#My Fan Fic

[lesbianpepsi]

sweet as honey | part iii

pairing: jenna ortega x blind!fem!reader

words: 4.741k

masterlist

warnings: ableist remarks, swearing, mentions of smoking/drinking, bad writing

authors note: hey guys, i just wanna say thank you to the anons who pointed out my mistake and made me realise how insensitive my old ver of this chapter was. i have rewritten it and changed it, i hope this is better

After your first date with Jenna the two of you have gone on many, many more dates. 

By the third date you and Jenna did actually go to that restaurant you were supposed to go on your first date. 

You couldn't help but feel utterly euphoric anytime Jenna asked you out on another date or even held your hand, hugged you and kissed you. If there's a heaven you're more than sure it's with Jenna.

Altogether you've been on six dates with Jenna, and each date you could feel yourself falling harder and harder for her.

Maybe that's why when Jenna calls you on a sunny Sunday morning her words leave you stunned with silence.

"Y/n? Did you hear me?" She asks, breaking the silence. You dumbly nod your head, coughing soon after as you shake your head.

"No, yeah, I- what?" You stumble over your words with confusion as Jenna giggles over the phone.

"I asked if you wanted to be my date to the Wednesday Emmy Party." She repeats for your sake. Yet again, the words feel like a positive slap to the face. 

Jenna wanted you to go to the party with her? A party full of famous actors? 

"It's not gonna be huge, if that's what you're worried about. Just a small gathering of the cast at Joy's apartment to celebrate that the show won twelve emmys." Jenna explained in a reassuring manner, taking your stunned silence as a sign of rejection.

"Oh yeah, just a small party full of famous actors, no biggie right?" You finally say, laughing nervously. "Are you sure you want me to be your date though? I'm not exactly the same level as you guys." 

"Of course I want you there, I know for a fact Emma is dying to meet you. I can tell she's getting annoyed with how much I talk about you to her."  She says with a giggle, probably biting her bottom lip nervously as she awaits your answer. 

You let out a breathless sigh, a nervous smile on your lips. What's the absolute worst that can come out of it?

"Okay, I'll come as your date." You finally answer her question, your smile turning into one of relief as Jenna immediately starts saying 'yes!' over and over like an overused child finally getting the toy they've been begging for.

You chuckle as you nod your head, biting your lip. 

"You talk about me to your friends?" Jenna groans through the phone as you laugh, a smug smile on your face. 

"Shut up." Jenna replies through a small laugh. "The party is on Wednesday, I'll pick you up?" She confirms as a small static sound rippled through the phone.

You snort a laugh at the day, finding it much more ironic than Jenna was. 

"Yeah I'm free Wednesday and Thursday, so it doesn't matter if I get hung over." 

"I didn't know you were so rebellious to drink under the legal age." Jenna teases you, her voice becoming more static on the phone. You rolled your eyes as you scoffed. "Like you didn't admit to being hung over when recording a scene in 'X'." 

"Stalker much?" She quips back with a dry laugh. 

"Oh yeah because I would be such a stalker with my binoculars, staring and following you around the place like a peeping tom." 

"Oh whatever, I'll see you Wednesday?" Jenna replies, you chuckle as you nod your head, as if Jenna could see you.

"I'll be waiting." You say with a nostalgic smile. "I won't make you wait too long." She finished with her own soft smile.

—————

"I'm so fucking nervous." You complained with a groan as you dropped to sit down on your bed, rubbing your sweaty palms against your jeans. "All of them are actually famous people. All of them!"

Delilah -your childhood best friend- chuckles as she patted your shoulder. "You're overthinking it, babe, they're just a bunch of dickheads who are known while we're a bunch of dickheads who aren't known." She tries to reassure you but it simply went into one ear and right out through the other. 

"But they're Jenna's friends, if they don't like me then Jenna might lose interest in me." 

"You're crazy if you think that. Everyone can see she's head over heels for you, hell, the media even knows." She replies swiftly as she squeezed your shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. 

You turned your head to look at hers. "Well I can't see that, can I?" Delilah shakes her head as she laughs softly, loosening her hand on your shoulder before you feel her take it off.

"Then you can hear it in the way she speaks to you, it's as if she's the one who's speaking to a famous actress." Delilah says as she stands up from the bed, picking up the dishevelled clothes off of your floor and folding them for you. "If it is shit then just give me a call and I'll pick you up, okay? I'm staying the night here anyway so it's not an issue."

That's true, Delilah had to ask to sleep at yours since she had a fight with her own girlfriend Claire, and like the good friend you are you told her obviously she could crash at your place.

You sigh as you nod your head at her words, running a hand through your hair. "I guess you're right." Delilah smirks at you as she opens the drawer full of clothes, neatly keeping the now folded clothes. "Of course I'm right." 

Abruptly, loud knocks are heard from the other room. You let out a rigid breath as you stand up stepping towards your wardrobe as you grab your cane. 

"Wish me luck." You ask Delilah as you run the cane along the wooden floor, heading towards the living room. "You won't need luck." She replied with ease as she walked alongside you to the door.

Opening the door for you, Delilah stood by your side as she grinned at Jenna. 

The brunette looks slightly surprised at Delilah but she doesn't stop smiling as she gives an awkward wave.

"Hey, nice to meet you, I'm guessing you're Delilah?" She asks as Delilah nods her head with a grin. "The one and only. Nice to finally meet you Jenna, Y/n talks about you very often." 

You not so subtly elbow her side as you smiled at Jenna, walking out of the apartment as you naturally went to grab her elbow. "She's more delusional than me, ignore her." You tell Jenna as she giggles, looking back at Delilah who leaned against the doorway waving at them.

"Have a great time, remember curfew is at midnight, young lady." Delilah teases as you and Jenna walk towards her car, rolling your eyes under the glasses as Jenna giggled once again. 

"So you talk about me to your friends, huh?" Jenna jabs at you playfully as she opens the car door for you, reciting your words from Sunday's phone call. 

"Shut up." You grumble as a soft blush attacks your cheeks. "Bullying the blind is a very cancelable thing, you know."  

Jenna is the one to roll her eyes this time as she smiles, taking your cane once you've sat down on the car seat.

She joins you in the front soon after she keeps your cane in the back seat, revving up with its surprisingly quiet engine.

"So who's at this supposed casual party then?" You ask her with a curious face as you nervously play with the hem of your shirt, a habit you've picked up since you were little. 

"Emma, Hunter and his husband Fielder, Joy, Georgie, Steve, Naomi, and Johnna and. Oliver can't come since he's currently filming another movie which is in another country." Jenna lists off as she drives towards Joy's apartment, where the party was being held. "I told you it isn't a massive party, so don't worry. Plus they're all very excited to meet you." She reassures you once again, at the same time she speaks, you feel her place a hand on your thigh.

You smile as you lay your hand over hers, gently caressing your thumb along her knuckles.

"I'm just as excited to meet your friends too, even though I'm shitting bricks over it." You say afflicting a chuckle from Jenna, you feel her squeeze your thigh in an attempt to calm you down. "If you feel uncomfortable at any moment just tell me and we'll leave early, okay? Nobody will shame you or be mad."

You let out a gentle sigh at that, a bit relieved at her kind words. "Thanks Jen."

Jenna smiled at your side profile briefly before she turned back to focus on the road. 

The rest of the car ride was full of mindless conversations between you and Jenna as the low music of Hozier filled the rest of the car. 

As usual, when Jenna parked the car she went to grab your cane before opening your car door open for you, and just as usual you gave her a small kiss in gratitude, resulting in Jenna having a soft blush on her nose and cheeks.

Jenna's elbow is already out for you to latch onto with your non-dominant hand. She double checks you're ready before the two of you make your way to Joy's apartment which thankfully has elevators since she lives on the ninth floor.

"I think they're playing UNO, right now." Jenna mentions as the two of you entered the elevator, her pressing the button '9' as the soft hum of elevator music filled your ears. 

You dryly laugh as you lean against the metal wall as the doors close. "Don't think I'll have much of a chance of winning." Jenna rolls her eyes as an amused smile rises on her face.

"Don't worry, they get distracted so easily that I bet they'll forget about it within five minutes." She says as she moves to stand by your side, leaning her head on your shoulder as you grab her elbow gently, drawing small circles on the clothed skin with your thumb. 

You chuckle at her words. "So they aren't like you then, little Miss Competitive?" You tease.

Jenna can get quite competitive, that's something you picked up quite quickly. Whether it be board games, video games and especially with football (or soccer as she calls it). 

"Oh no, Georgie is even more competitive than me. We once played one match of monopoly that lasted two days in total. In the end we had to call it quits but I was so close to winning." Jenna replies confidently, as if she was truly the one who was going to win.

You chuckle as you nod your head, turning your head soon after to place a feather light kiss to her head. "I don't doubt that for a second." You whispered with a low chuckle before pulling away from her head, leaning your head back against the metal cold wall of the elevator.

The elevator dings loudly as the door slides open, a robotic voice coming through the small intercom telling you and Jenna that you're on floor nine.

With a nervous smile you and Jenna make your way to Joy's apartment, Jenna knocking loudly three minutes before entering.

Music hits your ears the moment the door opens, the familiar voice of Lady Gaga filling it up even louder as you enter further into the apartment.

Your nerves spiked as you heard the chatter get loud and louder as you and Jenna walked into the living room where you could smell the strong scent of tobacco mixing with alcohol infiltrating your nose.

"Hey guys." Jenna greets the group, their heads instantly snapped towards her voice as you and her stood side by side. "This is Y/n, my-" She stops, not knowing what to say.

You haven't asked Jenna to be your girlfriend. Jenna hasn't asked you to be her girlfriend.

"-date, she's my date." Jenna finishes swiftly as she grins proudly at the fact you're her date.

A mix of "Hey, Y/n" and "Hi"s are thrown around the room by a myriad of different voices.

"Hey, Y/n, nice to meet you! Finally I can put a name to a face." A feminine voice speaks up, her voice sounding as smooth as a pearl. By her voice you guess you guess it's Emma Myers, one of Jenna's closest friends.

You chuckle aa you turned your head in the direction of the voice. "Wish I could say the same." You joke, hoping, praying they'll laugh at it rather than freezing up and wondering if they should or not.

Thankfully a snort of laughter is heard along with a few gurgles before the person laughs even harsher than before, coughing loudly.

"Jesus, someone take Naomi's drink away from her." A more masculine voice says this time, chuckling as he does.

"That's Georgie, the one who sucks ass at monopoly." Jenna whispers in your ear as she guides you to a free spot where you and her can sit on the couch. 

"I heard that." The voice you know as Georgie speaks up from close to where you sit. 

"Well, it is true Jen was winning and you were on the brink of bankruptcy." Someone else speaks up with a slight slur in their voice, indicating they've definitely drank a few before you and Jenna arrived.

"That's Johanna, she's a lightweight." Another voice speaks up before Jenna does, the voice is coming from beside you making you turn your head in the direction. "I'm Joy by the way." She introduces before she points at Hunter and Fielder who are sitting on the floor. "Hunter and Fielder, our local gays are currently sulking on the floor since they lost at Uno."

"I only lost because Hunter got me out." A deep voice says which you presume is Fielder's voice. "That's only 'cause you're the worst at Uno." Hunter replied with a smirk as he took a sip of his drink.

“I’m Steve.” Someone else announced from the other side of the room. You turned your head in the direction of the voice as you smiled politely. “Hi Steve.”

“Fielder might be bad at Uno but you lost seconds later, Hunter.” He remarks as he ate some of his chips from a bowl.

You laugh lightly as you loosen your grip on your cane but don't let go. Now knowing everyone's voices gives you much more confidence.

"Thanks for having me over, by the way, and congratulations on the twelve emmys." You say with a smile as you turn your head to look at the direction of where the music was coming from.

"No need to thank us, we're all more than happy to finally meet you after Jenna has been chatting our ears off about you." Joy replies, sipping her wine as she smirks at Jenna.

You grin as you turn your head to your side where Jenna was sitting. "So not only you talk Emma's ear off about me, but to everyone?" You jab playfully at her once again, Jenna's cheeks turn a scarlet hue shade as she turns to glare at anyone who laughs at your words.

"They're being dramatic and they're drunk, they don't know what they're talking about." She murmured trying to sound annoyed, but she had a small smile on her lips the entire time. "Sure." You remarked with your own smile.

Your fear and anxiety dissolved as the minutes passed, your fear that Jenna's friends wouldn't like you absolutely thrown out of the window.

Well that was until two hours passed.

You were in the middle of a conversation with Emma as Jenna and a few others such as Naomi, Georgie, Fielder and Johanna had left the room to go smoke on the small balcony near the kitchen. 

As Emma finished her sentence you felt a tap on your shoulder, jumping slightly your turned in the direction of the touch.

Steve chuckled awkwardly at your reaction as he plopped down next to you, forcing you to move up on the couch.

“Can I ask you a few questions about, you know?” He asked you with a slur to his voice, his breath having a strong smell of alcohol which definitely confirmed that he was quite drunk.

You nodded your head as you smiled at him. “Of course, and you can say blind, it's not like it's a bad word.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he laughed.

“Aight, cool. So do you know what Jenna looks like or what any of us looks like or are you completely blind?” He questions curiously as he sips out of a beer bottle with a burp.

“I lost all eye sight when I was in my teens so I don't know what any of you look like.” You explained to him before adding. “I did get a description from Jenna on how she looks, so I’ve got a pretty good idea in my mind.” A soft smile forms on your lips as you think of the memory.

On your fifth date with Jenna, you went over to her apartment for the first time and Jenna cooked for you an incredibly delicious meal. 

That night Jenna let you explore her body but it wasn't in a sexual way. She was wearing a shirt and jeans the entire time as your hands roamed her body as she described herself to you in great detail. 

She held your hands as she placed your hands on different parts of her as she described herself in detail to you. 

Her hair, her face, her neck, her arms, her waist, her stomach and even her legs. There wasn't anything sexual about the interaction, it was only meant to be viewed as something soft and intimate. 

Steve hummed as he dropped his now empty beer bottle to the ground, yawning as he lazily turned to look at you.

“Okay, okay.” He mumbled. “Why do you wear glasses inside then? Is it ‘cause like blind people's eyes kinda get nasty after they turn blind?” 

“Steve.” Emma whisper yells as he gives the drunken boy a look. He raises his hand, faking arrest as he rolled his eyes. “Jeez Emma, chill. I’m only asking questions and she said she was alright with it. Didn't you, Y/n?” 

You decided not to take his words to heart before you nodded your head. “It’s fine, honestly.” You reassure her with a sweet smile. “Before I turned fully blind I always wore sunglasses since it would reduce the glare from the sun and could help me much better with seeing with the small sight I had. After I completely lost my vision I guess I just never stopped taking them off, and I guess it’s because I also don't like how my eyes look.”

“That's fair. I mean no offence or anything but blind people’s eyes just look so creepy.” He replied with a lazy smile as he chuckled, moving his hand to scratch at his small beard. 

“Don't be a dick, Steve.” Joy voices up from her seat, glaring at the boy momentarily before going back to talk with Hunter. 

He scoffs slowly as he ignores her, deciding to see how far he could push you. 

Not knowing what to say you awkwardly laugh as you shuffle further away from him. 

After a few moments passed you presumed he was done speaking to you but you were unfortunately proven wrong the second you opened your mouth to speak to Emma.

“I couldn't imagine being blind, it sounds proper shit and miserable.” He says with an exaggerated sigh. “I mean you can't even see your girl, you only have to imagine her.”

“Steve, stop.” Emma repeats again as her voice becomes more firm. You swallow down your emotions as you try to give a small smile.

“Life isn’t automatically bad just because I’m blind, I actually love my life and wouldn't exchange it for any other life.” You reply trying to keep your emotions at bay and not let his words affect you. 

He sighs dramatically once again as he shakes his head. “I dunno man, being blind sounds shit. How're you supposed to even please your girl if you don’t even know where she is without her speaking?”

“How’re you supposed to please your girl with your one inch pinch?” Hunter remarks, sounding annoyed as his eyes narrowed on him. “Just shut the fuck up.” 

Steve snickered as he narrowed his eyes back at Hunter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Jesus, people are such snowflakes these days.”

As Hunter and Steve get into a heated argument you lean closer to Emma, in a whisper you ask her, “Can you please go get Jenna?” 

She nods her head immediately as she squeezes your shoulder in a silent agreement, standing up moments later and heading towards the kitchen.

“We’re not sensitive, you're just being a blatant asshole to Y/n.” Joy intervenes as she defends your honour, you smile in relief as you scoot further away from Steve, the grip on your cane tight. 

“I was just asking the blind chick some questions, is that a crime now too?” He asked in a mocking voice as he now turned to glare at Joy. 

A blind chick? Is that really all he saw you as? 

You swallowed nervously as your fingers began unconsciously tapping against your cane, a small frown on your lips.

“Why are you being such a dick?” Hunter asks him with his voice becoming more gruff. Steve laughs in disbelief as he turns to look at you. “You said you didn't mind my questions, true or false?” He questions you with a click of his fingers. 

You didn't know what to say as you tried to open your mouth, no words coming out as you felt incredibly uncomfortable by the entire situation. 

Steve scoffs as he clicks his fingers at you again acting as if you're a dog and he’s your owner. “Are you dumb as well?” He asks you in an annoyed tone.

“What the fuck did you just say?” A voice that reminds you of heaven says darkly, storming into the room. You sigh in relief as you gingerly put your hand out for Jenna to grab, to which she holds onto instantly, interlocking your fingers. 

You stand up next to Jenna as you grip your cane tightly.

He shakes his head again as a breathless sigh escapes his dry lips. “Nobody can take a joke these days.”

Jenna scoffs angrily as she glared at him. “Jokes are meant to be funny, I hear nobody fucking laughing, Steve.” She snarled as she ran her thumb along the skin of your hand. 

“That’s ‘cause you all can't take a fucking joke, nobody appreciates dark humour these days, fucking hell.” He grumbled, glaring right back at Jenna as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

You're frozen in place as you listen to the unfolding argument, your heart speeding up uncomfortably in your chest. 

“Apologise to Y/n right now.” Jenna demands dryly, not breaking eye contact with him. “If she can tell me where the remote is then sure.” 

Jenna’s grip on your hand tightened as her jaw clenched at his words. Fearing the argument was going to escalate quickly you tug at her hand making her break the staring contest to look at you with concern. 

“Apologise to my girlfriend right fucking now.” She growled out in a venous voice, her eyes never leaving the boys. 

Your heart stopped at her words as your eyes widened under the glasses. Girlfriend? Jenna thought of you as her girlfriend?

The two have an intense stare off as everyone else in the room holds their breaths, not knowing whether they should stop the argument or let it be.

Steve scoffs as he takes his eyes off Jenna standing up, laughing drunkenly with a shake of his head. “Fuck this, I’m out. This party was too lame for me anyway.” He announced as he headed towards the apartment door, slamming it shut behind him. 

Nobody moved, nobody uttered a word; all frozen in spot as to what just happened. 

You couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt crawling up your spine at the argument. If you didn't come none of this would've happened. 

