#private island ofc

[baconcolacan]

He's his husband's pretty princess

[batz]

-

[holidehg]

not sure if i should post this here since it’s not actually art, but i wanted to try making a map of the city my ocs live in.. ya thats it.

[crazykuroneko]

call me heartless, but seeing all those videos of NYC getting flooded, the only thing that came up in my mind is: (finally) WELCOME TO THE CLUB! 🫂

[vivwritesfics]

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Nine - Flying

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.3K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Series Masterlist

Y/N and Milo arrived at Daniel's house in the early hours of the morning. She had a small suitcase, lightly packed with her clothes, and an even smaller one for Milo.

Milo wore the AlphaTauri hat as they waited outside of the house. He was jumping on the spot, one hand held in his mothers and the other holding his small suitcase. "Momma, I can't wait!" He cheered and Y/N squeezed his hands.

It was a hard decision. Y/N hadn't agreed to this while completely sober. But Y/N spoke to her boss about taking a few vacation days and left everything for Daniel to organise (per his request).

It was the Miami Grand Prix. Daniel had spoken to somebody to get Y/N a pass and somewhere for her and Milo to sleep. She hadn't told anybody that they were coming with him; it was going to be a surprise.

Dressed comfortably for travelling, Daniel pulled open the door. This time he wasn't wearing a cap, and Y/N could see his curls. His lovely curls. "Hi Milo," he said and held out his fist.

Milo bumped his fist against his as he walked past him, into the house. "Olivia's in her bedroom!" Daniel called after him. Milo dropped his hold of his bag and started up the stairs, heading towards Olivia's bedroom.

Y/N followed Milo inside. "Hey," she said and greeted Daniel with a hug. "Are we heading off soon?"

"Just having a coffee and then yeah," he said and pushed the door shut behind her.

She left her suitcase by the door (dragging Milo's back over to hers) and followed Daniel into the kitchen. He used his coffee machine to make Y/N a drink and leaned against the island as they drank. "Thank you so much for this," she said as she held the mug in both hands. "Milo is so excited that he might literally explode."

Daniel smiled. That was why he was doing this, because Milo would love it. Sure, it was going to be so freaking cool to have Y/N there, but that would have been selfish of him.

They made idle conversation as they drank their coffees. As soon as they were finished, Y/N and Daniel loaded their bags into the car. They went upstairs to grab the kids, Daniel helping Olivia finish with packing her bags as Y/N adjusted Milo's cap on his head and picked him up.

Before they knew it they were on the road, Daniel singing along to his music as Y/N bounced her leg nervously. In the back of the car, Milo and Olivia watched a movie on an iPad.

Y/N knew Daniel was rich. She knew he was famous, too, had seen the crowds at the race that she'd watched on the television. But she'd never expected him to be private jet rich and famous.

It wasn't his private jet, instead one he rented from a company. But he didn't fail to inform her that his friend Max had his own.

It was Milo's first time flying, and he was terrified. Olivia had been telling him all about take off, and that was enough to have him crawling into his mothers lap the moment they were sat on the plane.

"Oh Munchkin," she whispered as she smoothed down his hair. She would have gone to get his favourite teddy bear for him, to try and comfort him, but the bear was stuff down into the deep recesses of her bag, inaccessible for the time being. "It's okay. Momma's got you."

Olivia had been flying for her entire life. She was used to it; it no longer phased her. For this flight, she'd been looking forward to sitting beside her best friend, watching movies with him as they took off across the world. But she couldn't do that for the time being, so she sat in her fathers lap, holding onto Snuffles, her bunny teddy.

As they got onto the runway, and Milo was in near hysterics, Daniel whispered something in Olivia's ear. "But daddy," she mumbled and Daniel held his finger to his lip. Olivia let out a little huff and adjusted how she was sitting to be facing Milo.

She leaned over and tapped on his shoulder. Milo didn't pull his face away from his mothers shoulder, but he turned to face her, ears staining his cheeks. "Here," Olivia said, handing Snuffles to him.

Hesitantly, Milo reached for Snuffles. He took him from Olivia and pulled him into his chest. "What do we say, Milo?" Y/N asked gently.

"Thank you," Milo whispered, squeezing Snuffles even tighter.

They took off and Milo continued to cry, but he kept squeezing Snuffles. Before he knew it they were in the air, flying smoothly. Milo pulled away from his mother and Olivia hopped out of her fathers lap. They found their own seats and Daniel brought over Olivia's iPad for the two of them to watch a movie.

"I can't believe Milo's never flown before," Daniel said to Y/N as they sipped their drinks.

Y/N looked past him, her guilty face turned towards the window of the sleek private plane. "Yeah? Well, we've never been able to afford it before. But that was really kind of Olivia to give up her teddy."

Daniel smiled at that. His little girl really was special. "Now, you've got this entire journal to tell me everything about Formula One," she said as she leaned back in her seat.

It was a challenge, one Daniel happily took on. He didn't explain everything, of course - there wasn't enough time for that. He told her as much as she could, and only as much as she needed to know.

"Make sure you're rooting for the number three car, because that's me," he said.

She knew that one, knew she was supposed to be rooting for Daniels car.

"It's a street circuit," he explained. "Which means it uses public roads. But this one is a little different. It is a street circuit, but it uses roads from around the stadium in Miami. I'll take you and Milo to a real street circuit one day," he said, but that last part was rather quiet.

"Okay so I know about the track, I know what the teams are, kind of, and I know who to root for. Who are Milo and I not supposed to root for?" She asked, stretching her legs out in front of her.

"Everybody else," Daniel answered, but he had an inflection to his voice, signalling it was a joke.

Y/N just laughed along with him. He launched into telling her all about the Grand Prix that the USA hosted, from the Miami Grand Prix, to the Vegas Grand Prix and the Circuit of the Americas. "That's my favourite of them all," he said. "I have a house out there, but I haven't been in a while," he explained. "It's hard when Olivia's mother refuses to let me have more than a week with her."

"Hang on," Y/N began. "How many houses do you have?"

Daniel launched into another explanation. And then he promised to take her to his place in Monaco at some point.

"That would be lovely," she said as she sipped her drink.

She looked past him again, looking towards the window. Around them was clouds, but they were beautiful. Y/N couldn't stop herself from getting out of her chair and walking over to the window, getting onto her knees to look out of it.

"Here," Daniel said as he scooted over in his seat, leaving a space for her.

Y/N gladly took the seat. She was half on the seat and half on his lap, but neither of them seemed to mind. Daniel had his arm wrapped around her, but only because that was the most comfortable way for him to sit.

"Thank you for this," she muttered once again as she leaned back, resting against his shoulder.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lillians-world-is-f1 @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @teamnovalak @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

[teojira]

TEDDY! I checked ur old blog and saw u have a this one :3, and i saw u write for the KAIJUUUS? bro i love godzilla sosososoosoOSOSOSOSO MUCH, if you're down for it, could you do some headcanons of being Godzilla's favorite human?, ofc platonic, (i dead ass love this gigantic lizard sm i made a wedding pic art as a joke cause someone said marry the damn lizard and i said fine i will, and i wanna clarify twice, it was a joke, i just love large lizards)

[Being Goji's favorite human headcanons] [platonic]

Summary: What being a huge lizard titans human entails!

Warnings: None! Just platonic companionship between you and the Big guy.

Word count: 650+ words

A/N: Omg Tama :(( I'm so happy to see you're here from the call of duty blog!! It's always a joy to see you in my notifs 🫶 ofc I got you, Godzilla headcanons comin right up! I hope these are okay!

- Being Goji's favorite human comes with alot of good, but alot of bad as well.

- It makes you special. There is no documentation in any of Monarchs database of him having any explicit connection to humans, no country, no specific race, and you're seemingly the first person in history. But that also means you're under their control due to your ties to the Kaiju.

- He doesn't visit nearly as much as he wishes he could, despite you both being connected by seemingly fate. He is the king of monsters, bro is busy! He has to keep the balance.

- Monarch learned the hard way that you cannot be housed at a base, it sets Goji off, so they literally have to place you on a private island somewhere for when he does come to see you, he can't destroy anything.

- Contrary to most of the publics opinion, he IS sentient. He knows what he does. Destroying usually comes with the territory when he has to fight a threat, but visiting you isn't so he makes sure not to crush your home, bellowing to let you know he's come to see you.

- He doesn't know why he cares for you, but it feels right, coming to you and curling up on the sand, waiting for you to come closer.

- Goji has ever been touched by one other human without intent of harm, Serizawa. He still remembers how comforting it was, how a small little human seemed to care for him when he was at his lowest.

- He enjoys when you pet him, more often than not being more than okay with the touch. It also helps that you take care of any issues he may have due to him being in the water extremely often, and he gets the occasional barnacle.

- The first time you took one of him, he snarled so loud that it sent you flying onto your back in fear, his large head whipping around to see just what the fuck you were doing.

- You explained to him calmly that you were removing the parasites from his scales. All you got was a huff in return. But he did turn back and rest his head again, so you figure that was him saying it was okay.

- It's hard to spend quality time with the titan due to just how BIG the fucker is, but he allows you to climb up him and make your way to his head, he's eerily still when he feels you on him, he knows his strength and size and one wrong move and you fall, shattering your legs.

- He would definitely bring you back things he's found in the ocean. What do you mean you're not interested in this deep sea squid that's the size of 3 school buses? He got it just for you! (You let Monarch take it to study, but you pretend to Goji that you are taking it for yourself.) (He lets out a pleased rumble at providing for you.)

- He somehow has the uncanny ability to find you no matter where you go, one time Monarch took you to the Japan base for a meeting that they deemed you necessary to attend.

- Imagine everyone's shock and awe when he appeared, roaring in a rage as he slouched down to the ground, not relaxing until you ran out in view, frantically waving your arms.

- He takes all his naps on your private island, curling into a little ball, it's the best rest he has had in years, only thing to make it better is when you join him, bring a blanket or bring a little air mattress and sleep out there with him, it brings him so much joy. If lizards could purr, you're sure he would be.

- Where this Goji, there is Mothra! She wants to see what caught his eye for the first time in centuries, she cares for humans more than he ever has, so she takes a liking to you immediately. So she visits you when she's able to, usually chirping and letting you touch her fuzz.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Christmas in paradise

Summary: After a PR nightmare Clara "kidnaps" her client and best friend Dieter Bravo to a private luxury island to spend six weeks away from all the glitz and glam of Hollywood. Spending so much time together one on one might finally lead to confessions that will make them more than just friends...

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC named Clara

Wordcount: 10.8k

Rating: E

Warnings: friends to lovers, Dieter being involved in a PR Nightmare, humour, fluff, cooking, getting sober, feelings, kissing, skinny dipping, smut (protected sex, oral sex), happy end

A/N: With all those pics of Pedro on vacation coming out you would think I started writing this fic in the last couple days when actually, I started this fic in November 2023. This is my longest one shot yet, and I hope it does not disappoint!

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Full Masterlist // Dieter Bravo Masterlist

Clara’s days start early.

They always did. 

Her alarm woke her at 6 am (on good days), she got out of bed, took a shower and drank her first cup of coffee. Had breakfast on her way to the office where she drank her second cup. 

Then after 8-12 hours (sometimes 15 hour days) in her office dealing with her clients she made her way back home, getting take out on her way back. Where she would eat and then fall asleep in front of her TV.

Those were good days. Days Clara preferred. Sometimes she even got free days for herself where she could go and meet her friends (the few she still had) or get a massage at her favourite spa.

She once met Kate Walsh while in the spa and while Clara dealt with celebrities on the daily, thanks to the girlcrush she had on Kate she couldn’t even form a sentence to introduce herself. 

Good days were there. Occasionally. 

But… there were clients who made her life a little more… complicated. Which honestly was the part of her job she enjoyed up to a certain degree. 

That was what PR was for. Dealing with the outside perspective and well… scandals. 

She was married to her job which was why her actual husband, David, felt the need to search for someone who could…. Fulfil his needs more than Clara could. 

The divorce had been unpleasant. 

David and her had been highschool sweethearts, which meant there was no prenup. David had big plans back in college, wanting to open up his own law firm, and become a big name. And even though he was a law student the last thing both thought about at the age of 20 was signing a prenup. 

15 years later Clara came to regret that decision. While David was a more or less successful lawyer, her career had gone through the roof with her own PR Firm and office on the upper west side in New York and in downtown Los Angeles. 

David might have been the one who cheated on her and ended the marriage, but he made sure to take half of everything she owned with him when he left. And the worst part of it was, she didn’t even care. 

Instead on the evening after they had finalised their divorce she went out to dinner with a client of hers. 

Well… he was more like a best friend, yet definitely a client. Probably the most exhausting client she had, but one of her closest friends at the same time. 

Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Clara have known each other their whole life. 

They lived on the same street growing up.

They went to the same school 

They both moved to New York at the same time. 

But they only really got to know each other when Dieter was fired from his first manager after he was caught with well… his managers wife in the restroom of a restaurant. 

It was actually Clara’s mother who had called her and given her Dieter’s number. 

Clara signed Dieter as a client and he became like a…. Pimple that wouldn’t go away. In a very nice way. If pimples could be nice.

It was him who was there for her after the divorce. 

Sighing she rolled her head as she sat at her desk, her sixth coffee of the day cold in the mug that said “I’d rather be with Dieter Bravo” that he gifted her a couple years back as a Christmas gift. 

There was a knock on the door and she looked up, her assistant slowly stepping in with a sorry expression, a big bouquet of Peonies in her arms. 

Clara groaned loudly as her assistant set down the flowers in front of her. 

“When did they get delivered?” Clara asked.

“About fifteen minutes ago,” she said. Clara already felt the nerves fluttering in her belly. She never got flowers. The only person who sent flowers was Dieter when he fucked up. 

“Did… Is there any news out yet on what he’s done now?” Clara asked. Her assistant shook her head. 

“But this is… a big bouquet. Bigger than the last time and…”

“It’s my favourite flowers,” Clara sighed, glancing at the clock. 

It was after 5pm already. 

“He sent me flowers too,” her assistant said and Clara blinked at her, slowly. 

“And there’s also lemon sponge cake from the Magnolia Bakery outside….”

Clara took a deep breath, before she reached for her phone. 

“What did he do now?” Clara asked herself with a sigh. 

“I’m going to check all sources and stay in late,” her Assistant said. Clara smiled at her as she looked up. 

“Thank you. Order Pizza too. Whatever he had done now might end up with a night shift. You don’t have to stay though, you know that right?” Clara asked. 

“I know. But my girlfriend is out of town so… nothing else I have planned for tonight anyway.”

“You deserve a raise,” Clara winked.

“Wouldn’t say no to that. You want me to bring the cake in?”

“Let me call him first. Maybe I’ll need the cake to throw it at him when he gets here.”

Clara’s assistant laughed before she left her alone, her phone in her hand. 

Clara unlocked her phone, opening the contacts to search for Dieter’s name, her thump hovering over his name. 

He hadn’t called yet. 

Usually he would have at least tried to call her by now.

Taking a deep breath she pressed the dial button, bringing her phone up to her ear. 

Dieter was in panic mode.

And for Dieter to hit panic mode, he must have really fucked up. 

But this? This was not even entirely his fault? It happened at his house though which was more than enough. 

It also happened while he was in his house.

At his party. 

With way too many people around he didn’t even know. 

But the line of coke (or two) and some champagne made Dieter forget about how shitty he felt. 

It was high Dieter who fucked up. High Dieter did not think about sober Dieter having to deal with his shit.

Well, high and horny Dieter. Which was…. Daily Dieter. But coke high Dieter was different from weed high Dieter. 

And he was always horny really.

Anyways…

The news broke twenty minutes after he had gotten off the phone with Clara. 

“Senator O’Conelly overdosed at Dieter Bravo’s house party”

Which was something Clara could have handled. But then three hours later came:

“Exclusive: Senator O’Conelly’s wife was having sex with Dieter Bravo while the Senator overdosed”

Which…. Was harder to handle, but Clara was the best at her job, so she had a response prepared.

But then came:

“Leaked: Dieter Bravo’s Sextape”

Which wasn’t a first. It was just the first time he did not know he’d been filmed. Mostly because he was so high, he did not care. 

And this time it was in HD which made “Dieter Bravo Penis” the most googled topic for four days straight.

The senator had fucked Dieter so hard just before he overdosed, he still had bruises from his grip on his waist. Him fucking the senators very willing wife while said Senator overdosed was not Dieter’s fault though. 

And while his PR team tried to handle it, there was only so much they could do once the Senator’s wife gave a very tearful interview making Dieter the one who was responsible for putting the Senator in a coma. 

She conveniently left out how she had sniffed a line of coke herself while he was getting fucked by her husband. 

The only reason the news hadn’t broken earlier was because the Senator’s PR wanted to keep this under wraps but failed because someone on the party had taken photos. And that video.

Fucking Gen Z. Or… whatever. 

While there had been scandals around Dieter in the past, and a lot of them, the shit storm this one turned out to be, seemed not to end that soon. 

Of course the Senators PR Team pinned the whole story with him as the boogeyman. 

Dieter had a reputation so it wasn’t that hard. 

What was hard was him being forced to drop out of the HBO series he had signed because of the backlash. Or losing the Deal with Kit Kat. 

God the Kit Kat deal. He would be missing the weekly care packages. 

But the hardest was the disappointed look in Clara’s eyes whenever they face-timed. 

He could deal with almost everything, but Clara being disappointed? He couldn’t even explain why it was hitting him so hard, the one worded answers from her and the obviously acted smile she threw his way. 

Clara had become what he would call best friend. If he had friends.

She’s been with him through thick and thin (okay mostly because it was her job to fix his shit) but somewhere along the way the phone calls became more private than professional. He made sure to always have her favourite tea stocked at home for whenever she was in town and… something just wasn’t right when he wouldn’t hear from her every day. 

He’d taken a whole month off once she told him about her divorce and practically moved in with her. 

It was the last time he had been mostly clean. 

Apart from alcohol and weed, but that did not count anyway did it?

“We’re here Mister Bravo,” Dieter looked up at the driver, nodding once at him. 

Dieter had no idea where he would be going. He only got Clara’s message that a car would pick him up at 4:30 am and that she already instructed his PA to pack his suitcases. 

Maybe she was planning to kill him and frankly, he wouldn’t even blame her. What were the suitcases for then though?

Dieter got out of the car, finding himself already on the airfield of the small airport, the car close to a private jet. He saw two younger men carry his suitcases out of the car and put them into the trunk of the plane. 

Dieter looked up into the dark sky, taking a deep breath before he made his way towards the stairs leading into the plane. 

A grin sneaked to his face when he saw Clara sitting already cozied up into a deep blue blanket, her dark hair in a bun on top of her head. Her head turned towards him as she heard footsteps and she sighed exhausted, yet could not fight the smile. 

“One day you are going to be the death of me, Dieter Bravo,” she shook her head and got up to her feet, Dieter meeting her halfway to hug her close and kiss her cheek. She wanted to let go, but he kept his arms around her. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and Clara squeezed him. 

“I know you are,” she whispered, kissing his cheek.

„You gonna throw me out of the plane over the ocean?“ He teased and she rolled her eyes. 

„Don’t give me any ideas,“ she scoffed. 

They both settled into their seats, taking their shoes off as the crew got through the routine of getting ready to take off. 

“So where are you kidnapping me to?” Dieter asked, pulling his glasses off. Clara looked at him. 

“You’re paying for this, so I don’t know if that counts as kidnapping.”

“True.”

“You have to get off the radar of the tabloids. And while I know I could just…. Make you stay at home or force you to another stay at a rehab clinic, I don't really trust you to just stay there by yourself. I know you too well,” she began. 

“So I booked you a 6 week stay on Gladden island. And I’ll be babysitting you.”

“On an island.”

“A tropical private island with 24 hour service.”

Dieter gave her a look. 

“Before you say anything, think about me having to put out a official statement about your penis. Again,” she raised her left eyebrow. 

“But it’s a nice looking penis,” he mumbled with a small pout and Clara groaned. 

“Okay, okay, okay. Six weeks. Private Island. Check.”

“No internet. No drugs. No hookers.”

Dieter pouted even more. 

“You know I’m a sex addict right?”

“Not diagnosed.”

“Dr. Google says otherwise.”

„Then I have a brain aneurysm since I’ve seen the video of you snorting coke of the cock of that senator,“ Clara grunted and Dieter winced.

„No sex, really?“ He whined. 

“I’m afraid it’s gonna be you and your hand from now on.”

“Would you want to have sex with…”

“Please do not finish that sentence. I have a vibrator that will take care of my physical needs and an iPad full of books for the rest, thank you very much.”

Dieter took a deep breath, closing his eyes to stop himself from picturing her with her vibrator, spread on a bed, working herself closer and closer…

“Dieter?”

He opened his eyes. 

“If you want to leave, you have to do it now. But if you walk out of his plane, I won’t be representing you anymore. I know I am getting paid for this but…. I can’t deal with scandals like this anymore.”

His heart squeezed in his chest at the look in her eyes. 

“I won’t leave. I think we both need some time apart from ourselves and our lives,” he said and she nodded before her eyes focused on her iPad. 

“Where exactly are we going?” Dieter asked. 

“Belize.”

Clara wasn't as exhausted as she thought she would be once they got to Belize. Dieter on the other hand looked like dead on heels. Or… Crocs.

His hair was unkempt, dark circles under his eyes after the 12 hour flight. 

The first thing he did was put on a cigarette, inhaling it like his lungs did not know how to work otherwise. 

Clara took off her sweater, revealing a pink top underneath. 

It was early afternoon in Belize and they weren’t even at their final destination yet. 

More than once she asked herself if spending so much time with Dieter without anyone else around would be a good idea. 

They were friends, of course. But they had never spent more than five days together and that was in a big city when they both could flee at any given point. 

Even in the time he had partially moved into her place they still got out to handle appointments or have dinner.

To flee the private island they’d have to wait for someone to pick them up by boat or helicopter. 

And then there was the drug problem. 

Frankly, Clara did not know how bad it was exactly. She was the last person to judge anyone and their life choices, but she was getting scared something would happen sooner or later to Dieter that would take him from her. 

Which was a strange way to think because he wasn’t hers in the first place. 

But he was a friend.

A good friend. 

Her… only good friend really and she wasn’t even sure if he knew her birthday. Then again he knew other things. 

Like her favourite flowers. And Pastries. And that she talked in her sleep. 

“I’m starving,” Dieter snapped her out of her internal whirlwind. She pulled her hand into her bag, searching for….

Dieter’s eyes lit up like a Christmas Tree at the big pack of Kit Kat’s she held up. 

“You know the way to my heart Clara honey bunny,” he grinned and she rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile. 

“You better share with me, Bravo,” she threw the package at him. 

“Nope,” he said and walked towards the car that was waiting for them already, their suitcases in the trunk .

This place was beautiful. 

The sun was setting when they got to the port, the sky in so many colours, she couldn’t wait to watch it everyday. 

Dieter was quiet beside her as he watched her watch the sunset. 

There was a soft smile on her lips, her eyes glistening. Maybe he could get some art supplies so he could paint her while they were on the island. 

She didn’t know that in a secluded corner of his studio at home there were some paintings of her that he painted, mostly after coming down from a high. When he felt lonely and vulnerable. 

He only had to think of her to feel a little lighter. A little more himself. 

Maybe this trip was the best idea she could have.

He needed some time away from all of… all of the people who called themselves his friends. 

When Dieter moved to LA almost 25 years ago he was young and full of hope and dreams. 

But the longer he stayed in LA and got into the industry and met more and more people, the more he changed.

Sometimes he wondered what 16 year old Dieter would think of the man he had become. 

Sure, he was a successful actor with an Oscar and some Emmy’s. Also a Golden Globe. And rumour had it the musical he just wrapped filming was on the road to get him another Golden Globe and maybe a Tony too. If he did not get kicked out of the Academy.

But… he couldn’t remember the last time he was 100% sober and clean on a set. 

Or when the last time was he really had fun on a movie set. 

He was getting older and his doctor was getting more and more concerned with the way he treated his body. 

But… it was easier to call his dealer and get some coke or LSD than to talk about his feelings to a therapist. 

It was easier to drink another glass of wine than tell his manager that no, he did not want to make another shitty cliff beasts movie. 

It was easier to get a groupie into his bed instead of finally acknowledging that he had been in love with someone for the last ten years without acting on it. 

Clara smiled at him as she turned her head, letting it fall against his shoulder. 

Dieter closed his eyes to just feel her so close. 

“I am going to be sleeping for the next 24 hours,” she mumbled and Dieter chuckled. 

“Think you can make it to bed or do I have to carry you from the boat to wherever you kidnapped me?” he teased. 

“Don’t want you to break your back, old man,” he could hear the smile in her voice and he dramatically rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll have you know I am working out now,” he said seriously. She looked up at him, suspicion in her eyes. 

“There better not be some kind of sex joke in there…”

“Hey, Cardio is very important. You should try it too,” Dieter grinned. She was about to answer him when someone called her name and she turned around.

“The boat is ready,” the man said. 

“How long until we get there?” she asked, pulling away from Dieter who definitely did not miss her warmth immediately. 

“About 40 minutes.”

Clara could see the island in the far distance. The last hues of sun had disappeared over the ocean some time ago and it was almost dark. 

Dieter was snoring next to her and she rolled her eyes to herself. 

There was a part of her that was scared of spending so much time with him. Not because they did not like each other. It was clearly the opposite. 

But…. frankly she did not know about how many drugs and things he consumed. She knew after Cliffbeasts he got more careful but apart from that? 

She had been with him at his Doctor’s appointment afterwards where the Doctor told him that he had been incredibly lucky and that he should take this near death experience as a wake up call. 

His heart was already suffering, even though only a little, but Dieter would turn 45 next year. 

And if he continued his life with the substances like this, there was a big chance he would not make it to 50. 

The thought of losing Dieter had put Clara in a state of fear and shock after. 

Yes, she was only his PR Manager. 

And a friend. 

Maybe a very good friend?

And maybe… maybe sometimes her feelings for him lingered on the verge to more but….

She had no right to tell him what to do. 

It was dark when they finally got to the island, leaving both Dieter and Clara so tired they just let them be shown their bedrooms only to fall asleep quickly after a refreshing shower. 

But while Clara stayed asleep throughout the night, Dieter woke up three hours later, unable to fall asleep again. 

So he put his boxer shorts on (remembering in the last moment that he wasn’t alone and Clara would probably appreciate not seeing his penis again so quickly, even though he kinda wished she would) and explored the villa. 

It was luxurious to say the least. 

He opened the extra large fridge in the kitchen, finding it stocked with all his favourites and some of Clara’s too. 

Where the fuck did she find this place?

His mind wouldn’t shut up so he focused on making something to eat. 

It was how Clara found him almost 4 hours later. The kitchen was in absolute chaos while Dieter had fallen asleep sitting at the kitchen island. Confusion replaced by amusement came to her as she watched the various dishes (or attempts) sitting on the counter. There was a very tasty looking chocolate cake right next to Dieter, his fork still stuck in it. 

Then there were pancakes (sweet with chocolate chips and savoury with bacon), some breakfast muffins too. 

She grabbed one, biting into it, surprised that it actually tasted good, though she should have known. He always had loved to cook. 

She jumped when an alarm went off and Dieter snapped awake, almost falling off his chair. 

“You’re awake! Finally!” he smiled, kissing her on the cheek, while he walked to the stove. 

“How long have you been awake?” Clara asked.

“Dunno. Couldn’t sleep. Made breakfast instead,” he put on the pink mittens, carefully taking out whatever he made. 

“For the whole week?” she asked and he shrugged. 

“No drugs means I have other cravings. And you don’t want to have sex so….. I am making food.”

