to disobey him.

He continued kissing you while pulling your camisole down, bunching it up around your waist. He planted a harder kiss to the right of your waist before pulling your panties along with the top down to your feet. You kicked it away way too enthusiastically, and Jay merely smirked at the way you were behaving.

Your eyes were still closed, but you could sense that he was tugging his shirt off, and it was proven right when you felt him settle between your legs, placing both of your thighs on top of his now bare shoulders. He kissed the inside of your thigh and you flinched, and you could feel the way your arousal dripped out of you.

“God,” Jay muttered, more to himself. “You’re gorgeous.”

He bumped the tip of his nose and you whimpered at the delicious contact. Once he placed his mouth on your cunt you moaned, feeling an overwhelming mixture of pleasure and contentment. At first, he was just kissing your folds, making loud sloppy sounds on purpose, and when you began to moan louder, he decided it would be nice to let you feel the warmth of his tongue.

“Fuck,” you sighed, jerking your hips. You could hear and feel Jay chuckle against your core, lapping up your arousal and strengthening the grip he had around your thighs.

His tongue made steady strokes against your folds and your legs were already shaking from the pleasure. You couldn’t stop thrusting your hips and grasping the sheets under you, and Jay literally had to push you back down.

“Relax,” he said as he detached his lips. He looked up at you and you looked back at him through your lashes. “Stay down.”

“Fuck you,” you replied weakly. Jay laughed and placed his lips between your legs again, making you feel the vibration of his voice against your cunt.

You began jerking your hips up again and Jay figured that he needed a new way to keep you steady. He noticed how hard you were grabbing the sheets, so very slowly, he pulled your fingers apart before placing them on his head.

“Just grab here,” Jay spoke against your folds. “I don’t mind.”

You sighed once you feel his tongue graze your clit. After placing one hand behind his head, you realized it wasn’t enough, so after a while you rested both your hands on his luscious hair, pulling only when it became unbearable.

Soon after, your grasp on his hair tightened and you became silent. Jay’s eyes flickered to your face, and he tried his best to keep his pace.

“Are you close?” He asked. You replied by nodding frantically.

Jay continued to eat you out, keeping the same pressure and pace no matter how hard you squirmed or how harshly you were pulling on his hair. He let you grind your hips into his face, careful not to let his teeth graze you, and when you finally reached your high, he groaned against your cunt, almost matching the moans that you let out.

Jay waited for you to catch your breath, gradually lowering your hips down and gently stroking your thigh to comfort you. You were breathing with your mouth open, and only when you came back down from your high you realized how dry your throat had become. You licked your lips and coughed a little, and Jay winced at the sound that you made.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his hand giving you a gentle squeeze on your hips.

You nodded slowly as you opened your eyes. When your gaze met his, his lips formed into a smile. Not a smirk, a genuine smile.

“So, what do we think of my head game?”

“Oh my God.”

At the sound of your groan, Jay laughed softly, crawling up to level with your eyes. You hesitated when he leaned in to kiss you, but he did so in such a gentle way that you couldn’t help but whimper into his mouth.

“Do I taste okay?” You asked, your eyes glowing in pure curiosity.

“You,” Jay replied, kissing your cheek. “Taste,” he kissed your jaw. “Divine,” he whispered, kissing your neck.

You closed your eyes and pulled him into an embrace, sighing in relief as you felt his skin come in contact with yours.

“There’s gonna be a round two, right?” Jay murmured against your neck.

You smiled, almost snorting from the bold question. “Only if you stay with me throughout the weekend.”

“Deal,” Jay replied, not missing a beat.

-END-

read the next part: tus gafitas