Swallowing down any emotion in your voice you shakily slipped your hand free from Jenna’s. “Can you take me home please?” You gingerly whispered to her, your head hanging low. 

“Of course, I’ll go get my keys.” She replies instantly leaving the room to go retrieve her keys from the kitchen. 

“It was really nice to meet all of you.” You say, turning your body to face where the rest of them were, a weak smile on your lips. “I’m sorry for the whole mess and leaving early.” 

Emma moved to squeeze your shoulder momentarily as a sympathetic smile toyed on her lips. “You don't have to apologise for something that wasn't your fault.” She informs you.

You sigh as you nodded your head weakly, trying to let Emma’s words win the battle against your guilt. 

“We need to hang again, but without Steve this time.” Georgie says making you and a few others let out a weak chuckle. 

Jenna waltz back into the living room moving to your side and you quickly latch onto her elbow with a weak grip. 

“Thanks for having us over.” She says to them as she gives them a soft smile. All of them smile back as Joy nods her head.

You and Jenna make your departure without another word; no words being exchanged between you two as you head into the elevator.

The moment the doors closed in the elevator Jenna let out a sigh before she pulled you into a bone crushing hug, you're almost surprised you didn't drop your cane at the sudden movement. 

“I’m so sorry he said those things to you, Y/n, you didn't deserve any of that.” She whispers in a feather light tone of voice, her small arms surprisingly strong as they wrapped around your waist.

With one hand you wrapped it around her neck as you smiled a weak smile. “I know but it's okay, I promise. People say stupid shit all of the time especially when you have a disability; you just have to learn to not take it to heart.” 

“But he shouldn't have even said any of those things to you.” She added, removing one arm from around your waist to place her soft hand on your cheek. “You out of everyone don't deserve anything like that.”

Your heart melted at her words, nodding your head weakly. “I don't care about what he said, what I care about is what you said.” 

Jenna cocks her head to the side confused as she gazes at you. “What?” She questions confused, not knowing what she said.

“Apologise to my girlfriend right fucking know.” You quoted with your smile growing on your lips. “Last time I checked I didn't even know I was your girlfriend.”

Jenna’s cheeks turned a scarlet red shade of embarrassment as she let out a little. “Oh.” 

You giggled amused at her words as your fingers played loosely with the hair at the back of her neck. “Oh? Is that all you have to say?” You teased her before adding in a whisper. “Ask me.” 

“Ask you what?” Jenna asks, confused as she leaned into your touch. You rolled your eyes under the glasses as you paused your movement. “Ask me what I think of being called your girlfriend.” 

Eager to know your answer Jenna repeated your words with ease as she smiled nervously. “What do you think of being called my girlfriend?”

You smirked as you leaned even closer to her, your lips hovering over hers as you whispered. “That it's the only thing I've wanted to hear from you since our first date.” 

Jenna’s lips immediately connect with yours the second you finish speaking, sighing against your lips as she pulls you even impossibly closer to her.

You've never had what you'd describe as "perfect" in your life. But now to you, Jenna is the epitome of it. It's how you've always wanted life to feel, calm, and content; and you have that when you're with Jenna.

—————

taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @canvascoloredin @alexkolax @wol-fica @caitlynscat @jyucejpg @omega-horus @andsoigotabutterfly @fanboy7794 @jjsmaybank20 @zhasmindoesntknow @jujuu23 @214-sofa @ssinfulprayers @nitchxhdc

if you wanna be added to the taglist comment and i'll add you:)

authors note: i hope this was better

#jenna ortega x blind!reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega #sweet as cinnamon series #fluff #my writing #angst #my fan fic

[i-like-the-eyes]

V: “That man just knows which of my buttons he needs to push”

C: “Oh, my devil, aren't you just one big button?”

V:“When it comes to you I apparently am”

My boy - Vitus and his favorite nightmare❤️🏳️‍🌈🔥

Read more about these two in my fic: Lowered Shades

#the corinthian #the corinthian fanart #vitus and the corinthian #v and cori #lowered shades #i-like-the-art #digital art #gay #gay art #gay artist #queer #the corinthian fan fic #I'm proud of myself #spent way too much time on this #especially on v's tattoos #I love these two #but jealous of my boy ngl #my fan fic #my art

[nuttyblizzardinternet]

🎶You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar when I met you🎶

#chiffany #my fan fic #gif #tiffany valentine #charles lee ray #chucky

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 21)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 7,356

Summary: After arriving in Manizales, Horacio introduces Javier to his family, leading to a long overdue heart-to-heart and a drinking game with a twist.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of coming out, grief, parental loss, canon-typical violence, allusions to period-typical prejudices, drinking game, smoking, swearing.

Notes: Firstly, I will soften the blow of leaving it so long since my last update with the news that chapter 22 will be posted within the next week or so! I decided to split it in half to give more space to the conversations between the characters. So, hopefully that will make up for my elongated silence lol.

Secondly, I finished drafting the rest of the fic at the end of last year 👀 So, I just need to complete editing on chapter 23 and the epilogue. Then, and I can't believe I'm actually saying this, it will be time to leave these two messy idiots to it.

I think it will take me some time to get my head around it coming to an end, not least of all because it's been almost 3 years since I started working on this behemoth. And I can't believe how much has happened/changed since then, yet my love for this ship and this story has stayed strong and close to my heart. So, a bit of a premature thank you to anyone who has supported it at any point since March 2021, it's been quite the emotional rollercoaster ❤️ As always, I love hearing from my readers, so feel free to drop me a comment/message!

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 21: For Old Times' Sake

A haze of mist hung low on the horizon, clinging to the rolling waves of verdant peaks that bled seamlessly together with worn asphalt until it was impossible to tell where the sky began and the earth ended.

Luckily, the tyres of the hire car were built for rougher terrain, and it wasn’t the first time Horacio had driven this route. Admittedly, it would have been easier to fly. But this had the added benefit of giving Javier a taste of undiscovered territory.

If truth be told, it gifted them more time to mentally prepare for what was getting closer with every hour that passed, each stop off to admire the view and refresh a stubborn way to prolong the status quo.

Progress had been slow for the last hour as the congested traffic crawled along the sharp angles of the road with its treacherous drops only a few inches away. They had come to a standstill behind a bus that allowed passengers off to take photos, and with little room to manoeuvre around the vehicle, a trail of cars had no choice but to wait.

Javier lounged back in the passenger seat, one foot resting on the opposite knee, his elbow leaning on the door, and the window half open.

He watched Horacio’s hands on the steering wheel alternate between clenching and tapping, a particular kind of rigidity returning to his jaw for the first time in months – if not years.

Javier made an executive decision by reaching into the glove box. He pulled out an emergency pack of cigarettes and a lighter they had stashed away before setting off from Medellín.

He lifted one out of the pack and sparked up. “So, did you say it’s a farm we’re heading to?” There was no point asking the obvious, so distraction it was.

“A coffee farm on the outskirts of the city, yeah. It belongs to Fabián’s family. He and his brother, Santiago, do the bulk of the work now their father’s winding down.”

“Sounds nice. And kinda familiar.”

Horacio’s eyes finally left the windshield and met Javier’s with a shadow of a smile. “Yeah, it does. A lot hillier than Texas, though.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be hard.” Javier held out his smoke across the car, their first one that wasn’t post-coital in a long time. But needs must.

Horacio apparently agreed as he accepted it with a huff of resignation. “Fine, one for the road.”

“I think it’s allowed on roads like this one.”

“I did warn you.”

“Hey, no, I like it. Keeps you on your toes.”

“It reminds me of when Papá drove us to visit Tia Salomé and Tio Jairo in Bogotá. He and Mamá let us have sweets for the long journey but warned us the Mareco would take them away if we didn’t behave.”

“The Mareco?”

“La Leyenda del Mareco. It was a story we were told as kids. The Mareco’s a red devil that looks like a lizard on two legs. He steals children’s candy and conjures up a whirlwind to blow them away if they don’t obey their parents.”

Javier nodded in recognition as Horacio passed their cigarette back. “La Llorona was the story used to scare me and my cousins.”

“Oh yeah, we got that one as well.”

“I gotta say, the Mareco explains a lot.”

“About what?”

“About how you developed a problem with authority.”

“What’s your excuse then?”

“What can I say? I was led astray.”

It was a blatant lie, but Javier didn’t care when it caused laughter lines to materialise in the corner of Horacio’s eyes.

“We both know you were drawn to it as much as you resented it.”

“Only where you were concerned. Anyway, you were just as bad even though you'd never admit it.”

“Maybe you were my exception too.”

A moment of silence fell as memory after memory collided, snapshots of how the push and pull between them had evolved with their relationship.

"Listen, I was thinking,” Javier started before taking a drag, “would it make things easier if you wore this? Just while we’re here, I mean.”

Horacio’s gaze drifted to Javier’s exposed skin, the taillights of the car in front catching on the crucifix at his chest. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s yours now.”

By the time their cigarette was finished, the traffic edged forward, and the road ahead and Javier’s hand on Horacio’s leg soon replaced conversation.

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Two and a half hours and several bursts of heavy rain later, the muddied hire car pulled up by a complex of buildings nestled amongst a sea of lush green and vibrant flowers. The buildings sat atop steep slopes of vegetation that led to the coffee plantations below, the foggy skyline above etched with rugged ridges and the ominous outline of Nevado del Ruiz in the distance.

Any sounds from life on a working coffee farm were drowned out by birdsong and their feet crunching beneath them as Horacio and Javier walked up the gravel path towards the main finca. It was typical in its style with a rustic tiled roof, whitewashed bricks and wooden pillars around its perimeter painted in the same shade of terracotta red as the doors and window frames. At the back of the property was a large garden with a patio area, pool and a spectacular view for miles on a clear day.

As they lugged their suitcases onto the porch, Alejandra waited to greet them at the front door. Her dark hair was styled in a bob with waves bordering on curls, the kind Javier imagined Horacio could grow if he wasn’t so insistent on keeping his hair short. At least since leaving the CNP, he had been less strict about cutting it.

The family resemblance between the two siblings was evident in their facial features, particularly in the shape of their noses, charcoal eyes and Cupid’s bows. But Alejandra was a few inches shorter, and her frame was slimmer on account of not carrying the same muscle as Horacio.

“The wanderer finally returns,” Alejandra announced as she pulled Horacio in for a long hug, neither of them keen to be the first to let go. “At least you remembered how to use the phone before turning up on my doorstep.”

“Of course. It's good to see you. But I am sorry I left it so long. There’s, erm…a lot to catch up on.”

“I’ll say.” She peered curiously behind Horacio. “But first, let me say hello to this handsome new face.”

She all but pushed Horacio to one side, forgoing any formal introductions he might have had planned. All Horacio could do was stand and watch two parts of his life converge that, for a long time, he believed would never – and could never – meet.

Javier had hung back by several feet, his hands self-consciously stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he kept his eyes on the ground until he was spoken to.

“Hi there, I’m Alejandra. You must be Javier?”

“Oh, er, yeah, hi.” For reasons unbeknownst to Javier, he raised his hand in a stiff wave rather than the relaxed handshake he had planned and felt the heat instantly rise in his cheeks. “Pleasure to finally meet you. Beautiful place you’ve got up here.”

“Likewise. And thanks.” Much to Javier's relief, she took the lead and held out a hand for him to shake with a reassuring smile. “Although you’ve got Fabián to thank for that. He’s down there giving a tour to one of our new buyers.” Alejandra turned back to face Horacio. “Mamá’s shopping for school supplies and tonight’s dessert with Juan José, Sofía and Mateo. Ana María’s out with friends. But they should all be back in the next few hours.”

Horacio nodded but remained taciturn, keeping to himself his strong suspicions that Alejandra had made sure she was the only one to greet them upon arrival.

“Come on, you can show Javier around whilst I make us something to eat and drink.”

------------------------------------------------------

It had been a long time since Horacio’s last visit, but he could just about remember the layout of the place. He took Javier through the downstairs rooms, moving from the hall to the living areas and then the kitchen, which appeared tidier now than in his dreams.

The décor was all tiled or wooden floors and earthy tones, contrasting against large airy windows that made the landscape outside seem like a part of the finca. Evidence of three generations and two cats was scattered everywhere in the form of toys, games, videos, tapes, books, various coffee products and photographs from over the years. In one corner stood a home altar containing a large crucifix, prayer cards, rosary beads, candles, and a statue of Virgen de Chiquinquirá. In the opposite corner was a shelf full of old vinyl with Lucho Bermúdez taking pride of place, naturally.

Upstairs housed six bedrooms and three bathrooms, on account of the brood of four children, three adults and a spare room. The spare room was their last stop, where they dumped their luggage, sharing an amused glance at the double bed with a smaller fold-out one laid out in the corner with a pile of fresh sheets.

“As your guest, I take it I get the bigger one?” Javier asked with a spark of mischief in his eye.

“Well, technically, I’m also a guest here. And I did do all the driving.”

“Maybe I’ll, er, flip you for it later.”

Horacio merely raised a brow at the suggestion in Javier’s tone before they headed back downstairs.

They sat under cover of the terrace in the wildly growing garden, just in case the rain returned, which was always a distinct possibility in Manizales. An impressive platter of fruits was laid out on the table alongside freshly made coffee.

“So, how was the wedding?” Alejandra asked as she poured from a pot into three cups, the dark, rich aroma diffusing into the same crisp air the beans were grown and harvested.

Horacio accepted a cup with a thanks and passed the other to Javier. “It was nice. Good to see everyone again.”

“How’s Trujillo doing? It’s been strange seeing his face all over the news.”

Rather than his, Horacio thought with a strange lurch to the gut he wasn’t expecting. “He’s doing well; he’s a Major now. He deserves some happiness after everything.”

“He’s not the only one.”

Alejandra gave Horacio a pointed look, one he wasn’t ready to entirely meet, so he reached for a slice of guayaba instead.

“And Javier...I take it this is your first visit to Manizales?” she continued, offering him the fruit tray.

“Thanks. And yeah, it is. Never got the time to explore much beyond Bogotá and Medellín.” That wasn't exactly true, but Javier didn’t think talk of Cartagena or Tolú would be welcome right now.

“Well, I hope it won’t be your last.”

Horacio could feel another look directed his way but pretended not to notice it and sipped on his coffee.

Once they had eaten their weight in fruit, Alejandra had some business calls to make, leaving Javier and Horacio to unpack and freshen up before reconvening to make a start on dinner.

Of course, it had to be sudado de pollo. Horacio and Alejandra worked as a team, issuing sporadic instructions to Javier when necessary. But he was happy listening to them catch up and reminisce.

“That smells amazing already,” Javier said as he finely chopped onions across a wooden board, gesturing to the dishful of chicken thighs that Alejandra had just finished marinating.

“Mamá’s secret blend,” she replied as she set the dish aside to move on to dicing several tomatoes.

“Oh yeah? What would I have to do to get the recipe for that?” Javier reflexively caught Horacio’s eye across the kitchen.

“If we told you, we’d have to kill you.” Horacio shot Javier a warning look that indicated he was only half joking before focusing intently on cutting up a large batch of yuca and potatoes.

“Yeah, not even Fabián knows.”

“Papá never knew either. But he was happy for us or Mamá to make it for him.”

“My Mamá was the same with her Abuela’s morisqueta. Although, not long before she passed, she left me and my Pops the recipe.”

Alejandra paused her knife to look up at Javier, the surprise on her face soon transforming into recognition and sympathy. “I bet it’s delicious. You should make it for us some time.”

Now it was Horacio’s turn to stop, his eyes travelling from Alejandra to Javier and back again as the implication of his sister’s words hung as heavy in the kitchen as the aromatic spices of her marinade.

------------------------------------------------------

Once the chicken and vegetables were all prepped and placed in a pot on the stove, the front door opened and closed, a loud chatter of voices soon filling the hallway.

Before Javier knew what was happening, he was being introduced to the children, shaking hands with Fabián, then kissing Elena’s cheek.

“Welcome, Javier. It’s good to put a face to a name at last,” Elena said, thoroughly taking in his appearance, apparently satisfied with what she saw.

At last. Javier wasn’t sure whether those words put him at ease or made him more nervous, but he managed to push such thoughts behind a smile. “Nice to meet you, and likewise.”

Javier had briefly seen pictures of Horacio’s family in the past. But he, too, spent time studying Elena now that he was close enough to smell the floral notes of her perfume. Neat oval glasses and a mix of dark and light grey hair cut short and choppy framed her sharp features, the shape of her nose and Cupid’s Bow matching those of her children.

“No thanks to this one here, mind you.” Despite her chastisement, Elena embraced her son tightly, reluctant to let go. “I think he’s been hiding from us.”

“You know it wasn’t like that, Mamá.” Although, over his Mamá’s head, Horacio gave Javier a sheepish look that said otherwise. “It is good to see you. And I’m sorry I left it so long.”

Upon greeting his nieces and nephews, Horacio was struck by how much they had all grown up since his last visit. Ana María was the spitting image of her mother. Juan José was several inches taller than Horacio and resembled his father more than ever. And Mateo and Sofía had presumably become resentful of all the matching outfits in their younger years of being twins, going out of their way to dress as differently from each other as possible. Once they had said their obligatory hellos, they scattered around the house and no doubt wouldn’t re-appear until dinner was ready.

Right on cue, when Alejandra brought out steaming and brimming plates full of sudado de pollo, everyone rapidly took their places around the table.

Silence fell as they tucked in, the warmth and comfort of childhood cocooning Horacio from what he knew was inevitable. A welcomed interruption from his thoughts came with a soft brush against his leg, his instincts telling him it was one of the cats issuing their own greeting. But he should have known better.

As they ate and endured the usual family small talk, Javier's foot became Horacio's anchor, subtle and soothing rubs against his ankle unseen under the table. Steady, grounding, home. 

------------------------------------------------------

Horacio carried the last few empty plates to the kitchen, where piles of dishes were already stacked high. He had left Javier with Juan José and Mateo, who were showing off the latest video games they had got for Christmas – and were comfortably beating Javier at them, too.

“I’ll wash; you dry. For old times’ sake,” Alejandra said without looking up from the sink where she was filling the basin with water and suds.

“Okay. On the condition we both tidy everything away afterwards.”

“Deal. You’ll just put it in the wrong place unsupervised anyway.”

Horacio swatted the tea towel he’d picked up in her direction, only for her to retaliate by flicking bubbles in his hair.

“We did okay with dinner, didn’t we? I haven’t made that in a long time,” Horacio said.

“You had a good teacher.”

“So did you.”

“Oh, I know. I think that’s why Papá always loved it. We were all in there somewhere.”

“Like our Christmas tamales.”

“Oh, yeah, he couldn’t get enough of those. Remember we always had to make an extra batch for him to take to work?”

“He said they were to share with his unit, but I’m not sure many made it that far.”

Now they were laughing as they worked in tandem, Alejandra changing the water as Horacio cleared the draining board, ready for the next load.

“Did you ever feel like you let him down?” Horacio asked after a long silence, both siblings seemingly waiting for the other to fill it.

“Of course. You know Papá didn’t approve of Fabián at first, right?”