“Is that… Lasagna?” you asked. 

“After my mama’s recipe,” he nodded proudly, setting the casserole down. 

“It smells delicious,” her mouth watered. 

“Grab a fork and get into it,” Dieter grinned. 

“It’s 7 am.”

“And?” he looked at her with raised eyebrows. 

Clara chuckled before she grabbed a fork. 

The first day was spent being very lazy, fighting off jet-lag and eating lasagna all day. Dieter told Clara that he had explored the house and might move into the private theatre.

They spend the whole afternoon in the private theatre watching Harry Potter and eating chocolate cake. Clare feel asleep during the second move, her head resting on Dieter’s shoulder. 

And Dieter watched her instead of the movie until he fell asleep too. 

Only to wake up shivering. 

He was sweating, not knowing if he was hot or cold. 

„You okay?“ Clara asked tiredly and Dieter closed his eyes. 

He was fidgeting, nervous. Usually he would take something now. Something to calm him down. 

But he was on a island in the middle of fucking nowhere and hadn’t had anything in almost 48 hours. Dieter closed his eyes, trying to calm his fast beating heart. 

„Wait here,“ Clara said before she got up. 

She knew what this was. 

Before leaving for this trip she had sat down with specialist in drug rehab who tried to explain everything that could happen once his body realised that it would be not getting a new fix. 

Doing this without medical assistance could be scary, but she wanted to help Dieter through it. She wanted him to get better. 

So she got some medication that would help him through it from the doctors. Only through the first couple of days. A doctor would visit them tomorrow and then every other day until Dieter would not need it anymore. 

Clara knew this could be hard. There was a reason that there were rehab centres and clinics for recovering drug addicts. And with Dieter already being in his forties and taking drugs for the, she guessed, at least twenty years…. She just hopped she could help him through this. 

Because she did not want to wake up one day to the news of him passing away from drugs. 

And so she had planned everything. 

Quickly getting through her luggage she grabbed one of the pills and walked back. Dieter was focused on the movie when she sat down next to him, his head turning towards her, his eyes glassy. She could see his hair clinging to his forehead, most likely due to the cold sweat. 

„I know you are probably going to hate me for a bit for bringing you here, but I just want you to know that I love you. And I want you to get better,“ Clara said and Dieter sighed. 

„I’m a real mess huh?“ He asked and Clara found herself smiling, reaching over to brush over his cheek. 

„You just need a little help sometimes. We all do,“ Clara said, before she gave him the pill she had gotten. 

„According to the doctors I spoke to this should help you with the withdrawal symptoms,“ she said and Dieter nodded, not even questioning her as he reached for the pill and swallowed it down. 

„Maybe I should just sleep through the next few days. I never got through more than five days before I quiet rehab,“ he said, disappointed and anxious. 

„Well, you’re stuck here for the next six weeks. With me. Maybe getting away from everything is gonna be what’s good for you in the end,“ Clara smiled before she laid down again next to him. 

The following week was a long one. 

Clara could see how Dieter was in pain but he never lashed out at her. He slept through most of the day, the doctor who came to visit them helping with infusions of vitamins and everything he needed when he was there.

Clara had taken to sleeping next to Dieter in his bed, wanting to be close in case he needed something. Or in case he got worse. 

More than once she found herself in Dieter’s arms when she woke up in the morning, his breath hitting the back of her neck in warm puffs. 

She knew he was a cuddler, and she was touch starved as hell so enjoyed it whenever it happened. 

By day eight Dieter began to feel better. 

„I can’t believe we’re on a private island and I haven’t even been out to the beach,“ he mumbled into his pillow, some true crime documentary on the tv in his room. Clara had made them some toast and eggs for breakfast which they ate in bed. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this lazy and relaxed. 

„We could just… go outside?“ She suggested, her head tilting towards the open sliding door that opened directly to the pool, private beach and the ocean. 

Dieter followed her line of view, contemplating what getting out of bed and onto the beach would entail. 

He still felt like shit. But not as bad as it had been the day before. Or the day before that. He didn’t know why but somehow it seemed…. Easier this time around. Getting off drugs. Dieter slept through most of it all, the withdrawal symptoms only really hard in the first couple of days. By now he just felt exhausted and wanted to lay in bed all day.

In bed with Clara around who smelled so damn good all the time. 

Meanwhile he couldn’t remember when he even took his last shower. 

Frowning he narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember. 

„You’re thinking this hard about going outside?“ Clara teased and he shook his head. 

„Thinking about when was the last time I took a shower,“ he grunted, before he smelled under his arms, shuddering. 

„It’s been…. Some time….“ She helped, looking at the TV with sucked in lips. He groaned theatrically before he took a deep breath and got out of bed. Yeah, no. He could smell himself and not in a good way. 

„I’m gonna…“ he moved his head towards the bedroom and Clara nodded. 

„I’ll meet you out at the beach after,“ she said, watching him disappear into his en suite bathroom, the door slipping closed behind him. 

She took a deep breath, hoping that the worst was behind them before she got out of bed and began to strip down the sheets to wash them. 

Once the sheets were in the washing machine she went into her room to put on her bathing suit and cover up, grabbing the sun lotion. Dieter was already outside when she walked the short path down to the beach. His bathing shorts were hanging low and she allowed herself to take in the broadness of his back in as he stared out at the ocean. 

„We’ve had this view since we got here?“ He asked as he felt Clara next to him. She hummed and he looked down at her. She had her hair up in a messy bun, her face free of any make up that she usually wore whenever they saw each other. 

Dieter always thought that she was beautiful. 

Had been since he was a child. 

The prettiest princess of all he used to say. 

He used to think they would get married someday. But somewhere along the way he got the offer he always dreamed off and moved from New York to LA and their calls got less and less until they stopped. It had only been his own stupidity that brought Clara back into his life and while she was his PR Manager, she was so much more. 

He didn’t think there was anyone left in his life who would have just taken him out of this toxic environment he found himself in back home just to help him, so he could get better. 

She genuinely cared about him and he wanted to find out if maybe, just maybe she cared more about him than just as a friend. 

Because Dieter had been in love with Clara since he was probably six years old, even though he only realised it around 10 years ago..

„You gonna help me with the sun screen and I help you?“ Clara asked, holding the bottle out. Dieter nodded with a small smile before they walked over to one of the numerous beach chairs and she sat down in front of him. 

„You feeling better after that shower?“ She asked and Dieter opened the bottle. Clara took off her cover up and Dieter swallowed harshly at the amount of skin in front of him he was about to touch. 

„Like a new person. I think…. I think I’m over the worst part,“ he said, squeezing the bottle to bring some of the sunscreen into one of his palms, rubbing it between both hands. 

„I still think about taking drugs all the time though,“ he confessed before he slowly brought his hands down on her back, feeling her jump. 

„Sorry,“ he hummed, beginning to rub the sunscreen into her skin. 

„I already looked for NA places in LA and in New York,“ she said and he found himself smiling. 

„Of course you did. Always prepared,“ he said with a smile and she looked over her shoulder at him with a small smile. 

„That’s what I get paid for,“ she winked before she turned her head back towards the ocean. He stilled for a moment, before he continued to rub the sunscreen in. 

„Is that… Is that the only reason why we’re here? Because of your job?“ He asked, anxious for her answer. She turned around then, sitting in front of him. 

„No. If you were any other client I would have quit back when that video of you your ex wife arguing went viral,“ she said and he sighed, letting his head fall down, chin against his chest. He felt her hand over his and he looked up at her. 

„I care about you and your life Dieter. I just want you to genuinely be happy,“ she said. 

„I don’t know what makes me genuinely happy,“ he whispered, feeling like a scared child. 

Her smile softened. 

„Maybe you’ll use this time away from everything to find happiness, then,“ she winked, before she grabbed the bottle of sunscreen. 

„And now turn around so I can put lotion on your back,“ she sassed and he chuckled before he turned around. 

„It rubs the lotion on it’s skinnnn,“ he said with a squeaky voice, gasping when he felt the cold lotion drip directly on his skin. 

„Do not test me, Bravo,“ Clara warned but he could hear the smile In her voice. 

It was the day after that he found the atelier on the other side of the villa. Clara was in a call for work and he ventured out, exploring the villa. 

It was a beautiful place of earth she had found. 

Earlier today the doctor had come to visit him and he was glad to find out that he was doing better. The doctor also agreed to help with a surprise for Clara which he would bring with him on his next check up which would be in four days. 

Now he found himself staring out at the ocean as he sat in front of the beginnings of a painting he started, his favourite muse already staring back at him from the canvas. 

Clara’s words of him using this time to find out what makes him happy echoed in his ear as he looked at it. 

It was her. It was always her. 

And maybe he took all these drugs to get over the pain and the feelings of never being good enough for her. 

Because what did he have to offer her? 

He had money, he had a career, he had awards. 

But Clara didn’t care about all of that. She cared about Dieter the person and he had no idea who that was anymore. 

Sighing he got up, making sure to close the door behind him as he ventured towards the kitchen. He could hear Clara talk in the living room just around the corner and he decided to cook something for her. 

What most people didn’t know about Dieter was that he loved to cook. 

He took one look into the fridge and decided to make some carbonara, with fresh pasta of course. He hummed to himself as he searched through the kitchen cabinets for the pasta maker. He knew it was somewhere. He had made the lasagna on the first day from scratch after all. 

As he cut the pancetta, the rest already prepared, the water heating up for the pasta he heard footsteps, looking up to find Clara walk into the big kitchen. 

„Whatcha making?“ She asked with a tired smile, sitting down at one of the barstools at the kitchen island. 

„Carbonara,“ he smiled. 

He had a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder, a white shirt beneath. She could see some paint on his shirt, her smile softening knowing he found the atelier she had set up for him in the house. 

He seemed… lighter. 

The far away look in his eyes was gone, replaced by brightness as he prepared their dinner. 

„Can I help?“ Clara asked and Dieter looked up at her with a warm smile and she felt butterflies in her belly. 

„I saw some garlic knots in the fridge. Maybe you can pop them in the oven?“ He asked. She nodded, getting up from her seat. She prepared the garlic knots, continuing to watch Dieter out of the corner of her eyes. He was roasting the pancetta, the kitchen filling with the smell of it. He walked past her, his hand resting on her hip as he reached for the cheese. 

Giving her a warm smile he got back to work. 

„Maybe you can teach me to cook while we’re here,“ Clara smiled and Dieter grinned. 

„Or I can just continue to cook for you. I like taking care of you,“ he said and Clara was glad her back was turned towards him, her face flushing. 

„And what about once we go home? I gotta go back to sad microwave dinners and take out?“ She asked as she sat back down on the kitchen island. 

„Or you gotta keep me around,“ he said with a wink and she smiled at him. 

„I don’t think my kitchen has been used for actual cooking since I bought the new apartment. It’s kinda lonely there to be honest,“ Clara sighed and Dieter looked up at her. 

„It’s the same with my place. It’s way too big to live there alone. Maybe we should move in together,“ he joked.

Clara’s lips twitched into a smile. 

„Oh yeah? You sure we wouldn’t kill each other within a week?“ She teased. 

„It’s been working just find here,“ he shrugged, his palms resting on the cool surface of the marble kitchen island, as he leaned towards her. 

„You have been asleep most of the time we’ve been here,“ she winked playfully. 

„So I’ll ask you again when we leave,“ he winked back and she chuckled. 

„Do that.“

„Where would we live?“ He asked later, food eaten and kitchen cleaned. Clara and him had made themselves a fruity cocktail before they walked outside, sitting down in the warm sand, listening to the ocean. The sun had almost set completely and with how far away they were from everything they could see the stars come out, more and more each minute. 

„Mhhhh…. Which one do you wanna hear? The realistic one or the one I would dream of?“ She asked, her head falling against his shoulder as she sat next to him. 

„The one you dream of,“ he said softly, his arm coming around her from behind, his hand resting in the sand next to her hip. 

„I always wanted to live close to the ocean. I’d love to be able to walk on to my little balcony of my very big bedroom and see and hear the ocean first thing in the morning. If we were to live together it would have to be somewhere far away from LA. Somewhere we you could relax and paint and where I could… find an actual hobby instead of working twenty hours a day. Maybe I could take cooking lessons. I like to cook, I am just terrible at it,“ she mused and Dieter smiled. 

„I’ll give you cooking lessons. I told you so,“ he mumbled. 

„But what when you have to work?“

„In this dream reality I don’t work. Honestly? Acting doesn’t make me as happy as it used to. So if we’re talking about dreams? I wouldn’t be an actor,“ he said and she looked up at him. 

„What would you do?“

He hummed, looking away from her and back towards the ocean. 

„Maybe I’d give art lessons to kids. We could set up a room in that dream house of yours for that, right?“ He teased and she agreed.

They continued to look out until the sun had fully set, the only light coming from the house behind them and from the stars above them. 

„Would you have someone live there with us? A boyfriend or husband?“ Dieter asked quietly after a while and looked down at her. She shook her head. 

„In my dream there is no one but you, Dieter,“ she whispered and Dieter felt his heart jump in his chest as one of her hands came to rest on his knee. 

„What about you?“ Clara asked and he took a deep breath, her head tilting up to look at him. Even though it was dark they were so close that she could see all of him. Instead of answering he, his head dipped lower, his nose brushing over hers. 

„I would really love to kiss you, Clara,“ he whispered and she shivered when she felt his breath brush over her skin. 

„Dream you or real you?“ She whispered back. 

„Both,“ he hummed and without any more words she closed the small distance between them, connecting their lips in a soft kiss.

It lasted only a few seconds but they both felt out of breath as they looked each other. 

„I’ve wanted to do that for years,“ he said and she sucked her bottom lip in as she sat herself up so she could get closer. 

„Why haven’t you?“ She asked.

„You were married and I was… am a mess,“ he shrugged with a awkward smile. 

„I can handle your mess,“ she winked and he grinned. 

„I know,“ he said before he leaned in again, kissing her with more eager now, his hands reaching for her, pulling her closer and Clara let him, climbing into his lap, her hands first on his shoulders then in his hair as they kissed, tongues playing with each other.

„I can’t believe I’m kissing you,“ he mumbled against her lips, making her giggle. 

„You imagined it before?“ She asked when they parted, her still in his lap, his arms around her. She had one of her hands in his hair, her other hand on his cheek. 

„Oh yeah. All the time. But I didn’t want to lose you as a friend, so I never made a move,“ he sighed.

„What changed?“ She asked, genuinely curious.

„I think I was getting tired of denying myself the one thing I always wanted,“ he said and her thumb brushed over his bottom lip. 

„Me?“ You whispered and he nodded, kissing her thumb.

„You make things… quiet. Like cocaine,“ he grinned and she rolled her eyes. 

„Do not compare me to the drug that almost killed you,“ she said with an eye roll. 

„Might get addicted to you,“ he mumbled, pulling her closer, kissing her jaw. 

„I think…. I could live with that,“ she whispered as she tilted her head down to kiss him again. 

When Clara woke up in the morning from that day on, it was in Dieter’s arms. 

And if Dieter wasn’t in bed, he was in his studio, painting away on canvases she wasn’t allowed to see yet. 

The last two weeks had been… interesting. 

She thought the switch from being just friend to… more than friends would be awkward but surprisingly both Dieter and her slipped into… whatever they were now easily. 

At the end of the day not much had changed. 

They were still best friends and loved each other. 

Now they only kissed and touched each other whenever they wanted. And they did that. A lot. 

She could hear the speedboat approaching outside, the doctor that came to see Dieter now only coming once a week when groceries and other things they needed were delivered to their little private island. 

She never in her wildest dreams thought that not only she would love to spend so much time with Dieter but she would not look forward to get back into their old lives. 

But that was still two weeks away. Two weeks, that would hopefully give both of them all the answers they were searching for not only for themselves, but on how their relationship would change once they had to leave their little cocoon. 

She heard Dieters before she saw them. 

His naked feet hitting the wooden floor as he walked towards the main entrance. Only in the last second he seemed to see her, his eyes softening and walking towards her, kissing her softly. 

„Can you stay in our room?“ He asked. 

Another recent change. While they hadn’t actually had sex yet, they had been sleeping in the same bed since the first time they kissed. It was…. So different than both of them had experienced in the past. 

While before Clara, even in the beginning when she was in love with another person, still cherished her own space at night, she basically was attached to Dieter the moment they got under the covers. Something Dieter welcomed with open arms, loving the way Clara felt against him every night. 

She frowned at his request though. 

„Why?“

A grin sneaked to his lips. 

„You trust me?“ Dieter asked, one of his hands on her hip, his other hand pushing her hair behind her ear. He looked excited, so she nodded. 

„Good,“ he kissed her again. 

„Then come and meet me in the living room after your next call,“ he said, having memorised her online meeting schedule by now. 

„Fine,“ she said, still a little suspicious, eyes narrowing playfully, before she turned around, taking one last look over her shoulder before she rounded the hallway, walking towards their bedroom where she had been working from since they gotten here. 

With a deep breath Dieter turned away, walking outside to see if anything was going according to plan. 

His doctor and two other men who were carrying various boxes approached and he hoped it was the surprise that had been delayed due to shipping problems.. 

„You got everything?“ Dieter asked and they all nodded. 

„Awesome. Could you just bring all these boxes into the living room?“ He asked and the two men already walked past him into the house, knowing their way around. 

„You look good, Mr. Bravo,“ his doctor said and Dieter took a deep breath, a smile on his lips. 

„I don’t think I have felt this good in twenty years,“ he said honestly. 

„That’s good. Now, I talked to your therapist after you gave me the contact details. Let’s talk?“ He asked and Dieter nodded, showing the man the way inside. 

Seconds after Clara’s last call ended, Dieter knocked on the door. 

He had spend the last two hours talking to his doctor and then, after he left setting up a call with his therapist back in LA. 

There were a lot of things Dieter would have to work through, hopefully with Clara by his side as his partner. He was getting anxious only thinking about not spending every single minute of the day with her but he knew life had to somehow carry on once they left here. 

So he would make the most out of the time they had left here, just the two of them. 

He hoped she would like the little surprise he had set up. 

When she opened the door her eyes widened before her hand flew to her mouth covering her mouth as she laughed. 

„Santa?“ She asked and Dieter grinned, his finger flipping the end of his Santa hat playfully. She couldn’t help but laugh when she noticed the matching swim shorts he also was wearing. 

Almost giddy he held up a mistletoe over his head and she snorted before she got on her tiptoes, her arms coming up to cross behind his neck, her lips pressing against his. 

He would never get tired of this. 

„Ready for your surprise?“ He hummed against her lips. 

„A surprise?“ She asked, eyes wide. He nodded. 

„Come,“ he kissed her again before he took her hand and pulled her towards the living room. 

Her lips parted in shock when she walked into the living room. 

It looked like a Christmas store had exploded in there. There was a fake tree half assembled in the corner, Three big boxes of what she thought were ornaments next to the couch. Strings of Christmas lights that Dieter must have started to unpack lay on the floor in a tangled mess and she could just almost see where he got frustrated before he just let them be. 

She felt his arms come around her from behind, his chest against her back, hugging her close, his chin resting on her shoulder. 

„I know how much you love Christmas. And it’s my fault you aren’t spending it in your Fever dream of apartment this year,“ he teased and she rolled her eyes. He had always teased her about her decorations. 

„So I wanted to do a little something for you. To show you how grateful I am that you never stop believing in me. Even when I don’t believe in myself anymore. And I… I really wanna change this time. I wanna stay sober, be healthier,“ he promised and kissed her cheek. 

„Dieter, this is too much…“ Clara mumbled, feeling the tears in her eyes. 

„It’s not enough. You’ve been dealing with my shit for almost twenty years on and off. Let me start to make it up to you,“ he mumbled against her ear, lips brushing over her skin. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. 

„Okay,“ she whispered. 

There was something magical about a lit Christmas tree when she could hear the ocean outside.

They had spent all afternoon decorating the tree, Christmas music blasting from the speakers. 

They had sang together (horribly), dance together (sillily), kissed each other breathless (both ready for more).

After they finished he told her that he hadn’t unpacked all the food that had been brought yet. It was when she was sorting through one of the boxes in the kitchen, Dieter also putting stuff away that she found the package of condoms. 

She hummed interested, Dieter looking up at her as she held the condoms up with a raised eyebrow and puckered lips. 

„You expecting company, Bravo?“ She asked, teasing him. 

„I expect nothing. But… I like to be prepared for every scenario,“ he said with a wink and Clara nodded slowly. 

„I know that you had a vasectomy before you got married, and you know I had my tubes tied like ten years ago, right?“

He walked over towards her, nodding. 

„I also know I haven’t had my blood tested in a while. So….“ He shrugged, his hands on the kitchen counter behind her, caging her in. 

„Would you like to have sex with me, Dieter?“ Clara whispered, her lips kissing up his chin with a smile that only widened when she heard him groan. 

„More than anything,“ he said, dipping this head so he could catch her lips in a deep kiss. 

„Tonight?“ You asked and he groaned against her lips, his body pressing against Clara’s and she could feel him. 

„Tonight,“ he nodded, kissing her once more before he took a step back and moved back towards the box he had been unpacking earlier. He smirked at her when he caught her eyes, still flushed and out of breath. 

And now she was sitting on the sofa, looking at the lit Christmas tree, with Dieter walking around, closing every window and door for the night before he came back to her, holding his hand out for her to take. 

They didn’t talk as he led her to their bedroom, closing the door behind him as she walked towards the bed. 

The thought that this could get awkward really quickly crossed her mind, but then Dieter was kissing her. Kissing her like he hadn’t before, his tongue playing with hers as he walked her towards the bed they had shared for weeks. 

He guided her onto the it, parting from her lips to look down at her as she slipped into the middle of the bed, her eyes undressing him and he smirked as he took his shirt off, loving the way Clara’s lips parted in appreciation 

Before he could talk himself out of it, he slipped the Santa shorts he was still wearing down his legs, leaving him standing completely naked in front of her. Clara’s eyes took him in before she got on her knees, crawling to the edge of the bed. 

She kissed up his chest, her fingertips running up this strong back, feeling him shiver. Dieter took a deep breath as his fingers found the fabric of the shirt she was still wearing, groaning once it was off and he could see her boobs.

„Fuck,“ he let his head fall back before he felt her hand in his hair, pulling him down against her lips. He wrapped his arms around her, wanting her closer, his hands exploring her body, one hand slipping beneath the leggings she was wearing. 

He would never get tired of feeling her skin beneath his fingertips. 

Dieter felt her lips twitch into a smile as he moaned, her fingers lightly scratching over his scalp. 

„Can I suck you cock baby?“ She asked and he nodded. 

„Never gotta ask. The answer will always be yes“ he grinned and she giggled as she began to kiss down his chest, one of her hand wrapping around his already leaking cock. 

„Noted,“ she hummed before she licked at the tip, making him almost jump. Her eyes never lost contact as she parted her lips and took him into her mouth, slowly, almost teasingly exploring every vein and ridge of his length. 

Dieter was pretty sure he was gonna die. 

Her mouth was heaven and when she began to bop her head? He had to try to remember the lines from the first play he was in to not cum immediately. 

And the noises she made? 

Fuck.

Clara felt the same, enjoying the weight of him in her mouth as she sucked him off, the moans that came out of his mouth going straight to her pussy. She loved the way he was holding her hair up, winking up at him. 

If only she had known how much she would enjoy having him moaning like that, she would have done this so much sooner. 

„Fuck… Stop… Stop or I’m gonna cum. And I wanna feel you first,“ he said, taking a step back, his cock falling out of her mouth. 

He helped her get out of her leggings before he pushed her down onto the bed, climbing onto it and kissing her. She parted her legs, crossing them behind his back when he was on top of her, loving the weight of him on her. 

She blindly searched for the package of condoms she had thrown onto her bedside table, humming when she found it. Dieter kissed down her jaw, her throat, kissing himself down towards her breasts, his lips closing around one of her nipples, his tongue playing it it. 

She whimpered, rolling her hips up, feeling the weight of his cock slipping through her folds. 

„Wanna eat your pussy,“ he mumbled against her skin and she shook her head. 

„Later. Wanna feel you first,“ she said, finally having one of the condoms out of the package holding it up. Dieter released her nipple with a wet plop as he sat himself up, reaching for the condom, opening the package. He made quick work of rolling it onto his cock. 

It was then that his eyes dropped between her legs, seeing her for the first time. He released almost a growl before he slipped one of his hands between her legs, his fingers slipping through her wet folds. 

She moaned when he brought his fingers to his lips to taste her. 

„Gonna have you for breakfast every day,“ he wiggled his brows and she chuckled. 

„Promises, promises,“ she teased, her foot behind him slowly dragging up his thigh, teasing him. 

„You’ll see,“ he winked before he got into position, his hand wrapped around his cock, teasing the tip of it through her folds, before he slowly pushed in. They both watched him enter her, slowly, Dieter wanting to give her time to get used to his thick length. 

„Fuck, Dieter,“ she whined and he looked up at her, her hands on her tits, eyes still fixed on where his cock was filling her. 

She finally looked up when he was fully inside of her, and then she smiled and he lost it, leaning down so his chest was against hers as he began to move. The first moan he heard from Clara as he thrusted almost enough to make him cum right then and there. 

Her hands where everywhere she could reach as he fucked her, and he made a mental note to have her ride him the next time so he could explore more of her. 

„You feel so good, Dee,“ she moaned „I’m so close already.“

„Me too, baby. What do you need? Want you to cum on my cock,“ he panted, still fucking her in deep strokes. 

Instead of answering, one of her hand sneaked down between her bodies, starting to circle her clit. 

And within minutes she came, clenching so hard around his length that within seconds after he came too, twitching inside of her as he spilled himself into the condom, only imagining how it would feel to fuck her without one. 

They looked at each other, both out of breath before he dropped down to kiss her, rolling her so she was on top of him, making her squeal against his lips before they both laughed. 

„I could really get used to this,“ she whispered against his lips. 

„I hope you do,“ he smiled, before he kissed her again. 

The amount of time they spend in bed from that first time increased. A lot. Though it was not just the bed. It was the couch, the kitchen counter, the pool, the floor….

Clara couldn’t remember ever having this much sex, not that she was complaining. 

Dieter knew what he was doing and she loved to be on the receiving and of it.

It was Christmas Eve today and she was laying by the pool, naked as the day she was born as she watched Dieter, equally naked walking towards her from the ocean. 

Dieter had made the very compelling point that since they were the only two people on an island with no people and especially paparazzi around that he wanted to enjoy it as much as possible. 

Of course he had asked if Clara would be okay with him hanging around naked. When she took her clothes off as an answer he had fucked her against the floor. 

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched him now, skin tanned and glistening with ocean water as he made his way towards her. 

Fuck, she was one lucky woman. 

„Put those bedroom eyes away, you already have me naked,“ he teased as he leaned down to kiss her softly, his cold hands squeezing her boobs with a grin, making her jump. She put her arms around him, deepening the kiss and Dieter moaned as he let himself get on top of her, cock already half hard. 

„You taste like the ocean,“ she whispered against his lips with a smile and felt him grin before he slowly kissed down her body. 

„Rather taste like your pussy,“ he winked before he got in between her legs and began to eat her out. 

She woke up to lips kissing up her back on Christmas morning. 

With a smile she turned on her back, finding Dieter resting with his head on one of his arms beside her, his other arm wrapped around her. 

„Merry Christmas, baby,“ he smiled and she smiled back tiredly. 

„Merry Christmas yourself,“ she whispered and he leaned in to kiss her softly. 

„I have something for you,“ he hummed and she raised her eyebrows, surprised. 

„You have?“ She asked and he nodded.

„Can I show you?“ He whispered and she nodded, letting him kiss her again before she let him led her out of bed.

There were colours everywhere. 