“What?”

“You must’ve heard the arguments?”

“To be fair, there were plenty of arguments between you and Papá.”

“Yeah, and they were mostly about me daring to marry someone other than a cop.”

“That’s what it was about?”

“Mostly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fabián; I just think he had suitors picked out for me. People he knew he could trust.”

“But they got along in the end, didn’t they?”

“Once Papá had got over himself, yeah.” Alejandra let out a nostalgic laugh, which Horacio quickly joined in with. “He could be tough when he wanted to be, but…he meant well,” she settled on. “Once he saw how happy I was and how Fabián had taken after his father with the farm, he came around. It was never personal with Papá. It’s just the way he was.”

“So, you don’t think he’d be disappointed in me…” Horacio paused to swallow, his throat drier than a Texan summer. “For quitting?” he got out eventually.

Alejandra gave Horacio a look he’d seen countless times over the years. One only a big sister could give her little brother when she had to feign ignorance of something she had already discovered for herself. The perks of being the eldest.

“How did you know?”

“Horacio, are you really asking that of someone who has been surrounded by cops all her life?”

Horacio rolled his eyes but let Alejandra have that one unchallenged.

“I thought you might have been discharged on medical grounds, to be honest. I hoped you’d seen sense. Or maybe met someone.”

“I wasn’t discharged, but I negotiated a payout after my injury.”

Alejandra released a self-satisfied hum, a whisp of a smile threatening to break free from the corners of her mouth. “Two out of three’s not bad, I suppose.”

Horacio gulped hard enough for Alejandra to hear; he had no doubt about that. But no words followed, not even when he caught her eye.

“You love him, don’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation or an interrogation. In fact, it was barely even a question.

“Yes.” It caught Horacio off guard how fast he answered. How direct and concise he’d been.

“And he loves you.” There was no pretence of a question mark now, but rather a clarification of a well-established fact. A rite of passage both parties needed to hear.

“He does.”

“Enough to walk away from it all, too.”

Horacio nodded, scared the lump in his throat would give way to something else as his glassy gaze met Alejandra’s.

“His father – Chucho – owns a ranch in Laredo, Texas. That’s where I went after…” he trailed off, not wishing to dwell on the finer details of the ambush. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I hated lying after everything we’ve been through. But I figured the less you and Mamá knew, the safer it was.”

“I had a feeling you’d left Colombia. But Texas?” Alejandra blew out a low whistle. “That’s the part we’ll need to prepare Mamá for.”

“They’re Mexican-American. And the ranch is right on the border by the river.”

“I’d lead with that part if I were you. Not sure you can avoid a lecture about fraternising with Spanish colonisers, though. Twice.”

“I got that the first time I moved over there. But she went quiet when I reminded her Madrid was good enough for Simón Bolívar.”

Alejandra’s shoulders shook in unison with Horacio’s until a comfortable silence fell between them.

“So, you were there a whole year?”

“Just over. I couldn’t do much to help for the first few months – whilst this healed.” Horacio flexed his right arm to prove to Alejandra that everything was back in working order. “But it was good to have a routine eventually.”

“Wait a minute…you worked on the ranch?”

“No need to sound so surprised when you live here. I was actually pretty good at it. And I liked it.” Although Horacio understood and returned his sister’s bemusement because even he had shocked himself.

“No, I’m not. It’s just…oh, Horacio...” Alejandra broke off to bring her hand to his cheek, her brow creased, but her eyes caught between being on the brink of a smile and tears. “Look at you.”

Horacio made a show of wiping away the suds from his cheekbone, hoping he wouldn’t still have an audience afterwards. But no such luck. “It’s not what I expected to happen – any of it. But it just....felt right. I know that probably doesn’t make sense.”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense.”

“Does it?”

“Well, for starters, I can see the appeal. Obviously. Can’t blame you for going for a younger man, either. And taller.”

Horacio rolled his eyes and hoped his face didn’t look as hot as it felt. “Not by that much. On either count.”

“Hey, no judgment from me. But seriously, of course, it makes sense. I know we all used to joke about you being married to your job, but…after Juliana, I did wonder if there was more to it than that.”

“I think burying myself in work killed two birds with one stone.”

“It was killing you.”

“I know.”

“And Papá would have told you the same.”

A hollow laugh escaped Horacio’s throat, Martínez’s words from the wedding still ringing intrusively in his ears. “I’d have been kicked out of the force. He’d have made sure of that. And I wouldn’t have blamed him.”

“Right, because you were the first officer on Colombian soil to commit violence or be used as a political weapon.”

“He was against it, Alejandra. La Violencia was enough for anyone to see in a lifetime.”

But that was just another in a long line of civil wars. Even if his father's life hadn’t been cut short, he would have seen yet another bloody outbreak in which the state did more to perpetuate the death toll than bring peace to the country. And Horacio had plenty of blood on his hands. At least his Papá was spared witnessing that.

“And you don’t think he was ever put in a compromising position back then? You don’t think La Violencia was why he didn’t want the same for you? You won’t remember much, and Mamá and Papá never spoke about it around us, but I got pretty good at listening through doors.”

“He never did talk about it. Even when I was older.”

Not that he really needed to, Horacio conceded. Even though they were kept relatively safe and away from the violence in Medellín compared to other regions of Antioquia – particularly the rural parts – he had heard enough over the years to fill in the blanks.

He remembered his Mamá’s stories of helping the displaced, those who sought refuge in the city. Thousands who had been forced to flee the violence and start over again, often in makeshift housing on the outskirts, the irony never lost on Horacio that one of those neighbourhoods became Comuna 13. But for all his Mamá’s tales and the work she continued to do until she left for Manizales, his Papá never spoke about those years.

“He was protecting you. Like Mamá was with us after he died. Sometimes silence is easier.”

“I know. I get it. Before he died, the cocaine trade hadn’t got going in Colombia yet. It was mostly marijuana. But with FARC around and the gringos spreading their anti-communist propaganda, he knew it was a question of when, not if, another war was coming. I think he hoped things would be different this time.”

“You did what you had to do, Horacio. Just like he did. Just like every generation of our family did to survive. What’s done is done.”

“I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew everything.”

“You think I never heard any of the rumours out here? Or picked up a newspaper once in a while?”

“You never said anything.”

Alejandra shot Horacio a cutting glare, the kind he was an expert at delivering, but only a select few could get away with throwing back at him. “I knew you wouldn’t talk about it even if I asked.”

Horacio scoffed. Touché. “Not all of it was true.”

It was Alejandra’s turn to laugh. “Well, I kinda figured you weren’t dead after you called.”

“I don’t just mean the ambush.”

“I know,” she said briskly.

But Horacio couldn’t ignore the relief in her body language. Even though he understood it, a wave of shame hit him for even planting a seed of doubt in her – his older sister, the mother of his nieces and nephews – mind in the first place.

“But that’s all in the past now,” he concluded, shutting down his own train of destructive thought. “And you’re right; Papá’s not here. But Javier is.”

“So your future’s in Laredo, then.”

“Are you mad?”

“Am I mad that my little brother is finally getting his shit together and is head over heels in love? Oh, yeah, I’m livid.”

An inferno had spread across Horacio’s cheeks, and he struggled to think of a response. But luckily for him, Alejandra wasn’t done yet.

“It’s…safe, though, right? For you both to live together?”

“As safe as anywhere else. Every country has its problems. I’m sure there’ll always be people with something to say. But we’ve been careful.”

“Just promise me you’ll keep being careful.”

“We will, I promise.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll convince Mamá to visit in the summer, though.”

“That’s fair. But you do think she’ll want to visit?”

“She might be strong, but we know what she lost – what we all lost. So, if there’s a chance for you to share your life with someone as she did with Papá, to be safe – to be happy after everything – yeah, I think she'll want to visit.”

“Do you think Papá would if he could?” Horacio knew it was a loaded grenade of a question and unfair to ask. But he couldn’t help himself.

Alejandra hesitated, seemingly aware she was between a rock and a hard place. “Maybe in his old age. Or if he knew Javier saved your life.”

“How did –?”

She expelled a comedically dramatic sigh. “Keep up, manito. When you called, you told me the DEA came after you that night. I don’t need to hold a badge to guess who that was.”

Horacio was banged to rights once more as he tried to recall the exact information he had relayed to Alejandra in the hours after the ambush; evidently, it was more than he thought.

“He – and his partner, Steve – went against orders and got suspended for helping me and my men.”

“So, they took a leaf out of your book then?”

“Something like that.”

Before Horacio could overthink it, he took a deep breath and told Alejandra everything. From the blackmail to his and Javier’s resignations to their year in Madrid, it all came tumbling out whilst she kept washing and he kept drying. Just like old times. Just like their Papá was in the next room along with their Mamá. And in so many ways, he always would be, not as a ghost of their past, but forever a part of their present and future.

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Arriving during the week had its advantages, as it wasn’t necessary for Horacio to make excuses to get an early night. Work and school beckoned in the morning for most of the household, so the evening had ended in a low-key fashion.

That was more than fine by Horacio after a long drive and an overdue heart-to-heart. He lay on his side, his back nestled into Javier’s chest in the centre of the spare room’s double bed. They made up the fold-out bed for pretences, but it was purely extra space to store their luggage.

A bedside lamp and hints of moonlight peaking around the edges of the curtains cast the room in soft shadows, the low murmur of a telenovela in one of the nearby bedrooms the only sound to be heard at this hour.

“How old were you there?” Javier asked, his voice muffled against Horacio’s shoulder where he’d temporarily paused his trail of kisses after picking out one of several framed photos on the wall.

“The one from Alejandra’s wedding? I’d have been 24.”

“Cute curls.” Javier’s nose nuzzled against the back of Horacio’s head, which was sadly lacking the same unruliness as in the photo.

“Fuck you.”

Javier sniggered. “Hey, I was being serious! They suit you. Plus…more to grab hold of.” He slid a hand into Horacio’s hair as his mouth resumed its work along bare skin.

Horacio’s back arched with a sigh as he leaned into Javier’s touch. “You know we can’t get carried away. Not here.”

“I know.” Of course, Javier understood. It was one thing for him to have sneaked in and out of the guesthouse back in Laredo; it was quite another to be under the same roof as Horacio’s whole family. But that didn’t stop the almost petulant tone in Javier’s voice. He was still human, after all.

“I promise we’ll make up for it once we leave.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Despite their flirtation, exhaustion was thick in their throats and pressed heavily on their limbs, pushing them closer towards sleep as the butterflies in their stomachs finally settled.

“The wedding wasn’t that long after Papá died. Alejandra asked me to give her away instead. At first, I didn’t think I deserved to take Papá’s place. But I think she needed me there with her, so, I said yes.”

“Of course you did, and I bet she never forgot that.”

“No, and I’ll never forget tonight."

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It was still dark in the spare room when Javier stirred and untangled himself from Horacio as slowly as possible. He had woken up thirsty and threw on a precautionary pair of jeans before tiptoeing down the wooden staircase towards the kitchen.

The clock on the oven read 01:30am, so he wasn't expecting to find the spotlights above it switched on. He searched through the cupboards until he found a tumbler and filled it with water from the tap, taking large gulps until the glass was drained.

“So, you’re a night owl too, then?”

“Shit!” Javier hissed, spinning around with a sharp intake of breath, almost dropping the glass on the tiled floor.

“Sorry,” Alejandra whispered. “I was just reading before heading off to bed.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I just needed some water. Didn’t think anyone else would be up.” Javier was suddenly very aware of the fact he was standing half naked in the middle of the kitchen, Horacio’s necklace like a flashing beacon at his chest. “Obviously,” he added with an awkward huff, looking down at his state of semi-undress.

“Right,” Alejandra replied with a stifled laugh. “How about you avoid catching a chill whilst I find something a bit more…authentic than tap water?”

Once Javier came back downstairs with his chest now covered, Alejandra was sat at the kitchen table with two shot glasses and a bottle of aguardiente.

“Not sure my stomach can handle any more of that after the wedding.”

“Lightweight. And just think of it as an initiation.”

Javier sighed in defeat, accepting the challenge as he took a seat opposite Alejandra.

She unscrewed the bottle and tipped measures into each glass. “Wanna make this more interesting?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Three shots, three questions each. But you can only ask a question after you’ve emptied your glass.”

Javier laughed for a second, unsure what he imagined Alejandra to be like, yet somehow, she surprised him anyway. “Okay. Already sounds better than every other icebreaker inflicted on me. Who goes first?”

“Guest’s choice.”

He stared down at his glass as though it was the barrel of a gun, remembering why he had eventually insisted whiskey was his and Horacio’s go-to drink. When he first arrived in Colombia, Horacio would offer him a shot, pouring liberally from the stash of aguardiente in his office drawer, and Javier accepted on multiple occasions. But it was over and done with like a spoonful of caustic medicine. At least whiskey could be drunk slower and delayed saying goodnight.

That wasn't the order of things now, though. So, Javier grabbed the bull by the horns and threw back his glass, wincing at the aniseed burn as it slid down his throat.

“New rule: you’ve got 30 seconds to come up with a question. Otherwise, you take another shot.”

“Alright, alright, I’m thinking.”

Alejandra’s gaze fell on the oven clock, ramping up the pressure. “10 seconds left…”

“Okay. I’ve got one. What was it like growing up with a younger brother?”

“Annoying, obviously. Especially after he got the highest grade in his English class. I don’t know where he picked them up, but he knew all the swear words. Of course. He drove me crazy testing them out.”

“He did that to my old partner, Steve – his Spanish isn’t great, and Horacio sure liked to remind him whenever he got the chance.”

“Sounds about right. No wonder he liked you – best of both worlds.”

“Maybe.” Javier knew what Alejandra meant, but it didn’t stop heat from spreading through his cheeks regardless.

“He was generally pretty quiet at school,” Alejandra continued, "but not afraid to take the lead…or break a few rules.”

“Again, I’m not surprised.”

“Nope.” They both laughed at that. “He always liked to be moving, though. Doing something with his hands. Or playing sports – he was a good runner. We used to race each other around Jardín Botánico, and he would always beat me. I think he already knew he was in training for the Academy. So, obviously, he was accepted. No doubt some thought he got a free pass, but he was determined to prove himself. Then he had to grow up.”

The joviality faded abruptly from Alejandra’s face, transforming into a wistful smile.

“We both did. But at least I’d had more time with Papá. Good job I did have those few years to myself ‘cos Horacio followed him around like a shadow. Until he couldn’t. Then he thought he had to be the man of the house. Even when there were two much more qualified women for the job.”

“He thought it was his duty."

“Yeah. He did.” There was something akin to awe in how Alejandra looked at Javier, as though she was simultaneously taken aback and impressed that someone summed up and understood her brother so accurately and succinctly.

“Isn’t it your turn, now?” Javier asked after a moment of silence.

Without further hesitation, Alejandra downed her shot. “Why Colombia?”

“Why not Colombia?” He tried a feeble laugh but knew that wouldn't cut it. “I studied Gabriel García Márquez in high school. Although, can’t say I really got him at the time. Took me another try when I was older.”

Now he thought about it, Javier wasn’t convinced he exactly got him the second time around either, considering García Márquez’s views on extradition aligned fiercely with Horacio’s. But that was the luxury of hindsight.

“By then, my Mamá had long since passed, my fiancée had just become my ex, and I had no fucking clue what I was doing with my life. Guess I needed to get lost in someone else’s problems for a while.”

“Tell me about it.” Alejandra held a book up in the air that had been abandoned on the table since Javier joined her.

“Smart move. My teacher loved telling us how García Márquez moved to Mexico and wrote One Hundred Years of Solitude over there. And with how things went down in Laredo, I could see the appeal of starting over in another country. Mexico was…too close to home. The drug war was getting out of hand. More and more agents were being transferred. And what’s the line?” Javier broke off, eyes cast towards the ceiling as he licked his lips in concentration. “‘We came’, they said, ‘because everyone is coming’.”

Alejandra let a pause of bewilderment pass between them as she studied Javier with intrigue. “You’re not at all like the other gringos he’s worked with in the past.”

“Did he bring any of them home to his family?”

“No. You’re the first. As I’m sure you're aware.”

“Maybe.”

“Drink up.”

Javier did as he was told, repressing a cough as the potent liquid worked its magic. “Why did you choose farm life over being a cop?”

Alejandra laughed a little too loudly, considering the time. “There are other career choices, you know.”

Javier gasped. “There are?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But that’s not quite how it went for me. The farm came with Fabián. They’re sort of a package deal. I’m sure you can understand that.” She threw Javier a knowing smile. “But I ruled out being a cop years before I moved here or met Fabián. I knew from Papá that women in the force were few and far between back then. They’re still pretty scarce now. I wasn’t up for putting myself in the firing line being a General’s daughter. They never would have respected me or believed I got there on my own merit. I didn’t want to spend my life trying to gain anyone's approval.”

“Makes sense. It’s not easy in the force if you’re…different from the rest."

“Exactly. I’m not sure it’s what Papá even wanted for me anyway. Because he knew what it’d be like. Then there was Mamá with her social work. She was in her element. Always fighting someone’s corner, especially during the suffrage movement. I think I was the odd one out in the family, ‘cos everyone else seemed to have…a calling except for me. So, I studied, got a business degree, became a buyer for various companies and ended up in the coffee industry. And the rest is history.”

“Good for you. And I guess that explains Horacio’s, er, distaste for a badly made cup of coffee.”

“Yep. He’s got no excuse. And neither do you anymore.”

“I’ll bear that in mind. Your turn.” Javier took the bottle this time and filled Alejandra’s glass.

She downed it in one go. “¿Por qué no un llanero ahora que has descartado ser policía?” (Why not a llanero now you’ve ruled out being a police officer?)

“¿Por qué no un vaquero?” (Why not a vaquero?) Javier corrected with a glint in his eye that Alejandra returned with an eye roll. “Like you said…there are other jobs. That one was just never for me. I need more variety day-to-day. Like I’m making a bigger difference somehow. But preferably without the pretty fucking significant risk of death or blackmail.”

“A fair demand.”

“Right? It’s not like I’m asking for a raise.”

“When I moved here, I didn’t know where life was taking me, especially when the kids came along. I couldn’t keep my old job because of all the travelling…and being a mother was the priority until they started school. It took me a while to find my place on the buying and selling side of the business. So, all I’m saying is, things might get clearer once you’re settled back in Laredo.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Javier raised his glass and nodded his thanks to Alejandra, touched by her unprompted advice.

His third and final question had arrived, and the pressure to make it a good one pressed uncomfortably on his increasingly fuzzy head. “If your father was here now, what would you say to him?”

For a brief second, Javier feared he had overstepped some forbidden and invisible line and been overfamiliar with someone he only really knew by proxy at this stage.

But whilst Alejandra’s smile was permanently stained with traces of grief, warmth flickered then grew in her charcoal eyes. “I’d tell him we’re fine. That we miss him and wish he’d come back for good but that he needn’t worry. Because even though Mamá didn’t always get things right, she steered us through it as best she could. And we didn’t turn our backs on the world. That we found love in the dark.”

Alejandra sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Sorry. I think it’s the alcohol.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” Javier paused to clear his throat, blinking his vision back into focus. “It was beautifully said.” His hand reached for hers across the table, hoping again that he hadn’t gone too far.

But she let his hand rest there until she shook her head like a wet dog and poured her final shot. “Same question to you about your mother, obviously,” she said before downing the aguardiente in one.

Javier scoffed. “Well, I guess I deserved that.” He took his time, collecting his thoughts as though he was preparing an important speech. As though he’d been trying to find the right words for most of his life – and how rarely he’d succeeded.

“I’d tell her I miss her morisqueta. I’d tell her Pops visits her every week. But then I think she already knows that. Same way I think she made sure he never re-married.”

Javier couldn’t help but laugh, seeing with perfect clarity where his own loyal streak came from when his Pops was still as devoted to Mariana as the day they married. Siempre tuyo was no exaggeration.

“I’d make sure she knew he wasn’t alone, though. That he was known as Don Chucho to most in Laredo. That she’d be proud of him for growing the community she helped start. I’d brag about all the tamales we’ve made and quote her favourite poems. I’d introduce her to Horacio.”

He envisaged showing her Horacio’s poetry book, knowing that all it would take was for her to read Javier’s message in the opening pages to understand everything about who they were to each other. He’d even dreamed of it, waking with a ridiculous hope that she had somehow intercepted it.

“She sounds as incredible as your father. I hope one day I can thank him for taking my little brother under his wing when he needed it the most.”

“I’m sure that could be arranged.”

“I can’t – and don’t want to – imagine where he would have ended up without either of you, to be honest. He told me about the ambush…and everything else. And even though it doesn’t feel nearly enough, I just want to say...thank you.”

At first, Javier could only nod and swallow the lump bobbing at the base of his throat. “He did the same for me. It wasn’t easy walking away from my job, don’t get me wrong, but it was different for him. He felt like he’d betrayed Colombia and his Papá. Yet he did it anyway.”

“When it’s the right person, the sacrifices are worth it. And I can’t think of anyone more worthy of wearing that.” Alejandra’s sightline had fallen to Javier’s neck. His chest may have now been covered, but the silver chain still poked out from beneath the seam of his shirt.

She poured them a bonus shot each and raised her glass. “Welcome to the family.”

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

[thestayathomedragon]

WIP Wednesday

I was hoping to have this done today but life happened so have this little tidbit instead...

“L-Luis… Luis please. You have to let go.” Leon hissed, his own hands clasped over Luis’s, trying to pull them away but there like stone digging into his flesh.  

There is still no indication that Luis even hears him. That he even knows where he is. His bright eyes are unfocused, unseeing.

Leon gives up on trying to pry Luis’s hands from him and out of nowhere a thought strikes him. He stopped his struggle and then gently placed a trembling hand onto the space between Luis’s shoulder blades. Leon gets a flash of ichor darkened veins, winding thickly around Luis’s spine. The hole Krauser’s knife left had long since healed, sealing Luis’s plaga inside.

His own plaga stilled in his chest and Leon took a deep breath.

He felt so foolish, but Leon had to try. He closed his eyes and tried to reach out. On his own, through his own plaga, whichever way worked. He just needed the thing to hear him. Surprisingly, it seems to work. Leon could feel it when they connected and immediately, he took the opportunity to try to convey to it that Luis was safe. That Leon was with him and that he would do whatever it took to make sure that nothing happened to him.

Hey. Hey, can you hear me? You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe and so is Luis. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.

Protect.

Leon gasped in shock.

Protect him.

He had been trying to talk to it. Was it anymore insane that he was communicating back.

Yes. I will protect him. I’ll protect you both. Just please… Please… you have to try. Try and calm down. You’re hurting him.

Crazy enough, it seemed to work. Luis’s grip loosened and Leon could do nothing but sigh in relief. His own plaga finally calmed in his chest.

“Fuck.” Leon panted and winced. A sense of dizziness overcoming him before it all went black.

#my fan fic #fic: .scar.crossed.lovers. #au: what a time to be alive verse #ch: on the bright side/got the wrong insides #luis serra #luis serra navarro #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #re4r #serennedy #infected luis au #wip wednesday

[fabdante]

An Inexact Science

“I just came in because Katara wanted to come,” he admits.

“But something lured you here,” Aunt Wu says, “you must be curious about something.”

He fights the urge to repeat that what lured him here was Katara. It didn’t really matter how he felt about it. She seemed to want to come in, and like she needed to be told it was ok to do something for herself for once, and he was happy to come with her.

Though…maybe she does have a point. After hearing Katara’s enthusiasm and sitting in the waiting room for so long, maybe he is curious about the whole thing. About this place, about Aunt Wu.

Summery: Zuko and Katara’s journey to find Ursa lands them in Makapu Village and Zuko thinks it can’t really hurt to get his fortune read. (Finished for @zutaramonth​ 2023 day 16, Fortune Teller!)

Words: 4429 (Chapter 2 of 2!)

Rating: G (show typical mentions of show typical topics)

Read Here!

and see the full series here!

#zutara #zutara month #zutara month 2023 #zuko #katara #prince zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender #my art #my fan fic

[a-little-ray-of-fantasy]

It's been a month since Sir Pentious ascended to Heaven, and he feels out of place there, not to mention he misses his friends. So he goes to Emily: will she be able to help him?

#Vivziepop #Hazbin Hotel #Sir Pentious #Emily #Hazbin Hotel Emily #Fave Character #Comfort Character #My Fan Fiction #Fan Fic #My Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Personal Rambles

[gothdaddyissues]

Return to Me

For the @petrifyingpapas challenge - week one: RESURRECTION

SUMMARY: Vampire Copia has made a promise to you, his lover - life, eternal. But first, you must die. (~1700 words)

TAGS: Dracopia/Fem!Reader, Jim DeFroque, Vampires, Character Turned Into Vampire, Death, Blood, Blood Drinking, Resurrection, Google Translate Italiano

Also available on Ao3 HERE

⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧

He held you pressed close against his chest as you died.

He wept.

Just moments before, he had fed from you. Drained you almost dry, until he could feel your faltering pulse upon his tongue, the weakening thump of your heart. Slower and slower.

He used his teeth to gash open his wrist like a feral animal, pressing the wound to your greying lips. If you did not take in the blood now, you would be lost to him forever.

"Drink, amore ," he whispered, frantic. "Drink me."

You lay listless in his arms, eyelids fluttering, weak breath rattling in your chest. Not moving. Not responding.

But then, he felt the pull of the blood leaving him. He heard you swallow. Once. Then again. And again. Stronger each time.

He brought you closer, cradling your head, holding you there to feed. "Yes, yes, cara mia ... take all you can."

The life-giving elixir brought you back into brief consciousness. You gulped it down greedily as its power surged through you in these final moments, the blood he had taken coursing back into you, working its primal, infernal magic. A wanton moan escaped your lips and you writhed against him in pleasure. It reminded him of the nights of ecstasy spent together in this bed - such sounds you had made as he took you, sometimes sweet and passionate, sometimes raw and desperate, over and over. You had begged for more. You said that you wanted to be his, like him. He swore on all that was evil and unholy that you would grant you life eternal.

But first, you had to die.

You whimpered as he pulled his wrist away. "Sshhh, shhh amore . It is done." He kissed you deeply, lapping up the last of the blood pooled in your mouth, and you went limp in his arms once again, too feeble to move.

"Copia...  Please don't leave me..." you rasped, your voice weak. You were fading fast.

"Never." The promise murmured in your ear, the last words your human form would hear. "I'm with you always."

When you were gone, he lowered you onto the bed, slow and gentle. Soon the sun would rise, and your nursemaid would be in to check on you. He could not sit in vigil despite not wanting you to leave his sight. This was the moment he must let go. He kissed your forehead, his cheeks wet with tears. " Ti amo. Ti amo, mia regina. Mia dolce angelo ."

He was a monster, forsaken, his faith long gone. His cursed existence refuted any proof of a benevolent God. And yet, as he slipped from your balcony into the darkness, there was a prayer on his lips. He prayed to whatever Satanic demon it was that watched over his kind. He prayed you would reawaken, turned, a creature of the night as he was, and you would live forever beside him.

He could not go on otherwise.

⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧

He arrived at the church just as the sun slipped below the horizon. The graveyard was empty save for a lone priest standing in solemn watch at the door of your family's sepulcher.

"Greetings, my brother," the priest said, his voice full of sorrow. "Do you come to mourn this young lady?"

Copia nodded grimly and the priest allowed him entrance.

On a stone altar, lit only by candlelight, lay your coffin, made from ebony wood and carved with intricate embellishments. The air was thick with the scent of roses, red bouquets surrounding your tomb in a vain attempt to mask the stench of death.

"Such a tragedy," the priest began, "This beautiful woman taken in her prime. A blood disease, the doctors believe. There was nothing they could do, it happened so fast. Were you well acquainted?"

"Very." Copia narrowed his eyes at the priest, suspicious. "Why do you lurk here? You are not the priest of this parish."

"I am Father James DeFroque," he said, the beads of his rosary clicking as he fidgeted under the vampire's intense gaze. "Tasked by this lady's family to keep watch and pray for her dearly departed soul, to shepherd her into the kingdom of our Lord. May her spirit live forever in his grace. Will you pray with me, brother?"

The priest was nervous, ill-at-ease in Copia's presence. His heightened vampiric senses could see each drop of sweat forming on DeFroque's forehead, feel the quickened pump of the priest's heart as he went to his knees in supplication and began to recite the Lord's Prayer.

But he could not feel you.

Had his efforts to turn you been in vain?

Panicked now, Copia stepped past the priest and stood at your coffin, his gloved hands splaying out over the lid. " Amore , I am here. I am here for you." His voice broke in a sob, overwhelmed with emotion. "Please, amore ... please. Return to me."

And then, he felt it. A tingle in his mind, curling through his senses like whisps of smoke.

Copia...

You were there, calling out to him through the ether. His presence had roused you and your essence shimmered and danced through him as you awoke from your slumber. Connected. Your soul, your consciousness bound to his through the process of siring you. Together forever.

Copia... My beloved...

Awash in relief, he pushed at the lid of the coffin to free you, opening it but a crack before the priest sprung to his feet to stop him: "My brother, no! You must not..." DeFroque's voice trailed off as he stared in horror, watching your pale fingers snake out under the lid, searching for your lover's hand.

"Copia..." Your voice was a gravelly whimper.

He pushed the coffin lid off completely; it fell to the floor with a thud. He took your hand as he gazed upon you, your delicate beauty only heightened by your immortality. Your skin pure and white like alabaster. Your lips crimson red, the hint of razor-sharp fangs beneath. He gasped in delight when your eyelids fluttered open.

" Mi amore ," he murmured, " mia bella regina. "

Your fingers tightened around his, while your other hand reached up to caress his cheek. Your touch was soft, weak in your newly-risen state. "My love," you whispered.

Copia leaned over you to press his lips to yours. But the meddlesome priest intervened, pushing a large wooden crucifix into the space between you. " Vade retro Satana. Vade retro Satana !" he chanted. Copia hissed and backed away, leaving you mewling at the loss. You pulled yourself up to sit, reaching for him...

"You!" Copia growled, his fangs bared. "You are that charlitan priest who travels this county claiming to be a hunter of the undead." DeFroque was trembling, the crucifix outstretched in one hand and a sharp wooden stake in the other. "Shaking like a frightened animal... You've never come face to face with one of us before, have you?" Copia was taunting him, prowling around the perimeter of the sepulcher. "Do you really think you can best me, fool?"

"I don't need to best you," the priest said, his voice wavering, "I only need to ensure this vile creature," he motioned to you, "does not rise from her crypt."

Copia stared down at him, his mismatched eyes aflame with rage. "If you touch her, I will tear you open and feast on your heart."

"Whether I do or do not, I will die either way."

An evil smile broke across Copia's lips. "I admire you for being accepting of your fate, padre. Mia bella ragazza is hungry. Your pious blood will feed her well..."

Copia stalked forwards, Defroque brandishing the crucifix before him to no effect. " Anima Christi, sanctifica me. Corpus Christi, salva me. Ab hoste maligno defende me. In hora mortis meae voca me ," he prayed.

The sound of Copia's mocking laughter filled the air. "Body of Christ save me, from the malignant enemy defend me..." he sneered at the priest's words, batting the crucifix away with a slap, sending it clattering to the floor. "Your God holds no power over me." Defroque backed away until there was nowhere left for him to go, trapped between your coffin and the advancing vampire.

Defroque spun to face you and raised the stake high, about to plunge it into your chest when Copia lunged at him, grabbing his wrist and breaking the bones as easily as snapping a twig. The priest screamed in pain as the stake fell to the ground.

Copia grabbed the priest by the hair and yanked his head back, holding him there, baring the neck to you. The fingers of his free hand tangled through your hair as he pulled you close and pressed soft kisses to your forehead. "For you, amore . Drink your fill."

Demonic instinct took over. You sunk your teeth into the priest's flesh, moaning when the blood hit your tongue, reveling in its heat, and how his breath gurgled in his throat as you fed.

The sight of you on this pathetic man and the sounds of your pleasure stirred something primal within your vampire lover. Arousal. He was aching. Throbbing. Craving the orgasmic bliss of both you and the blood. He clutched at you, wrapping you in a tight embrace with your prey pressed between you, and bit down hard on the other side of the priest's neck.

Together, as one, you drained him. When DeFroque's lifeless body slumped to the ground Copia was upon you in an instant, his mouth crashing into yours in a savage kiss. Blood smeared across your lips, tongues savoring each other in perverse ecstasy.

You broke away first, your movements weak. Copia knew you would need time, that for the first few nights after your resurrection, you would be insatiable, yet frail, and would need help to feed. For you, he would do anything .

With preternatural strength, he easily lifted you from the coffin, one arm behind your knees and the other at your back, cradling you close to him. Your head rested heavy on his shoulder. "Copia," you whispered, "I need more."

"Yes, amore . And you shall have it."

#ghost #the band ghost #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #my fan fic #my fanfiction #copia #dracopia #petrifyingpapas #resurrection

[illiana-mystery]

WIP Whenever

So I am currently making my way through finishing Chapter 3 of both Snow Angel (my Leonhard Seppala fic) and Chasing Foxy (my new Norman Osborn fic).

And I didn't want to wait until Wednesday, so here's a sneak peek of both of the chapters today! 😁😆

Hopefully, both chapters will be finished and posted sometime this week! 🤞🏾🤞🏾🤞🏾

Taglist: @ghnaim24​, @currvycurly, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky​​, @iobsessoverfictionalmen​, @emily-ella-nightshade89​, @goodoldcharley, @writingkitten

---

Snow Angel

"You alright? It makes sense that I'm winded, but you're young. I thought you would have more energy than me."

She laughed.

"You're not that old, Leonard. What are you...like 35?"

"I'm almost 50," he corrected her. "But thanks for the compliment."

"Hmm, you really don't look a day over 40," she assured him. "Norwegians must age very well compared to Russians and Alaskans."

He snickered.

"You're too kind. But now I'm afraid to ask how old you are?"

"Almost 30," she responded, to his shock.

"Really?! I thought you were mid-twenties."

She giggled.

"No, I'm 29 so that probably makes you 49, right?"

He nodded.

"Hmm, well I've always found older men more attractive," she boldly said, leaning closer to him.

"What are you getting at?"

She laughed.

"Nothing at all," she teased, before she moved from his grasp. "Let's get to reinforcing those kennels."

He was speechless once she suggested that.

Here she was clearly being more bold with her flirting, and now she was making her way down the ladder.

Pretending like it never happened.

Although the smirk on her face said otherwise.

Did she like him as much as he liked her?

He was more than confused, trying desperately not to scare her away.

Sure she was stuck, but he also didn't want her to be distant from him while she was stuck.

He just didn't want to misinterpreted her flirting.

She was probably just being nice, he told himself.

---

Chasing Foxy

"It'll be okay," Rosie assured him after grabbing his hand and squeezing it. "You'll do fine. If General Slocum can't appreciate your genius, he's a fool. You're brilliant, Norman. Just like my big old man."

Otto chuckled, before he kissed his wife's cheek.

"Rosie, I love your positivity, but Slocum is a hard man to impress. Norman is well within his right to be worried."

"Ugh, I suppose so," she huffed in defeat, before taking a sip of her Chardonnay.

"I do appreciate your positivity though," Norman assured Rosie.

"Thank you, Norman," she smugly said, looking at her husband after.

"And this is why I fell in love with you, Rosalie. You charmed me with the positivity, but stayed for your sass."

"The stress relief sex helped too," she remarked as she took another sip of wine.

"You got that right," he said with a hardy chuckle.

"I've always envied your relationship," Norman admitted. "I loved Emily, but we were never like you two."

"Emily was always in the clouds, bless her heart," Rosie started. "But I know she loved you as much as you loved her."

"That's a nice thought, Rosie. But you know I pushed her away. In my pursuit of success, I forgot about her and Harry. She would have divorced me if she hadn't died first," he revealed before he looked back at his phone, pondering if he should text Foxy back.

"Norman, you don't know..."

"I found the divorce papers she hid after her funeral," he admitted. "I loved her so much, but my ambition clouded that part of my brain. She deserved the man she fell in love with. I'm just glad she had Harry before she died. I'm glad that she had someone to love when she couldn't get any love from her husband. And I was so ashamed, I shipped my son away. I kept shipping him away until now..."

He felt like he was about to cry, but he held his tears back once he scrolled back to the picture of Foxy she had sent him with her message last night.

"I just hope I'm better to my new girlfriend," he whimpered as he texted her back.

Thank you, mommy. 😊 You're making me blush. I really needed your message right now. I feel a lot better now, but I will still need your healing. I really can't wait to see you again tonight. You're making your baby boy so giddy. 😆❤️

The couple across from him was speechless while he was texting. They knew about his strained marriage to Emily due to his overambition and his non-existant relationship with Harry. But they had no idea she was gonna divorce him before she ultimately died.

That just showed that he was really having a hard time. It wasn't like him to be so open about his failings, even to his old friends.

And even Rosie was starting to realize that her positivity wasn't just gonna magically fix all his woes.

Oh, honey. Mommy knows you still need her to make you feel better. I can't wait to see you too. I'm gonna give you so many kisses and cuddle you so tight tonight. 😘

He was absolutely red in the face when he read her reply, which Rosie noticed.

"Should we leave you alone?" she teased to lighten the mood. "Because you're as red as the tomato sauce."

"No, no. I'm fine. My girlfriend is just so sweet."

"Aww!" Rosie cooed again. "Well, it won't be too much longer until you see her again."

"Yeah," he hummed happily.

#wip #current wip #my wips #wips #work in progress #wip whenever #fanfiction #fanfic #my fan fic #my fanfiction #get hyped

[that70sshowgoldencouple]

Let's try this again, it got hidden in tags first time, please let me know if you see this post...Thanks

NEW That ‘70s Show Fanfiction on AO3

Title: Ring A Ding Ding

Summary: After Kitty found her engagement ring in the back of the Vista Cruiser Red announced he had ordered her a new one. Will Kitty tell him about her discovery? Will she still get her new ring? Will she still want it? My take on the end of Keep Yourself Alive.