When she arranged to set up this room for him so he could paint it was a beige sad little office. She had FaceTimed with the realtor who was responsible for renting the property out and giving instructions how to change the interior of the room and what supplies to get. 

Clara hadn’t seen the room in all the time they had been here. 

This room was… it was 100% Dieter. She knew he had spent a lot of time in here, she just never imagined that he had painted so much. 

And so many versions of herself. 

In all colours she could imagine. 

He had spend all this time painting her?

She was already fighting tears within the first minute of stepping inside the room, Dieter’s hand still in hers as he watched her. 

„This is… This is beautiful,“ she whispered softly before she finally looked at him. 

„Still not doing you justice,“ he said and now she felt her tears run down her cheeks, before she wrapped her arms around Dieter, hugging him closely. 

„I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, Dieter,“ she whispered when she looked up at him, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. 

„That’s good. Cause I know I’m in love with you,“ he whispered back before her kissed her. 

One Year later

Dieter had a smile on his lips as he looked up at the canvas hanging in the bright and new hallway. It was one of the pieces he had painted on their island last year, the first one he hung up in their home after the renovations had finally been finished. 

The last year had come with a lot of changes. Not just because him and Clara had made the decision to part ways professionally, but because the reason was so they could start their life as a couple. 

They both had made this decision, Dieter not wanting her having to deal with everything that he came with anymore. 

Not that there was much to take care of now that he had quit acting. 

Much to his surprise he had gotten the Golden Globe and another Oscar for his last project, so what more was there left to do for him professionally?

The last thing he had to promote would be coming up in march of the next year and after that he was ready to never see a red carpet again. He still didn’t know exactly what he would be doing now that he wasn’t acting anymore, but thankfully the investments he made and the way he had worked for the last twenty-five years gave him the freedom to take his time to find out. 

And then there was Clara. 

He was almost disgustingly in love with her (his sister’s words, not his) and there would be no stopping. 

It had taken only six weeks after the island for both of them to make the decision to move in together. 

And to their pure luck, while scrolling through Zillow listings one night when he had visited her in New York they had found their dream home. 

He never thought he would move to the Hamptons one day, yet here he was, in a big country style house with a wrap around porch and a private beach, living with the love of his life. 

With a smile he made his way downstairs, finding Clara in the kitchen, checking on the process of the dinner. They had invited family and friends for their first Christmas in their house together who would arrive later. 

They had both taken cooking lessons together in the last two months since they moved in and she loved taking her time to cook with him every day now. 

„Hey,“ he smiled and she looked up, giving him a sweet smile back. She had her hair up in a messy bun and was wearing one of his shirts. No make up. She was absolutely breathtaking.

Dieter walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. 

„Hey,“ she smiled back, turning her head to kiss his cheek. 

„Guests will be here in an hour,“ he said and she nodded.

„Just wanted to check before I go upstairs to get ready,“ she said and he nodded. He kissed her cheek, watching her hum as she stirred the soup in front of her. 

It was in that moment that he decided that he didn’t want to wait any longer, that he didn’t want to share this moment with anyone else later. 

His hand searched for the small box he had been carrying around with him for the last six months, the ring he designed for her inside, Clara still focused on the food as he dropped to one knee behind her, He reached for her hand, as he took a deep breath, smiling at the surprised gasp escaping her lips as she turned around. 

She said yes before he could even ask his question. 

[a-aexotic]

Could you do soft Rafe being in love and having a secret relationship with someone opposite him like she’s so sweet and shy. She’s a kook but she’s friends with the pogues. Maybe some fluff and implied smut and he’s giving her aftercare? And also he’s just admiring her and being totally obsessed with her. Reader is blushing when he compliments her and tells her how much he is in love. How she understands him and is always there for him at his worst times.

I got carried away. Sorry 😭

ren's notes hi! ofc i can, omggg and don't worry ab it, the more descriptive, the better! i hope u enjoy! i love rafe's buzzcut sm

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader requested? yes no

warnings. fluff!, lowkey childhood enemies to lovers??, secret relationship, ooc rafe/sarah, a mention of a fight with ward, a few kisses and illusions to smut

summary. you've always lived next to the cameron's, what happens when you start getting closer to the older cameron?

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

The Camerons have lived across the street from you for as long as you could remember. Morning brunches, summer yacht parties and Christmas's were always spent at the other's house. Ward was your father's best friend since they were children and they wanted you and Rafe to be the same.

But, time and time again, forcing your children to be friends proves to be not the best idea. Rafe started to dislike your presence more and more each time.

You weren't the problem. His father was. He would always compare you to him. "Why can't you be more like Y/N?" He'd heard this all his life so it was only natural that he'd start to dislike you despite the absolute angel you were.

You never held anything he said against him. You knew how complex his relationship with Ward was and you knew it wasn't his fault he didn't like you.

Rafe tried to hate you, he really did. But he just couldn't. You were the most caring person he'd ever. He'd only ever treated you with disrespect and unkindness but you still looked out for him.

Rafe was a softie at heart; so he started to like you more than a friend. And after you both shared a small kiss under the mistletoe on Christmas Eve at the L/N's, you started to date.

In secret, of course. Rafe didn't want to give his father the satisfaction of knowing he set you both up.

You and Rafe's relationship was only known by your best friend, Kie and his sisters and best friend, Wheezie, Sarah and Topper. Topper wasn't mean to find out, it just slipped from Sarah. They were all sworn to secrecy.

Rafe was delicate with you, always. He loved how caring you were and he always made sure to be just as caring with you as you were him.

You and Rafe sat at the beach, talking. This was how you two spent your nights; outside, in the back of his pickup truck watching the waves and the bright stars.

"I kind like how no one knows about us." You confessed with a small giggle as he nodded, putting his arm around you and pulling you close to him.

"Yeah, me too. It makes it more intimate." Rafe whispered as you both stared out to the ocean. "But sometimes, I want to make sure everyone knows you're mine."

"Me, too." You replied. It was mostly Rafe's wish to keep it private, it's best for both of you. He didn't want the island to have more to gossip about, he felt like it would be less of a strain on your relationship. He knew his father would make it difficult as well.

Rafe's relationship with his father was the one thing you and Rafe argue about. You think he should make more of effort to be nicer and he just wants to cut him off.

You considered yourself pretty close with Ward until Rafe's 18th birthday. You made it your mission to make sure everything was in place and perfect for Rafe. And it was perfect until Ward decided he needed to have a talk with Rafe.

This talk turned into a big fight almost immediately and Ward essentially had ruined Rafe's birthday and your hard work. You'd been with Rafe for about 2 months at that point, and you've known Rafe your entire life and you'd never seen him so distressed and angry.

He was in your room after the party and he was silent. He wasn't crying or screaming in anger - he was just silently laying in your bed. Your heart broke in two seeing Rafe so defeated. He was so strong (both mentally and physically), that's one of the reasons you admired him so much. But tonight, his will to fix his relationship with his father broke.

You had just taken a shower to give Rafe some space and you came back to see Rafe still hadn't moved from his spot. His father's words always had an effect on him, more than he wanted. He wanted to hate Ward but he truly couldn't - all he ever wanted was his validation.

You walked up to Rafe and embraced him tightly, quietly. You stayed like that for a couple minutes, Rafe basking in your presence. He moved his head upwards so he could look at you.

He couldn't help but break a small smile as he examined your gorgeous face. He was grateful that you were his - just his. That he had one person in this entire world who loved him for him, not for anything else.

"Thank you." Rafe whispered.

Your expression changed to a confused one. "For what?"

"Everything, baby." He paused. "The party, the cake, the effort you put in... and for loving me regardless of what everyone says about me."

You put your hand on his face, rubbing it slightly, comfortably. "None of it matters. I'm going to love no matter what they say because they don't know you like I do, okay?"

He hadn't heard anyone say that before. He's never been loved unconditionally since his mother and it felt so good to be loved again. He leaned up to kiss you.

It was a hard but passionate kiss. He pulled you in closer by the waist, then put his hands on your face to deepen the kiss. You pulled away from the kiss and you put your forehead on his, taking a few breathes.

You and Rafe locked eyes and he put his fingers in your hair, pulling you in for another kiss. He pulled away and looked deep in your eyes. "I wanna show you..." he paused. "How grateful I am, for you."

You nodded and he kissed you again, moving backwards into the bed so that you could get on the bed with him. He laid you down and you began to kiss again, this time with more fervor and desire than before.

That entire night Rafe was showing you how much he loved you. He loved being inside of you; he loved how close you were and that how it felt like there was no one else in the world but you two. He didn't do it for pleasure, that part was just a plus. The idea of combining with you in such a sensitive and soft way made Rafe love you even more, if that was even possible.

When you were done, Rafe wouldn't let you move. You were tired from not only the previous activities, but that entire day. Rafe got up to go get you water and after that, you both laid in comfortable silence.

You laid your head on his chest as you both drifted into a calm state of sleep.

"I love you." Rafe said for what seemed like the millionth time that night. You brought your hands to his, holding them.

"I love you, too."

[tkwrites]

Snapshots Masterlist - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest

Are Quinn Hughes and Sarah Roberts fated to be together? It seems like it. Follow their journey from a spur of the moment first date to falling in love and all the good and bad in between.

These snapshots are written in whatever order strikes my fancy, but there is a loose timeline they fall into. I've listed them in both posting and timeline order. There are some timeline inconsistencies that will be edited as needed. In the meantime, let's just agree to pretend they don't exist. Also, the season the Canucks are playing in is obviously fictional and doesn't follow any actual season.

• Please be aware, this series deals with a lot of grief.

The Snapshots playlist can be found here.

Other work can be found on my Fanfiction Masterlist.

*indecates smut

In Posting Order:

Shoot The Moon* The snapshot that started it all - Quinn comes home exhausted from a rough road trip. After a good night's sleep, he decides to try out some new things with Sarah. 

Love, Even in the Hard Parts When his mom can't make it to take Quinn to surgery, Sarah steps in in spite of her hatred of hospitals. 

Love Me Gently* Early on in their relationship, Quinn and Sarah have their first really sexual encounter, and learn about each other along the way. 

Our Heroes Meet: When Quinn and Sarah meet, they’re pulled into each other's lives in a way neither one expected. 

The Second Time is Better* Sequel to Love Me Gently, Quinn and Sarah have sex for the first time. After a disappointing first performance, they're in for an experience much deeper than either one expected. 

Worth the Wait: It takes more than a week, but Quinn and Sarah finally go on a date.  

Messages* Missing him something fierce, Sarah sends Quinn a video of herself in his bed. 

Second Nature: Sequel to Worth the Wait, Quinn and Sarah have their second date. Getting to know each other in many ways is like second nature.

First Fight: Quinn and Sarah have their first fight - we learn more about Quinn’s previous relationship

Better: Sequel to First Fight, Sarah meets Brady and Emma and is thrown into the world of hockey outside the rink. Jack and Luke hear about their relationship in a less than favorable way. 

Before I meet your parents...* As Sarah prepares to meet Quinn’s parents, she’s bombarded with new feelings and situations, as well as trying to manage her own life. A very worried Quinn helps her get to the bottom of it and does everything he can to make it better. 

Private Lessons: As requested by @eyesthatroll, Quinn teaches Sarah to skate.

I miss you.* After their longest separation of the summer, Quinn and Sarah reunite.

I miss you. - Bonus Scene* A short continuation of I miss you. Quinn and Sarah make soft, sleepy love as they doze off for the night.

Sarah Meets the Parents: As Requested, Sarah meets Ellen and Jim.

I can't believe you're here.* After a very long time apart due to bad timing, Sarah surprises Quinn on the road. Wearing his jersey, she fulfills one of his long harbored fantasies. The night just gets better when he sees what she has on underneath. 

Happy Birthday, Sarah: Quinn is gone over Sarah’s Birthday. 

Let the Cleaners Deal With It: When Quinn wakes to Sarah frantically cleaning after unexpectedly getting her period, he insists she let the cleaners deal with it.

I'll Be Proud For You: When an opportunity for Quinn to meet her uncle arrives, Sarah jumps at the chance and they attend a St. Patrick's Day party at her uncle's house on Salt Spring Island. On the ferry ride back home, Sarah finally explains why she had to be close to family after her mothers death, necessitating her move to Vancouver. 

Elimination* When the Canucks are eliminated from the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Sarah offers Quinn a kind of comfort he didn’t know he needed. 

Good For You* Quinn and Sarah have a discussion about and decide to stop using condoms before putting that decision into practice. A question we’ve all been waiting for is finally asked.

Please* After they finally move in together, Sarah follows through with Quinn's request for her to edge him.

Harrison Butker Drama: A blurb about Sarah and Quinn reacting to the Harrison Butker Drama.

Summer Decisions: An invitation to his family reunion over the fourth of July has Quinn and Sarah tumbling into a long conversation about their future in the off-season and beyond. Though the ensuing fight is resolved, the reality of their commitments vs. their love for each other is put to the test.

He's Got It Bad: When Sarah meets the team at Conor's birthday party, not only does she get to know Quinns teammates and their partners, she enters a world she never expected. At practice the next day, the guys congratulate and tease Quinn mercilessly.

Understanding (or the one in which Jack Hughes is forced to get over himself): Still upset about finding out about her from Brady, Jack has some hesitations when he and Luke come to town for the Finals. Can he get over himself enough to see what Quinn and Sarah have is real?

Congratulations* Sarah congratulates Quinn on clinching into the playoffs

The Invitation: Jack extends Sarah an olive branch

Can I Watch?* The day after I miss you: When Quinn discovers a vibrator in Sarah’s toiletry bag, it sets them on a course of discovery and pleasure neither of them planned on. After a wild afternoon, they discuss their fantasies.

Shaving: A blurb of Sarah reacting to Quinn shaving his playoff beard.

Can I Come See You? After a rough game, Quinn seeks out comfort from Sarah. 

5 Days of Joy* Sarah joins Quinn at his family reunion. There’s laughter and tears and some spicy time as they sneak time alone. Sarah bonds with Jim over the loss of their mothers and explains why her dad loved Costco so much. She and Ellen bond over their partners being gone for stretches of time. A black bikini has Quinn practically drooling. The whole family goes on a beach adventure with Sarah in the lead. More than anything else, Quinn and Sarah fall more and more in love. 

Fantasy* A short blurb (500 words) about Quinn fulfilling a fantasy with Sarah's help.

Happy Birthday, Quinn: In an effort to get Quinn something he can’t get for himself, and with her friends’ encouragement, Sarah does something she never imagined she’d do before. When they finally celebrate his birthday together, Quinn opens several gifts he never expected. 

Happy Halloween! Quinn and Sarah plan for and attend the Canucks team Halloween Party.

A Surprisingly Fortuitous Bus Ride* Due to circumstances outside of his control, Quinn finds himself late to a FaceTime date with Sarah. When she starts some fun by herself, Quinn can’t help but join in, even if he can’t see her. 

Meet Me At The Mistletoe: Based on the song of the same name by Dave Barnes, Quinn and Sarah prepare for and host a team Christmas Party, including shopping on a very special but inconvenient day. 

Sticker Tattoos: A blurb (just over 1000 words) of Quinn reacting to Sarah having a sticker tattoo on her thigh.

Soft Launch; Hard Launch: 4 times Quinn soft launched his relationship with Sarah, and one time he did it for real.

Split & Healed - A Snapshot in 2 parts:

Part 1: Sarah's reaction when Quinn's lip was split.

Part 2* Getting home from a road trip in the middle of the night is par for the course for Quinn, but getting home after finally getting his stitches removed means he can’t wait for morning to get his mouth on Sarah.

Shorts: A short blurb (500 words) about some simple (and a little bit embarrassing) domesticity that comes from living together.

The Hughes's Take Hawaii: Maui Edition: Quinn and his family are on Maui for their first week in Hawaii. Without the knowledge that Jack and Sarah have teamed up to surprise him, Quinn is missing her and wishing she were with them. After all, summer is a long time to be without the love of your life. The family goes snorkeling, Quinn proves just how down bad he is for Sarah, and he asks his dad a very important question, which leads to a full Hughes family discussion. All the while, Sarah and Jack are trying their best not to spoil the surprise.

In Timeline Order:

Our Heroes Meet: When Quinn and Sarah meet, they’re pulled into each other's lives in a way neither one expected. 

Worth the Wait: It takes more than a week, but Quinn and Sarah finally go on a date.  

Second Nature: Sequel to Worth the Wait, Quinn and Sarah have their second date. Getting to know each other in many ways is like second nature.

Can I Come See You? After a rough game, Quinn seeks out comfort from Sarah. 

Love Me Gently* Early on in their relationship, Quinn and Sarah have their first really sexual encounter, and learn about each other along the way. 

The Second Time is Better* Sequel to Love Me Gently, Quinn and Sarah have sex for the first time. After a disappointing first performance, they're in for an experience much deeper than either one expected. 

First Fight: Quinn and Sarah have their first fight - we learn more about Quinn’s previous relationship

Better: Sequel to First Fight, Sarah meets Brady and Emma and is thrown into the world of hockey outside the rink. Jack and Luke hear about their relationship in a less than favorable way. 

Sticker Tattoos: A blurb (just over 1000 words) of Quinn reacting to Sarah having a sticker tattoo on her thigh.

He's Got It Bad: When Sarah meets the team at Conor's birthday party, not only does she get to know Quinns teammates and their partners, she enters a world she never expected. At practice the next day, the guys congratulate and tease Quinn mercilessly.

I'll Be Proud For You: When an opportunity for Quinn to meet her uncle arrives, Sarah jumps at the chance and they attend a St. Patrick's Day party at her uncle's house on Salt Spring Island. On the ferry ride back home, Sarah finally explains why she had to be close to family after her mothers death, necessitating her move to Vancouver. 

Messages* Missing him something fierce, Sarah sends Quinn a video of herself in his bed. 

Before I meet your parents...* As Sarah prepares to meet Quinn’s parents, she’s bombarded with new feelings and situations, as well as trying to manage her own life. A very worried Quinn helps her get to the bottom of it and does everything he can to make it better. 

Sarah Meets the Parents: As Requested, Sarah meets Ellen and Jim.

Congratulations* Sarah congratulates Quinn on clinching into the playoffs.

Happy Birthday, Sarah: Quinn is gone over Sarah’s Birthday. 

Good For You* Quinn and Sarah have a discussion about and decide to stop using condoms before putting that decision into practice. A question we’ve all been waiting for is finally asked.

Private Lessons: As requested by @eyesthatroll, Quinn teaches Sarah to skate.

Shoot The Moon* The snapshot that started it all - Quinn comes home exhausted from a rough road trip. After a good night's sleep, he decides to try out some new things with Sarah. 

Summer Decisions: An invitation to his family reunion over the fourth of July has Quinn and Sarah tumbling into a long conversation about their future in the off-season and beyond. Though the ensuing fight is resolved, the reality of their commitments vs. their love for each other is put to the test.

Let the Cleaners Deal With It: When Quinn wakes to Sarah frantically cleaning after unexpectedly getting her period, he insists she let the cleaners deal with it.

Harrison Butker Drama: A blurb about Sarah and Quinn reacting to the Harrison Butker Drama.

Understanding (or the one in which Jack Hughes is forced to get over himself): Still upset about finding out about her from Brady, Jack has some hesitations when he and Luke come to town for the Finals. Can he get over himself enough to see what Quinn and Sarah have is real?

Elimination* When the Canucks are eliminated from the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Sarah offers Quinn a kind of comfort he didn’t know he needed. 

Shaving: A blurb of Sarah reacting to Quinn shaving his playoff beard.

Love, Even in the Hard Parts When his mom can't make it to take Quinn to surgery, Sarah steps in in spite of her hatred of hospitals. 

The Invitation: Jack extends Sarah an olive branch

5 Days of Joy* Sarah joins Quinn at his family reunion. There’s laughter and tears and some spicy time as they sneak time alone. Sarah bonds with Jim over the loss of their mothers and explains why her dad loved Costco so much. She and Ellen bond over their partners being gone for stretches of time. A black bikini has Quinn practically drooling. The whole family goes on a beach adventure with Sarah in the lead. More than anything else, Quinn and Sarah fall more and more in love. 

The Hughes's Take Hawaii: Maui Edition: Quinn and his family are on Maui for their first week in Hawaii. Without the knowledge that Jack and Sarah have teamed up to surprise him, Quinn is missing her and wishing she were with them. After all, summer is a long time to be without the love of your life. The family goes snorkeling, Quinn proves just how down bad he is for Sarah, and he asks his dad a very important question, which leads to a full Hughes family discussion. All the while, Sarah and Jack are trying their best not to spoil the surprise.

I miss you.* After their longest separation of the summer, Quinn and Sarah reunite.

I miss you. - Bonus Scene* A short continuation of I miss you. Quinn and Sarah make soft, sleepy love as they doze off for the night.

Can I Watch?* The day after I miss you: When Quinn discovers a vibrator in Sarah’s toiletry bag, it sets them on a course of discovery and pleasure neither of them planned on. After a wild afternoon, they discuss their fantasies.

Fantasy* A short blurb (500 words) about Quinn fulfilling a fantasy with Sarah's help.

Please* After they finally move in together, Sarah follows through with Quinn's request for her to edge him.

Shorts: A short blurb (500 words) about some simple (and a little bit embarrassing) domesticity that comes from living together.

Happy Birthday, Quinn: In an effort to get Quinn something he can’t get for himself, and with her friends’ encouragement, Sarah does something she never imagined she’d do before. When they finally celebrate his birthday together, Quinn opens several gifts he never expected. 

Happy Halloween! Quinn and Sarah plan for and attend the Canucks team Halloween Party.

I can't believe you're here.* After a very long time apart due to bad timing, Sarah surprises Quinn on the road. Wearing his jersey, she fulfills one of his long harbored fantasies. The night just gets better when he sees what she has on underneath. 

Meet Me At The Mistletoe: Based on the song of the same name by Dave Barnes, Quinn and Sarah prepare for and host a team Christmas Party, including shopping on a very special but inconvenient day. 

Split & Healed - A Snapshot in 2 parts:

Part 1: Sarah's reaction when Quinn's lip was split.

Part 2* Getting home from a road trip in the middle of the night is par for the course for Quinn, but getting home after finally getting his stitches removed means he can’t wait for morning to get his mouth on Sarah.

Soft Launch; Hard Launch: 4 times Quinn soft launched his relationship with Sarah, and one time he did it for real.

A Surprisingly Fortuitous Bus Ride* Due to circumstances outside of his control, Quinn finds himself late to a FaceTime date with Sarah. When she starts some fun by herself, Quinn can’t help but join in, even if he can’t see her. 

[mothmags]

how nalu got together headcannons because I have them on my mind and its 1am

They would be the couple who have been dating for like 3 years they just dont know it yet

they've been "together" since the whole thing at tenrou island

natsu couldn't sleep without her near, so he and happy practically moved in with lucy (more than they already had)

hed sneak into her bed and shed just huff and cuddle into him, pretending she's asleep (mf is a human space heater, i would too)

in emotionally heavy moments, they'd share a kiss and hold each other, but nothing more.

they also wouldn't talk about it after. they either didn't want to lose the other or the dynamic to change (lucy) or just didn't think talking about it was needed (natsu)

they dont "officially" get together until after gajevys wedding

actually lucy admits that she loves natsu and askes what their relationship is, and what he thinks of her to his face while she's black out drunk at the wedding and he brings her home and takes care of her until the morning (and through her hangover)

he didn't bring it up until a whole week later while he was walking her to her their apartment after a job (happy fast asleep)

he knew she didn't remember, but didn't know how to bring it up, so he just avoided it as much as he could untill he couldnt take it anymore

he always knew that she loved him ofc, but hearing her say it did something to him in ways he didn't expect

lucy knew sm was up, tho. everyone noticed, actually

that whole week, his gaze twards her was softer than it was before, his touches would linger, he was in thought a lot more than usual etc

and boy, was he doing a lot of thinking

in private, he'd pull her close and just hold her for a second, kiss her cheek softly, or run his fingers through her long hair - usually, this type of behavior only comes out after a hard job not after a lazy week

on the walk, she asked him if he was ok, and he just kinda blurted out that he loved her.

"Lucy, you know I love you, right? You know I'd do anything for you? Do you know you're the smartest person I know? That your beautiful? That you're an incredibly valuable member of our team? That I'd be nowhere without you? That I'm so proud of how far you've come since joining Fairy Tail?"

she responds with a "yeah obviously" while also getting incredibly flustered

ofc she knew it. he tells her she's great all the time but barely ever like this.

they stop walking and just stare at each other for a solid minute before lucy laughs

natsu gets confused and almost offended for a second before lucy says that they should talk more.

she walks into her apartment and puts happy to bed

they fucking finally have an actual conversation about how they feel about eachother

It's by no means a smooth conversation. its mostly them smiling, giggling, and (mainly lucy) finding it ridiculous that they waited this long to actually talk about it. and, god, it sure does feel good to actually hear the other say it.

after a while, they head to bed. lucy pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and pulled him close. she gives him a quiet "i love you," and he responds with a simple "i love you too" and a gentle kiss to her forhead, and they nod off to sleep together

[modelbus]

Hello!! I LOVE your writing, like I’m obsessed! So, I can’t tell if your requests are open, buttt if they are, I would DIE for some fluff turned to angst of a fem!reader who is in a group with cc!Ranboo, cc!Tubbo, cc!Wilbur and cc!Tommy nicknamed the chaos squad by the fandom, where she is the least popular in the group and a rumour spread that shes only in it for the popularity, so they slowly stoped inviting her to streams and vlogs and ghosting her.

it could start with like three two sentence stories about the group (or something), how it was formed just fluffy moments, and then be like “but it didn’t stay like that for long..” and explain why she was subtly kicked from the group before a scene where shes streaming and gets asked about why shes not been in any videos anymore.

PHEW that was ALOT, if its to long you can obviously shorten it or just not do it- but if requests are open and you like the idea, I would love to see something like this!! <3

PS. You are super cool, keep up the amazing work!! (When you want to ofc)

-✨🌌🌙 Anon

Thank you so much! I tried my best to include everything :D This literally took me out of my writing slump

Part 2 :)

Pairing(s): cc!Ranboo, cc!Tubbo, cc!Wilbur and cc!Tommy x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Cut Chaos

The feeling of belonging was something nearly everyone chased after. After all, being out of place was simply… lonely. And, somehow, you found yourself slotting into the weirdest place in the world.

A handful of stupid friends.

You always found yourself drawn to dumbasses, in the most affectionate way. Like looks for like, you suppose. And shit, did you find some people that could make you cry laughing even on the worst days.

Ranboo, Tubbo, Wilbur, Tommy. Four people that made the sun rise every day, that dragged you out of bed for the stupidest vlogs to ever exist. Fans adored the five of you together so much that you got a group name for the first time in your career: the Chaos Squad.

Truly, it was a fitting name. The things that the five of you got up to, you’re certain no normal sane person would do. But, well, your job as a streamer already set you apart from the category of “normal” a long time ago, so you definitely didn’t mind the messes you got into with them.

From Tommy dragging the group to an abandoned island, saying it’d be fun to try to escape (you fell out of a tree and Wilbur sprained his ankle), to screaming along at Lovejoy concerts, it felt like the five of you were unstoppable.

And God, did you love them. It didn’t matter how many times Ranboo hit his head on things, you’d still laugh. It didn’t matter that you literally passed out from laughing so hard once, you were still happy. Pure, unfiltered love.

The five of you against the world, forever. You could see it, in those sunny days where you grinned so hard your cheeks hurt (they were the first ones to make you do that—the realization only made you grin harder). The perfect idea of happiness.

Was it any wonder things didn’t stay that way, that perfect, for long?

A rumor.