Pairings: Red/Kitty

Rating: K+

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48934972

Author’s Note: New Goldie oldie has been posted! Not to sure how well this one will do since it's Red/Kitty focused and takes place in season 8. In my defense this episode was one of the better episodes, had a fabulous Red/Kitty storyline I couldn't help adding my own fluff to it. Also if you've ever wondered about how Red might have proposed-check this fic out! And if you do please don't forget to leave a comment with your thoughts, would love to hear from you!

#that 70s show #red forman #kitty forman #red and kitty #fan fiction #my fanfiction #fanfiction #ao3 #new on ao3 #fan fic #my fan fic #missing moments #red and kitty forman #season 8 #that70sshowedit #that70showedit #that70sedit #that '70s show

[lesbianpepsi]

my love, my life

pairing: jenna ortega x autistic!fem!reader

summary: Jenna was the rock you never knew you needed in your life

link to request

words: 4.007k (im sorry)

warnings: verbally abusive parents, ableism, ableist remarks, r parents are dicks, r has a meltdown, swearing, bad writing

authors note: if i got anything wrong please correct me in a respectful and kind way please, other than that i hope you enjoy this:)

You were the one who begged your parents to allow you to start acting at such a young age, being utterly fixated on the world of acting after seeing Spider-Man for the first time.

In the beginning your parents didn't like the idea of you becoming a child actor, especially after what they heard from a myriad of news sources of how troubled child actors became when they reached their teens.

But after a lot of pleading they reluctantly allowed you to audition for anything that came up. 

You were the young age of six when you got your first real role, it was for a random soup company commercial, it was nothing major but it was something. 

Acting brought you a large sense of comfort, already knowing what was going to happen as you memorised your lines in a blink of an eye. 

You always had a struggle with portraying emotions but eventually you got the hang of it and became much better.

At eight years old you got your first big break; the role of a little sister's killer. The role of Jill Roberts' little sister in Scream Four. 

You blew up. 

At first you weren't a fan of all the attention and even got quite upset over it, the large change of attention by strangers on the street scaring you. 

Your parents on the other hand were absolutely thrilled and began auditioning you for many other movies and tv shows. 

You weren't properly diagnosed with autism till the age of fourteen; long after you had become a child actor. You were shocked but found comfort in that information, it was as if you finally found out the answer to longing question. 

Your parents on the other hand did not believe the doctors when they diagnosed you with autism, refusing to believe the fact and that you were just simply dramatic. 

As your fame grew, your stress and anxiety only did too. It got to the point where you could barely get through an interview before going completely non-verbal for a few days. 

Your parents called you dramatic since you could act in front of cameras but couldn't answer simple questions in front of a few people with flashing cameras.

You defended yourself that it wasn't the same, it never was. You didn't know what was going to happen in those interviews, while you knew everything when acting. 

As the years passed you became even quieter and couldn't attend almost any interview or premier. You stopped auditioning for movies and shows when you were sixteen, deciding to take a two year break of acting. 

Your parents were enraged by that fact and barely interacted with you, leaving you alone in one small house as they bought another large one for themselves with your money. 

You didn't care, as long as you were alone you were happy.

A few days after your eighteenth birthday you received a call, asking if you were willing to come back to play an old role.

Maxine "Max" Roberts, the younger sister of Jill Roberts. 

In the beginning you were reluctant but after a few days of thinking you accepted the role. 

Without a doubt, that was the best decision of your entire life, career wise aside. 

In the set of Scream Five you reconnected with old friends such as Neve Campbell, Courtney Cox and even David Arquette officially as grown adult and no longer a child.

You also managed to make long life friends such as Mikey Madison, Mason Gooding, Dylan Minnette, Jack Quaid and you even meet your favourite youtuber James A. Janisse who made a small cameo in the movie. 

But the person you met on the Scream Five set that changed your life was the actress who played Tara Carpenter; the first Scream character to survive an opening kill. 

Jenna Ortega. 

You and Jenna instantly connected, a feeling you had never felt in your entire lifetime. Jenna understood you better than your own parents, even treating you better than them. 

Before Scream Five was even wrapped you and Jenna began dating; both of you absolutely head over heels for each other.

Jenna helped you tremendously throughout the process after Scream Five was released, helping you in interviews if you got nervous and felt your throat tightening up. Helping you in any premier by always holding your hand if you wanted to squeeze hers if you got too angsty.

She did so much more than your parents ever did. It wasn't a wonder why you hadn't had a proper conversation with them since you were sixteen. 

You were fine with that fact; you didn't need them anymore. You had Jenna. 

—————

"So, I was thinking of some mac 'n cheese for dinner?" Jenna suggested once the credits of 'The Amazing Spider-Man' began playing throughout yours and Jenna's small living room. 

You grinned happily at her as you tapped your finger along with the music that played with the credits. "Well if you're offering of course."

Jenna scrunched her nose adorably as she smiled at you, leaning closer to give you a quick peck on the forehead as she stood up. "I'm presuming you watch the end credit scene?" She asked you as she leaned against the doorway of the kitchen.

You nodded your head as your eyes remained fixated on the screen. "You presume correctly, my love."

"As always, my life." Jenna replied, finishing off your nickname with a small laugh as she entered the kitchen. 

It was a silly joke that started when Jenna found out your all time favourite band was Abba. She had made it her life goal to memorise each of your favourite songs; one of those songs being 'My love, My life'.

You smiled to yourself as you unconsciously played with the bottom of the graphic Spiderman shirt Jenna gave you for your birthday months ago. The material of the shirt was your favourite and didn't irritate you like many other fabrics did. 

After a few minutes passed the end credit scene began playing as the smell of mac 'n cheese started to infiltrate your nose, your smile softened. 

Mumbling the lines along with the characters you were interrupted when three knocks were at the door.

You ignored the fact it was an awkward number as you headed towards the door, confused as to who it could be. 

Maybe it was one of Jenna's siblings you guessed, but as you unlocked the door your jaw dropped as you saw who was standing behind the door with crooked smiles.

"Mother? Father?" You asked bewildered as you stared at them with wide eyes, you hadn't seen them in years. 

Your mother smiled sweetly, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she took a step closer to you with open arms, to which you took a step back at. 

"Y/n, honey, it's been so long." Your mother cooed as she lowered her arms, a small look of hurt in her eyes at your rejection at touch. 

"Four years. It's been four years." You confirm with a deadpan look as you looked at them, they still looked pretty much the same since you last saw them. "Why're you two here?" You asked them rather bluntly, your eyes narrowing questioningly on your father who didn't have the sweet smile your mother had on her face. 

"Is it so wrong for parents to come visit their only daughter? We've missed you so much after all these years." She said as she wrapped an arm around your fathers bicep, leaning into him. Your fathers jaw clenched momentarily as he nodded his head stiffly. "We've missed you so much, rabbit." Your father mumbled out in a gruff tone of voice.

A smile grazed your lips at the nickname your father used to call you when growing up, there was no backstory to it, it was a simple name he had called you for years.

At the nostalgic name you couldn't help to lower your guard as you gave them a genuine smile, to which your parents actually smiled back at you. 

"Y/n?" Jenna's voice broke you off your trance as you snapped your head to the side, Jenna rounding the corner with her hair now in a messy bun.   

Before you could get a word out you heard your mother gasp as she freed your father from her grip, a look of admiration in her eyes as she looked at your girlfriend.

"And you're our Y/n's girlfriend, we've heard so much about you. It's nice to finally meet you." She interrupted, extending her hand out to shake Jenna's.

Jenna glanced at you with a questioning look, you shrugged your shoulders weakly at her look. She sighed as her movie star smile appeared on her face, turning back to face your mother.

"Likewise." She says as she connects her hand with your mothers.

As your mother chatted Jenna's ears off you turned your attention back to your father who was still standing awkwardly in the doorway. 

Your father must've felt eyes on him as he slowly flickered his eyes away from your mothers figure to your eyes, his eyes still as cold as you remembered.

He coughed dryly as he took a singular step towards you, a tight lipped smile on her face as he looked down at you. 

"It's nice to see you again, peanut." He whispered to you, your heart melted at his words. Has your father actually changed? It sure sounded like it. 

"It's nice to see you too, father." You replied back with a whisper, a small smile toyed on your lips. He grinned as he nodded curtly at you before he focused back on your mother.

"Is it alright if we stayed for dinner? It's just we haven't seen our Y/n in such a long time." You heard your mother plead to Jenna, her voice bordering into desperation. 

Jenna's beautiful brown eyes flickered over to you, silently asking you if you were okay with you, you nodded your head. 

She let out a small breath as she nodded her own head, returning to meet your mothers eyes.

"Of course, I hope you don't mind mac 'n cheese." Jenna joked as she took a few steps back, your mother following hot on her trail.

You and your father follow them as you close the front door. Your father turned to look at you as he walked over to the dining table. "You're still obsessed with that?" He asked with what sounded like curiosity to you, meanwhile Jenna's head had snapped back to where you and your father stood at his tone of words which did not sound like it was full of curiosity.

You nodded your head oblivious as you pulled out a chair for him. "Yes I do, it's been my comfort meal for years. I'm surprised you even remembered that." 

He scoffed as he glanced back at you, sitting down in the seat. "I wish I didn't." He grumbled under his breath, thankfully you didn't hear his words as you headed over to the kitchen where your mother and Jenna were at.

Jenna was slowly stirring the pot full of mac 'n cheese as your mother chatted her ear off, a look of fake interest on Jenna's face.

"Do you need help with anything, Jen?" You asked her, interrupting your mother as you moved to stand next to her. She smiled softly at you as she nodded her head. "Could you get the cutlery and bowls out for me please?" You nodded your head as you immediately went to do what she asked for.

Thankfully, your mother left the kitchen as she went to sit down next to your father, whispering to him as their eyes glanced over the apartment.

You grabbed four bowls off of the top shelf with ease as you heard Jenna's hushed voice. 

"Hey," She began, you turned to look at her as you neatly placed the bowls on the counter. "you sure you're okay with them being here?" She finished off in a whisper as she gazed into your eyes. 

You nodded your head as you glanced back at your parents whispering to each other, smiling before you turned to look back at your girlfriend. 

"I'm okay with them being here, really unexpected which annoys me but I haven't seen them in so long." Your tone became even more hushed as you leaned closer to Jenna. "Dad even remembered my nickname and the food I like, that must mean something, right?" 

Jenna sighed as she nodded her head weakly, smiling as weakly as she placed a comforting hand on top of yours. "Okay, if you want them here then they can stay. But the moment you feel like you don't want them here just tell me okay?" 

You nod your head understanding. "Okay, I will, thank you." Jenna gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before she turned back to her pot of mac 'n cheese. 

After a few minutes passed you, Jenna and your parents were seated at your dining table as you all ate your food.

You were sitting in your favourite seat as Jenna sat next to you, your father across from you as your mother sat across from Jenna.

You were eagerly eating your food with a smile on your face, a sense of warmth and comfort hitting you as you ate your food.

"This is really good, Jen, thank you." Jenna's smile managed to make you feel even more at peace. 

"So, Y/n, you got any new movies or shows coming up?" Your mother asked you with intrigue as she slowly ate her food. 

You shook your head as you took another spoonful. "No but I was in the latest Spider-Man movie. It was so cool! I thought I would never be given a chance to be in a Spider-Man movie but I was offered a small role. I even got to design my own Spider-Man character and how she was and -oh my god I even-"

"Lower your voice, Y/n." Your father snapped as he played with his food. "We're not in another room, we're right next to you."

You frowned as you stopped talking immediately, looking down at your half empty bowl embarrassed. "Sorry, father." You said in a voice that you made sure it was quieter than before. 

"And what, baby?" Jenna asked with an encouraging smile on her face, her eyes focused on you and only you. 

You picked up your head as you smiled sheepishly at her. "And I got to meet Daniel Kaluuya who's one of my favourite actors." 

Your father sighed dramatically as he shook his head as he pushed his food around the bowl, he hadn't taken a singular bite of the food.

"How much longer do we have to stay here?" He whispered to your mother in a tone what he thought was low enough, but you and Jenna heard him clearly.

Your eyebrows furrowed together as you loosened your grip on your spoon. "Oh, do you have somewhere else to be?" You asked him sincerely.

He scoffed as he shook his head in disbelief. "Your attitude is still as horrible as I see." 

What? 

"I don't understand. I was asking you a question. How was that giving you attitude?" You asked him again, straightening your posture as you desperately searched for Jenna's hand from under the table.

She quickly interlocked your fingers together, her thumb expertly rubbing softly at your skin in an attempt to soothe you.

Your father dismissed you as he turned to look at his wife, a look of annoyance clear on his face. "Ask her. I'm not staying here much longer with that here." He demanded in a hushed whisper.

A deep frown slowly appeared on your face as you stared between your parents, an uneasy feeling started to grow in your stomach.

"What's he talking about, mother?" She sighed at your words, dropping her spoon into the bowl as she leaned against her hands.

"We need to ask a favour from you, honey." Your throat felt tighter as you swallowed dryly, your grip on Jenna's hand tightened.

"What favour?" You asked her, your eyes flickered back to your father who wasn't even looking at you. Your heart clenched uncomfortably in your chest at the sight.

"Well your father and I have been going through some things lately, and it hasn't been fun. It's been especially hard on your dad." The older woman sighed as she closed her eyes momentarily before she reopened them, her eyes teary as she looked into your eyes. "As your parents, we only ask you one favour, Y/n. We raised you and no parent wants to come grovelling to their own flesh and blood for help."

You stayed silent as you listened to her words, your anxiety was starting to increase at a speed that you hadn't felt in years.

"We need to borrow some money." She finally confessed with a pleading gleam in her eyes. "It's the only thing we've ever asked of you, my sweet child. Please, for your mom and dad." 

You should've known they hadn't changed, you should've known. 

As you stared into your parents eyes you swallowed dryly as you slowly opened your mouth.

"No." You whispered out.

"No?" He repeated in a mocking tone. "No? Are you serious? After all we've done for you?"

Your frown deepened as you averted his piercing gaze, looking down in your lap as you unconsciously started to rub your feet against each other.

"We could've given your spastic ass up for adoption but we didn't. And this is how you repay us? What a wonderful fucking daughter we have." 

You shook your head weakly as your movement with your feet started to become more erratic. 

"Get out of our house, right now." Jenna said coldly, trying to keep her temper under control as she didn't want to yell like your father was doing.

A sniffle was heard from your mother as she wiped the tears from her eyes with a tissue. "My own daughter is betraying her only parents." She mumbled to herself.

It was if your heart was in your throat, the feeling as if it was tightening making you shake your head more violently.

"You see what you're doing, you freak, making your own mother cry." Your father pushed as he stood up, banging his fist against the table loudly. 

You flinched at the noise as you shut your eyes tightly, letting go of Jenna's hand as you wrapped your arms around yourself.  

Jenna stood up as you let go of her hand, glaring heavily at your father. "I'm going to ask you again, leave our home and never return or I'll call the cops." She spat out slowly, her voice full of venom. 

"You know what, Miss America, we'll do exactly that. Who would even want that as a child?" He laughed as if it was a joke as he held his wife's sobbing hand. "You're not my child, Y/n. Nobody would even want a reta-"

"Don't you fucking dare finish that sentence." Jenna interrupted the man's words, fury in her eyes as she rounded the table. "You should be ashamed of yourselves, you two are a joke. Get out of our house right now." 

Your father scoffed as he helped pull up his wife from her chair, tightening his hand in hers. 

You weren't looking at them as you kept shaking your head, your eyes shut tightly as you mumbled incoherent words to yourself. The tightening in your throat becoming unbearable.

You heard your father and Jenna argue lowly but you couldn't hear anything they said as your fathers previous words plagued your thoughts loudly.

A wave of unshed tears were piling up behind your shut eyes as you slid off the wooden chair to sit down against the wall, shaking uncontrollably as you shook your head violently. 

Maybe he was right, maybe you were just an unloveable creature.

Behind closed eyes you could notice the room darken, with a shaky gasp you opened your eyes, a flood of tears escaping immediately.

Through the thick tears you could see Jenna crouched down a few feet in front of you, the room itself was darkened as the main light was switched off. The only light remaining in the room was the corner lamp.

"Y/n, can I hold you?" Jenna's disoriented voice asked you, you opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out.

Your fathers cruel words voiced themselves in your mind at your body's rejection of speaking. A sob racked through your body as you desperately nodded your head. Instantaneously the moment you nodded your head Jenna moved to wrap her arms around you, allowing you to lean all your weight into her.

Silent sobs erupted from your body as you clung to Jenna for dear life, hiding your face in the crook of her neck as your arms were wrapped around her tightly. 

"It's okay, it's just you and me, nobody else." She cooed into your ear as she gently rocked you back and forth. You could feel one of her hands rubbing affectionately against your back as she shushed you.

You don't know how long you stayed like that for; In Jenna's protective hold as she rocked you back and forth as you sobbed. 

Eventually as your breathing calmed down and your sobs dying down, Jenna slowed down her rocking but she kept rubbing at your back with her soft palm. 

"You feel a bit better?" She whispered into the dark room, not wanting to startle you with a loud voice. 

You nodded your head mutely as you sniffled, your face still hidden in the crook of her neck.

"You know what they said wasn't true, right?" Jenna softly asked as her hand soothed you. You didn't move as you struggled to swallow, knowing if you nodded your head you would be lying. 

Weakly, you shrugged your shoulders at her words, your fathers words still plagued your mind.

"What they said was absolute nonsense, Y/n, you're none of the things they called you." She reassured you, her voice so soft that if someone was in the kitchen they wouldn't have heard her. "I promise you I'll never let anyone say anything like that to you again, because what they said was lies."

You nodded your head as Jenna rocked you carefully, your breathing calming down. 

"I love you, Y/n, never forget that. I love everything about you, everything." Jenna whispered again as she pressed a feather light kiss to the top of your head. "I wouldn't want you any other way, you're perfect just the way you are, and I love you so much." 

Once again you attempted to speak but nothing except a strangled gasp of air came out, you shut your eyes back immediately as embarrassment coursed through your veins.

"Hey, hey, take your time, you don't have to force yourself to talk, okay? Going non-verbal is perfectly okay." Jenna cooed instantly as she rubbed at your back with a stronger force, you relished in the feeling as you nodded your head.

"Do you want me to reheat your dinner so we can watch the second Amazing Spider-Man movie while we eat it?" Jenna offered you in a gentle voice, she had slowed down on the rocking as you calmed down. 

Mutely, you nodded your head with more eagerness than before. Jenna smiled in relief as she nodded her own head. 

"Okay, I'll go reheat it and you can put the movie on for us. How does that sound?" She said, you pulled away from her as you smiled weakly, nodding your head. Jenna's own smile grew as she nodded her head along with you.

You were still weren’t sure whether your fathers words were true or not, but one thing you were positive of was that Jenna was the best girlfriend.

Jenna will always be your rock as she will always be the love of your life.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x austisc!reader #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x reader #vada cavell x reader #fluff #angst #my writing #my fan fic

[cacophony-eg]

Chimera Christmas

Red Son had the perfect plan, to get Mei and MK the perfect gift.

So on a day they were all free he took the duo to local shopping centre and gave the two heroes stick-on gift ribbons, a green one for Mei and a yellow one for MK.

The dragon horse girl and the monkey king successor look at the ribbons in confusion, not able the phantom what their fiery friend had planned. Both having assume today was just going to be a regular hang out day.

“Ummm Red Son…” MK began glancing at his best friend hoping she knew what this was about.

Mei replied with a shrug as she glanced at the ribbon then up to the bull prince “What are these Ribbons for?”

Red had anticipated their question as he was aware his method was… untraditional. “Since I am new at celebrating this holiday, I have concluded the best and simplest way to find the perfect gifts. Is for you two to choose your gifts,” The redhead explained. “So place the ribbons on anything you desire and I will acquire it for you,” The scientist figure this way if they desired something that could not be bought by normal means he could create it for them… or steal it.

MK softly smiled “Red you don’t need to-“ Mei slapped her hand over her best friends mouth, muting him for the moment.

“So we can choose ANYTHING we want?” The dragon girl clarified.

Red Son sighed sensing Mei was up to something, but he would not go back on his word. “Yes, choose anything your hearts desire.”

Mei gave MK a look that Red Son could not read but apparently the Monkie Kid could, as recognition flashed in his eyes. The two friends nodded at each other and Red Son prepped himself for the mad dash the duo were about to go into and the chaos that would issue.

But no, they did not dash away instead they dashed towards him, placing the ribbons upon his head.

The Bull Prince let out a sigh assuming that they were fooling around, “I am being serious,”

“We ARE being serious,” Mei replied with a grin.

“All we want for Christmas,” MK began sharing a look with his best friend.

“IS YOU!” They both declared, sandwiching Red Son between them as they kissed his cheeks.

Red Son stood frozen between them, face growing redder till his hair became a bright blaze that had several other shoppers quickly retreating in fear and burning away the ribbons on his head.

“Uh oh the ribbons are gone,” MK said with giggle and a dramatic tone.

“Now, you have to let us keep you,” Mei added with a playful wink.

For a long moment Red Son was simply silent, stunned by their decoration, but a part of him couldn’t help but still doubt that their true desire was him. “How long do you two plan on keeping me?” The prince questioned.

Red Son had concluded quite sometime ago that his perfect gift was getting to spend time with MK and Mei, he just had never anticipated that their perfect was to spend time with him.

“For as long as you’ll let us keep you” MK replied with a soft sweet smile that melted the fire user to his core.

“And probably keep you even longer than that,” Mei added with a cheeky grin, that sent a spark through the prince’s veins.

“That is… acceptable” Red Son replied, gaining more kisses upon his cheek from them, before the two of them began to drag him around the market to try all the seasonal treats they could find.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52529863

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1408334150-chimera-chaos-perfect-gift

#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk chimera #chimera shipping #lmk traffic light trio #traffic light trio #lmk qi xiaotian #lmk mk #lmk red son #lmk mei #lmk long xiaojiao #lmk Christmas #christmas theme #lmk fanfiction #fanfic #my fan fic

[ourdramaqueen]

Last Sentence Tag War

OK, doing this for once. I have most recently been tagged by @wincestation, @insomniac1994, and @chinita-inzunza, and quite a few others previously. I'm not tagging anyone else, join in if you'd like.

Private Tutor snippet from quite a few chapters ahead - subject to change: Even though she cannot see or hear him, unable to turn her head, Wednesday can feel Tyler’s presence at her shoulder, familiar in its warm steadiness and yet somehow more powerful than before, the hint of darkness that intrigues her so more prominent than ever.

#private tutor #fan fic #my fan fic #my writing #current wip #fic wip

[tl-trashtalk]

let me love you while the moon is still out

Relationship: Conor Bradley/Bobby Clark

Additional Tags: First Kiss, Hotel Sex, Shower Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Neck Kissing, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Smut, Body Worship, Liverpool F.C., Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Summary:

“We won,” Bobby whispers, his blue eyes piercing. Conor has to look away. He turns his face back to the mattress, letting out a whooping sound, “We won!” Conor mimics. or the one after the win at Wembley.

#my writing #my fan fic #my fanfic #mens football rpf #conor x bobby #bobby clark #conor bradley #liverpool fc #loverpool

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 23)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 12,675

Summary: It’s been more than a year since Madrid and even longer since the chaos of Colombia. As they settle into a new life in Laredo, their past no longer holding them back, Javier’s career change helps him reconnect with his roots whilst Horacio’s plans for the future of the farm and ranch start to take shape.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Smut (including leather/cowboy kink and power dynamics), grief, parental loss, religious themes and symbolism, discussions of period-typical prejudices/violence/politics/legislation, smoking, drinking, swearing.

Notes: Well, here we are at the final full chapter 👀 No one is more shocked than me that I've made it here tbh 😂 For so long, it felt like finishing this fic was an abstract concept, but somehow, I persevered!

I don't really know what else to say right now, other than, an epilogue will (all being well) be posted on Friday 1st March...exactly 3 years after I posted chapter 1. Don't ask me how 3 years have passed, because my brain cannot compute lol.

The epilogue will be much, much shorter than this chapter, but I think it rounds their story off nicely and I can't wait to share ❤️

Thank you once again to anyone still reading, or anyone who may read this at some point in the future. As always, comments/flailings/key smashes etc. are greatly appreciated 😊

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested (and there's plenty to choose from for this one…in fact, I had to split my trivia post into two as I ran out of space, oops lol).

Chapter 23: Desde La Frontera

As the faded blue truck pulled up in the front yard, the moon sat full and high, casting a pale glow over everything beneath it. A key turned in the lock of the sleeping cottage, the silver hue from above illuminating a convenient pathway, negating the need to switch on a light.

Javier shrugged off his boots and jacket in the kitchen with a weary sigh and deposited his keys in a dish on the table. The hand-painted ceramic bowl had been sent with love from Madrid as a housewarming gift, along with framed artwork of the city they left behind that hung above their bed, a bottle of olive oil, a small jar of saffron, and some homemade turrón.

It wasn’t easy saying goodbye to Señora Romero, the café or their apartment. For all of the unanswered questions they arrived in Spain with, it became their safe haven. Although they were under strict instructions not to leave it too long before visiting again, and who were they to turn down good company and an endless supply of hot, fresh churros?

The rustic limestone cottage had less square footage than the farmhouse next door but was over two stories rather than one. A decked porch ran along the perimeter with wooden chairs and plants at the front, facing a complex of outbuildings and stables. A swing seat big enough for two resided at the back, looking out onto a medium-sized garden with a chicken coop and the rolling farm fields and river bank lying beyond.

The front door opened into a hallway where boots, coats and hats were tidily stored – at Horacio’s insistence – which led to a spacious kitchen/dining area and an adjoining utility room with a door to the garden on the other side. A second hallway branched off the kitchen towards a lounge with a centrepiece stone fireplace and a staircase up to two bedrooms – a master and a smaller spare – and a bathroom.

Whilst the interior still needed some work, fresh coats of paint – off-white for most of the rooms with splashes of eggshell green in the kitchen – and the exposed ceiling beams restored with an oak oil stain gave the place a new lease of life.

The wall clock opposite the kitchen window ticked past 3:00am. Fuck, no wonder Javier felt so beat. He manoeuvred his way upstairs, slow and careful, to avoid the creakiest boards. They may have stripped and waxed the floors, but that apparently didn’t cure the squeaking of the well-worn wood underfoot.

He must have succeeded on this occasion, as it wasn’t until he got to the top that he was met with Luna’s wagging tail. He whispered a greeting to her and rubbed behind her ears until she returned to her sleeping spot beside Sol and Leo, who hadn’t even stirred. Sometimes, the trio would bed down for the night here. Other times, it was just Luna. Rarely, it was none of them now that they had two new rivals for Chucho’s affections next door.

Kira was a six-month-old Great Pyrenees, her thick coat a solid white with pale tan patches. Fuego, a male copper red and white Border Collie, was a couple of months older and already chomping at the bit to get amongst the cattle. Although they both still had to undergo a lot of training before they would be put to use on the ranch, Javier and Horacio got the distinct impression Chucho enjoyed being kept on his toes again.

Javier finally reached his destination but gave himself an extra few seconds to take in the view.

Horacio was nestled beneath their sheets on his stomach, his torso rising and falling in a calming rhythm that Javier was convinced could have lulled him to sleep if he wasn’t standing up.

He undressed, throwing every item of clothing straight into a rattan hamper in the corner of the room, keenly aware he needed to shower but too tired to do anything about it now.

Instead, he perched on the edge of the bed, basking in Horacio’s long eyelashes, rough stubble and unrulier-than-usual hair that was tantalisingly close to becoming a head of curls if he didn’t get it cut soon. Not that Javier was complaining.

He tried to be restrained and let Horacio sleep, but he was only human.

A faint groggy sound came from Horacio’s throat as delicate lips met his forehead, his lashes flickering until they couldn’t resist any longer.

Javier hushed as he gently crawled on the bed, draping himself over Horacio and kissing the nape of his neck. “Sorry it’s so fucking late. Just go back to sleep.”

“You’re making that difficult right now.” Horacio arched his back in response to the warm breath tickling his bare skin as Javier’s mouth worked between muscular shoulder blades.

“Shouldn’t be so irresistible.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No. I’m not.” Horacio twisted around far enough for Javier to slide off his back and onto the mattress, allowing them to properly embrace. And so Horacio could put his own mouth to use.

That was as far as it was going for the night, though. Horacio had an early start in the morning, and Javier didn’t want to fall asleep before they could finish.

“Did it all go okay?” Horacio asked once they had got comfortable.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, there was a delay with the paperwork, as usual. But once we were on the road, it was fine. Heavy traffic around San Antonio, but I almost had the I-35 to myself on the way home.”

“And the family?”

“Exhausted and drained, obviously. Fuck knows when their hearing will be. But at least they’re together again and safe for now.”

Javier wasn't only clueless about the date of the hearing, he couldn’t predict the outcome of it either. That wasn’t his remit. By the time the Torres Fuentes family were in front of an immigration judge, he would have helped countless more families and individuals like them. Their circumstances weren’t always the same, but their options were just as limited.

Not all days – or nights – were like this one. Sometimes, Javier would be on translation duties on the frontline of the border, triaging and directing people towards help, whether it be medical attention, food, water, toiletries, a change of clothes, a shower, or a bed for the night. Or, more than likely, access to a lawyer. His and the fleet of other aid workers for charities, not-for-profits and NGOs would be some of the first non-threatening faces new arrivals would see once the INS was finished with them, and that wasn’t a responsibility he took lightly.

Other times, he would deliver bond money to detention centres in exchange for someone's freedom, help people fill in forms and paperwork, or run community outreach sessions, reminding people of their rights. He had even hosted several families at the guesthouses for a night or two until safe transportation could be arranged for travel onward to relatives or sponsors elsewhere in the States. Flights were usually not an option for most due to a lack of papers, so the preferred method was long car journeys split between drivers like Javier. No two days were ever quite the same because no two stories were ever the same. There were commonalities, but subtle nuances and complications came with the territory of human lives.

“You did everything you could to help them.”

“I know. Just makes you realise how fucking…fragile it all is. And how fucking lucky we are.”

There was no denying luck – and money, of course – played a role in Horacio securing a visa and the Holy Grail of a green card for being an investor in the States. But Javier had also utilised an old contact at the US Embassy in Bogotá to expedite Horacio’s application. Her name was Colleen, and she had, with great reluctance, helped him secure visas for several informants in the past.

The silence over the line when Javier had uttered Horacio’s name was long, loud and awkward. But just like with his informants, she didn’t ask any questions and did him one last favour on the proviso she never heard from him again.

“We are. And I’ll never forget that.” Horacio’s palm connected with Javier’s cheek, flecks of moonlight highlighting the dark circles under his eyes. “You look exhausted, too.”

A soft chuckle filtered through the shadows. “Thanks. Sorry for waking you, though. I know you’ve gotta be up early.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m glad you did wake me. Once I’ve done the usual rounds, I’ll probably be in meetings most of the day. So, I won’t see you until late.”

“Better make the most of you now, then.”

Lingering kisses followed, but they knew it was fruitless to fight the fatigue.

“How’s everything going with the business plan?” Javier asked once he had accepted defeat.

“So far, so good. I want to go through everything with your father again before everyone arrives. Just to make sure he’s happy with it all.”

“I’ve, er, got it on pretty good authority he is.”

Horacio rolled his eyes. “I know. But it’s his money invested in this place as much as ours. And it’s not like I’m the expert.”

“Not yet. And he trusts you. They all do. You’re no longer a new face around here, remember.”

“I know. But I’m still learning the ropes, and I’m not the one in charge anymore.”

“You sure about that?”

There was a suggestive edge beneath the drowsiness in Javier’s voice. If Horacio looked hard enough through the darkness, he would have seen a quirked brow thrown his way.

“Well, I still have my moments.”

Javier mumbled a lazy hum of agreement. “I’ll say. But don’t worry about tomorrow, okay? You’ll be fine. Trust me.” He managed one last kiss for good measure, even though his eyelids were getting heavier by the second.

A muffled “I do” was pressed into the shell of Javier’s ear as he flipped his body around, his back cushioned against Horacio’s chest. Calloused fingertips weathered by hard labour nowadays rather than a trigger found their home resting on the curve of Javier’s stomach, eliciting a meditative sigh from both as they huddled down.

It didn’t matter that one of them would be up soon with the dawn chorus while the other might be called away past the midnight hour. Because they knew how lucky they were, not only after all they had been through but compared to so many who crossed the border to start a new life. And it was impossible to take that for granted.

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For all that had changed, wall-to-wall meetings and stacks of paperwork were two guaranteed constants to remain. No matter the career path Horacio chose, he was apparently destined never to escape their clutches.

The morning and most of the afternoon – with a short break for lunch – had been spent poring over business plans, maps and spreadsheets with Chucho, his accountant, Miguel, and the ranch and farm managers, Marco and Félix.

Horacio was still adjusting to being the least qualified person in the room again. But the fact that he was even privy to such meetings in the first place was a privilege not customarily afforded to ranch hands without much experience under their belts. It was hard to gauge what others thought about his…unique position here. But he was also an investor whose name, along with Javier’s, was on the title deeds of the farm. Even if people didn’t know about them, it stood to reason that he would be consulted about any development proposals.

Between his money and the safety net of his connections – whatever some may have speculated the precise nature of those were – to a well-respected ranching family, Horacio, so far, hadn’t had too many problems. Not even when shadowing or attending training courses off-site, and he was surrounded by heavy Texan drawls and the type of man who had the propensity to make his feelings clear with his fists – or a gun – if he found out a fellow rancher shared a house and bed with another man.

But the odd off-hand comment had made Horacio wonder if they knew more about his past employment than he realised. In which case, perhaps in their eyes, getting on the wrong side of the former head of Search Bloc wasn’t a wise move.

Regardless, this was what he had signed up for. And for all his investments and networking, there were no cutting corners in ranch and business management, beef production, animal science and equine studies. The Peñas were far from the only family business in the industry, and most had grown up a lot more hands-on than Javier. Horacio could never have leapfrogged over them even if he had wanted to.

By late afternoon, the meetings were done for the day – although there would be plenty more to come – leaving Horacio and Chucho to check on the pregnant heifers. The calves weren’t due until early April, another month away and just in time for Horacio’s birthday. But it was all hands on deck between now and then to ensure it went as smoothly as possible. Their main job today had been to weigh the expectant mothers, who, thankfully, all turned out to be healthy and on the right track.

Broken shards of light bounced off the ranch’s steel fences and gates as Horacio and Chucho sat on the farmhouse porch enjoying a well-earned break, the sun’s heat beginning to show glimpses of what it was capable of during the summer months. Bluebonnets blanketed the fallow fields, and the saccharine scent of yucca blossom travelled on the early spring breeze.

Chucho stirred a freshly made pot of tea and filled two cups to the brim, sliding one across a wooden table towards Horacio, who accepted with a nod of thanks.

“So, do you think it went okay today?” Horacio asked after a quenching sip of tea.

“Better than I expected, to be honest. Félix worked for Ciro and Malena for many years. I wasn’t sure he’d take to new ownership. Or if he’d even want to stay. But he seems to be on board with the idea of expansion.”

“What about the rest of the workers Ciro and Malena employed?”

“A few moved on or retired. But most don’t care who’s in charge as long as they're getting paid.”

“And what about here? Have many left or cut ties since…” Horacio trailed off, hoping he had done enough for Chucho to follow his train of thought without saying it out loud.

“Not many, no, Mijo. And only the ones I’m glad to see the back of.”

“Not many?” Horacio scoffed into his cup, sending ripples across the surface of his drink. “So, still some, then.”

“As I said…only those I don’t want the ranch to be associated with anyway. It's no loss if they can’t keep their noses out of my family’s business.”

The thing was, Horacio and Javier had everything to lose if the wrong person found out. One phone call was all it would take for the police to be banging down their cottage door. After all, that had happened to plenty of others like them in Texas. It had happened to plenty of bars and restaurants that ended up either raided or burned to the ground, the owners and patrons harassed, arrested, beaten to a bloody pulp, or worse. But Horacio couldn’t bring himself to say any of this to Chucho, so he took extra time swallowing his tea instead.

“From what I’ve heard, the majority see you’re a hard worker. You’re willing to learn the ropes. But you’re not afraid to get stuck in or take the lead if needed. You’re professional with the contractors. And you’re trusted to do a good job. That’s worth a lot around here – a lot more than gossipers. I may not know what it’s like for you both...but I do know not everyone’s like them.”

A smile reflexively spread across Horacio’s lips. “My Mamá said similar back in Manizales.”

Chucho mirrored Horacio’s expression. “She sounds like a wise woman.”

“She is.”

“And proud of you. As I’m sure your father would be. Starting over again is never easy, but what you and Javi have done here…I'm proud, too.”

“Thank you. Me too, to be honest.” Horacio let out a brief huff. “When Javier told me what he wanted to do, it was like the final piece slotted in place. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.” He shook his head this time at how blindingly obvious it was once Javier said it out loud. “But I think he needed to leave to be able to come back again.”

Chucho hummed into his tea. “That’s the thing about the past: you can’t outrun it. And once you let it walk alongside you, I think your path becomes clearer.”

For the second time that afternoon, Horacio could scarcely believe his Mamá and Chucho hadn’t met yet. But he was looking forward to the day that would change.

“A few years ago, I never thought this could be my life. Or that I wanted it to be. But now, even though it’s not easy work, and the hours are long, and I’m starting from the bottom of the ladder again, everything just feels…” He broke off, searching for the right word.

“Simple?” Chucho supplied.

“Yes. Simple.”

After Horacio finished his tea and saddled up Coco ready to help move the herds into the barns before nightfall, he didn’t mind that his legs were stiff from all the sitting in chairs he had done today. Or that the last thing he felt like doing was wrangling contrary cattle.