It always seemed to start with one of those, nowadays. A simple murmur among fans that grew and grew, until you were closing out of twitter at 2, 4, 5 AM, debating if you should just delete the app and put your status on “Do Not Disturb.”

You accepted the fact that being a female content creator was going to be a struggle a long time ago. It was a fact, something you knew you couldn’t avoid, especially in gaming. Having rumors about you online wasn’t new. It would never be new, not as long as you were yourself.

But you thought you’d be past caring about them by now. You thought the tight panic that gripped your heart, made it hard to breathe, was a thing of the past. So stupid.

One private account turned into multiple threads, turned into trends on the trending tab.

Everyone thought you were using your friends, the chaos squad as a whole, just to boost your career. To leech off anyone’s subscribers, just for some money in your pocket.

The idea made you sick to your core.

How dare they? How dare they ever think you didn’t genuinely care for the four? That they were anything less than the lightness in your heart, the freedom on your mind?

Rumors.

You ignored them. Even the thought of addressing them made you feel pissed off like you’ve never been before. It was such an absurd idea! At the very least, you knew your friends would see past the hateful people.

Right?

It starts with an unanswered message in the group chat.

Unanswered messages weren’t new. A stray comment tended to get lost in the general mess that the group chat was, so you weren’t concerned. Just laughed to yourself quietly; it wasn’t important anyways, just a photo of a cat you saw.

Until it happened again. And again. Until more of your messages went ignored than responded to, until the group chat had less and less messages each day.

When the first vlog comes out, the process repeats. It’s on Tommy’s channel, of course. Him, Ranboo, Tubbo, and Wilbur. The chaos squad, just without you. It surprised you, because you never even realized they filmed a video, and normally all of you share upcoming videos.

All the warning signs were obvious, and you were too much of a damn fool.

You filmed one vlog with them after that, exploring a supposedly haunted house, before you woke up a month later and realized you hadn’t talked to them in a week.

One week turns into two, two into three, until you’ve realized what’s happened. You were gone, out of the picture. Happiness had slipped through your fingers faster than you could’ve ever comprehended, and now you were in a dark room—literally.

But what could you do? If they didn’t want you, there was nothing you could do to stop the unraveling of your universe.

So you did the same thing you did before them, defaulting back to what was safe: streaming alone.

Today, it’s just a mindless game. Yesterday was the same, and fuck, this isn’t the same anymore. Not when you don’t have Tubbo in the chat sending messages, or Wilbur using Text-To-Speech.

But you’re here, still streaming. Still going, no matter how tempting it is to just shut off your computer and pretend the last months of your life never happened.

There’s always fans though, and if anything cheers you up, it’s them. So your donations are on, allowing them to be read aloud while you play the silly little unpacking game.

“Where am I putting the diploma guys? Where does this go?” You ask, mouse hovering over the virtual object. “Maybe I’ll just put it under the pillow…”

“StarEmojis donated $15! If up is down and yes is no, how many sides does a triangle have?”

“Thank you, but… uh...” You narrow your eyes at the message. “None, it’s a circle?”

Shrugging, you drag the diploma in the game to under the pillow. The riddle sounds familiar, but not one you know the answer to. It sounds like something Wilbur would send in the group chat at 2 in the morning, honestly.

With that thought in mind, your eyes flicker over the user that donated it. StarEmojis. Not Wilbur.

You’re so stupid for hoping. For the jump in your heart, for the frantic searching.

“StarStarMoon donated $20! Why aren’t you in any Chaos Squad videos anymore? Love you!”

Air catches in your lungs, dread swelling in your chest as your hands still on the mouse and keyboard. That shouldn’t have gotten past the moderators, but it did.

And now you have to answer it.

It wasn’t like you could tell the truth: that you weren’t good enough. That even your best friends didn’t believe you over rumors from strangers online.

Any lie would have a chance of getting back to them though. Not that you can imagine them caring, not anymore.

You swallow past the lump in your throat that’s killing you, taking a breath in before answering. One chance to get the fans to move on, one chance to find the impossible balance between the agony inside of you and cool indifference.

“We’re all just busy.” You say, forcing a smile on your face.

It’s true, at least. Everyone is busy. Everyone except you, that’s it.

“Just scheduling problems. Wil- Wilbur has Lovejoy practices and performances.” You stumble over his name. Did you even have the right to call him Wil anymore? “And Tommy is just always busy. He’s the busiest person, I swear.”

Is that true anymore? You don’t know. He used to be, but you used to help force him to take breaks. Was he taking breaks? You’ll never know.

With another forced smile, you give a half-hearted shrug. “So yeah, just busy, don’t worry guys.”

It’s with baited breath that you wait, eyes scanning chat to see if they bought it. From what you’re seeing, they have.

“Now we need to reorganize these clothes, because they’re killing me like this—“

Your discord pings quietly on another monitor, and you scramble to open it. Just your mods apologizing for letting the donation go through. You send a quick message back to them before pushing the donation to the back of your head just like everything relating to the group you’re no longer part of.

What could you do, anyways?

This was out of your control.

[superums]

roronoa zoro's 5 love languages

gender neutral reader. fluff. improper grammar. no y/n or (name). established relationship. strawhat-coded reader. i've never really been a zoro girlie... i hope this is okay tho. based on opla!zoro but can fit anime!zoro aswell. spoiler free.

color coded text: zoro

physical touch: he isn't big on giving physical affection, it's just not his nature. he doesn't like PDA all too much and in private i believe that he doesn't change. its not that he hates physical touch, it's more like he doesn't like initiating it. if you're touchy and always want to hug or hang off of him who is he to reject your affections. if you were to jump into his arms or just collapse on him he wouldn't say anything about it... well he might complain but its not real complaining. i think instead of initiating hugs and kisses he's more if a kisses your hand or rub the back of your hand with his thumb—kind of guy.

acts of service: he likes to do hard labor to show you love. ofc he dose things like get you a glass of water or get you a blanket from the bottom deck but he likes to show off his strength. if you wanted a fish he'd come back with a whale—stuff like that. he'd try to tone it down if you don't like that but thats his best quality. he likes to do absolutely ridiculous things to simple tasks because he wants to impress you. sometimes sanji gets involved and then he HAS to show off bc who dose sanji think he is trying outdo him at his job (getting you chocolate milk)??????

quality time: he spends his free time training and sleeping mostly so he probably won't invite you to join him on his free time that often unless you like taking naps or watching. i think he'd think he's boring so he probably wouldn't to invite you anyway. sometimes he will just plop down beside you whenever you're on the deck and you two will sit in a comfortable silence. he'll tell you about how he's training to lift a ton or swing his sword faster, but he honestly wants you to do more of the talking. when you leave the ship he always wants to go with you. it doesn't matter if you're leaving to get 1 thing or 100 things or even just a breath of fresh air away from everyone he wants to be with you at all times even if he doesn't explicitly say it.

giving/receiving gifts: he doesn't have any money so dont expect anything extravagant. he gets you more food than anything because thats all he can really get yk. he tries to spice things up by getting you a bird or fruit from a island, maybe even some treasures that villages gift them as a way of saying thank you, but you get a lot of fish from him. he might also give you a kiss as a way of giving you something—you gotta rmr kissing really isn't his thing so that means a lot coming from him!! he's a pirate after all and he cant really show a lot of appreciation towards you in the gift department.

he's also easy to please. be doesn't really expect much, if you gave him a towel he'd cherish it. he knows its hard to really get the other anything especially with a kingpin nami being in charge of the money holding everyone hostage financially so he's be happy with anything. i also think he's also one of those people who are content with what they have/feel like they have all they need. he has his crew, his swords and you—what else dose he really need?

[pinkslipxox]

May I please pleaseeee request Miko with a Boricua reader that grew up in Humboldt Park (Chicago's historical Puerto Rican neighborhood) and has never been to the island, so Miko takes her for the first time 🥹

I just need this cause my mom has never taken me to PR

Ahhh ofc, mi amor! Manifesting that you go there one day 🫶💋 Hope you like it xx

——————————————————————————

“Can you please tell me where we’re going?” you whine playfully to your girlfriend, who only shakes her head with a hint of a smile on her face.

“Te dije que es una sorpresa, mi amor,” she murmurs softly, pulling you closer to her side. She plants a kiss to your temple. “I promise you’re going to love where we’re going.”

You pout. “You’re not even going to give me a hint?”

“Hmm…” Miko places a finger on her chin, pretending to think. “Nope!”

It is very early in the morning. The sun hasn’t even gone up yet. Yesterday, Miko had told you to pack your bags, telling you that the two of you were going to take a little trip. You’ve been begging for her to tell you where you were going ever since. Yet no matter how you plea, Miko has remained tight-lipped about your destination.

The two of you are seated at a private VIP lounge at the Midway International Airport. You’re tired from having to wake up so early but you’re incredibly excited and anxious. Upon arriving at the airport, your luggage was taken away and you two were escorted to the lounge. The both of you are dressed in hoodies, sweats and beanies. And all that you’re doing right now is waiting to board the plane.

Not just any old plane. A private plane. Owned by Miko.

Just as you’re about doze off, Miko gently shakes your shoulder and tells you that it’s now time to board the plane. Your hand is held by Miko’s the entire time you walk to the plane. You start to get excited again once you’re sat in your seat.

“Can I at least guess where we’re going?” you muse with a playful smile and Miko chuckles.

“Dale, mi amor,” she says with a nod of head.

“Are we going to Hawaii?” you ask after a beat of silence.

Miko smirks. “Good guess but no.”

“Bali?” you guess again and Miko shakes her head with a smile.

“Okay, final guess— Spain!” you say confidently, and Miko laughs softly.

“We just came back from Spain, mi vida,” Miko hums and you huff dramatically.

You pout. “Please tell me!”

“My lips are sealed, nena,” Miko teases, pretending to zip up her lips and throwing the key away.

The two of you continue to banter back and forth until the pilot announces to prepare for takeoff. Before you know it, the plane is in the air, and you feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep again. You hear Miko coo and she lifts the armrest. She pulls you to her side, lowers your beanie so that it covers your eyes, and kisses your cheek.

“Que descanses bien, mi amor,” she whispers lovingly in your ear, making you smile. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And you fall asleep.

The next thing you know, your girlfriend is sweetly coaxing you awake by whispering in your and planting small kisses to your neck. With a smile on her face, she tells you to look out the window. You see that the plane is now flying over crystal blue waters. The sun is just hitting its peak in the sky, it’s light generously pouring over the sea, making the waves shimmer like sapphires. It’s at that moment you realize where Miko is taking you.

“Miko… we’re going to Puerto Rico?” you gasp, your eyes swelling with tears as you feel your heart beat faster.

“Surprise!” she squeals, her eyes twinkling with excitement as her smile grows upon seeing your reaction.

Your family is from Puerto Rico. And although your parents have brought you up to love the island, you’ve never had the chance to go there. You grew up all your life in Humboldt Park hearing how beautiful the island is, how kind the people are, and marveled at how proud your family, friends and neighbors were to share their experiences with you. When you had first started dating, you expressed your desire to Miko about going to Puerto Rico and she vowed that one day she will take you.

And here you two are now.

“Te amo, te amo, te amo!“ You wrap your arms tightly around Miko, your tears slowly streaming down your face as the pilot announces over the intercome that the plane will land in San Juan in thirty minutes.

“Yo tambien te amo mucho, Y/N,” Miko says, embracing you just as tightly. “Estoy tan feliz y emocionada por estar de regreso a Puerto Rico contigo. Vamos a pasarla muy bien.”

“I know we will.” You pull away from her slightly. “We always do, no matter where we go.”

“That’s right we do, baby,” Miko hums as she leans in and gives you a sweet kiss to your lips.

[quitealotofsodapop]

After that whole mess, they, of course, go back to FFM. Both because the cubs had a long day and needed a nap and also because neither Wukong nor MK had the energy to reset their glamours, and the last thing any of them wanted was to be swarmed. Wukong had to be stopped form going into a cleaning spree as soon as he realized he was having guests over for the first time in years and had to be told to sit down since, out of everyone there, be had been the one in the worst condition when all was said and done. They still enjoyed their smaller, more private New Years celebration and getting to run around in MK's childhood home

referencing.

Absolutely. Wukong is taking all the cubs home for a well-deserved rest (the eclipse twins argue that they aren't tired [lie]), and to properly introduce himself to the Noodle shop gang/aka his reincarnated Pilgrim brothers.

Wukong is a dedciated King to his people, but hasn't really let people "get close" since the Samadhi Fire incident/DBK's imprisonment. So he's a little rusty on how to play host in his own palace. The Stalwarts and the island's subjects are worried since they noticed some sort of havoc going on in the mainland while their King was gone, but Wukong brushes them off.

When Wukong attempts to clean up and play host, Pigsy quickly makes him sit down since; "You're pregnant and nearly got all your magic drained out of you. I'll make dinner." Which immediately puts the pig in the monkeys' good graces. Wukong does have to admit, piglet's grandson makes amazing noodle soup.

Mei (+MK) helps Pigsy out in the kitchen, and Wukong has a pang of nostalgia and grief at how similar the little dragon looks to Ao Lie. Her fun-loving attitude quickly gains her fans amongst the cubs, even if they try to eat her phone once or twice.

Lots of talking happens - especially on the subject of MK being Wukong's eldest cub + who exactly "dad" is. Wukong is still a little too upset at Macaque to give more than a curt explaination that he left on "a vacation" and has been missing since then.

Pigsy blurts out that he'll; "Sock the punk in the nose the second he sees 'em for leaving his family like that". It gets a laugh out of the king at least. Gao Cuilan did the same to Bajie when he finally returned after the journey.

Tang is ofc in Jttw-nerd heaven. Asking so many questions that MK has to interupt him to give his mom some space. The Stalwarts happily fill in the more embarassing/sappy details of their King and Warrior's romance, which delights the scholar (and mortifies SWK and MK) to no end.

Sandy is quickly the cubs favorite new uncle - though that could be because he smells like old uncle Sha Wujing. The Eclipse Twins are sus though. He makes himself busy serving up tea and addressing any emotional issues Wukong could be going through rn, especially with another little monkey on the way. Wukong is touched.

The Demon Bull Family makes an appearance - mainly to offer their apologies and for DBK to start making amends with his little bro. DBK quickly gets swarmed by the cubs he missed out on meeting, bellowing with laughter as they climb all over his horns. PIF is very aloof as per usual, but expresses her condolences for Macaque's disappearance. Wukong can tell that the former celestial princess is worried about her old friend, even if she doesn't care to show it.

Red Son is super confused, holding a casserole dish of non-spicy barbeque (DBK uncharacterically insisted, apparently the Monkey King hated spicy food), and just blinking at the fact that the "Noodle Boy" and "Pony Girl" he'd been fighting with were actually his calf-hood chums! Yuebei tries to eat his hair the moment he's offered to hold one of the Nodelets for the first time.

Overall the New Years "afterparty" (as Mei dubbed it) goes far better than the original celebration. Even if MK is super-grounded for not telling Wukong he became a superhero + lying who he actually was to the gang.

+Bonus: I love the idea of the cubs being super cranky during the events in the Celestial Realm. And when the spider gang attempt to stop the gang on the airship; little Yuebei starts shrieking with anger over her lack of sleep + missing both parents, and blasts them away with her non-fatal lazer eyes. It's one of many signs that MK's family aren't normal demons. Hunstman is a little embarassed that he was technically defeated by a baby.

[devine-fem]

Damian lovers (and by extension of this ask,damijon lovers) don't explore the fact that Damian was extremely cultured for the majority of his life before coming to live with Bruce. Like that 10 yr old is experiencing culture shock!! Ofc he's gonna act out and disobey authority figures he doesn't even know

Yes he had rules and obligations as an Al ghul,but he traveled and saw so much of the world that most,if none of the robins never got a chance to see at their ages... Then he's expected to be by his Father's side in order to learn and grow.. NOT TO SAY HE HASN'T!!! but to be stuck in such a gloomy place like Gotham when he grew up in such a beautiful island surrounded by the very flora and flauna that the Al Ghuls strive to protect...

The damijon part is where Damian shows Jon how other parts other than the Western world work,showing him all the wonderful cultures and history he's seen throughout his life before him,before his father. How integral this is to his identity as an Al Ghul and now he wants his closest person to be able to experience it with him... Jon showed him how to adapt to western culture when they were kids and now Damian shows him what the world has always looked like to him,how hard it was to let go of his cultured past when coming to America

I don’t talk about the culture shock because I admit to not knowing a whole lot of how culture shock works to be honest. Like I know if I took me as I am now and dropped me into China I’d be extremely confused and lost as to how things functioned around me but to survive I’d have to pick up on it and Damian’s a smart kid I think it wouldn’t be too bad for him…?

I think Damian functions entirely differently from a normal person no matter where he is, lol, like what Damian al ghul has experienced and isn’t common for any child… ever… so is it culture shock as much as it is… constantly perpetual states of shock?

His whole character is him relearning everything. Or maybe, I am misinterpreting it? Is culture shock a bad thing? or is it just an interesting concept?

Is it a trauma?

I’ll take it as an interesting concept for now and just discuss the damijon part of it because that’s what I’m good at.

Do you realize that Jon has grown up on a farm his whole childhood? LOL. Do you realize that Jon Kent would be fascinated by an ice dispenser??

Could you imagine the awe and ooing he’d do going to Nanda Parbat? The Himalay? He’d be so out of it LMAO. Oh, that would make for such a cute interaction of Damian showing him around his culture and him knowing nothing, it’d also be so damn romantic.

Even then the aesthetic would be gorgeous, that’s why I love Damian Al ghul, imagine Damian Al Ghul taking his superman to his beautiful private chambers to indulge in romantics for a while? just so cute.

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1

I assure you, I did NOT intend for there to be such a long hiatus since the last update! Life got ridiculous for a while. Hopefully this massive chapter makes up for the wait!

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 26,000+

Summary: While Javier's work spins up, preoccupying him, you try to keep your worries after several perplexing occurrences from towing you down into uncertainty. Can you both keep each other feeling grounded and deserving of the hopes you both care to nurture together?

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, including masturbation and unprotected sex. Mentions of raunchy sexual acts, sickness, longing, stress, and fertility worries. Descriptions of power play, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to jealousy, family strife, foreboding threats, and uncertainty. Some Protective!Javi, Dom! Javi, Bossy!Reader. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 43: Still

Chapter 44: Deserving - Part 1

Since the 1980s, Puerto Rico had grown into a major gateway to the U.S. for South American drugs. Within the first few years of the early 1990s, though, the small archipelago and U.S. territory functioned as the Caribbean's drug-smuggling hub. The administration in Washington D.C. ranked Puerto Rico and the nearby U.S. Virgin Islands as second to Mexico, in being a corridor for drugs coming into the United States.

With stats like that, and a precarious rise in violence and social ills associated with the drug trade and trafficking on the island, it was no wonder that the federal government had established a larger footprint in the region, encouraged especially by the Partido Nuevo Progresista being the current party in power. The Puerto Rican governor, Pedro Roselló, was a pro-statehood politician who'd been voted into power with lofty promises of curbing the waves of crime and violence, and collaborating with the federal government to get aid and better opportunities for private industry to the island of 3.6 million people.

His Mano Dura initiative was one that will be studied for decades to come. Beginning as a zero-tolerance policy program to combat crime, that some say had the opposite effect when it came to bettering the social standing of the working and poor classes on the island. It included the enactment of policies that increased sentencing periods, reduced rehab-focused initiatives for criminal offenders and promoted aggressive, more proactive – and often invasive – policing tactics. Public safety was touted as the preeminent concern – borne out of the fear and public frustrations across all facets of Puerto Rican society regarding the skyrocketing incidences of carjackings, hold ups, drive-by shootings, and murders fueled by the drug trade.

For all the militarized tactics, most glaring being the use of the National Guard to infiltrate and police public housing and high-crime neighborhoods throughout the metropolitan municipalities on the island, the murder rate only kept rising.

Javier had poured over the data, and saw how crime had exploded on the island as soon as it became a hub for drug trafficking into the U.S. and Europe. It used to be that robberies and the occasional assault were the worst crimes in most towns on the island. But just the year prior, there were 980 homicides on the island, setting a record – with one of the worst massacres reported occurring in a small town west of San Juan. More than 60 percent of the killings were drug-related. And drug-related violence was only getting more pervasive – indiscriminate of victims or the collateral damage.

Needless to say, Javi was done with the crash course phase of things, and wanted to really wrap his arms around the facts at hand. Sadly, the murder and mayhem had no face – no figurehead to pin the wave of crime on, so he was left to pull at threads in the stats and data to try and find the source. Of course, though, he and Steve had their mandate: stopping the flow of drugs, especially of the 10 to 20 percent that ended up remaining in the island for local consumption, creating a criminal industry that smuggles and stores the product, launders money, operates the retail puntos and foments the violence to prevail over competitors. Well, at least that was Javi's goal, since stopping the all-out flow of drugs into the U.S. was a fool's errand.

Getting the DEA running without being as heavy-handed as the National Guard patrolling known points had been difficult in the past, but he and Steve had come up with different tactics and enforcement plans. Organizing everyone, and getting them the necessary training, and into the field office was their current hurdle, one that kept both agents busy.

Working to get the field office set up, splitting travel to and from the U.S. Virgin Islands, being briefed on joint task force operations, and dealing with federal officials assessing their budgetary requests had been occupying a lot of their time. There just aren't many moments for either of them to concentrate on non-DEA-related things longer than the cursory conversations or plans you and Connie make for dinner hangouts, surface 'how was your day' chats, or simply wanting to be in the moment when intimacy was possible. So, having the intuition to ask 'what is wrong?' wasn't in the cards currently.

You commiserate with Connie about it. Between the two of you, though, you don't feel like you have any concerns – you don't feel neglected or burdened. After all, she's the one juggling a full-time job at the V.A., taking care of Isabel and Olivia, and fitting in time to tend to the house. If anything, you feel pretty centered, compared to how things had been before reconciling with Javier.

It's all perspective, and you are a great sounding board for Connie as much as she's a reassuring voice of reason – and a fount of knowledge for living with a stubborn DEA agent.

Really, you enjoy having someone who understands what it's like to be in love with a tenacious, committed and selfless man who throws himself into his work head first, then thinks about the toll that takes much later. As far as you're concerned, it all is put into perspective. So not telling Javier – or anyone – about the threatening note you'd received via a pink carnation bouquet delivery to your condo building, makes perfect sense to you.

Sure, you'd rushed down and asked the attendant specifics – 'Who delivered it? Did they mention the sender at all? Are you sure it was meant for my apartment?' – and gotten no answers or evidence that would help identify the culprit, let alone a means to track possible suspects, had unnerved you. But you just didn't think it was anything worth mentioning to Javier. You didn't want to alarm him when you weren't really sure it was even meant for you or not. No, it didn't seem credible enough to set off unnecessary stress and panic. So, you didn't.

You'd thrown the flowers out, and stored the card into the drawer of the console in the living room.

When Javier had spent the night at your place the following evening, you'd already shoved it to the back of your mind.

He was none the wiser, and you'd enjoyed relaxing with him in bed after stripping each other of your clothes and making passionate love while the air conditioning kept your warm bodies and the room cool.

He'd been beat from work, so much so he'd practically fallen asleep in mid-sentence about his hectic day.

Things for your department were equally busy the next couple of weeks as well with a major server expansion across departments and agencies occurring in stages, so you held no umbrage at the juggling of free time happening, since you were also focusing on your work projects.

The nights he'd work late, you were content with a quick 'goodnight' call and making plans to have a coffee, or lunch date some time the next day. Whenever you both ended up being at the office after hours, due to working late, Javier and you would carpool together in your sleek sedan to his place to spend the night together, and he'd catch a ride the following morning with Kike either to the field office or some task force meeting at the Federal Court Building.

And dinner with the Murphys had seamlessly become a once-a-week routine during this period as well, which was much-needed for blowing off steam and socializing outside of work.

This week's dinner was Saturday night, and it had been wonderful, but not without a lot of chatter between Steve and Javier regarding the drudgery still to come. During this kind of shop-talk lulls, you and Connie would exchange musing looks before leaving the fellas to it, preferring to entertain Olivia and the baby over idle chatter. This time, the precocious girl had made you both come to her room so she could show off the drawings she'd done at school and play with her favorite toy of the week before she had to get in her pjs and get tucked in.

You didn't mind it at all, and Isabel was a sweet baby that always seemed to enjoy your silly muecas and bouncing on your knee.

Javi was apologizing now, on the walk home back to his bungalow, for being so preoccupied, but you reassure him that it didn't bother you.

"—I know how much of a hassle it is to deal with all this stuff, babe. I'm just glad you and Steve have each other, this time," is your understanding retort. "And anyway, you two will make it up to us eventually."

"Oh, yeah?" he drawls, arm around your waist giving you a cheeky squeeze. "Have anything in mind already?"

"Actually, yeah. Earlier today, Connie, Anita and I talked about maybe doing a trip – all of us couples together," you retort simply and slip your hand into the back pocket of his jeans. "We could rent a house close to the beach and go for a long weekend."

Pleased, Javi hums, "Sure. I like that plan. Could be fun."

You conceded that you were sure it was a ways-away out, and while you both walk around the corner, keeping to the sidewalk, you muse, "All the Mano Dura stuff is really only revving up too, so I can imagine you're both going to be juggling that as well."

Unintentionally veering him back onto the work topic, Javier ends up talking through his thought process and concerns the rest of the walk to his place. By the time he's unlocking the door and chivalrously holding it open for you, Javi is really on a roll.

"—Once we get things settled, and the extra funding we asked for the field op teams comes in, we'll be able to take a backseat and let our ASACs manage," Javier is remarking as you enter through the entry door through the laundry room before him, allowing him to close and lock it behind himself. "It's time for Segarra to sink or swim, and Steve's guy seems more than capable to handle his end, so we should be finally able to focus on big-picture work. Really, we shouldn't have been doing so much shit ourselves up to this point, especially since we're supposed to be the bosses—"

He's just loped into the main living space and placed his keys onto the counter when his verbal train of thought halts after turning towards the living room. Well, specifically at the sight of you pulling your flouncy pale blue and green floral-patterned bohemian dress off and tossing it onto the chair adjacent the couch before toeing off your favorite leather flats and look over at him alluringly.

You're only in a thin nude lace bra and tanga-style panty now, already undoing the front closure as you brazenly suggest, "Why don't you come over here and show me who's boss, querido?"

It's hot, and oh-so-naughty how you can spin his lust up in a nanosecond and have him simmering with incandescent urge, especially with this kind of taunt delivered as an appeal for him to dominate you. And the sultry smile in your eyes as you shed your bra and toss it over at him to land on his shoulder, for good measure? Proceeded by the spritely way you fold your arms behind yourself and jut your bare breasts out proudly at him?

Rapacious desire ignites in his gut and has him rushing over to sweep you up into his arms. A delighted squeal bubbles out of you as he carries you to bed, making you laugh infectiously from his nippy nuzzling – impishly grazing his moustache along your neck and collarbone before he tosses you onto the soft surface. You bounce and giggle as you prop up onto your elbows to bat your lashes sultrily at him.

"You wanna get bossed around, do you?" he rumbles in a velvety tone as he takes his boots off and quickly divests of his belongings before unbuckling his belt and showily yanking his dark blue and white vertical pinstriped shirt – the one you love because it clings to his shoulders and pecs perfectly and accentuates his muscled biceps deliciously – out of his jeans waistband before swiftly beginning to undo the top three buttons.