He didn’t mind that it would be more of the same at the break of dawn tomorrow and a long road ahead of grafting and proving himself. He didn’t mind that he wouldn’t catch up with Javier until they shared a late dinner once Javier had driven back from Austin. He didn’t mind if complete strangers couldn’t stomach what they got up to behind closed doors as long as they were left alone to live in peace.

He didn’t mind any of it because they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

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No matter what profession he worked in, it was rare for Javier to take a weekend off. He’d accepted a long time ago he wasn’t the 9-5 type, and leaving it all at the door once he clocked off had never been an option. But a new batch of aid workers and volunteers had arrived in the last few weeks. And once Luz, his boss, got wind of an upcoming birthday in the team, she insisted Javier finally use up some vacation time.

Luz Díaz was someone Javier could call a friend as well as his boss these days, especially in light of their parallel circumstances. While Luz was an aid worker on the border, she lived with Carla Moreno, the daughter of a dairy farmer several miles to the south. However, unlike Chucho and Elena, their parents, whilst not hostile, preferred to brush their daughters' relationship under the carpet wherever possible.

When Luz accompanied Javier to the guesthouses with a new family one afternoon, she had first crossed paths with Horacio. Until then, Javier had played his cards close to his chest, never knowing whether it was safe to trust anyone. But it hadn’t taken Luz long to put two and two together – or for her to realise she could share her secret in return.

Birthdays had held no real significance for Javier since childhood. But his Pops was determined to invite him and Horacio to the farmhouse for dinner that evening. In the meantime, once Javier had escaped work by mid-afternoon, he headed home to freshen up and grab a drink. It may have been late October, but the Texan heat was a stubborn son of a bitch, and was still hitting the mid-90s several times a week.

A neatly written note was pinned to the fridge that read In corn barn, so Javier took a UTV and headed across the farm. It was quieter now the harvest was over, and the cattle from the ranch had grazed on any leftovers. The herds were back next door, allowing bales of corn stalks to be gathered up and stored ready for use as bedding for the livestock on chillier winter nights.

The latest calves had thrived since April and only had two months left before they would be weaned off their mothers. Usually, several were sold at auction, but they had kept hold of them this time due to the extra space. Now the harvest was out of the way, the next step was to clear the lower fields and build a new gate linking the ranch with the farm.

When Javier arrived at the barn, Horacio was unloading the last batch of bales off the trailer.

Horacio paused for a second when Javier came into view, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Where did you get that?”

“It was on the passenger seat.” Javier gestured to the parked UTV. “Does it suit me?” He tipped the brim of a Stetson to match the one Horacio was already wearing.

Given the similarities between their outfits, anyone would have been forgiven for thinking Javier was an employee. They both wore belted dark blue jeans – Horacio’s more mud-splattered – brown boots and plaid shirts with rolled-up sleeves – Horacio’s brown and white and Javier’s green and red. The most noticeable difference was Horacio wore a white bandana around his neck whilst Javier’s shirt collar was wide open, his neck on full display.

Horacio silently lifted the side of the trailer back up and locked it now that it was empty. He shrugged the protective gloves off his hands one by one and flung them into the cab of his truck.

He followed Javier into the barn and closed the door, but his attention was on the wall opposite. A long row of hooks was hung across it, where various pieces of equipment were kept, including overalls, brushes, and a wide range of horse tack.

On the last hook was a coiled lariat, which Horacio picked up and stood facing Javier several feet away. He threaded the rope through the Honda knot until he held a loose loop in his right hand, his hungry gaze fixed on Javier as his wrist built momentum over his head in measured circles.

Before Javier could react, the tip of the rope found its target, tightening around his waist, his feet involuntarily taking him forward as Horacio reeled him in. Even when they were chest to chest and breathing hard, Horacio didn’t let up his grip on the rope.

“You know it does,” Horacio eventually rasped at the shell of Javier's ear.

Javier shivered at the timbre of Horacio’s voice, the earthy scent of the land combining with the heady musk of sweat, remnants of mud and dust still visible on his face and arms. “Someone’s been practising.”

“Well, it is a special occasion.” Horacio tugged on the rope, pressing their bodies together until his lips found Javier’s neck, stubble scratching along his jawline, finally brushing over his mouth.

Javier took the bait, responding with a full kiss, distracting Horacio enough to drop the rope. Then it was all bets off as his hands journeyed over Horacio’s back, first dipping southwards, palming his ass through his back pockets, then northwards to remove the bandana and roam under his shirt. But something made Javier pause mid-way.

He looked at Horacio for an explanation but was met only with a coy smile.

“Happy Birthday.”

Javier’s brow quirked suggestively of its own accord. “I thought we weren’t doing presents.”

“I can take it back if you’d prefer.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. Now, shut up and drive us home.”

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No sooner were they back at their cottage than Horacio straddled Javier’s lap on the couch, teeth nipping as they grabbed handfuls of fabric or skin.

When Javier made to unbutton Horacio’s shirt, Horacio stilled his attempts. “Not yet.”

Instead, his mouth ghosted over Javier’s as his fingers slid down to his belt, unbuckling it unhurriedly and deliberately.

Their laboured breaths filled the silence, the rich scent of earth and woodsmoke heavy on their senses.

“Touch yourself,” Horacio finally said, his order clear, voice steady.

It was all Javier could do not to come on the spot. But he managed to exhale through his nose, his lips pursed as he wrestled back a semblance of control.

He let his right hand slide down to his zipper, which he knew Horacio had left closed on purpose. He gradually unfastened it, his palm disappearing out of sight.

A hitched breath and tensed thighs let Horacio know Javier had made contact even before Javier’s wrist began to twitch.

For several strokes, Horacio merely observed, drinking in every detail of Javier’s face, each jaw movement and shuddered breath, their eyes locked together as Javier took himself in hand.

Horacio couldn't hide that he was more than a little affected by the show beneath him, so he upped the ante, his fingers seeking out the buttons of his shirt, popping the top one first, then the second, third and fourth.

He stopped there, giving Javier another sneak peek of the surprise he had planned for more months than he cared to admit. He could see Javier had noticed the tantalising glimpses of brown leather drawn tightly against bare skin and could feel Javier’s motions speed up.

The remaining buttons followed, allowing the shirt to fall over the broad expanse of Horacio’s shoulders until it hit the floor.

“Fuck.” Javier’s hips spasmed, slamming against Horacio’s crotch in the process and triggering a chain reaction of panting. “Shit, Horacio. Where did you – how –”

Javier was cut off by a finger at his mouth and a soft hushing sound.

Horacio pressed a digit to Javier’s lips until it was engulfed by wet warmth. “Keep going.”

As Javier’s tongue swirled and his cheeks hollowed, he set back to work, building up friction along the shaft and over the head. It was like a switch flicked in Horacio during moments like this when he was all smoky rasps and concise commands. It was the closest Javier had ever got to experiencing Colonel Carrillo first-hand, and nothing was as intoxicating.

When Javier was being regarded and instructed so intensely, he had no choice but to submit. Anything to please the force of nature who made him come harder than he ever had done in his life. And so, he kept going, fist clenched around his cock, edging himself with each edict echoing in his ears.

Running across Horacio’s chest below his pectoral muscles was a leather strap linked to another one on either shoulder that crisscrossed over his back, his biceps restrained by matching cuffs. The leather was a worn cognac brown with intricate stitching, decorative studs and buckles like the vintage cowboy belts the harness appeared to be made from.

“You like it?”

Javier’s free hand hypnotically reached up to Horacio’s torso, fingers tracing each detail of the leather in between cupping Horacio’s pecs and tweaking his nipples.

“Beautiful,” was the only word he could muster. It was by far the best birthday present Javier had ever had. Although, if he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed Horacio was trying to make this his last one.

Horacio was conflicted between watching and needing more, so he compromised by subtly rocking against Javier’s inner thigh whilst continuing his role as a voyeur. Knowing his voice alone could get Javier off was a power trip Horacio never grew tired of, even after all these years. In fact, since his career change, it had become more arousing because being in charge was a novelty now.

He brought two fingers to Javier’s lips again, which were taken greedily without the need to be told.

“Good, that’s it, and another.”

All three digits rested on Javier’s tongue as Horacio probed back and forth with increasing vigour, leaving no doubt what he had in mind as a string of saliva connected from mouth to fingers when he finally withdrew.

Horacio transferred his glossy hand straight to his chest and across his nipples, flicking the pad of his thumb over each bud just the way Javier liked to lick them.

When Horacio looked back up, Javier was tugging in a frenzy, his breathing ragged and fraying at the seams, dangerously close to it all being over.

Horacio reached out to stop Javier’s wrist, leaning closer until his lips brushed against his ear. “Not before I’ve ridden you.”

Javier immediately extracted his hand from his jeans with a huff of frustration, resenting Horacio almost as much as wanting to be fucked. Every man had his limits, and his were rapidly being reached.

With both hands free, he alternated between hot, smooth skin, the textured leather and cool metal. He slid his fingers beneath the harness, imagining all the positions he could manoeuvre Horacio around.

His hands travelled down to Horacio’s ass, pulling him further into his lap as their mouths crashed together at long last. From glutes to thighs, Javier embraced each one until he met resistance under the denim of Horacio’s jeans.

Javier ran his fingers over it a few times. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Javier growled as he lunged for Horacio’s belt and zipper, both men making light work of removing his jeans.

Whilst Horacio stood up, he took the opportunity to undress Javier and reach over to the drawer beneath the nearby coffee table. He rummaged around until he retrieved what he was looking for and stashed it on the sofa.

There was no holding back now as nails raked over hot skin and tongues connected, rough and harsh, their cocks jutting between their stomachs. Javier’s hands glided over and under the leather straps, descending beyond until his palms massaged Horacio’s cheeks apart, wider with each circular motion, his knuckles teasing up and down the cleft.

The tremor that ran through Horacio was enough to cause Javier’s arm to stretch across the sofa until he located the bottle of lube, expertly flipping the cap open and pouring liberally.

He alternated between his middle finger and thumb in a corkscrew motion, letting Horacio stretch around him, Horacio’s forehead dropping to Javier’s shoulder, teeth grazing flesh as he held their cocks in his fist.

It wasn’t long before Horacio lowered himself, steadily taking inch by inch. He initially held still, experimenting with nudges up and down as he braced his arms on the back of the couch.

A winded noise escaped Javier’s throat as Horacio sunk deeper with more force this time, gyrating his hips until he found a rhythm.

Javier was torn between the mass of muscle and leather at his fingertips but settled for clinging to the front of the harness, pulling Horacio further onto his cock.

A strained grunt left Horacio’s throat, prompting him to re-adjust so his feet were planted flat on the sofa cushions, the change in angle plunging him to new depths. He paused, giving them a chance to catch their breaths. And then, without further warning, Horacio squatted down.

The echo of his ass hitting Javier’s thighs was enough to make Horacio do it again. And again, over and over, the slap of skin on skin louder each time.

One of Javier’s hands scrambled aimlessly around for an anchor, eventually finding the couch’s arm where Horacio’s Stetson had landed earlier in the proceedings.

Javier snatched hold of the brim and brought it towards them, depositing it on Horacio’s head. “Keep it on.”

Horacio was powerless to refuse when it made Javier’s cock twitch and pulsate, massaging Horacio’s prostate as he bounced at just the right angle, his own length sliding up and down the plains of Javier’s chest and abdomen.

Now the hat was in place, Javier's hands sailed over Horacio’s thighs, pausing as he made contact with the leather band around his right thigh. He couldn’t believe Horacio had not only remembered their dirty talk the morning after Trujillo’s wedding but that he had brought Javier’s fantasy to life. And it was better than even his wildest dreams could have imagined.

A part of him wanted to remove the garter just so he could re-attach it. But he was mesmerised by the way the leather stretched around Horacio’s thigh as his pelvis pulsed back and forth, up and down, and round and round.

His fingers gravitated south, landing where the two men joined together. “Fuck,” Javier choked out, rubbing in circles around the wet rim, feeling the thrumming heat of his own cock, and wishing he had a better visual of them moving as one.

“Lie on the floor.” In complete contrast, Horacio’s cadence was calm and in control, like he was directing his horse.

Javier did as he was told, his body cushioned by a thick grey, black, and ivory Zapotec rug.

Without hesitation, Horacio sat atop Javier’s thighs with his back to him, presenting the perfect view as though he had read Javier’s mind. As he re-seated himself, he reached behind, spreading his cheeks wider as he sunk lower.

A strangled whimper was drawn from Javier’s chest as he raised his head for a closer look once Horacio started to move. He ignored the strain in his neck and replaced Horacio’s hands with his own, each palm cupping and squeezing, pushing forward, fingernails clawing, urging his rider to go faster.

In response, Horacio deepened the roll of his hips and balanced his hands on the rug beneath them.

They had picked it out on a trip to San Antonio the previous year, one of their first joint purchases for the cottage. And now they were finally christening it, surrounded by an array of décor and furnishings they had chosen together since. For their own home, an unthinkable notion in the not-so-distant past. Yet here they were against all odds.

Javier grasped the latest addition to their household, pulling Horacio by the harness in all directions as though he was the jinete (horseman) steering the reins rather than the steed being mounted bareback. But Horacio was the one wearing a Stetson. The one in the saddle daily, strengthening and toning his muscles even more than they already were, and Javier could already feel the difference.

He let go of the harness, his fingertips skimming Horacio’s voluptuous upper arms, rump and thighs, caressing the tight leather cuffs, pressing the sharp chill of the buckles against fiery skin until a shockwave rippled through Horacio and straight to Javier’s cock.

As Javier’s hips involuntarily bucked, their rhythm faltering in a chorus of moans, Horacio was beginning to regret not utilising a belt or one of the lariats from the barn as restraints on Javier’s wrists. But he changed his mind when he felt a crisp slap across the ass like a quirt used with overzealous force. But unlike the horses – with whom he was always gentle  – Horacio had no objection to the sting left behind.

In fact, it only spurred Horacio on, his ass lifting higher with each strike, building momentum, one hand stimulating his own cock in tandem.

Javier could feel rather than see Horacio jerking off, and his pelvis began to automatically plough upwards again, trying and failing to keep in time when he was this far gone.

“Horacio,” Javier breathed out, his tone pleading, desperate and wrecked.

“Tell me what you need.” Horacio wasn’t going to make it as easy this time. If Javier wanted something, he would have to use his words.

“I need you on all fours.”

And so Horacio dismounted, willing and waiting to give Javier everything he asked for, a complete 180 in a matter of minutes.

Javier wasted no time and fell in place behind Horacio, lining himself up and propelling forwards with a rough thud, nails digging into hipbones hard enough to leave marks.

As Horacio took himself in hand once more, Javier slowed to bask in a bird's eye view of his cock disappearing and reappearing, his thumbs spreading Horacio wider to get a better look at where they became one. It would have been easy to take it for granted by this stage, but he never did, not when they had been forced apart by circumstance and geography so many times before.

Whilst Javier was distracted, Horacio threw back his hips, causing a hiss of pleasure that inspired him to do it again and again, his ass pounding against Javier’s groin.

Javier drove forward in retaliation, pulling Horacio towards him with a firm jerk on the harness, a dual wave of groans unleashing each time Javier manhandled him, the thick leather straps taut against Horacio’s clammy skin, hopefully leaving imprints from the force.

Javier yanked hard enough to raise Horacio up on his knees, cementing them back to chest, teeth, mouth and moustache going to town as Horacio craned his neck to meet the onslaught.

“Do you know how fucking good you look like this? How…fucking…beautiful?” Javier’s declaration was broken up with each thrust as he resumed movement.

“It’s all for you,” Horacio purred between lip bites. “Your own cowboy to play with.”

With a muttered “Fuck,” Javier pushed Horacio back down on all fours, toppling his Stetson to the floor, one hand gripping at the harness, the other at the nape of Horacio’s neck, his fingers fondling the gold chain that complemented the silver one at his own breast.

His hips hammered forward, no holds barred, as an all too familiar pressure built and threatened to consume him any second now. He glanced down, transfixed by his own fluid motions, entranced by how well Horacio held his cock, how Javier had tamed a once wild bronco who would have thrown off any other rider a long time ago. But not him, never him, so maybe he was more of a vaquero than he thought.

A combination of the visuals, the leather against his skin, and the tight heat squeezing and releasing around him took its toll. Javier let out a wounded gasp as though all the air had been knocked out of his lungs, his muscles tensing from head to toe as he watched his cock spasm and fill Horacio up.

As liquid warmth painted Horacio's walls, his wrist jolted and shook, sending him over the edge. He felt an extra weight on his back, the harsh scrape of teeth and words of encouragement at his ear as a hand took over from his own. Just the right pace and force, just how he liked it, just enough to make him coat Javier’s fingers, vision blurred, back arched.

They didn’t move as the room came back into focus, letting their lungs and heart rates return to baseline. Before Horacio could collapse to the floor, Javier slowly pulled out, smearing glistening fingers around Horacio’s fluttering hole, mixing it in with his own release. His tongue swirled and lapped from behind, making Horacio tremble on his knees until they buckled, and he could take no more. 

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The spark of a lighter and deep exhales of smoke were the only sounds to be heard for several minutes as they lay recovering in bed, the hard floor downstairs proving too much for their aching limbs, even with the rug for protection.

“So, are you gonna tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Oh, come on. You know fucking well what.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Does it matter?”

“Well…no. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Surprised you haven’t guessed. In fact, I kinda thought it was you dropping a hint.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It was one of your old magazines that gave me the instructions on how to make it. And it’s not hard to get access to leather around here. The saddlers the ranch uses are well-stocked in almost everything. They don’t need to know what it’s being used for.”

Whatever Javier had been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. When moving into the cottage, he had cleared out his old bedroom. Hidden in the depths of his wardrobe, beneath several layers of clothes, was a pile of magazines he never had the heart to throw away or burn, one of which was a Cowboy and Rodeo Special of Drummer.

Javier blew out a low chuckle as he passed their cigarette across the bed. “I wish I had been dropping a hint. Although…looks like you did fine without my influence. Always the dark horse.”

"Hey, they're your magazines, not mine."

"You read them. Cover to cover by the sounds of it."

"Just making up for lost time when I was younger."

"At least someone's getting use out of them. So, you ready for your first rodeo, now? Based on this afternoon, I'd put in a good word."

"Very funny."

Although, whilst Javier was, of course, joking, there were plenty of men like Horacio who did compete across Texas – without hiding who they were as well. He imagined Horacio would rather die in a stampede of raging bulls than partake in such a competition. But nonetheless, it was an appealing fantasy for Javier to indulge in from time to time.

His fingers traced patterns over Horacio’s thigh where the leather garter remained even after the harness and cuffs had come off, the leftover scent of sweat and semen on their skin fusing with the tobacco in the air. He had taken great pleasure and care in removing those; however, when it came to the garter, Javier placed a ring of kisses where the leather sat but left it in position.

“You liked it, then?”