Giving him a salacious smirk, you purr, "Mmhmm, that's right, mi patrón—"

"Fuck…" he eyes you with that smoldering, chiseled regard that always makes you tingly, before he growls, "Take those panties off right now, then, you little tease," as he deftly works the rest of the buttons undone and shrugs out of the shirt before pausing at plucking the button on his jeans when you defiantly remain sat up on your elbows and do not strip your underwear off as he'd ordered. Raising a challenging brow at you, he puts his hands on his hips and grumbles, "Are you really going to defy me, malcriada?"

You give him a mischievous grin and lilt, "Maybe?"

He grunts, giving you a snarky look as he leans over and yanks you down to the end of the bed by your ankles. Your squeal of surprise and the way you bite your lower lip makes him smirk before roguishly husking, "Do I need to tear them off of you and bend you over my knee for a spanking, traviesa?"

"I really like these, so no – no tearing, please," you chime as you draw your knees up and plant your soles flat to the bed, splaying your legs wide open as you toy with the waistband suggestively while his gaze hones in on the damp spot your arousal has soaked into the crotch of your panties.

The way he flicks his dark brewed eyes up at you sends an excited tickle up your spine and makes your pussy throb when he stares assertively at you before ordering, "Take them off, and show me what's mine."

Arousal pulses at your center at his command, and heat zings along your nerve endings to harden your nipples while anticipation flutters in your tummy as you slowly work your panties down and off. You discard them to the floor and lay back so you can spread your legs open and caress your hands along your thighs.

Javi hums in approval, and you expect him to finish undressing and have his way with you, but instead his smoldering gaze intensifies as he keeps his hands at his sides and murmurs gruffly, "I told you to show me what's mine, tentadora."

Your breath skitters excitedly, and Javi's gaze holds yours before admiringly returning to your cunt, now flushed with arousal. The desire he stokes in you has your seam slick and clitoris thrumming with need. He doesn't have to elaborate what he means, and seeing as you started this little game, you're aching to have him, and are tantalized by him flexing his dominance.

Breathily, you part your legs more and glide your hands down to touch yourself, slick dampening your folds as you run your fingers down and part them like dewy petals. You use the fingers of one hand to spread yourself open while the eager digits of the other dip into your aching pussy wetly before tracing back up to rub delicious pressure over your thrumming clitoris.

The sight of you pleasuring yourself has Javi throbbing wantonly in the confines of his jeans, but he keeps his now clenched hands at his sides as you whimper impatiently for his touch.

"Javi—please," you whine, your touch not enough, and desire making you needy for him to be naked and pressed against you.

He doesn't budge, even when you arch your hips up slightly and squeeze your bare breasts together. No, he wants to hear the magic words before he continues stripping.

"Please…what?"

Your blush sears the apples of your cheeks and you bite your bottom lip hard before exhaling a frustrated huff.

"Please, take what's yours," you beg, slick fingers gliding through your damp sex before you caress your palms up to your apex, as you murmur, "Give me what you want, mi amor."

He feels that rapacious urge scorch up in him at your needy words, and with how you butterfly your thighs open to show him how soaked your pussy is now, Javier can't keep his controlling façade up – not with how quickly his hands move to undo the button of his jeans and zip down his fly before slipping his thumbs into the waistbands of both the denim and his cotton underwear to yank them both in one swoop down.

Watching him strip makes you smile. He catches it when he stands from shedding the last of his clothes and tossing them in a pile by the dresser.

"Hm, take what's mine, eh?" he drawls in that honeyed baritone that makes delight tickle in your core, especially when he stands with his hard cock to loom over you, like he's contemplating what to do to you first.

All you can do to not grin up at him is to nod as demurely as you can muster as you hum, "Mmhmm."

With a shameless smile, Javi suddenly scoops you up and prowls onto the bed with you squealing a silly sound as he stays propped up on his knees so you're only recourse is to wrap your legs around his waist and cling to his shoulders.

He loves how mirth lights your eyes while your expression quirks with delight against your will – how your pursing lips can't fight back the smile tugging them up, so with a faux-admonishing cluck of his tongue, Javi coos, "Why am I getting the distinct impression that you're really giving me what you want, and not the other way around, hmm?"

You snicker and daringly buck against him so he has to catch his balance by propping his arm sidelong, which allows you to use the momentum to topple him onto the bed so you can playfully roughhouse with him for dominance, as you chime seductively, "Because that's exactly the case, mi patroncito. It gets me hot when you get all bossy—"

"Oh yeah?" Javier croons as he easily pivots you both so you're on your back and his big hands have cuffed your wrists and pressed them down on either side of your head. The weight of him crowding you makes you shiver, and the exquisite heft of his cock nestled flush against your crotch makes you mewl involuntarily.

"Yes," you admit airily and smile when his soulful eyes crinkle affectionately at you, full lips pursing out cockily. Deciding to pluck at a naughty string in him, you purr, "And it makes me ache for your cock when you think you can command me, bebito."

That has Javier giving you that incandescent look just as he steals your breath with a voracious kiss. Your arousal hazes your mind just as his hand moves to cuff your wrists together above your head while the other possessively cups your cunt and grinds your clit with the pad of his thumb. Hips bucking at the contact, you mewl into his mouth when his tongue plunders it while you arch up into his warm, muscled torso.

Your brain is swimming in the pleasure of Javi dominating the hell out of you, so much so that you don't even feel shame when he breaks the kiss and leaves you gasping from the sudden thwack of his deft fingers wrapping around his cock and tapping it lewdly onto your drenched pussy in a very lascivious show of dominance.

"When I think I can command you?" is Javier's gruff croon, dark brewed eyes molten with conviction as he makes his point again by gliding just the head of his cock through your folds before guiding it to slap wetly against your mound, deviously close to the hood of your clit.

You moan and writhe at the electrifying contact, so Javi purrs, "I think the ache you got for my cock has you forgetting who the boss is, querida. I'm gonna need you to use your words and beg for it, or else I'll just give you everything but my cock tonight."

Your skin is scalding from how crass-yet-authoritative he's being with you, winding your lust up into a tangle of desires that has you vibrating with arousal and pulsing with debauched delight.

"Please, mi amor—give it to me. Lo necesito. Te lo ruego. Por favor, mi rey. Seré tuya—will do whatever you command, just let me have it," you ramble with needy allure, eyes shimmering with how earnestly you're begging for him not to deny you the pleasure only he can give you.

Pleased beyond belief, Javi caresses his hand up to cup your chin to ground you to focus on his smoldering stare as he leans forward and husks, "Good girl," before kissing you chastely on the lips.

He lets you wrap your arms around his torso as he settles between your thighs and rolls his hips with delectable prowess to drive his cock into your pulsing sheath.

It feels so amazing to have him fuck into you – to stretch you open onto his thick, throbbing cock with every thrust, especially after all the foreplay and dirty talk. This feeling of passionate ecstasy always fills you, and the way you cling to Javi with every desperate stroke of him into you tethers him into being both grounded and alight. Nothing matters when you're both spun up like this, except for the ruinous euphoria you each feel build and build as the lovemaking crescendos.

There's nothing more gratifying to his pride than when you climax, going molten around his cock and frantic in his arms to cling to the sensations he's unleashed in you. You're so wild from the throes of pleasure that you muffle your sobbed moan into his neck before ferally suckling a greedy bite into the delectable spot.

"Fuck," Javier groans and feels his thoughts melt as his orgasm barrels loose from the knot of pleasure in his apex and has him clutching your waist as he pounds his cock into you before his thrusts stutter in rhythm and his release empties into your fluttering sheath.

Your toes curl at the sensation of his climax filling that deep, tender part of you only he can reach, leveling you to fall apart in his arms as all the strength dissolves in your body.

The warm and fuzzy heat of post-coital relief has you uncaring that you're warm, slick and sweaty under Javier while he lies on top of you in a spent heap.

"Eres pinche gloriosa," is Javi's husky, albeit drowsy praise as he props himself up on a shaky elbow before laboriously rolling off of you with an exhausted grunt.

All you can muster is an affectionate nudge of your forehead into his shoulder before Javi rumbles something wordlessly and encircles his arm to your waist in order to pull you to sidle against him.

The cool air from the undulating ceiling fan caressing your dewy forms helps lull you into a calm repose, where only Javier's warm skin and heady scent occupy your attention, until he nuzzles the top of your hairline and presses a kiss there.

"You feel good, querida?"

"Feel divine, chavón," you sigh, kissing his collarbone before you murmur, "I love you."

He exhales an approving grunt before patting your thigh encouragingly for you to tilt your face up to him. When you do, he caresses your cheek and swipes his thumb to wipe away at the perspiration that beaded along the edge of your orbital bone.

"I love you too, corazón."

Dreamily, you smile up at him unselfconsciously. Your eyes are glossy, lashes damp and lids heavy, so Javi curls his fingers to crook under your chin so he can admire your flushed features before he peppers soft kisses along your warm skin. You are content to simply bask in his doting grace.

Eventually, when you regain your wits and start to fidget, Javier gets out of bed to retrieve a damp washcloth and returns to give you his loving aftercare. And when he pulls the covers back for you to be tucked under them, you hold onto his forearm and tug him to slide in after you rather than be apart from him the few seconds it would've taken him to round the bed to his side and climb in.

Feeling too accomplished to care that you're in the spot closer to the doorway than he'd normally like, Javi stretches out next to you and happily lets you lounge curled up against him, with your head on his shoulder and hand caressing languidly along his chest.

"So…at the risk of sounding clingy, I'm really going to miss you," you find yourself volunteering in a murmur, already frowning at yourself as you amend it by rationalizing softly, "I mean, the other trips were much shorter—"

Javi cups your jaw and makes you melt when he kisses you, snuffing the insecure ramble before it could start.

Resting his forehead to yours, he sighs, "I know, since I feel the same way," before stating flatly, "It's gonna be a lot of meetings. Hell, all the damn travel from island to island will be the worst of it. Not to mention all the political jockeying and face-to-face conferences with officials. Wish I could just delegate it to someone else."

You pout, seeing the weariness in the corners of his eyes, so you sit up and caress your touch over his brow, murmuring as you trace your fingertips over his forehead, "Those are the pitfalls of being the boss man, hermoso."

He exhales deeply out his nose and closes his eyes, letting you soothe him with your affectionate touch before he mumbles, "I'm going to miss you so much, it's ridiculous."

When he opens his eyes again, he relaxes visibly when you lean forward and kiss his full lips tenderly before playfully scratching into his unruly hair, while you lilt in a singsong, "You'll just have to be a good boy, get your work done, and hurry back so I can have my way with you."

His laugh is warm and raspy as he loops his arms around you to roll down into the pillows together so he can shower you with ticklish, moustache-grazing kisses to your cheeks, jaw and neck while you giggle and try to fend him off by tickling his sides.

After you both settle down in the warm bed together for the night, Javier conks right out, breathing deep and calmly on his back while you're snuggled at his side, with your head on his chest. The quiet of the room and the undulating breeze coming from the curtain-covered windows helps your mind wander for a bit, still charged with wayward thoughts. The ones that keep looping back for consideration revolve around Javier unperturbedly falling back into the chase – of being hungry for the hunt. He couldn't seem to quit the DEA for good, let alone sit back and relax in his position of authority. You remember his promises, both from when he was a field agent and when he was the Special Agent in-Charge in Bogotá. How he'd been unable to keep any of them, no matter how hard he tried.

And now here you are, recalling the ones he'd made to you when he'd begged for another chance.

"I came here for you."

He'd professed coming to Puerto Rico to be with you. That he didn't give a damn about the job, and if you wanted, he'd quit. How he'd do whatever necessary to earn your trust. That all that mattered to him, was you.

You don't want him to quit, or to not give a damn about his work. But you'd be lying if you weren't worried that old habits were intent to die hard when it came to him getting swept up in the politicking and the disappointment – that he would fall prey again to the corrupt jockeying and manipulation of compromised leaders, both here and stateside.

Still…in your heart, you felt things were different, and didn't want to give up the peace of being with him, on both your own terms.

"Everything we wanted is still possible…I want it all, with you…"

An effervescent palpitation has your heart skipping a beat at the echo of his words, and you feel centered.

With a smile, you close your eyes and let the strong thrum of his heartbeat help lull you into sleep.

Early the next morning, you wake up to Javi sitting on the foot of the bed with a cup of coffee he's nursing while in only a pair of blue-striped pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips. From how his shoulders are slumped, you can tell he's half asleep, so you maneuver up to crawl over to him in order to slink up against his bare back. He grunts sleepily and takes a deep inhale before reaching his free hand backwards to hold you while you loop your arms around his midriff and kiss the nape of his neck.

"Want me to make you something to eat?" you whisper as you nuzzle the side of his head when he tilts it back and leans more into you.

"I'd rather have you," he tells you unabashedly as he turns to kiss you softly on the lips.

You hum into his coffee-flavored mouth before leaning back to sassily pet your hand over his tousled hair as you order, "You're going to have both, and you're going to like it, guapito."

Javier has no objection to that.

You both get in the shower together, have a great quickie under the hot water and against the warm tiles, and let the water rinse over your sated forms of the soap and sinfulness.

When you get back to the bedroom, you dry off and lie in bed to relish the little time you have left until Kike pulls up to get Javi before swinging over to Steve's.

Skin to skin, you savor his kisses and lovingly cuddle him, knowing how lonely – and empty your bed – going so long without him will be. Javier feels the longing building up in him already, and all he wants to do is get lost in this sensual moment, even though he doesn't have the time for it. You know it too, and prolong it for as long as you can.

It's only when you insistingly nudge him to start getting ready a few minutes later, that Javi begrudgingly goes to his dresser to grab his clothes. His things were already packed and waiting in the laundry room, thanks to you having surprised him with a respectable suitcase you'd purchased earlier the day before. When he'd come home from the gym and met you at his driveway after you'd dropped off Connie, Javi had been curious about the sleek piece of luggage as you carried it to his bedroom. You'd opened it as you'd razzed him about needing to level up from his well-traveled duffle bag, and had proceeded to iron an arrangement of suits and shirts for him. He'd been more than happy to enjoy your domestic doting, and had smirked when you'd shooed him away into the shower so you could continue picking out the ties and other garments he'd need.

Right now, though, he doesn't feel the need to rush to get ready, even when you're done pulling on your jeans and are tugging your shirt down as you head for the kitchen.

By the time he trudges down the back hall into the main room, dressed in dark blue jeans and a nice white button-down shirt with a breast pocket his aviators are currently folded in, you have a generous breakfast sandwich and a refreshed cup of coffee waiting for him at the kitchen's bar top.

His stomach growls, spiting him, and you smirk as he sits at the stool and eats with gusto while eyeing you ruefully.

"You know, you're cute when you're grumpy," you can't help tease as you lean into the counter, opposite him.

Polishing off his meal, he quickly dabs at his mouth with the napkin before picking the dishes up and rounding the countertop, deliberately breezing by you to place them in the sink, as he gripes, "We had enough time to fool around some more, and you shot me down."

You scoff irreverently before whirling around just in time to catch him off guard and press him back against the sink's counter. Hands boxing him in so you can lean into him commandingly, you bossily tell him, "Javier Peña, you better not be getting surly with me before you're about to leave for over a week. You know how much I want to roll around naked in bed with you. Now quit being a brat, and give me a kiss."

He can't even stay surly, not at that, or the sultry look you're giving him.

His lips quirk into a smirk while he lets his moodiness out in a huff through his nose, then leans in to kiss you obediently on the mouth.

You suck on his bottom lip before grazing your teeth on the plump morsel, enjoying how he gasps excitedly and grips your waist as you pull back and imperiously smile up at his flushed expression.

Just as you're deliberating whether you can get away with kissing on him some more, you hear Kike pull up in the SUV outside, so you sigh and wrap your arms around him for a fortifying hug.

Once you've taken care of the remaining dishes and Javier's disposed of the garbage in the receptacle outside for trash pickup, you go to the bedroom to retrieve your scrunchie in order to swiftly put your hair up.

Javi's booted footfalls over the tiled floor approach from the hall just before he comes in and wraps his arms around you from behind. Exhaling, he kisses the top of your head before asking, "You're still spending the day with your dad?"

You nod, leaning into him before affectionately turning in his embrace and nuzzling his neck, humming before reluctantly stepping back so you can both exit back to the living room. "Yeah. He's going to D.C. for a while, so I was going to go food shopping and make dinner at his place," you remark and sigh whilst putting your hair in a ponytail.

He ogles your neck, and considers delaying leaving by pulling you against him so he can kiss from your jaw down the column of delicate skin. To nip a matching hickey like the one you left on him, and feel you shiver and cling to him. But you're hustling to get your shoes on and grab your purse, so he stows his raunchy desires and gets his keys, cellular phone, and wallet.

"That sounds nice," Javi muses, making you smile when his hand caresses your lower back as he escorts you through the laundry room, grabbing his suitcase and opening the door for you. "No Camille?"

"Nope, thankfully," you retort and watch as he locks up before smiling when he turns and quirks a derisive brow at you. "It's for both their benefits! I cannot stand her, and she has finally learned her place, is all," you insist, and Javi nods judiciously at your rationale while he takes your hand and escorts you out of the marquesina to lope over to the front curb where Kike is parked.

"Well, it sounds like it'll be a better time spent than what I'll be doing," is his deadpan before approaching the driver's side window that's rolled down, patting the frame to get the young officer's attention from the local tabloid magazine he's engrossed in, as he greets, "Morning, Kike!"

"Good morning, sir!" the jovial plainclothes officer retorts warmly before hastily folding up the magazine and stowing it in the door's cubby, then waves while greeting, "And good morning, Ms. Celina—"

"Ay, Kike. Just call me Celina," you razz him as you lean up to greet him with a kiss on the cheek through the open window. "Deja con las formalidades, ya," is your amused order.

"Okay-okay, se me olvidó," he chuckles as Javier opens the backseat door and places his suitcase in. "Did you like the mix tape?"

"Yeah, it had some cool tracks!" you retort and smile at Javi when he grunts and raises his brows curiously as he shuts the car door. "Kike gave me a mix tape with all the latest reggaetoneros that are hot right now."

"Ah," is his drawl as he loops your waist and pulls you close. "When are we going to perrear?"

"Javier!" you admonishingly hiss and swat his bicep haughtily, scoffing at his unabashed leer whilst Kike tries to hide his wry grin.

"Oh, that's right – you said when I take you to a club that actually plays reggaetón," he drawls as if you're talking about something innocuous, before he turns to Kike and remarks, "You'll have to tell me what the hot reggaetón clubs are so I can finally get her to dance perreo with me—"

"Alright, enough, beyako," you chastise sardonically and pinch his sides, grinning when Javier frowns at you using the naughty nickname in front of Kike, who is doing everything he can not to burst with a guffaw at his expense. You distract his umbrage by standing on your tippy toes to peck him on the lips before lilting, "Pórtate bien, y llámame."

He smirks at being told 'Be good, and call me.'

"I will," he murmurs and kisses you amorously before cupping your cheek and muttering, "You behave too, now."

Snickering, you kiss his palm and pull him in for a hug.

Once Kike has turned the SUV around while Javier walked you to your car, you two lock lips one more time before you hop in and pull out of the driveway to the street. You wave at Javi in the rearview once you see him get into the front passenger seat, and then drive away to head to your early morning errands.

Javier watches your little sedan drive off before Kike pulls away to coax down the block and turn the corner en route for Steve's house. He already misses you, and finds himself scenting his collar for the whiff of your perfume that clings to it.

"I gotta warn you, sir. Ms. Celina is going to have cacos drooling after her when you take her to bailar perreo," Kike remarks musingly, causing Javi to arch a brow dubiously at him. "Ella es una mamita sabrocita – all eyes will be on her at any reggaetón club, is all I mean."

With a dry grunt, Javier furrows his brow amusedly. "Trust me. I'm very aware," is his dry mutter, before he sarcastically warns, "And do not let her hear you refer to her as a mamita. Speaking from experience, she will let you have it and you'll have whiplash."

"Claro que no," Kike snickers and shakes his head sagely. "She's a chulería – una bichota bien wapa, so I would never pasarme así, sir. Definitely don't wanna offend her!"

Javier nods, picking up the gist of the slang-filled statement. After all, he's really had a run for his money in deciphering the bulk of the Puerto Rican slang Kike and Wilmer would fire off at each other in rapid conversation, and being out with you and witnessing your parrying of local colloquialisms you'd not used before in Colombia would often or not leave him inferring meanings, if not straight up asking you what a word meant.

Still, though, he'd heard bichote used to reference a drug dealer or criminal kingpin-type, so he had to ask, "¿Bichota?"

"Ah! Bichota as in a boss lady. A big shot woman – like, she's a cool, important lady," the younger officer explains as he pulls up to the front curb of the Murphy residence.

"I'm gonna need to find a 'Puerto Rican-isms' dictionary, for sure," Javier quips, smirking when the other man blows a raspberry and grunts in the affirmative.

He's not completely joking. Especially after the weeks of prep and briefs from undercover agents, who'd documented hours of audio recordings from dealers, traffickers, gatilleros and more throughout all their surveillance targets on the island. Thankfully Wilmer or Kike were always available to run questions by, and had been great helps to all local info for Javier and Steve.

The opening of the backseat door pulls Javi from his internal cataloguing. He turns to watch Steve chuck his suitcase in before climbing in and shutting the door while greeting, "Mornin', fellas. You been waiting long?"

"No, sir!" Kike assures as he pulls away from the curb once Steve's settled.

"Yeah, Kike here was just warning me about how I'll have to keep Celina close when I take her dancing here," Javier glibly jokes as he retrieves his aviators from his breast pocket and slips them on.

"Really? You do know Jav here is a real surly jealous type, right? So telling him something like that's only gonna get him stewing," Steve chuckles good naturedly as he leans forward to pat Javier's shoulder, and drawls, "We do not need a repeat of the Danvers incident, bud."

Javier scoffs and crosses his arms to keep his right hand from fidgeting with his exasperation at the mere reference. "Don't be an ass. That wasn't because I was jealous—"

"I'm sorry for mentioning it, sir," Kike genuinely offers as he drives, adding, "I didn't mean to sobrepasarme —"

With a reassuring pat of his shoulder, Javier assures, "Nah, you didn't. Don't worry. Murphy solo le gusta hablar mierda—"

"Hey, I don't talk shit," Steve interjects in a goading drawl.

"Oh, you're finally learning Spanish. Good for you, and about fuckin' time, hillbilly."

"Some of us are still capable of learning new things, pendejo. And do you kiss Celina with that filthy mouth?"

"She loves my filthy mouth. Maybe you should try it some time with your poor long-suffering wife—"

"Hey! My wife's off limits to your snarky remarks—"

"And Celina is off limits to your shit-talking commentary—"

"She ain't your wife yet, buddy. Once she is, then she's off limits."

Javier exhales testily and flips Steve the bird over his shoulder while glaring at the grinning blond in the rearview mirror. He arches his brow when Steve sits back and basks in having gotten the last word, or so he thinks.

"Look at him. Sitting so pleased with himself like he accomplished something," Javi deadpans to Kike in Spanish, who had managed to stifle his laughter during their juvenile back and forth. "Just loves to bust balls because his get busted at home."

Steve glowers at Javier's profile when Kike snorts amusedly at what he said, so he decides to prod his buddy some more. "Speaking of Celina," he drawls lyrically before remarking aloofly, "Wilmer told me he overheard Bozzi telling Vernon that she caught his eye."

That has the desired reaction.

Javier slowly turns around and tucks his chin down so he can glower at Steve over the rims of his sunglasses. "What?! When was this, and why are you only telling me now?" he grounds out from clenched jaw and tight lips.

Seeing the hickey barely concealed by Javier's shirt collar, he flicks his gaze up to see that dark fury start to fill his eyes, so, Steve dismisses, "Ah, because it ain't the first nor will it be the last time that anyone has the hots for your girl, Javi. No point in bringing it up—"

"Except to wind me up, you mean," Javi snaps back and huffily returns to sit facing forward in the front passenger seat.

"…All right, dick move on my part. I agree," Steve relents and busies himself with smoothening out the wrinkle in his green and white-striped polo shirt's collar.

"…What did Vernon respond to that asshole?" is the gravelly inquiry from Javier.

Steve looks at Javi's stare reflected in the rearview mirror before glancing at Kike, who's now just as invested in the gossip as Javi, so he exhales gruffly before answering, "Vernon told him something like, 'I'm pretty sure she's spoken for already. Or so go the rumors,' and Bozzi scoffed that there's no ring on her finger so she was fair game, as far as he was concerned."

That boils Javier's blood. But he only shows it with the hard etch of his scowling features and the way his biceps flex when he crosses his arms tightly across his chest.

"Acho, que canto cabrón," Kike remarks indignantly, not even batting an eye when Javi looks over at him, surprised. "Ms. Celina would never like that guy, so he's a pendejo for saying shit like that."

Chuckling in agreement, Steve cosigns, "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Javier cracks a lopsided smirk at that. He appreciates Kike being protective of you, and was glad when you both had struck up a platonic friendship after meeting when they'd picked you up from the dealership where you'd left your car to get serviced one morning. Since then, you would both chat buoyantly whenever you'd see each other and he'd given you his cell phone number in case you ever needed to get ahold of him if you couldn't reach Javier.

While he thinks about you the rest of the way they drive to the airport, you're leaving the video rental store now and hopping in your car to go spend the day with your father at his home.

You'd already stopped at the supermarket that carried Colombian food staples and picked up items for the meals you'd promised to make, so after a half hour drive to Dorado, you pulled into his driveway and parked across the open third-car garage. You confirmed with a quick peek as you rounded the car to get the groceries that Camille's luxury sedan wasn't in the garage, so with a relieved exhale, you retrieved the bag with the movie rentals and headed up to the front entrance.

The door was already open and your father was meeting you on the tiled front step to help you with the bags.

"How are you doing, tesoro?" he greets and kisses you on the cheek before taking the bags into the kitchen while you shut the door behind yourself before following.

"I'm good. How about you? Looking forward to going to D.C. for the big meeting?" is your retort.

He grunts wryly. "It's just a meeting. But I'll be there on lots of other business. What've you got there?"

At him gesturing to the bag in your hand, you reach into it and retrieve the three VHS rental movies and show him the stack so the labels are facing him. "I thought we could have a movie night. I haven't watched the third one yet."

The three movies are The Godfather, parts one through three.

Smiling broadly, your father is visibly pleased as he muses, "That'll take us the rest of the day to watch. Are you sure you're up for that?"

"Well we have to rewatch the first two parts to be reminded of everything before going into part three. It can also play in the background while I cook, no?" is your affable reasoning as you place the movies on the coffee table in the living room before returning to the kitchen to start unbagging the groceries.

He agrees, and soon you're both spending quality time together.

By nightfall, you're both engrossed with the final film while partaking in the leftover empanadas you'd made earlier.

You're on your fourth rum and coke, which pairs great with the empanada you're currently dabbing some hot sauce on while watching the drama, unaware of your father's pensive glance.

"I had the maid turn down the guest bed," he mentions as innocuously as he can.

You chew your bite and shift in your seat to look over at him. Swallowing, you retort, "I wasn't planning on spending the night, Pá."

You can see the furrow in his brow smoothen as he tries to not look judgmental. "I don't want you driving home so late. You've been drinking—"

Realizing why he's worrying, you wave him off, assuring, "I'm perfectly capable of driving. And I don't want to overstay my welcome."

He pauses the movie and frowns before weighing his options in how to respond. He seems to settle for, "I'd feel more comfortable if you spent the night, mija."

Finishing your empanada, you ruefully shake your head before washing it down with a sip of your drink.

"Unless Javier could come pick you up?"

Being a few drinks in, the indignant fire doesn't reach your eyes as quickly as it would've had he made the suggestion earlier. Deciding to relent, just a little, though, you muse impassively, "He's on a business trip."

Humming, he takes a long sip of his own drink before exhaling and attempting to capitalize on not being rebuffed on the topic like you'd done occasions prior. "Things are going well, then?"

You can't help sigh, because you truly do not want to argue with or snap at your father, but his constant need to broach the subject of your personal life aggravates you. So, you try to count to ten before placing your drink glass back onto the coaster on the coffee table before you answer him.

"I take it you haven't been able to get a rundown from anyone else on the matter?"

You turn to look at him directly, eyes frank as your brows quirk upwards in query.

He frowns, before responding in a mild baritone, "I'd rather ask my daughter about her life. Is that so wrong of me?"

You take a cleansing breath through your nose and let it out slowly before answering carefully, "Pá, I just don't want to end up arguing with you about my life. I don't want to be browbeaten by you, or feel like I have to defend myself—"

"I'm not asking you to, tesoro," he grumbles in a low tone, before pressing, "I just want to know you're all right."

"I am. But I know that's not all you want to ask, and I don't want to go down this road and end up with us getting upset," you tell him bluntly, crossing your arms and leaning back.

His jaw squares in impatience with you, but instead of snapping crossly like he would've in your youth, your father huffs and crosses his own arms to stare at you keenly.

"Just tell me one thing, and I won't broach the subject anymore," he proposes in his deep, raspy pitch. When you nod, his features relax minutely as he asks, "Does he make you happy?"

"Yes."

You responded without an ounce of hesitation, and the way your expressive gaze lit up with clear affection for this Javier Peña who makes you happy – as if he'd flashed across your mind's eye as you answered, made it easy for him to surrender.

With a hum, he presses the button on the remote so the VCR resumes the movie.

"Good."

You're pleasantly surprised.

When the movie ends a short while later, you surprise your father by agreeing to spend the night. So once you've packed the leftovers and washed the dishes, you kiss him on the cheek and go down the hall to the back guest bedroom.

Around the same time you're exiting the shower to get into a flowy nightgown and slip under the cool covers of the plush bed, Javier is just getting into his hotel room on St. Thomas.

After landing and spending most of the day getting shown around by Steve's ASAC, Sam Petersen, he was bone tired, and looking forward to just crashing. Tossing his suitcase onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed, Javi tiredly empties his pockets and places everything on the night stand before dropping down onto the mattress and kicking his boots off in order to lie back and stretch his aching muscles. Lulling his head to the side, he sees the alarm clock lists it being just after 11:45pm.

Even though he'd warned you he probably would get in too late to call tonight, he wished he could hear your voice before bed. Deciding he didn't want to risk waking you up, he lumbers up off the bed and starts stripping on his way to the bathroom. One nice hot shower a few minutes later, and he's trekking back into the cool airconditioned room in just a towel, yawning noisily as he unzips the suitcase and flips the top open in search for some boxers or pajama bottoms to wear to bed.

The exhaustion clears from his eyes when he sees just how neatly you've packed everything. His toiletry bag is snug in the center while two pairs of suits are crisp and folded just right that all he need do is put them on hangers, the dress shoes were buffed and shined, and everything else was tucked and rolled for easy arranging. Even the soft cotton dark gray boxers you packed were arranged right on top of the main folded pile, so he wouldn't have to rifle for them.

Seeing as St. Thomas would be their base of operations for the next few days, Javi goes to work unpacking the items you took the time to iron and steam for him.

When he gets to the assortment of button-down shirts you packed for more casual workdays, he's surprised to find a square envelope hidden underneath them. Placing the shirts on the dresser, he picks up the envelope, opening it and finding a crisply folded sheet that looks like was carefully pulled from the planner he's seen you write reminders in.

Unfolding it, he finds a note, written in your lovely handwriting.

Javier,

Since you'll be busy and likely unable to chat much while you're away, I figured I'd write you an important reminder: I love you, with all my heart. And everything you do, it matters. I'm proud of you, and I'll be thinking about you, and wondering how I got so lucky to have you.

Please, be careful, and give yourself grace. Especially if you find yourself in a moment of frustration. I know how invested you can get when you're on the case, so just remember that you're not alone in it. And let Steve take on some of the stressing!

Missing you, chulito.

Soñaré de ti, mi amor. Sueña de mi, mi cariñito.

Love,

Celina

Heat fills his chest, making his heart feel full and immense at your words. It's then, when he's about to tuck the note back into the envelope, that he notices there's something else inside of it. Slipping it out, he ends up staring at the snapshot.

It's a photo of you, posed sultrily – sat at the foot of your bed, in only the nighty with the slit up the thigh. And from the looks of the angle the photo was taken, he realizes you must've found a timer on the Polaroid camera and set it on the dresser to snap you while you struck the sexy pose.

Completely floored, he's so lovestruck that it takes him a second to realize that the soft garment that the envelope was placed on is actually the silky nighty you have on in the photo.

He picks it up and brings the delicate garment to his nose. It's laced with the scent of your skin, with hints of your sweat and the fragrance of your body lotion, as well as the lingering traces of your soap, fresh smelling laundry detergent and fabric softener. A smile warms his face when he realizes that's what you meant. That he can dream of you because he'll have your alluring scent with him as he drifts off to sleep.

Tossing the towel away from his waist to plop into the bathroom's tiled floor, he quickly pulls on his boxers and goes to stretch out on the bed with the treasures you slipped into his suitcase. The look in your eyes in the photo is dazzling and flirty, and your smile is cheeky yet sexy.

Javi wonders when you would've taken it, and his mind whirs through the recent moments that have passed between you both – suddenly remembering you'd been wearing the silky nighty the late evening he'd come to spend the night at your place after a very long day of being holed up with tax officials in Hacienda, the Department of Treasury of Puerto Rico.

The local government had cleared the DEA's request to review any and all flagged income tax accounts suspected of possibly acting as shell corporations for money laundering, as well as the list out of those that had come up in property seizure documents across the Caribbean region that had so far been catalogued by the forensic accountants. He'd spent almost twelve hours in the building, and during one of the coffee breaks, he'd called you to check in. You'd managed to cajole him to come spend the night at your place since it was much closer to Hacienda. And since he'd driven himself that day, he was more than happy to agree.

You'd been in your silky robe when you'd answered the door late that night, and he'd been so exhausted that you'd towed him to your room, stripped him of his clothes, and herded him to bed. With the lights shut, you'd curled up against him under the covers when he'd looped his arm around you and held you close, and your warm skin and the soft scent of your hair had lulled him into a deep slumber. He hadn't realized you were in the sexy nighty that had become his favorite of them all until the next morning when you'd stirred him awake with a gentle kiss to his forehead before lovingly caressing his relaxed features and liltingly murmuring his name. His eyes had dreamily gazed up at you, focusing on your mussed hair and how the early morning rays spilling in from the hall framed you, sat at the edge of the bed.

"Javi, it's almost 7. Do you have any early meetings?" you'd murmured, gliding your palm along his deltoid, bright eyes and fresh features bare, with only affection radiating down at him.

He'd stretched to roll onto his back, reaching his hand to cup your knee as he shifted up on his elbow and stifled a yawn before mumbling in a raspy husk, "Mmmph, yeah. A very important one," before seamlessly whisking you up and over him to sprawl onto the bed. You squeaked in surprise and then giggled when he rolled on top of you before crooning, "That is, if you can pencil me in, jefa."

"Oh, I just so happen to have some time right now, agente," you purred teasingly as you'd wrapped your arms around him and kissed his smiling lips.

When you'd both gotten hot and heavy, you'd tried to shimmy the nighty up and off, but he'd stopped you. "No, keep it on," he recalls rumbling before kissing a path down your body in order to bury his head between your welcoming thighs.

Arousal curls hotly down into his loins at the memory of you crying out and gripping his hair when you'd orgasmed on his tongue and sobbed his name in a breathy whimper.

Javier had to slam the proverbial breaks on his raunchy thoughts racing off into reliving how you'd stopped him from smugly leaving you sprawled on the bed to instead order him to strip his boxers off before you pushed him down onto the rumpled covers and yanked your nighty off, climbed on top of him, and rode his cock while squeezing his hands after interlacing your fingers with his and holding on as you rocked each other into an incandescent climax.

Shimmying under the blanket, Javi shuts the night table lamp off and stretches out with your nighty draped over the adjacent pillow, and drifts off to sleep with your scent soothing him and the photo tucked against his palm and the silky garment.

It's the best night of sleep he's ever had while away from you.

You, on the other hand, did not sleep very well.

Waking up with a slight hangover, thanks to how stiff your father pours drinks, you'd slithered out of bed and took a hot shower to try and revive yourself. Thankfully, by the time you'd wandered down to the kitchen, he'd already made a pot of coffee and there were an assortment of pastries and fruit to choose from on the grand island counter. He was sat at the nice eat-in table by the wide window, reading his morning paper.

"Doña Lana can make you anything you'd like for breakfast. She's just running the washer," he remarks without glancing away from the Op-ed he's skimming.

"That's alright. The coffee and this pastelillo de guayaba will be more than enough," you retort smoothly as you pour yourself a cup and pick up the pastry to go sit at the table with him. "What time is your flight?"

"Just before noon," he answers and folds up the newspaper to set it aside so he can sip from his own mug, eyeing you over the rim.

The respite of having a nice cup of strong coffee and a deliciously flaky and sweet pastry in a comfortable silence is short lived when he clears his throat and finally says what he's wanted to say for a while now.

"I'm really glad we've been spending more time together, tesoro. I was hoping you'd be open to getting together when I get back? Perhaps a dinner or outing, that doesn't exclude Camille?"

You silently seethe and count to ten as you finish your last bite. Washing it down with a long sip of coffee, you busily dab the napkin to your lips and use it to dust the powdered sugar from your fingertips.

"I'd like to keep this up, Pá. But I can't agree to that and be expected to grin and bear her," you tell him honestly, trying to keep all emotion from your tone.

He absorbs that, before crossing his arms and giving you an intense stare.

"All she's wanted is to be considered family, and she's done nothing but be supportive of us catching up for lost time…but I can tell it's begun to upset her, being excluded. It would mean a lot to me," is his bass-filled petition, his brows furrowing hopefully when you don't immediately scoff or shake your head. "You could invite Javier along—"

"Let's not get carried away," you finally sigh and idly brush the rogue strands of hair back from your face. You see a flicker of disappointment etch his features, so you dramatically huff before deflating back in your chair, then clear your throat before graveling, "Hmph…"just when I thought I was out, you pull me back in!""

Your father cracks a broad smile at that before chuckling, "That movie was terrible."

"Right?! I was so surprised by how bad it was," is your irreverent comment, snickering as you lean forward to prop your elbow on the table, "It did have some decent one-liners, though."

He grunts, before quoting, "Never hate your enemies. It affects your judgment."

Laughing, you quote back, "Never let anyone know what you're thinking."

He laughs along, but then surprises you when he reaches his hand out to affectionately squeeze your propped up forearm, before gazing warmly at you, as he quotes, "A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man."

It takes you off guard, to hear him quote that line. Truthfully, it disarms you, so you lean back and take his hand.

Just like when you were little, his hand dwarfs yours, and a heartstring tugs in your chest as you remember how much you'd loved walking with your father, holding his hand.

"Ok. I'll think about it," you murmur and give his hand a squeeze.

When you hug him goodbye a short while later, you wish him luck on his meetings, and he promises to call you once he's back on the island.

Both you and Javier have such hectic days that you don't get to check in with each other until very late that evening.

He's just returned to his hotel room and begins eagerly stripping his blazer and yanking his tie loose when his cell phone starts ringing in his pocket.

Retrieving it and pressing the button to answer, he props the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he toes off his dress shoes and empties his pockets. "Hello?"

"Hey, hermoso. It's not too late to chat?" your smooth lilting voice queries over the line.

"No, I actually just got back to my room," he assures as he sits to lounge back against the headboard of the bed. Stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles, he exhales relaxedly before asking, "You missing me as much as I miss you, preciosa?"

He hears you snicker flirtatiously before musing, "Depends on how much you're missing me."

"Ah, if you're gonna be that way, I'm just gonna get ready for my date with the sexy little thing I got waiting in bed with me then," Javi tauntingly croons as he pulls out your photo from his wallet left on the nightstand and smirks when you make a grumpy little sound of disapproval.

"Well, stud, go right ahead. I have my own date in bed too," you counter sarcastically.

Grunting, Javier mutters flatly, "See, when you say it, it's way too believable—"

Snickering dismissively, you deride, "Hah, mira quien habla. I told you they used to call you el guapo descarado around the embassy. I never got such an apodo—"

Quippingly, Javi cuts in, "No, you were 'that ferocious little minx' and 'a knockout', oh and 'drop-dead gorgeous'—"

Your dramatic sigh has him pausing to grin, then chuckling when you grumble, "Tan chavón."

Humming innocently, he drawls in a gravelly murmur, "The only thing I got a date with, is your sexy nighty. I slept like a rock last night thanks to it."

"Ah, so you found it," you chime coolly, and he can hear the shifting of the covers as you pull the quilt back and slide under it. "I'm hoping to have a better night's sleep thanks to cuddling your shirt tonight."

"You spent the night at your dad's?" he queries as he unbuttons his dress shirt open and pulls the tails loose from the waistband of his slacks.

"Yeah. I ended up having a bit too much to drink, so I crashed in the guest room," you reply before redirecting, "So, how's St. Thomas?"

"It's alright. Sunny, but hot. Luckily, we've spent a lot of time indoors, dealing with CBP's Office of Field Operations here," is his smooth reply, hand idly brushing the curls of hair fanning over his forehead back as he grouses, "They're being pains in the ass."

"Oh?" you query curiously.

"Yeah, there's always been inter-agency static between DEA and CBP. They're wanting to red tape us to a point of impatience. But really, they're just trying to keep all the action for themselves, and don't want DEA oversight," he explains before huffing his aggravation from his tone, to add, "Anyway, we got one more day here, then it's off to St. John."

"Hang in there, boss man," you quip impishly, before asking, "Did you find the envelope?"

"Yes, I did. And you're a wicked little tease for slipping that photo in," he retorts with a smooth, canela-dipped rumble in his voice.

You giggle, and it makes that funny tickle flutter heat in that spot behind his sternum.

"Just a little reminder of what you have to come home to, guapito," is your smug purr before you end up stifling a yawn. "So you know, I meant everything I wrote. And I really miss you, Javi."

That radiating feeling throbs in his chest at your words. He's carried your letter in his pocket all day, sneaking it out of the envelope to skim it whenever he had a free moment. Picking it up from where he placed it down on the nightstand, he rests it over his chest as he stares at your photo.

You hear some rustling on his end of the line, and wonder if he's even read the letter, when he clears his throat and husks, "It means a lot. No one…I've never…It just means everything to me." Obviously fumbling with articulating his feelings, Javier huffs at himself before declaring, "When I get back, I'll do a better job, showing you how much it means to me, querida."

Clutching his pillow to your chest, you smile whimsically as you tell him, "I love you, Javi."

"I love you too, corazón," is his raspy murmur, before he purrs, "Dulces sueños, mi amor."

Feeling effervescently besotted, you susurrate, "Soñaré de ti, mi cariñito."

You both wish each other goodnight before hanging up, and sleep finds you both easily thanks to each other's scent lulling you into sweet slumber.

You do dream of Javier.

The sound of the tropical night filters into your dream as you're sitting in the passenger seat of the Cadillac. Javier is in the driver's seat, with one hand steering the wheel while his other arm is draped over the back of the bench. The scenery through the front windshield is of a winding, Puerto Rican rural mountain road at early twilight, but in the back windshield, it's the sunset sky over the Medellín cityscape. Javier's hand moves from the back of the seat to rest on your thigh, and when you look down at it, you're surprised to see your belly is swollen under a flowy black peasant dress with red embroidery on the hem and down the front collar.

You look over to find Javi smiling at you as the orange and blush-toned hues of twilight illuminate his profile. When you go to lean close to him for a kiss, you're suddenly jolted awake by your alarm clock blaring.

Scrambling over to shut it off, you flop onto your back and sigh confusedly up at the ceiling.

No dawdling. Doctor's appointment awaits.

The details of the dream were already fading into the fuzzy recesses of your mind by the time you're arriving to the waiting room. Signing into the log sheet at the front desk, you entered and found the space filled with a lot of other patients waiting their turn. You were surprised the office was busy so early first thing in the morning, but quickly abandoned wondering about it to instead let your anxious thoughts preoccupy you.

Another lab screening is due, so bloodwork as well as the usual checkup. Nothing's come back since the last one, so not likely to have any changes until the specialist reviews—

They call your name, and you snap out of your internal worrying to get up from the seat you were able to snag nearest the door.

It was for the best, you thought, to continue not mentioning your health concerns to Javi. You figured that until they were able to give you a definitive diagnosis, it would be pointless to make him worry. Sure, you also didn't want to spend too much time fretting about all the 'what ifs' that had already plagued you for months, but there was a small part of you that was already settling into being resigned towards what seemed like an inevitable outcome.

You didn't want to say it out loud, though. Not yet.

After taking several vials of blood and tagging them for analysis, your doctor charted your current weight and asked you about any irregularities in diet, if you'd been fatigued or feeling off.

Confirming that aside from still not menstruating, you felt fine, she asked, "And you're still sexually active?"

"Yes," you answer, worrying the leather strap of your purse between your hands.

"And it's been with the same partner?" she inquires, and at your nod, she neutrally asks, "Unprotected sex?"

"Yes," you confirm, tone a little tight.

"Hmm, well, I'd like to test to make sure you're not pregnant. I'll note it on the lab form as well," she clinically details as she scribbles just that on the form. "As usual, I'll call you with the results. In the meantime, keep your routine, and be sure to take plenty of vitamins. Especially with this flu that's going around."

You nod and thank her, still on autopilot from compartmentalizing the anxiety and dread the visit whips up inside of you.

A few minutes later and you're back in your car, feeling the pressure from worrying all morning begin to dissipate. Driving out of the parking lot, you cruise through the increasing street traffic as rush hour starts to congest the metropolitan roadways.

The radio is on your favorite station, and the morning program is recapping the latest local news when you notice that the car is starting to shake oddly.

Suddenly, just as you pass the traffic light of the intersection, you feel a sharp lurch before the undercarriage of the car slams roughly down on the pavement, as if you'd just hit the mother of all potholes. But then you hear metal grinding against asphalt, and immediately stop the car, only to find you can't turn the wheel to try and pull off to the nearest curb and out of the way of traffic.

Frantically, you keep trying to force the wheel, but it isn't until a bystander on the sidewalk rushes over and waves at you that you lower your window and hear him tell you that you're driving on the axel because your driver's side tire came off.

The next few minutes is pure chaos as car horns blare at you and impatient drivers zoom around your disabled vehicle into the opposite lane, which then causes a traffic bottleneck in the opposite direction you were driving.

After climbing over your center console to exit through the front passenger door, you manage to see the damage for yourself.

"Oh my god," you gasp at seeing that indeed, your entire tire – rim and all – came off the axel and was flung at the corner of the intersection.

Several calls later, and the police are detouring traffic while a tow struck is hitching your car to its flatbed to be transported to your dealership. With your work tote, workout bag, and purse in hand, you accept the tow truck driver's ride to the dealership. Realizing you're going to be very late for the manager's meeting, you get your cell phone from your purse and call Ellis.

"—Holy shit! Are you ok?!"

"Yeah, just a little thrown off. It doesn't look like I'll make it in time, so could you do me a favor and take any notes for me? Devon is in the Operations review so I—"

"No worries, kid. I got you. It sounds like it's gonna be another budgetary thing anyway," he assures and promises to give word to Olga so she can relay the news to Devon once he's back in your department.

The dealership is baffled when you explain to them what happened, and insist there's no way your recent service could've caused such an issue with your tire. Still, they agree to expedite the repairs and do a full diagnosis to see if anything else is wrong with your vehicle.

Unfortunately for you, they don't have any loaner vehicles available, so you're just about to ask them if they can call you a taxi when you remember that Kike had given you his cell phone number.

The congenial plainclothes officer is pulling up to the dealership not even twenty minutes later.

"Chacho, that sounds very scary!" he remarks, shaking his head empathetically after you tell him what happened. "If you need a ride later, I can take you home—"

"No, don't worry. While I waited, I called my friend to cancel plans we had for tonight, but she didn't let me and offered to pick me up," you reassure, smiling as you thank, "I appreciate it, though! I promise to call if I'm stuck for real."

"Ok, very good," he intones, as if satisfied, driving through morning traffic all the way to La Avenida Chardón where the U.S. Courthouse and Federal building are. During the drive, you ask him about how his training exercises went, and he jovially tells you how he's progressing and should be snagging the tactical ops certification in a month or so.

While you're hearing about the training Kike has yet to complete, Javier is standing under the shady canopy in front of the luxury store's display window, admiring the different, glitzy jewelry options arranged on the shelves and stands. The promenade is busy with tourists and locals alike, out enjoying the balmy Caribbean morning.

Just like that previous time wandering the jewelry district in Bogotá, Javier was perplexed by the variety of options – at the daunting number of rings one could possibly choose from. He was just internally admonishing himself for not having peeked into your jewelry box prior to see what kinds of rings – if any – you wore, for inspiration, when Steve approached his right side and hummed in goading wonder to get his attention.

"Well? Any of 'em catch your fancy?" he drawls as he squints at a very gaudy canary yellow diamond ring.

Grunting, Javi pushes his sunglasses back into place over the bridge of his nose before glancing over at Steve. "That's the thing: I haven't seen anything that feels like 'the one' – which as I say it out loud, sounds dumb," Javi mutters before looking back at the display.

Cocking a brow curiously, Steve remarks, "I mean, you were engaged once before—?"

"I didn't pick out that ring," Javi cuts in matter-of-factly, and Steve raises his brows in confusion, so he explains, "When we'd decided on needing to get hitched, Lorraine showed me an ad for the engagement ring she saw at the local jeweler's that she liked, so I got it and went to ask her father for permission. Showed him I already had the ring, so no one would suspect," he trails off before absently brushing the perspiration beading at his forehead. Running his hand to sweep his rogue curls back, he ends up shrugging, deadpanning, "I have no clue what she would like."

"I mean, when in doubt, a simple, big ole diamond ring should do the trick," Steve razzes and claps Javi on the back good-naturedly.

"No shit," Javier scoffs, griping, "But gold band? What shape diamond? I just don't know…"

Humming sympathetically, Steve was going to suggest maybe asking one of your close friends for help ring shopping, when a car pulled up to the curb and honked at them.

"Our ride's here," Javi mumbles as he walks by Steve, gesturing for him to hop to it. "Let's get this nonsense over with."

They both get in the SUV to be driven over to the U.S. Customs field office, and all the rings and twinkling diamonds fill his head as they drive to their appointment.

You're in desperate need for a break.

Once you'd gotten to the building, you'd spent the rest of the workday playing catchup. All your meetings had to be rescheduled and you hadn't had a moment to even grab coffee or a snack for lunch, so by the time 2pm rolls around, you're famished. Luckily, the conference call you had with a counterpart at the D.C. federal office got rescheduled for later in the week, so you decided to rush down to the cafeteria and get something to hold you over until dinner.

You've just sat down with your little tray at the table closest to the floor-to-ceiling-length windows that overlook the interior courtyard between the Federal and U.S. Courthouse buildings when you here a pair of leather-soled shoes clomping towards you.

"Well now, having a late lunch, signorina?"

You turn to see Agent Bozzi in a light gray suit and pale teal dress shirt, sans a tie. His hair is swept back and his beard is groomed differently than you remembered, but that smug smile and his cunning gaze is still filled with promise of ulterior motives. He's holding a big cup of to-go coffee, and is standing in that obvious way someone would to nonverbally fish for an invite to sit.

"Yes, it's been a hectic day, so just needed a snack," you reply pleasantly as you can, without trying to be inviting or obviously aloof. After all, you really just want to eat your salad and fruit—

Bozzi goes ahead and slides into the empty chair across from you, nodding towards your meal as he muses charismatically, "Pretty disciplined snack. Never would've guessed you for enjoying the forbidden fruit."

Arching a brow, you retort, "This is a pear. No apples today, although, the pomegranate is believed to be the more historically accurate 'forbidden fruit' of legend."

"Huh. I didn't know that," Bozzi drawls in a bass-filled reply, thick brows knitting together almost bemusedly while you begin to eat your salad.

You can see the gears turning for him to try and come up with something else to continue in conversation, so you decide to redirect, "Well, I hope I'm not holding you up from whatever required you to get that big caffeine boost."

His eyes crinkle at his cup and he admits, "Nah, I just needed an excuse to kill some time before heading back over to the Courthouse building—"

Of course… you acerbically think to yourself.

"—been burning the candle at both ends with this task force operation. Never seen anything like it. I've heard of a neighborhood being run by the drug dealers in Jamaica, but in a U.S. territory?" Bozzi prods your interest then, so you pay attention to his unfiltered remarking of, "Can't trust local PD to get the job done, so gotta let the experts take back the block."

"A block?" you ask.

Bozzi is pleased with himself, that he was able to pique your interest with that. "Yeah. It's classified, so I can't say too much, but a small-time gang took over a whole neighborhood, and even drew a white line in front of a specific block as a point of no return for the residents and outsiders. No one can cross it but the gang," he explains boldly before shifting the topic. "Anyway, the whole thing reminds me of a ride along I did once with the Italian special forces team the FBI partnered with outside of Rome. You ever been to Italy?"

You have to do everything to not roll your eyes at him. He was laying it on thick, and you'd fallen in the conversational trap, so you relented and answered, "Yes. I spent a season in Naples while my father trained at the U.S. Naval base there."

"Ah, long enough to pick up enough Italian?" he flirts, brows smugly cresting up as he smirks charmingly.

"Enough to get by, yes," you reply and take a bite of your salad.

He seems to decide then to give up reeling you in, at least for the time being.

"Well, I'll get out of your hair. I'll see yah around, director," Bozzi remarks and seamlessly vacates the seat as quickly as he'd taken it, and smiles at you as he exits with, "Maybe we can grab a real snack sometime."

You watch him stroll towards the lobby with that cocky swagger, and internally glower. How presumptuous!

The Bozzi drive-by has you rolling your eyes as you finish your snack, taking the pear with you up to your office so you can nibble on it in peace.

If Javier knew the FBI special agent in-charge had tried to flirt you up, he would be in an even worse mood than he was currently.

U.S. Customs had agreed to let them review their own surveillance findings for the investigation into the drop sites found in remote strips of beach, but had insisted they wouldn't compromise their UC's or the targets they were currently embedded with.

"—For the last time: I don't give a shit about their aliases. All we want are leads on the local players so we can trace any of them back to the surveillance targets DEA has in Puerto Rico," Javi impatiently snaps, eyeing the official across the table like he's an obstacle begging to be moved with force.

Steve, on the other hand, is sat next to Javier and is rubbing his temples, shoulders squared in aggravation. "What Agent Peña here is saying, is we're not looking to mess with your undercover agents. We're just looking for cooperation on whether any of the contacts they've made have mentioned any partnerships with the trafficking players running the trade in Puerto Rico," is his patient insistence.

The irony of all this, which they wouldn't find out about until way after the fact, was that U.S. Customs didn't have a real foothold with the supposed underlings to the traffickers, because the targets were acting as decoys.

Junior Capsula had learned from the mistakes of Escobar, and he wasn't as big of a come mierda as the Cali Godfathers. So, he knew to insulate himself and his real partners away from public view. And after that clusterfuck of a bust back in 1988 during that Operation C-Chase, it became more obvious that no one was to ever penetrate the smoke screen created to shield true leadership of the Familia.

Then again, though, his syndicate wasn't technically part of it.

Still, that meant creating not only dummy corporations, but decoy bag men and trafficking liaisons. The days of smugglers using banks to launder money, as far as he was concerned, were over. And with the current setup he was slowly building, he was sure to grow his empire and remain incognito.

After spending all day chipping away at the red tape, Javier and Steve got the intel needed and a commitment from CBP to keep them in the loop.

By the time he got back to his room, Javi needed a shower to wash the exasperation and angst off. Steve had agreed to skip dinner in favor of unwinding over room service and a long-distance call with Connie, so Javi took the opportunity to pack his suitcase for the early flight in the morning to St. John before tossing himself onto the bed and popping the kinks out of his back.

Picking up your nighty from where he'd folded it on the pile of clothes going into the suitcase, Javi drapes it over his face and takes a deep inhale through the garment. Your scent warms his blood, and makes his impulses itch.

The cool air in the room caresses across his bare skin as he lies there in just the towel, eyes closed and thoughts going lustful.

You've just gotten home after being dropped off by Zoraida. Your muscles ache from the kooky workout you'd tried out before dinner, and now full, you feel like you're in desperate need for a nice hot soaking bath before crawling under the covers.

The bathtub is halfway full and you're just about to climb in to sit on the ledge and let your feet dip into the warm water when your cell phone starts ringing.

Rushing to retrieve it from the bedside charger, you answer it while adjusting the fluffy towel around your torso.

"Hello?"

"I really wish you'd packed a pair of your panties along with the nighty."

Scoffing a simpering laugh, you go lean back against the doorway so you can keep watch of the tub while it continues to fill. "As if I'd pack skanky panties into your luggage and run the mortifying risk of them searching your suitcase at customs!" you deride sassily, grinning when he grumbles contrarily at that.

"Tan chingona," he deadpans, before letting loose a ruminating exhale.

Humming curiously, you ask, "Something on your mind?" then add, "Bad day?"

"Just a ball-busting kind of day. Nothing worth mentioning," is his monotone gripe, before he queries, "How was your day, cariño?"

You don't really want to tell him about the chaotic day, especially the incidents with the car and Agent Bozzi, so you simply respond, "It was busy! And I capped it off by going with Zoraida to try out this Pilates thing, so after I finish this hot bath, I'm taking my tired ass to bed."

"Pilates?" he remarks on a grunt.

"Yeah, it's the latest workout, I guess. All about precise ranges of motion and they use this machine that kind of looks like a torture rack to stretch your muscles and make you hold into positions to strengthen your core," you tell him as you walk over and turn the faucet of the tub off. "I'm probably going to feel like I was beaten with a stick in the morning."

"Jesus, don't overdo it, baby," is his rumbling tut, but you can hear the lopsided smile in his voice when he adds, "I think you should just stick to our special regiment and let me work you into positions that'll have you feeling good, instead."

You snicker, "Beyako," and smirk when he chuckles cockily at your ribbing. "You guys are flying out to St John in the morning still?"

"Yep. We'll be there a few days. Steve's ASAC has a lot of meetings set up for us," he replies on a huffy sigh.

Pouting, you chime, "You can do it, gruñón. I believe in you."

Javi blows a raspberry at that. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, bravita. Now, go have your bath. I'll call you tomorrow night," is his rugged murmur that has electricity zinging through you and into your core. "Goodnight, mi amor."

"Goodnight. Love you, chulito," you croon sweetly before telling him goodbye.

Setting the phone aside, you toss the towel onto the floor and slip carefully into the warm bath water. You practically melt as the heat seeps into your aching muscles, as you luxuriate with the fragrant soap you lather yourself up with before dipping below the surface and popping up for breath before lounging backwards against the tub.

When you get into bed and fall asleep, you're hugging Javier's pillow, with his college shirt tucked around it. Your slumber is sound and soothing.

For Javi, however, his night's sleep is filled with sexy dreams of you.

Needless to say, he's ridiculously horny when he wakes up early the following morning. The urge lingers in his core, even after he takes the edge off in the shower. Sure, it doesn't help that his salacious mind can't stop thinking about you. That when he brushes his teeth, the image of you smiling brilliantly at him fills his mind's eye. And when he shaves, the hickey you left on his neck, while mostly healed, still taunts him with the memory of how wild you got as you reached bliss and reveled in the throes of pleasure that he gave you.

By the time he was riding down in the elevator with Steve to check out, he felt like an animal in a rut. And once they were waiting at the gate to board their hour-long flight, Javi was craving a cigarette bad.

"Fuck, you got any nicotine gum?" Javier asks Steve as he rifles through the front zip pockets of his suitcase.

"Yeah," Steve goes into his pocket for the pack he keeps on him. "Here, take 'em. I'm on the patch."

Javi takes the pack and immediately pops one of the gums out of the tray packaging. Tossing it into his mouth, he chews and pockets the rest in his jeans. "Thanks. I knew I forgot to pack something," he grumbles as he sits back and absently scrubs his hand along his jaw, exhaling soothingly when the familiar tingle disperses from the gum.

"Technically you didn't pack the suitcase though, right?" Steve jibes, twirling the pen he's plucked from his polo's breast pocket.

The smile crests his lips before he can even try to feign coolness. "She surprised me with it, then packed everything immaculately for me. But I haven't been relying on the gum as much lately, so I didn't have any lying around," he replies as he tucks the gum into his cheek and checks his watch. "How're Connie and the kids?"

Steve grunts lamentingly. "Olivia caught the flu from school, so Connie picked her up early and took today off to stay home with the girls. She's keeping Isabel away to avoid her catching it, which you can imagine isn't easy," he explains, frowning. "She said flu cases have been spiking the last week."

"Shit, that's rough. You're gonna have to make it up to her big time when you get back," Javi states the obvious and nods sagely at Steve, which always gets the gringo's goat.

"Says the guy who came down here to marry the girl he let get away, and he hasn't even gotten his shit together to pick out a ring," Steve instigates right back and cocks his eyebrow snootily at him. Seeing the comment needle Javier enough that he broodingly crosses his arms and huffs crossly out of his nose before staring at the terminal's foot traffic, Steve sticks his lower lip out as he grunts, before divulging, "I think you're overcomplicating the ring thing. Celina is not a flashy lady. I'm sure a nice, classic ring with a simple diamond in the middle will make her more than happy. And anyway, you can get fancy on the actual wedding band later on."

Absorbing that, Javi ruminates on it the rest of the day.

You, on the other hand, are doing anything but thinking straight right now. Not with how run down and sick you feel.

It started as a lethargic fatigue in your muscles that morning. One you easily chalked up to being sore from the workout the night before. You ignored it and went about your day.

The car insurance company was nice enough to expedite getting you a rental car to use while yours was still at the dealership getting repaired, and once in the vehicle, you'd commuted to the office. By noon, though, you'd started getting a congestion headache. You managed to make it to 3pm before you had to call it a day, feeling lousy and begrudgingly frowning when Devon had poked his head in to see you listlessly packing your tote as he remarked, "Oh no, you too, huh. Noreen caught the flu last week, and it's slowly been working its way through the building."

With your purse slung across your shoulder and tote hanging in your hand, you waved him away as you croaked, "I'm going to go home before I pass out. Now, stay away so I don't infect you—"

"Ah, I never get sick. I've been around everyone who's gotten the flu so far," he'd stated like it was irrefutable, before shrugging and insisting, "I'll cover that meeting at 4pm and have Olga adjust your calendar for tomorrow. You're definitely going to need bedrest."

You'd groaned, but thanked him before schlepping out as quickly as your aching body could. However, you'd gotten to your apartment and barely made it into your room before realizing you'd forgotten to finish an efficiency report due the beginning of the following week, and you hadn't packed your laptop.

Too drained to come up with a solution, you undressed and got into an oversized baggy t-shirt and crawled into bed. You had taken a dose of the medicine that was sure to knock you out soon, so you were hoping to get the ginger tea down to help settle your stomach before that happened. The chills had just started wracking through your frame as the house phone rang while you stood wrapped up in your throw blanket by the kitchen as the tea kettle heated up on the stove.

Croakily, you answer, "Hello?"

"Ay, no, you're sick too?!" Zoraida's dramatic lamentation sounds harried and raspy. "I woke up con la monga—"

"Join the club," you grouse, shivering. "And I was just at the doctor when she mentioned watching out to not catch it—"

"Ah! So you must've caught it and given it to me," Zoraida sarcastically chastises before breaking out into a coughing fit.

"Nena, it's flu season! Plus, wasn't that instructor last night sniffling?!" you lob right back, jolting when the kettle starts to whistle.

"Ah, es verdad. Que jodienda," Zoraida huffs over the line. "Anyway, I was calling to tell you I have to cancel going to the salon—"

"Obviamente," you laconically drawl as you steep the tea bag in the piping hot water you just poured before taking the mug back to your bedroom. "I was really looking forward to some pampering, too," is your gruff complaint. Once you've pressed the phone to your ear and gotten yourself situated in your blanket cocoon, you add, "This week ha sido una mierda, and it's not even over yet."

"Oh yeah?" your friend queries.

With the medicine cruising through your bloodstream, you're too sick to want to keep your guard up. Most of your energy was zapped out of you, so you end up venting about your week so far, not realizing how brashly detailed you're being.

"—Anyway, I'll stop ranting. Once we both feel better, we'll do the salon," you end up musing before you both wish each other speedy recovery so you can finish your tea and try to get some rest.

Javier tries to call you later that night, but you are dead to the world thanks to the medicine you took making you groggy. He figures you must've had a long day and fallen asleep early. But when he calls your cell phone, then your office line the next morning and gets no response? He starts to worry, and your home phone goes to voicemail after ringing for several beats. So, he calls Ellis.

The man picks up as he stifles a sneeze. "Hello?"

"Hey, It's Javier. Sorry to call out of the blue, but I haven't been able to get a hold of Celina," he explains, pacing the length of the hall just outside of the CBP conference room he and Steve had been in most of the morning. "Is everything ok?"

"Hey, Jav. One sec—" Ellis begins before being interrupted by another sneeze. "Ugh, sorry. Anyway, she's out with the flu. Probably sleeping it off. It's been running rampant in the building. Think I'm catching it too," is his congested explanation, before adding, "Poor girl's had a hell of a week as it is. I was planning on stopping by her place to drop off her laptop, so I can let her know to give you a call, if you want."

"Shit. Yeah, that would be great. Thanks. Hope you feel better soon too," Javi answers before they exchange goodbyes.

He's puzzled by the other man's comment, though. When you call him back later on that night, he's relieved to hear your voice and doesn't immediately remember to ask you about your week.

"—Hi, mi amor. I'm sorry I missed your calls!"

"It's ok, querida. Heard you're not feeling great," he replies, leaning against the banister of the patio he's currently stood on while the sun sets in the horizon across the way.

"I caught the flu. Minus Devon and Olga, almost everyone I know at the Federal office has been sick," you tell him in a tinny voice before coughing.

"Pobrecita," is his lament. "Olivia's been sick too. Shit's going around."

"Aww, bendito," you chime sympathetically. "The medicine I've been taking makes me drowsy, but I do feel much better than I did yesterday. Ellis came by a little while ago to drop off my laptop," is your comment before adding cheekily, "He told me you called him all worried about me."

"I did," Javi admits easily. "I'm glad you're feeling a little better—"

"Hey, Jav! You want another drink?" Steve interrupts as he shouts over from inside the house they're visiting.

"Babe, are you and Steve on a date?" you jibe impishly.

"No, you loquita," Javi snorts as he turns and gestures to Steve that he's still good with his half-filled glass of whiskey. "We're at his ASAC's place. Sam and his wife invited us over for dinner. I'm actually out on their patio. It's got a great view of the beach shore."

"Ah, that's nice! I won't keep you then—"

"When are you and I going to go to the beach together, eh?" Javi cuts in charmingly, before drawling, "Any secret playas we can go lay out on, just the two of us?"

You snicker, "Yes, there are a few, chavón. Hurry back so I can pack a beach tote and drag you along on a seashore adventure!"

"I'm holding you to that, preciosa. Now get some rest. Love you."

"Love you too, hermoso. Take care."

By the weekend, you're feeling almost 70 percent back to normal, with only a cough lingering now.

Your doctor had called with the lab results, and you were miffed to hear yet again that the results were 'normal' and requiring more observation, since none of the markers for thyroid, PCOS or pituitary issues were coming up that could explain the amenorrhea.

After also confirming you were not pregnant either, she surprised you when she asked, "Have you been feeling stressed lately?"

You'd been thrown off, but replied that you were of course stressed, but not in any significant way you felt was abnormal.

Deciding to schedule another checkup in a few months, she recommended you find ways to lower your stress, relax on exerting yourself in your fitness routine, and continue with vitamins to help build up your hormonal balance since you were probably still coming off being on birth control for such a protracted period of time.

The whole thing was aggravating you, which obviously wasn't helping lower any stress. Still, you compartmentalized the news and continued with your day, which was filled with playing catchup from your disastrous week previous, and looking forward to having that pampering session with Zoraida after work.

When you're finally basking in the lounge with Zoraida post-services, sipping your complimentary champagne, she decides to hit you with her nosy interrogating.

"So, when's your jevo back from his work trip?"

"He's flying back tomorrow night."

"When are we gonna meet him, hm?"

"Soon."

"Are we going to meet him before your dad does?"

"Probably."

"Are things progressing to him eventually meeting him, though?"

Scoffing after swallowing your sip, you gripe, "Girl, I don't know! I'm not following an itinerary or anything—"

"You said your dad's been insisting on meeting him, so I was just wondering," she defensively retorts, shrugging.

"…I did?" is your confused remark, brows furrowing.

"Yeah. The other night? You said your dad has been fishing for you to open up about him, and that he even suggested inviting him over to dinner—"

You truly don't remember that, and it's plain on your face.

"Coño, nena – no te recuerdas," she snickers, elaborating, "You were venting about how he's pulling on your heartstrings about it? Something about quoting The Godfather?"

"Hah, yeah, ok. Jeez, I'm telling you, that stuff had me groggy and drowsy," you ruefully shake your head and finish your last sip.

"So…does Javier know?"

"About my dad jodiendo? No—"

"No, not that. Does he know about the doctor's checkups?"

Blinking in shock, you realize you must've just rambled in your grogginess about everything that was front of mind for you.

"No. I haven't told him because there's nothing to really tell," you answer, sitting back in the lounge chair and running your manicured fingers over your freshly trimmed and styled hair absently as you confide, "I was hoping to know by now whether it's just residual hormonal imbalance from being on the pill for so long, but they think it's this condition—well, they don't know if it is because they haven't diagnosed any underlying causes—"

"I mean, you've been with only Javi this whole time, right?" Zoraida interrupts, and at your vacant nod, she presses, "Pues, since you've gone off the birth control. He's the only guy you've had sex with?"

"Zory, you know he's been the only one," you scoff, shifting in your seat while glowering at her.

"Well? Then maybe he's shooting blanks," she states like it's no big deal.

"…Zory," you begin, but then huff, "I'm the one not having a normal menstrual cycle—"

"Which your doctor said isn't totally abnormal—"

"Why are we even talking about this?!"

"Because! You are with this man who could get you pregnant any minute—"

"Por Dios—no he's not, because I'm more than likely infertile!"

You realize you've blurted it out and now sit there, feeling moored to the scary reality you've not wanted to acknowledge out loud.

Leaning forward and empathetically rubbing your arm, Zoraida assures in an unwavering tone, "You don't know that yet. Until you do, there's no point stressing yourself out over it."

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you feel guilty. You're unsure why.

"Anyway…did I tell you, that I think Rafa is going to propose to Naida?"

The new topic overrides the mounting rumination in your head and refocuses you.

It's a perfect distraction that carries you to the end of the hangout.

By the time you get home, you feel wrung out. Sleep comes easily, and the next morning as you prepare to go into work, you're feeling recharged – albeit still dealing with the lingering respiratory stuffiness.

You get completely caught up at work, and even have time to plan for the upcoming projects that will require you to travel in the next month or so.

When the dealership finally calls about your car the following day, you're hopeful that you can get back to your normal routine. However, you're surprised when they ask for you to come down so they can speak with you in person.

After work, you commute over to the busy avenue the dealership and its auto shop are.

You are brought into what would be used as a leasing agreement room, and are perplexed when the assistant manager and the lead technician enter the room with a bunch of documents.

They talk through all the repairs, show you photos of all the damage they documented when the car was dropped off by the tow company, and show you after photos. Then, they hit you with it.

"…You're saying that the tire was tampered with?"

"Well, we can't say that for sure—"

"Señorita, I'm going to be frank. I have been arguing that the kind of damage cannot be from negligence on our part. If when you'd gotten your tune up, we'd improperly tightened the lugnuts, you'd have noticed first thing. The fact that the incident occurred almost a week after the service? In my professional opinion, someone loosened those nuts—"

Truly flummoxed, you continue to listen to them, and make arrangements for the insurance rep to meet with them in order to review their findings so they can document their case. Said rep contacts you, explaining since there is no police report detailing suspicion of the car being tampered with, they would write it off as a sudden mechanical failure, with the cause as inconclusive.

Still, the rep can't help joke, "After something like this? I'd kick all the tires before I get in the car."

You'd dropped off the rental and gotten your vehicle from the dealership, finding that it drove fine the whole way to work.

The entire ordeal is so jarring and filled with judicious paper trailing that you end up not realizing you hadn't heard from Javi until that afternoon.

Going to the floor the DEA department was on, you loped down in the direction of Javier's office, hoping to at least pop in and say hello if he's too busy. However, when you round the corner and head towards his office door, you're surprised to be stopped by his admin, who clears her throat before stating curtly, "Agent Peña isn't in today."

You turn, internally wondering if you were misinterpreting the edge of her tone when Steve comes around the corner from his own office, spotting you.

"Hey, hun! Got a minute?" Steve greets and asks, gesturing with a point over his shoulder for you to step into his office for privacy.

Nodding, you stride coolly over and make it a point not to look in the admin's direction.

Once you're in the tall blond's office, he closes the door and accepts your hug and kiss on the cheek hello. "Is Javi at the field office today?"

"Nope. He's out sick," Steve drawls in his sarcastic twanging tone. At your gasp, he puts his hands on his hips and shrugs comically. "I know. He was complaining about having a headache before we got on the flight last night, and then this morning he called saying he felt like absolute shit, so I sent Segarra to the field office while I cover stuff here," is his explanation. "I told him to stay in bed, because he did sound like complete crud."

Crud was an understatement for how Javier was feeling right now.

He'd cursed himself the entire plane ride to San Juan for stopping into the duty-free shops in the terminal before boarding the flight with Steve, certain that tourist in front of him getting rung up passed his germs onto him after coughing in his direction. By the time Wilmer drove him and Steve to their gated neighborhood, Javi's head felt foggy and his throat started aching.

Dead-tired, he'd dropped everything in his room before going to shower. He'd put on pajama bottoms and gotten into bed with the intention of calling you, but ended up rolling onto his side and passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Shivering under his sheets now, with cold sweat clinging to his feverish brow, he gritted his jaw with exhausted aggravation. He was thirsty, but too tired and achy to get out of bed and go to the kitchen. Aside from ibuprofen in his medicine cabinet, he didn't have anything to take for his fluish symptoms.

Just as he began to doze off again, the distant sound of the deadbolt lock on the front door being jiggled mutedly caught in his hearing. It wasn't until he heard it definitively unlock that he jolted up in bed and instinctively rushed to get up and retrieve his gun. Unholstering his service weapon where it was sat at the top of his dresser, he stealthily moved on feverishly trembling limbs down the hallway towards the source of entry for the intruder.

His shivering makes his shoulders quake as he stalks cautiously over, and just as he's about to switch the safety off once he's made it to the kitchen's bar top counter corner, the door opens.

You fumble over the threshold with your arms incumbered by several big paper shopping bags laden in your arms and plastic pharmacy bags hanging beyond your wrists.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

You squeak in surprise at Javier's alarmed exclamation, and nearly drop one of the bigger bags.

Quickly placing the gun on the counter, facing away from you with the safety still on, Javi shakily scrubs his hand over his feverish features.

"Javi, you scared me!" you haughtily grumble as you kick the front door shut and rush to put the bags down in the kitchen. "What're you doing out of bed—?" you begin but end up getting hit with a coughing fit.

Scowling almost pitifully, Javi grouses, "I thought someone was breaking in—"

"With a key?" you mockingly sass after clearing your throat, eyeing him sardonically as you toss your purse off from over your shoulders and place the keychain down on the counter before rounding the bar top towards him. In the low light of the entry, you hadn't seen more than his silhouette but now up close, you see how clammy his bare chest is and how worn with fever his features are, so you frown and fret, "Ay, pobrecito. Come, you have to get back to bed."

He doesn't even have the energy to argue, and is actually feeling a bit dizzy, so he is more than grateful when you loop your arm around his waist and lead the way.

Once you've helped him back into bed and pulled the sheet up to tuck him in, you sit on the edge of the mattress and take his temperature with the back of your palm to his sweltering forehead.

"You're burning up," you lament.

Tiredly, he smiles as he reaches for your cheek before he affectionately brushes his warm fingertips to tuck your swaying strands of hair behind your ear.

"You changed your hair," he points out in a gravelly murmur, eyes creasing softly as he drawls, "It looks nice."

Snickering, you cup his flushed cheek and comically sigh, "Ever the charmer."

He grunts humorously. "Steve told you I was sick," is his raspy comment, parched lips pouty when you rush up to get a wet washcloth from the bathroom so you can fold and drape it over his forehead after you brush his matted hair back from his sweaty brow.

"He did. So, I picked up a few things from the store, and stopped at their house to get your spare key from Connie," you tell him gently, caressing his cheek and brushing your thumb caringly across his dark stubble. "Have you taken anything?"

"No," he answers hoarsely, throat starting to burn from talking. "Mmmph, feel like shit."

"I know, mi amor. Stay here," you murmur and quickly go get him some medicine and a big glass of water, stifling your cough along the way.

Once he's taken the dosage and drained the glass, you make another trip to return with all the pharmacy supplies.

"Ok, sit up for me," you instruct as you retrieve the container of Vick's from one of the bags.

"C'mon, I hate that stuff," Javi complains and laboriously sits up, scowling. "I just need water and to stay in bed. No need to baby me—"

"What're your symptoms, tough guy?" you counter, looming over him with authority. When he stubbornly shrugs, you resolutely state, "Quit being a brat, or I'll make you go to the doctor."

Too tired for that, Javi grumbles in defeat, "Fever, sore throat, my body aches, and my head hurts."

"I'm putting this on you, and it's going to help with all of that. Then you're going to rest and let the medicine take effect. I'll make you some soup, and you'll drink plenty of this stuff too," you're instructing as you place the Vick's on the nightstand in order to retrieve the electrolyte drinks you picked up.

"I don't want you to get sick—" Javi grouses as he tries to suppress a shiver.

"I'm still getting over what I had, so I should be fine," you counter smoothly as you open the bottle of orange-colored electrolytes and offer it to him. He raises his brows, almost goadingly, so you sit on the edge of the mattress again and press the bottle to his lips to feed him slow sips. "Malcriado," you playfully chastise after he's drank his fill, and set the bottle aside to then open the container of vaporub ointment. Dipping your fingers in and scooping a generous amount of the ointment, you judiciously start to rub and massage it into his chest, then up into his neck, as you teasingly chide, "Your latino card is gonna get revoked for saying you hate this stuff—"

"Burlona," he grouses, corner of his mouth tugging into a smile as he holds the cool compress in place on his brow while you continue to rub the ointment along his back now.

His frame shivers from the chills caused by the fever, so you prop the pillows up for him and have him lean back. "I know you feel cold, but it's actually hot and stuffy in here, so I'm going to turn the air on," you're telling him as you pull his coverlet up from the foot of the bed in order to tuck him in before getting up to turn the air conditioner wall-mounted console on, then retrieving the boxed thermometer from the pharmacy bag.

Javi's eyes are heavy lidded and his cheeks are flushed while the thermometer tucked under his tongue takes his temperature as you go run the washcloth under cool water in the bathroom sink again. He can't help feel like an overgrown baby for some reason, but a small part of him is indulging in your doting treatment.

Sitting back on the edge of the bed to place the compress to his forehead, you take the thermometer from his lips and read the temperature with a frown.

"100.5," you tut before setting the thermometer aside and affectionately caressing your thumb along his cheekbone to swipe away the droplets that have dripped down from the washcloth. "You're going to start feeling groggy from the medicine, so rest while I make you some soup. I'll wake you up once it's ready—"

His warm hand reaches for your wrist to keep your palm cupping his cheek, as he rasps, "You don't have to stay and baby me, querida—"

"No seas tan terco, and let me take care of you, Javier," you bossily cut in, smiling when he exhales humorously and purses his lips out at you. "Quédate quieto, y pórtate bien."

He nods obediently, so you kiss his nose cutely and set everything he may need on the nightstand, including a box of tissues, before letting him rest in the cooling bedroom.

It isn't until you're coming in the dark room with a tray balanced in your hands that he realizes he must've dozed off for a while. His sinuses are stuffy, but he can see the piping tendrils of heat coming off the large bowl of soup, and his mouth starts watering.

Shuffling up to sit with his back against the headboard, he drowsily rubs at his face as he yawns, "How long was I out?"

You manage to place the serving tray so that the legs bracket up to stand on either side of his lap before placing the cold glass of water on the nightstand for him. "About an hour. Here, let me know if it's too hot, and I'll put some ice cubes in," you answer and instruct as you dip the spoon in and raise it to feed the sip of soup to him.

It is incandescently hot, but in the best way, so Javi helps himself once you've handed him the utensil. Along with the large bowl of noodle-rich, flavorful soup with giant chunks of potato in it, he has a nice piece of crunchy pan you must've gotten from the bakery at the supermarket.

"Mmm, thanks. I was starving and didn't even know it," he rumbles with his mouth full.

"Well, there's plenty more if you get hungry later," you tell him serenely as you go to tidy up the clutter in his bedroom from where he'd just tossed his open suitcase and things from the night before. You notice a big shopping bag with the logo of the duty-free shops printed on the side of it, but don't move it or ask him about it. Instead, you arrange the rest of the medicine to be laid out on his nightstand as you remark, "I'm going back to the office to finish a few things, but I'll be back after work, ok? Be sure to take the next dose after you eat."

He grunts while slurping up more of the noodles before murmuring, "Thanks, cariño."

With his dark soulful eyes twinkling at you like that, you can't help lean down and kiss him on the forehead. "Call me if you need anything," you tell him as you walk to the hallway.

Once you've closed the door, Javi picks up the bowl and drinks up the remaining broth straight from it, having not wanted to be too much of a boor in your presence. With his hunger more than sated, he drains a bottle of the electrolytes before moving the tray to the unoccupied side of the bed so he can lie back down, tucked under the covers. The rest of the pharmacy supplies you bought that don't fit on the nightstand are arranged on his dresser for him, along with the holstered gun you must've returned while he was asleep. The sound of the front door closing and locking echoes from the main room, so he relaxes and closes his eyes.

He falls asleep easily to the ambient hum of the consola and the soothing chill of the cool air fanning in a slow undulation around the room.

Hours later, after finishing your work day, you grab your things and head back to Javier's. You're eager to spend time with him, and actually are looking forward to taking care of him for the night, knowing he cannot be trusted to not try to use whiskey to "sweat it all out" as Steve had told you he'd not-so-jokingly grumbled after getting dropped off from the airport the night before.

You park in his driveway this time and use the second key on the ring to enter the laundry room door entrance since you weren't burdened with groceries, hoping it wouldn't rouse your sick lover to come gun drawn again.

When you come into the main living space, you're surprised to find Javier wrapped up in a blanket like a human burrito, curled up on the couch and watching TV. The coffee table is cluttered with bottles of electrolytes, an empty glass of water, a half-empty box of tissues with the used ones crumbled all over, and the tray you'd brought the soup on stood up with what looks to be several bowlfuls of remnants on it, while the bowl itself is licked clean.

"Javier Felipe Peña, I told you to stay in bed!" you admonish imperiously as you march over and loom over him.

His stubble-covered features pout up at you, disheveled hair flopping across his brow as he clumsily tries to sit up while still keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around him. "I couldn't stay asleep and got hungry, so I came out to get more soup, but got too tired to go all the way back with it, so I parked here. It was supposed to be until I finished eating, but then I fell asleep again, and then woke up and figured I should just stay here," Javi rambles, and your smile gets harder and harder to repress the more he tries to justify and appease you.

Shaking your head sardonically at him, you put your purse and tote aside on the nearby chair and come over to sit next to him and feel his forehead for his temperature.

"Hm, well you clearly still have a fever, so c'mon – back to bed," you tell him as you brush his mussed hair back from his forehead before caressing your touch along his brow, then down to cup his cheek as you give him a quick peck on the lips.

He lets you help him up and maneuver around the tray to go down the hall and back to being tucked under the covers. You fluff his pillows, prop them up behind his back for him, and retrieve the next dose of medicine he should've taken hours earlier.

"Sorry you have to put up with this," Javi croaks after clearing his sore throat.

"It's fine. I knew you would be a little shit and not obey me," is your irreverent singsong, chuckling when he glowers at you, so you angelically smile as you feed him his medicine, before asking, "Did you like the soup?"

Grunting, he finishes swallowing before drawling, "I got some of my taste and smell back after the first bowl. It was really delicious. That wasn't chicken soup, though, right?"

"Nope. That was sopa de jamón. It was my Puerto Rican grandma's recipe. It's less prep, but just as hearty and flavorful. The saltiness of the ham and the sofrito gets sucked up by the noodles, and it forces you to drink lots of fluids," you pleasantly explain as you pick up the vaporub and open it in order to scoop ointment out to massage his chest with it. "Once the medicine kicks in, I'll go start dinner."

I could really get used to being spoiled like this, Javi thinks to himself, enjoying your massage, even if it's with the heavily fragrant eucalyptus-smelling ointment. But he can't deny how it's helped his muscles ache less and his airways open up more, and he easily dozes off to you rubbing your thumbs in slow circles along the spot where his lymph nodes are on either side of his neck.

When he wakes up next, he realizes that you'd found the portable TV that was in the spare bedroom and had rolled it into his room. The ambient glow from the screen helped stir him to adjust in a sitting position, where he turned to find you lounging on your side, napping next to him.

With your eyes closed and your head lulled on the pillow this way, he could see how tired you still look from kicking the remnants of the flu, and something aches in his chest at the realization that he'd not been around to take care of you, the way you so deserved and did so easily for him.

The early evening news is playing on the TV, but the volume is set low, so he sits up and tries to pull the throw blanket up to cover your shoulders.

"Mmm," you mumble and curl closer to him, before stirring and stretching your legs out while yawning, "Ugh, sorry. I didn't mean to conk out—"

Snorting, he leans over and kisses your cheek before murmuring in a gravelly husk, "Quédate dormida."

"Nope. Too late. I'm up now," you lilt as you stretch out your limbs before sitting up, stifling a cough into the pit of your elbow. Once the bleariness is blinked away from your eyes, you see that the feverish flush has dissipated from his cheeks, so you sidle up to him to take his temperature with your hand to his forehead. "Hm, think the fever has gone down a bit."

His dark eyes look dreamy as he gazes at you before he leans forward and nuzzles your cheek. "You're actually getting me hot right now," is his purr, and you snicker when he keeps nuzzling down your jaw and to the base of your neck.

"You're not getting any until you're feeling better, Javi," you murmur with irrevocable authority as you nudge him back and make him lie down so you can climb over him while you announce, "Dinner's been ready. Are you hungry?"

Javier loops your waist with his arm and hauls you back into bed. "I'm starving for you, mandona," he croons as he cuddles you and grazes mustachioed kisses into your neck. "Let me show you just how much better I feel—"

"Ah, Javi—your lips are all crackly and dry," you object goofily and wrestle him onto his back so you can straddle his lap and thwart his sexy advances. His mouth frowns woefully, so you snicker and coo, "Ay, no me mires así, bebito."

"Ugh, fine," Javi huffs in defeat and flops grumpily under you.

However, your dazzling smile and loving caress along his forearms makes it hard for him to keep the brooding façade up. And when you lean down and pepper soft kisses along his face, he relaxes totally. So much so, you're able to go plate dinner and bring it back on the serving tray you set up on the center of the bed so you can eat together.

While in mid-chew, you notice the duty-free shopping bag tucked in the corner again, so after you swallow, you ask him, "What's in the bag?"

He follows your glance, and smirks around his current mouthful. Washing it down with a gulp of water, he replies, "That, is a gift for you. And the likely cause for this fucking flu I caught."

When he gestures with his chin for you to go ahead and take a look, you amble off the bed and retrieve the bag. You pull out a very large and elegant rattan beach tote with smooth tan leather handle straps and tropical-patterned linen-lined interior.

"Figured it would make for a perfect beach tote for that seashore adventure you promised," Javier charmingly muses when you smile over at him.

"This is lovely," you gush, leaning over and kissing him sultrily on the lips. "Thank you."

With a smug grunt, he grumbles daringly, "I thought my lips were too crackly—"

"Shut up and let me kiss you, malcriado."

And you do, kissing him on his lips, cheeks, and all over while he chuckles.

After finishing dinner, you join Javi for a quick hot shower, surprising him with the bouquet of dried eucalyptus stems you've hung from the nozzle. It's an old rustic remedy – using eucalyptus in a hot bath or steamy shower to diffuse the invigorating scent to help with nasal congestion and increasing blood flow in blood vessels. But Javi had never been a fan of it, especially when he was a kid and every woman in his family would slather the stuff on him over any ailment.

"Ugh, c'mon!"

"They'll help with your congestion!"

"Are you feeling congested still?"

"Yes, actually—"

"Ok. Fine—"

"I promise it will help, gruñón," is your flirty assurance as you tow him into the shower stall with you once the hot water and steam is going.

His surly grumble was softened by his smirk and irreverent head shake.

In the end, you were right, and the fragrant steam saturated his skin and made it easy to take deep breaths in without coughing or sneezing. The pressure in his sinuses decreased, and he was definitely enjoying you soaping him up and rubbing his tired muscles. It did wonders for you too, relieving the congestion still lingering in your chest and alleviating your coughing for the rest of the night.

Afterwards, while he's getting into a gray pair of sleep bottoms, you strip the bed and dress it with fresh sheets before getting out a nice blue quilt from the closet. He comes over and helps you toss it onto the bed so it's arranged evenly on the surface. Pleased, you go over and playfully guide him backward to sit on his side of the bed before dutifully giving him the next dose of medicine that will help him sleep. You then return from the bathroom with your container of Vaseline and glide a dab-size of it with your little finger over his chapped lips before tucking him under the comforter. He caresses down the curve of your waist to squeeze your nightgown-clad hip, smiling when you lean down and kiss his forehead.

"Be right back," you tell him before going to shut the lights off and make sure the doors are locked. You return to the cool bedroom, with another glass of water for him and a backup box of tissues, to find him rummaging under the comforter in search for the TV remote. Snickering, you walk over and pick it up from the top of the TV set and walk over to hand it to him.

"What would I ever do without you," he schmoozes in that honeyed baritone way that always makes you grin girlishly, especially combined with his flirty caress of your tush before giving it a squeeze.

Pursing your lips saucily at him, you set the glass down on the remaining free corner within reach for him on the nightstand, as you simper, "According to Steve? Probably starve and 'sweat out the flu with whiskey', among other things."

"He's such a narc," Javi laconically sneers, but his mischievous smile widens when you playfully swat his hand.

Shaking your head amusedly, you go to open the drawer to store the tissue box. "I think it's great how you two are a platonic married couple at this point—" your wry joke skids to a halt when you look in the open drawer and see a small bottle of lube and a long-lost pair of your panties within easy reach. Gasping, you snatch the used garment out and exclaim incredulously, "Oh my fucking god, Javier! Are you serious?!" His big brown eyes widen as you hold the offending prize up for judgment, comically haranguing, "You freaking puerco! How long have you had this nasty thing, you beyako pervertido?!"

"That's a rhetorical question, right?" Javi sheepishly drawls, hands going up defensively when your narrow glare sharpens in that commanding way that promises something wicked his way will come if he keeps being naughty. "Since around that time we went to that fancy steakhouse with Sasha, I think," is his answer, and he gives you those damned puppy eyes when he leans over to try and coax you closer so he can take them back, while begging, "Please, let me keep them?"

Scoffing, you place the box of tissues in the drawer, shut it and pointedly turn on your heel to march over to the hamper in the corner by the closet to ceremoniously dump the panties in. Javier groans in huffy disappointment, scowling as he flops back into the pillows. He glowers as you snootily strut to your side of the bed, shut the nightstand lamp off, and crawl under the quilt.

Only, you don't maneuver to lie next to him. Instead, you prowl under the covers to lay between his legs before answering with snarky authority, "That means those were over a year old, you fresco. And, that you pilfered them when you were under the comforter – just like this – and went down on me that one time. Right?"

Before he can answer, Javi feels you blow cool air on his clothed crotch, making his semi twitch eagerly, and getting a gasp out of him. "Sounds about right, yeah," he croaks gruffly, hands gripping the sheets.

Dramatically tossing the quilt away so you can quickly straddle him, you impishly lean close until your lips are a whisper apart before purring, "Good. So you'll be a good boy and earn another pair by behaving and letting me take care of you, right?"

Javi's running hot now, and not just from fever. "Sí, mi patrona," is his cheeky husk, relishing how you bat your lashes and smile, appeased.

Reaching to turn his nightstand lamp off, you hum alluringly for him to kiss you.

His lips brush yours covetously before he rolls you both into the bed, making a happy giggle bubble free from your chest.

After some savvy coaxing on your part, you both end up tucked close under the blanket. The ambient glow of the TV screen illuminates his relaxed features as you soothingly run your fingers through his hair, helping lull him into the drowsy haze provided by the medicine hitting his bloodstream while you watch the late-night comedy show. Even in the chilly room, his body temperature is still running hot, so you make sure not to press up against his form and overheat him.

By the time he's snoring in deep slumber, you turn the TV off, and curl up to sleep.

The next morning, Javier's temperature is down to 99.3 degrees, so after you shower and get ready for work, you make him breakfast and serve it to him in bed. Begrudgingly, Javier had called out sick for the day, and you'd insisted that he take the medicine and sleep, but ended up compromising with him to take at least one more dose, and that he stay in bed resting.

"—Ok, I'll come around lunch time," you're telling him now as you pull on your heels and go to his dresser to hurriedly brush your hair up into a chic twist. "Need me to pick up anything while I'm out?"

"Not a thing. You've done more than enough, guapita," he responds from where he's cozily resting in bed, head propped up by fluffed pillows. The angle helps him appreciatively ogle you as you smoothen your white with black trim Georgette v-neckline with a spread collar and button cuffs blouse after tucking the hemline into the waistband of your stylish black slacks. "You look fucking sexy, so you know."

Smiling, you turn and abandon putting on lipstick to go over and sit on the edge of the bed so you can sultrily glide your touch from his bare chest to cup his chin before leaning forward and kissing him, then pulling back cockily to leave him wanting as you hum, "You're a sweet talker, but you better be a good boy like you promised, me entiendes, bebito?"

His eyes darken with want as he nods and husks, "I will, jefa."

With a gloating smile, you let him pull you back down for a long kiss before you say goodbye and head out.

Javi keeps his word, takes his medicine, and has a relaxing sleep for the rest of the morning.

Thankfully, your morning schedule is fairly light, so you're able to leave the federal building campus earlier than you'd originally planned for your lunch break. When you come into the house and do not find Javier sprawled on the couch again, you smile triumphantly, before heading down the back hall to open the door to his bedroom.

You find him watching the afternoon variety show, lounging with his back against the headboard and a pillow tucked behind his head.

"Well, I can't believe it. You actually behaved," you chortle as you toe off your heels and flounce over to sit on the side of the bed before feeling his forehead.

"You got so furiosa, there was no way I was going to chance incurring your wrath," he jokes, sounding a bit stuffed up, but clearly feeling better.

He smiles when you scoff and kiss his cheek. "You feel even less feverish than this morning. Is your throat still sore?" you ask as you stand in order to take off your tight slacks so you can get more comfortable.

Appreciatively, Javi leers at your perfect ass in the pink cotton panties as you slide your pants on a hanger so they don't get wrinkled. "No, just dealing with a stuffy nose now," he answers as he retrieves a tissue. "I might take something for it, though."

"Ok, good. I'll make lunch so you don't take it on an empty stomach," you're pleasantly retorting as you pull on a pair of lavender drawstring shorts and go to the hamper to quickly separate garments. "Might as well start some laundry while I'm here," you remark while digging into it to pile whites, darks and items for dry-cleaning onto the foot of the bed. "Is everything in your suitcase dirty? I can take your dress shirts and drop them off at the dry cleaners on my way back to the office—"

You pause as you keenly eye the three piles and notice something missing. Laconically, you stare over at Javier like he's a rambunctious puppy you just caught trying to hide a toy.

"Um, yeah, everything in the suitcase is dirty—" he begins to answer as he starts to get up from bed to go retrieve it for you.

"Uh-uh. Park it," you order saucily as you put your hand on your hip and gesture with the other, demanding, "Give them to me, right now, chavón."

His poker face is pretty good when he feigns confusion while he drawls, "I don't know what you mean—"

"Hand over the skanky panties you squirreled away, or you're gonna get it, Javier."

The lewd thrill your smoky command stirs in his core cracks his composure and gives him up before he huffs in surrender and reaches his hand down between the mattress and box spring on his side of the bed. The undies are withdrawn swiftly before he makes a big show of sitting up and shuffling along his knees towards the foot of the bed to cockily place them in your expectantly outstretched palm.

Humming glibly, you tut, "Caripela'o," while tossing the panties in the pile before playfully shoving him to lay back down on the bed.

He has a faux pout on his lips, but you can see the way his soulful eyes are crinkled that he likes when you sexily chastise him. You like getting a rise out of him, too, and really enjoy that he's going out of his way to comply, albeit smugly. Still, he behaves while you go through his suitcase for the rest of the laundry, and only grins when you retrieve your silk nighty from the pile and toss it at him before placing all the sorted clothes in the laundry basket and taking it to the wash.

While the first load goes through its cycle, you make a pot of rice and your Grandma's recipe for Puerto Rican corn beef, quickly plating the meal and putting a hefty slice of aguacate to go with it before taking the tray to the bedroom to serve Javi.

His attention is riveted on the afternoon news segment about the latest crime statistics on the island that the anchor is citing in reference to a spree of carjackings and muggings that had occurred earlier in the week.

"Here, mi amor," you place the tray to stand on the mattress adjacent to where he's currently sat, on the foot of the bed. "Hope you like it—"

The sound of his cell phone ringing interrupts as it buzzes loudly on the nightstand, threatening to topple the pharmacy items now haphazardly stacked next to it.

Shit—" Javi tries to maneuver to reach for it, but you're actually closer, so you go to the nightstand and grab it. "It must be the office—"

"Well, you're out sick, so they shouldn't be calling you at all," is your curt remark before you press the button to answer it with a professional greeting. "Hello, you've reached Special Agent Javier Peña's mobile phone line. Can I take a message?"

Javier balks at you, stunned that you would answer, but also overawed with exhilarated admiration for you and your chingona confidence – that you would unabashedly do something so flashy when not so long ago you would've avoided doing anything remotely similar.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry. I should've considered that he would be too busy to answer the phone," a raspy baritone with an earthy southern cadence to it that sounded distantly familiar to you answers sheepishly. "I don't want to bother him, so I'll call back later—"

Smiling brilliantly, you turn to Javi as you answer, "Ah, Javier's got plenty of time to prioritize a phone call from his Pop. If that's who I may direct as the person reaching him?"

The surprise melts into instant delight on Javi's face when he can make out his father's warm chuckle. "Yes, that's right. And I take it that I'm finally speaking to the famous Celina?" Chucho rumbles jovially back, making you laugh brightly in the affirmative. "Well if you're answering, I'm sure that means Javier is indisposed—"

"Ah, actually, he's home sick, so I commandeered answering his phone in case it was the office bothering him when they should be respectful and let him rest," you assure in a spritely tone. You go to sit beside Javi as you add, "Anyway, here he is," before handing him the phone.

The endearing warmth shining in Javi's dark eyes for you as he takes the phone and leans in to kiss you adoringly makes you tingle, but you flirtatiously snicker and nudge him playfully from getting carried away and neglecting the call further.

"Hey, Pop. Everything ok?" he greets and asks, watching you maneuver to sit on your side of the bed with your own plate of lunch you picked up from the serving tray.

"Yes, yes! I just, well…it's my and your mother's anniversary today, and I guess I was wanting to see how you were," Chucho's baritone rationalizing is pensive, yet lonely, and Javi internally swears and clenches his eyes shut in upset with himself. "Anyway, you not feeling well?"

You see Javi's shoulders droop before he answers tightly, "Pop…I'm sorry. I should've called earlier. The last few days have been hectic; traveling, getting the flu—"

"No-no, it's all right, mijo. You are busy and living your life. And, from the sounds of it, you're living it well," is Chucho's easygoing rasp, proudly adding, "You have a feisty, loving woman looking after you, so relish it, and don't take her for granted. And live in the moment together. You deserve to be happy, Javier."

The lump in his throat manages to get pushed down when he looks over at you and sees you attentively reading his expression, curious as to what has his dark chocolate eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thanks. I will. And I promise to come visit soon—"

"Don't worry about that. I know you're busy. Just try to keep in touch a bit more, ok?"

"I definitely will. Cuídate, Papá."

"You too, mijo. But before you hang up, put her back on the phone?" Chucho cajoles, and Javi snickers in agreement before offering it to you.

Smiling, you set your plate aside on the nightstand to take it. "So you know, you can rest easy that I will make sure Javi calls more," is your affable remark, squinting your eyes impishly at Javi giving you a deriding stare.

"I know you will, mija. And when you can, have him bring you for a visit. It's been long overdue that I haven't gotten to meet and thank you for taking care of my son. He really loves you, and as far as I'm concerned, you're already part of the family," Chucho charmingly extols. "All he wants to do is make you as happy as you make him, sabes?"

Feeling your heart summersault in your chest, you chime, "Well, he takes care of me too, and he does make me happy, so I feel the same way." You see Javier's expression soften at your words. Fearlessly, you add, "I love him with all my heart."

"I'm glad, and will keep you both in my prayers. Take care, Celina. Dios los bendiga."

"You too. Goodbye."

Once you place the phone down on the bed, you can see Javi is buzzing with curiosity, so you coolly return to your plate of food before musing, "Eat, before it gets cold, chulito."

He blows a raspberry before obeying, and ends up scarfing the meal down with gusto, savoring the fresh avocado he mixes in with the rice and criollo-style corn beef. Once he's washed it all down by guzzling the glass of water until it's empty, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he sets the serving tray aside so he can stretch out to sidle up close to you.

"I'm such an asshole. I forgot that today's my parent's wedding anniversary…" he unburdens himself, tone self-reproachful. "I had my head in my ass—"

"Javi, you've been running around for days, then you got sick. It just slipped your mind," you console as you rub his bare back. "Your dad is sweet and kind. I'm sure he just wanted to hear from you. He didn't sound disappointed or anything. And, from now on, I'll badger you to call him more so he and I can chat away."

That feeling of radiating heat fills his chest and makes his bones ache with how much your words comfort him.

"You're too good to me," Javi murmurs with genuine feeling, and it makes you shake your head drolly. "I know it annoys you when I say so, but I mean it."

"Javi, it only annoys me, because it's like you're saying you don't deserve to be treated right," you explain, frowning when he tucks his chin in to hide his self-loathing expression, clearly annoyed with himself for saying what he thinks was the wrong thing. You shift to face him and cup his chin in order to tip his face up so he can look into your eyes as you profess tenderly, "You are the love of my life, and you're worthy, and I mean it when I tell you this: You make me happy, and make me feel deserving of love. I only ever want you to feel the same, so when you say I'm too good to you, it makes me sad, because it means I'm doing the opposite…that I haven't made you feel deserving enough."

He's never thought about it that way, and now that you've told him how you feel, all the self-doubt – the feeling unworthy – gets blasted away like shadows being banished by the light of the sun.

You see it etching plainly on his handsome features, so you kiss him lovingly on the lips before nuzzling him affectionately.

The way your incandescent grace fills him up has him hugging you tight, and you smile at his murmured sweet nothings he pours into your ear.

"…Te amo hasta mi alma. You're my everything, querida…"

Your heart sores, and you bask in his passionate embrace, cherishing the moment of serenity with him.

Once you've both become settled, you end up having to rush to turn over the laundry loads, then hurry back to get dressed again for work.

"Get some rest, hermoso. I love you," you susurrate, and kiss him goodbye on the lips.

"Love you too, querida," he rumbles and playfully glides his touch down your arm to clasp your hand as if he's not going to let you go before trailing his fingers away.

You snicker and wink at him before heading out.

More than content to lie back down and rest until you get back from work, Javi lets his thoughts run wild with the exhilarating promise of plans he's intent on making reality sooner rather than later.

Hours later, after a staff meeting to get progress reports regarding the different program initiatives everyone is working on, you're in your office finalizing some reports. It's close to the end of the day, and you're eager to wrap things up so you can head home to Javier.

Your cell phone starts to ring, so you answer it and multitask as you scan your report on the computer's screen. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon, Ms. Reinosa. My name's Ned Fuller, and I'm a CIFI for your auto insurance provider. I'm calling in regards to your automotive accident earlier this week. Do you have a second to chat?"

Thrown off, you lean back in your chair and focus on your desk, already retrieving the folder with all the paperwork from your tote as you answer, "Yes, I do. I'm sorry, CIFI?"

"Oh, my apologies! That's short for Certified Insurance Fraud Investigator. I'm actually a case manager who helps flag cases submitted by our insurance offices out in the Caribbean region," the man explains good naturedly, while still managing to fill you with dread. "Anyway, I wanted to call and alert you that while at the local level, there was no way to prove the vehicle malfunctioned without an external cause, when I read the case report, it alarmed me, as it was very reminiscent to a case I worked on in the Florida Keys a few years back."

"Huh…in what way?" you ask, pulling over a notepad and grabbing a pen to jot down any details.

"Well, it was a doozy. Basically, a wealthy financier was driving his vehicle towards the interstate on-ramp, when his tire failed and sent the vehicle careening into the guardrail and almost jettisoned it over the barrier. On closer inspection by the tech lab, they found the tire's strut mount had been tampered with. Turns out the fella was in a contentious divorce battle, and authorities arrested his wife," the investigator retells, before getting back to the topic at hand. "Anyway, while not part of protocol, I figured it would only be right to inform you of the red flag this raised for me, and caution you that if not caused by your dealership's negligence, there was this possibility—"

"I'm sorry. Are you saying that there's a suspicion—that there's evidence that my car was deliberately tampered with in order to cause the accident?" you inquire, flummoxed.

"…Well, on the record, there was significant damage done that it made it difficult to conclude the tire was tampered with," he begins, before confiding, "Off the record? I would say it's suspicious."

The man explains a bit more to you, but you're floored and completely caught up in a ruminating whirlpool.

Did someone…could someone have purposely rigged the tire in order for me to crash the car?!

As the thought builds up an ominous pit in your stomach, yet another makes you worry.

Who would go through the trouble of doing it…and why?

To be continued…

  ________________

Read Chapter 45: Deserving - Part 2

Spanish-English Glossary:

Partido Nuevo Progresista = New Progressive Party

Puntos = Points, as in drug points

Muecas = Making faces; grimaces

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Mi patrón = My master/boss

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Traviesa = Naughty/Mischievous girl

Tentadora = Temptress

Mi amor = My love

Mi patroncito = My little patron

Bebito = Little baby (male)

Lo necesito. Te lo ruego. Por favor, mi rey. Seré tuya = I need it. I beg you. Please, my king. I'll be yours

Eres pinche gloriosa = You're fucking glorious

Chavón = A man that's pestering you

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Guapito = Handsome (said in an affectionate diminutive)

Marquesina = Open air garage or carport

Deja con las formalidades, ya = Quit it with the formalities, already

Se me olvidó = I forgot

Reggaetoneros = Reggaetón artists

Perrear = Doing it doggystyle, aka referring to sex

Perreo = Dance style associated with reggaetón; doggystyle, twerking dance

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Pórtate bien, y llámame = Be good, and call me

Cacos = Term referring to hardcore reggaetón fans, who are mostly men

Bailar = Dance

Ella es una mamita sabrocita = She is a tasty foxy woman

Claro que no = Of course not

She's a chulería – una bichota bien wapa = She's a charming gal, a real big shot lady that's real feisty

Pasarme así = Overstep like that

Gatilleros = Triggermen

Sobrepasarme = To overstep; to go too far

Solo le gusta hablar mierda = Only likes to talk shit

Pendejo = Dumbass/Jackass

Acho, que canto cabrón = Man, what an asshole

Tesoro = Treasure; darling

Pá = Short for 'Papá' which means father, or poppa

Mija = Short for mi hija, aka my daughter; my girl

Soñaré de ti, mi amor. Sueña de mi, mi cariñito = I'll dream of you, my love. Dream of me, my sweet little darling

Jefa = Boss lady

Doña = A Spanish honorific, referring to a respectable woman; equivalent to Missus

Pastelillo de guayaba = Guava pastry; similar to a turnover

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Mira quien habla = Look who's talking

El guapo descarado = The handsome cad

Apodo = Nickname

Tan chavón = Such a pain

Canela = Cinnamon

Dulces sueños, mi amor = Sweet dreams, my love

Chacho = Jeez

Come mierda = Slang for a stuck up, moronic person; literally means 'shit eater'

Tan chingona = Such a badass lady

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Gruñón = Grumpy man

Bravita = Tough girl; feisty girl

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Ay, no = Oh, no

Con la monga = With the flu

Nena = Girl

Ah, es verdad. Que jodienda = Ah, that's true. What a pain in the ass

Obviamente = Obviously

Ha sido una mierda = Has been real shit

Pobrecita/Pobrecito = Poor little thing

Bendito = Blessed simple soul; a hopeful lamentation

Loquita = Crazy girl

Playas = Beaches

Jevo = Puerto Rican slang for boyfriend

Coño, nena – no te recuerdas = Damn, girl – you don't remember

Pues = Well

Por Dios = God's sake

Burlona = Joker (female)

No seas tan terco = Don't be so stubborn

Quédate quieto, y pórtate bien = Stay put and behave

Consola [de aire acondicionado] = Air conditioning unit/console

Sopa de jamón = Ham soup

Sofrito = Herbs, spices, and vegetables minced into a cooking bouillon paste

Quédate dormida = Stay asleep

Mandona = Bossy lady

Ay, no me mires así, bebito = Aw, don't look at me that way, little baby boy

Puerco = Pig

Beyako pervertido = Horny pervert

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Sí, mi patrona = Yes, my madam/ boss lady/ mistress

Me entiendes, bebito = You understand me, little baby boy

Furiosa = Furious (female)

Caripela'o = Puerto Rican slang for a shameless get over

Aguacate = Avocado

Mijo = short for "mi hijo", a term of endearment akin to "my son/sonny"

Cuídate, Papá = Take care, Dad

Dios los bendiga = God bless you both

Te amo hasta mi alma = I love you to my soul; "I love you soul-deep"

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