Javier gave Horacio an incredulous look as though the answer spoke for itself. But there was a hint of uncertainty behind the question, and it was only fair to provide reassurance. “I loved it. A lot. I don’t really do birthdays, but you’ve certainly made this one memorable. So, thank you.”

"My pleasure," Horacio murmured mid-kiss. "And it definitely beats my birthday."

"That wouldn't be hard."

The first few hours of Horacio's birthday were spent helping deliver calves and bedding down close by the expectant mothers every night for the following two weeks. He barely saw Javier other than at meal times, and it took multiple showers to wash the pungent barn aroma out of his hair.

“Hadn’t we better shower soon?” Horacio said with reluctance once they pulled apart. “Don’t wanna keep your father waiting.”

Javier leaned over to look at the clock on the bedside table. “Yeah, we should. I’m starving now we’ve worked up an appetite.”

“Do you want to do the honours?” Horacio gestured towards his thigh.

“Keep it on.”

Horacio could tell from the wicked glint in Javier's eye he wasn’t joking. “You do know I have to work with your father? And look him in the eye.”

“Oh, come on, he won’t even notice. Not everyone checks you out as much as me, y’know. Especially not my Pops. And…” Javier sat up and swung his leg across Horacio’s thigh until he was straddling him. “It is still my birthday, remember.”

Despite such brazen tactics, Horacio met Javier’s mouth again, groaning gently as Javier’s teeth pulled on his bottom lip. “Fine. As long as you can keep your hands to yourself through dinner.”

“I’ll try my best.”

He could make no such guarantees after dinner, though.

------------------------------------------------------

It took another week for the temperature to cool by several degrees, just in time for the residents of Laredo to visit neighbouring pumpkin patches, carve out Jack-o’-lanterns and go Trick-or-Treating.

By the time Javier had finished work and picked up some groceries, Chucho was busy in the lounge blanketing a table with a white lace cloth before arranging two extra tiers on top decorated with papel picado. Nearby trays were full of items ready and waiting to be placed on the ofrenda, including a Talavera pitcher of water, pan de muerto, a plate of salt, fresh marigolds, Calaveras, and a familiar wooden box.

Chucho looked up at Javier, who stood in the doorway with a cardboard box. “Ah, Javi, good timing. Pass those here.”

Javier held out a batch of fresh buñuelos delivered straight from Desde La Frontera. “Need a hand?”

Chucho looked at Javier with pleasant surprise. “Please, Mijo.”

Between them, they transferred everything from the trays to the table, Chucho directing where each item needed to be placed.

When it came to the wooden box, Chucho sat on the sofa to open it.

Javier watched silently from a few feet away, an ache forming in his chest when he saw the photos spread out on the furniture. But he pushed past it and sat in the adjacent armchair.

He looked closer at the pictures and reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. “This needs to go on it too,” he said.

Chucho glanced up to see Javier clutching Mariana’s poetry book.

“Of course. She can tell us how much she liked Madrid. Which reminds me…”

Chucho stood up and disappeared into his bedroom before reappearing with a card in his hand. “I always keep it by my bed, but it belongs on here.”

Chucho was holding an old prayer card of La Virgen de Guadalupe. “Abuela Rosa gave it to your Mamá for her quinceañera, along with these. ” Chucho lifted a string of rosary beads from the wooden box. “I think she cherished the card as a reminder of our ancestors. Even though your Abuela disapproved, your Mamá had her own ideas about Guadalupe.” He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head with fondness.

“How do you mean?”

“Back in the '60s, Guadalupe became the mascot for the farmers’ union protests – the ones your Mamá marched on. She liked to think of her as someone who helped those in need. Do you remember her reading stories about the Aztecs? And Guadalupe, La Malinche and La Llorona?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

Javier blinked, keeping his eyes closed for a fraction longer than was customary. The memory was fuzzy around the edges, but he could feel the warmth of his mother lying beside him on his bed, a book between them as she read aloud tales of their ancestors. Once he started getting drowsy, she would sing to him or stroke his hair and kiss him goodnight, the comforting sound of her favourite telenovelas drifting through his bedroom door as he fell into a deep sleep.

When he was even smaller and couldn’t sleep after his older cousins convinced him La Llorona had been spotted in Laredo the previous night, his Mamá soothed him with the advice she had been given by her mother to always pray a Hail Mary and an Our Father whenever near water before making a sign of the cross for protection.

However, Javier also remembered during the first few months after she was gone, he would have nightmares about La Llorona. Except in those dreams, his Mamá had taken on the appearance of the wailing spirit, and her ghost roamed along the banks of the Rio Grande, screaming for him. But no matter how hard he tried to get closer to her, she would move out of reach until he woke up screaming.

“There have been so many versions of those stories since the days of the Aztecs, who knew Guadalupe as Coatlalopeuh, Tonantzin, or Coatlicue. La Llorona as Cihuacoatl. And La Malinche as Malinalli or Malintzin, or La Chingada. Some of those stories say they are all one and the same. And that the conquistadors made Guadalupe the Madonna above the others. Your Mamá saw Guadalupe as a symbol of hope, a mediator between the Aztec and Catholic religions, uniting all the different parts of us and our roots. The light and the dark, the old world and the new, the conquered and the conqueror, the obedient and the rebellious, the eagle and the snake, the Mexican and the American.”

“Never thought of it like that when I was younger. But it’s beautiful.”

“It is.” Chucho stood up and placed the prayer card on the altar.

“D’you think it’s possible, though? To unite it all, I mean.”

“I think we have to try as much as we can. And learn to make peace with it when we can’t. But I know it’s not easy.”

“Mexico didn’t seem far enough to run when I took the DEA job, even though it was never home. So, Colombia it was.” Javier couldn’t help but laugh at his own confused logic in hindsight. “But when we were in Manizales, I kept thinking about all the stories you told me about our family history – in the US and Mexico. And it just…hit me I was needed right here on the border. So, thank you, Pops.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me of my roots.”

“Your Mamá helped out a lot here, but she always wanted to do more. And she would have done a whole lot more if she’d had the chance. She’d have fought for yours and Horacio’s rights too, I’m sure of it. I had a feeling you’d take after her one day.”

“Better late than never, right?”

“Right. She’d be so proud of you and your work, Mijo. And so am I.”

A customary exchange of nods filled the silence that had become a trademark between father and son over the years when words seemed inadequate.

Chucho cleared his throat and turned to make one final check everything was in its rightful place on the ofrenda. “I think we’re about ready if you want to get Horacio.”

Javier headed next door with his Pops’ words – and his Mamá’s – echoing in his head. He thought about all the tangled threads that had run through him his whole life like the river he grew up on the bank of. It was ironic he could walk across bridges from Laredo into Mexico and back again, a confluence of his heritage. Yet there was always a gap that wouldn’t close. A gap those who insisted on his name meaning shame with a n rather than rock with a ñ wouldn’t let him close. All of the contradictions and dualities he had tried to reconcile, assuming in the past that he was expected to pick one or the other but never feeling qualified enough, resigning himself to an eternal conflict he could never win.

He thought about the people who crossed the invisible line in the earth every day, the one that instantly changed their identity and status whether they liked it or not, dividing and flattening their humanity into stereotypes and insults. The one that caused mothers separated from their children to cry like La Llorona and be condemned for finding themselves in desperate circumstances through no fault of their own. The one that led to Operations Hold the Line and Gatekeeper building walls and deploying an army of la migra, as Border Patrol were often called, to keep people out.

Maybe it was Javier’s recalcitrance, but the more the US government tried to put up borders – despite not thinking twice about violating those belonging to other countries – the more at ease he felt without them. After all, Texas had been part of Mexico in the past, as well as its own republic, and he had spent more than enough of his life trapped by self-imposed borders and walls already.

To be in a place like Laredo was to live on the margin of two countries and cultures, not one or the other. He was Mexican American, a Tejano. He had shared his heart and bed with women and men. Horacio was a closely guarded secret and a naked truth; they lived in the shadows and in the light. He was making a difference, yet it was a drop in the ocean of an ever-expanding problem. He regretted so much of what went down in Colombia, but not that he went in the first place, not only because of Horacio but because it brought him full circle. It brought him peace. It brought him home.

------------------------------------------------------

As the clock struck midnight and welcomed in Día de los Difuntos, the ofrenda was aglow with candlelight, and the fresh scent of copal filled the farmhouse.

Horacio stood over the altar, his gaze fixed on the image of him in his Papá’s jacket, his father’s usually stern expression relaxed and…proud. He had never really allowed himself to think of that word before. But as the veladoras flickered and swayed across the photograph his Mamá had insisted he kept, he could no longer ignore it.

Beneath the photo lay the golden pendants, temporarily removed from Horacio's neck for the festivities, a glass of his Papá’s favourite rum to match the one in his hand, and a plate of tamales.

“Not bad for a Colombian.”

“I guess I had a good teacher.”

“After dealing with a son determined not to follow in my footsteps, it makes a change to find someone more willing.”

Horacio’s eyes landed back on the photograph of him and his Pops before shifting to one of Mariana in her element at a Chicano civil rights march with a toddling Javier by her side, a bittersweet smile taking hold of his lips. “Funny how it works out.”

“True. But as long as it does, that's the main thing. Even if it’s not what you expected.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“What are we toasting?” Javier asked as he came in from the kitchen with two glasses of his Mamá’s mezcal of choice, passing one over to Chucho.

Chucho gave a nod of thanks and raised his glass. “To endings and beginnings. And reunions.”

The next couple of hours were spent telling stories, reminiscing, remembering. Welcoming the past into the present, letting it know there was still a future.

------------------------------------------------------

Chucho retreated to bed first, leaving Javier and Horacio to finish their drinks by the fire, which had burned down to its last mesquite log.

After placing their empty glasses in the kitchen, Javier stopped by the ofrenda on his way back to the sofa. His eye caught the selection of sugar skulls on display, each delicate design bearing the name of a departed loved one. Although, there were, in fact, two each for Mariana and Eduardo.

Javier traced his finger across the one which read Mariana Rosa Reyes Estrada, a pair of arms gathering tightly around his waist simultaneously.

“I never knew her with this name. She left Estrada behind in Mexico. Before she married, she was Mariana Reyes. Then she took Pops’ name ‘cos that’s the gringo way. And to make all the paperwork easier, I was just a Peña, too. But Pops likes to welcome her home with her Mexican and American names. In case she gets lost, he always says.” Javier released an affectionate chuckle at the expense of his Pops’ superstitions.

“He told me when he asked for my father’s full name.” Horacio smiled into Javier’s shoulder as he reached towards the skull that read Eduardo Horacio Carrillo Acosta.

He repeated the same motion across the shared part of his and his Papá's name. “The CNP prefer you choose one name when you enlist. So, of course, we all followed suit – Mamá included. And she left Sierra behind when she changed her papers.”

“Seems like we all have to leave parts of ourselves behind one way or another.”

“True. But if we’re lucky, we find them again somewhere down the line.”

Javier hummed in agreement as a trail of kisses soothed at his neck.

“When was the last time you did this, by the way?” Horacio asked as he traced idle patterns over Javier’s stomach.

“Día de Muertos? Fuck…I can’t even remember. When I was in Colombia, I always came home for Christmas – but not before. Pops never made a big deal out of it, but I could tell he was disappointed.”

“I’m sure he understood. And at least you’re here now.”

“I know. I think I just needed to do it in my own time.”

“Same here. So, thank you. To you and your father.”

“For what?”

“Letting me be a part of it. I think it’s something I’ve needed to do for years.”

“Horacio, of course you’re a part of it. You’re a part of the family.” Javier’s fingers found Horacio’s, lacing them together with ease above the belt of his jeans. “Tú eres mi familia.” (You’re my family)

“Y tú eres mía.” (And you’re mine)

“I was thinking about tomorrow…well, technically, later today. I, er, wondered if you wanted to watch the parade downtown. Then maybe head over to the cemetery with Pops. It's fine if it’s too much. I get it. I just thought maybe –”

“It’s okay.” Horacio cut him off, turning him around until they were face-to-face then forehead-to-forehead. “I’d love to.”

As the last embers of mesquite turned to ash, they knelt in front of the soft glow of the ofrenda, fingers connecting with their silver cross encased between their palms. A final attempt to welcome home those who had shaped so much of their children's lives, even in their absence, and sometimes in the most unexpected ways.

------------------------------------------------------

Echoes of drumbeats filled downtown Laredo by late afternoon, accompanied by a rainbow of papel picado along every street and a sea of Catrinas and Catrins. Children and adults alike wore masks or calavera face paint and marigolds in their hair, the intricate details of their costumes no doubt requiring months of preparation.

Food and drink stalls had seemingly popped up overnight, selling everything from pan de muerto, pozole and tamales to alegría, gorditas, marranitos and champurrado. It was impossible not to get swept from stand to stand, and fears of Javier and Horacio being scrutinised by anyone they happened to bump into were soon allayed. The hustle and bustle of the festivities made them anonymous yet at one with the city, as they were all here for the same reason.

Floats, dancers and puppets passed through the main roads, a spectacle Javier hadn’t witnessed in years. As a teen, the last thing he felt like doing was celebrating when it came to his Mamá’s passing. She wasn’t supposed to have gone so soon. But nowadays, he could appreciate the care and respect involved in honouring the dead. He could look back on the precious memories and not feel the need to push them away. He could accept the duality of grief and love, not as contradictions but as two sides of the same coin.

As they followed the procession at the end of the parade, making their way towards the cemetery to meet Chucho, Javier caught Horacio’s eye with a silent question. One that Horacio answered with a firm nod, reassurance that they were still on the same page.

So much had changed since Horacio was last here for Día de Muertos, not least of all the fact Javier was with him this time and had since met his family. And Escobar was dead, of course. His Papá was no longer a choking force around his neck but a warm presence that sat more comfortably on his chest. Not weightless, but manageable now.

Although darkness had fallen by the time they arrived at the cemetery, a sea of candles and lanterns lit the gravesides like an endless night sky, each one guiding the way home, even if just for one day. The celebrations from earlier continued, some families singing, drinking and eating. Others prayed or sat with blankets and hot drinks, telling stories and keeping memories alive.

Chucho had been busy when it was still light, clearing out dried flower stems and polishing Mariana’s headstone. Now, fresh marigolds were arranged around the candles, their strong fragrance carrying across the cemetery.

They were greeted with pats on the back and a glass of mezcal. A lowkey toast and short prayers were all they had planned, preferring to save the rest for the privacy of home.

“I just wanted to say thank you. To both of you for coming.”

“Any time, Pops. I’d forgotten how beautiful this place looks all lit up.”

“It reminds me of Día de las Velitas back in Colombia. People light candles and lanterns at cemeteries like this. Not that I could bring myself to join them after Papá.”

“There’s still time.” Javier held Horacio’s gaze through the flickering half-light, making the most of the only gesture he could give in public.

“I know.”

“It’s quieter here usually. A nice place to think. And she’s always been a good listener. So, if you ever need some breathing space, I’m sure she’d be all ears.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Horacio mirrored Chucho’s soft smile before laying down a tasteful wreath of marigolds he’d bought from one of the street vendors on their way here.

Javier watched with a growing warmth in his chest as his past, present and future collided once again. A first meeting of sorts, even if it wasn’t how it should have been. Even if it was built on memories and traditions, on prayers and stories, it was still real.

------------------------------------------------------

Slivers of silver reflected off the dark waters beyond the farm’s boundaries, the stars above shimmering like distant fireflies. Southern Texan Decembers were mild, but there was a chill to the air after sundown, especially by the river bank. However, it was nothing a blanket or two couldn’t fix.

Horacio was propped against a mesquite tree with Javier sitting between his legs, one blanket beneath them and the other draped over them. Coco stood watch nearby, her reins looped around a branch as she chomped on her favourite treat of apple slices – a reward for tonight’s extra work.

They shared a flask of Manizales’ finest coffee between Horacio lightly massaging Javier’s scalp and temples. It had been a hectic few days, from Chucho roping them into Las Posadas preparations to the farm being short-staffed in the past week due to seasonal colds and flu and the border seeing a higher influx of crossings in the build-up to the holidays.

Apart from a Christmas dinner or two, they weren’t expecting to take much time off over the festive period, but tonight was all about them. They had miraculously managed to escape work on time before driving to Desde La Frontera for a meal that was starting to become an anniversary tradition.

Javier played with Horacio’s hands, pressing kisses into his knuckles and pausing over his left wrist. “You like it, then?”

“Very much.”

“I know it’s not quite a garter or harness, but…” Javier trailed off, his shoulders and abdomen shaking in tandem.

“The strap’s the same colour, though.” One of Horacio’s hands snaked along Javier’s form, tickling at the waistband of his jeans enough to make him squirm.

“Oh really? Hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe. But it does suit you.”

Of course, Javier was banged to rights. He had spent considerable time picking out the watch, knowing Horacio preferred something digital – for pinpoint accuracy – and practical. Horacio had never got around to replacing his old one that was stopped by the ambush, so it was a long overdue replacement.

But if it also happened to be a gentle reminder of certain escapades every time he looked down at it, well...that was an added bonus. As was the thought of Horacio wearing Javier’s gift buckled around his wrist every day, the strap tight enough to leave a mark on his sun-kissed skin.

“Likewise with your present.”

“I dunno about that. I think you wear it better.”

“You’re the homegrown Texan boy, not me.”

“You’re the fucking cowboy, not me.”

Horacio’s fingers on his right hand took a firmer hold of Javier’s hair, coaxing him to turn around and abandon the flask he had just brought to his lips. “Technically…you own part of the ranch and farm. So, it’s about time you had a Stetson.”

Their lips met over Javier’s shoulder, still warm and tingling from the coffee.

“Fair point.” Javier picked up the flask again and downed whatever was left before it went cold. “We got any more of this, by the way?”

“Not ‘til next week. I told Alejandra to bring as much as she can fit in her luggage.”

“Well, there’ll be plenty of suitcases to choose from.”

“I know. I’m not sure your father knows what he’s let himself in for.”

“Oh, don’t worry, he knows from when my cousins and I were kids. And he gets to play host, so he’ll be in his element.”

“He’s already given me a list of groceries to pick up on the way back from the livestock auction in Hondo.”

“When’s that again?”

“The day before my family arrives. Not ideal timing, but couldn’t really say no to more experience.”

“You still shadowing Gus Montoya?”

“Yeah, he’s been in the trade since he was 16, and he’s one of the best in the business now. I thought I should be involved before we start buying the new Santa Gertrudis and Longhorns for this place next year.”

“The paddocks are gonna be in these lower fields here, right?” Javier gestured towards a recently cleared stretch of land with the newly installed gate separating it from the ranch next door.

“Yes. It’ll be easier to move everything back and forth without disturbing the other fields. Then, once the new herd’s settled in, we can expand the stables, get in some more Morgans and Quarter Horses. Maybe diversify the cover crops for next winter.”

“Sounds good.” An unseen smile had spread across Javier’s face, the novelty of listening to Horacio talk ranch business not having worn off yet. All those years he tuned out whenever his Pops did the same, yet he never tired of hearing Horacio’s plans.

“It keeps me out of trouble.”

“Shame.”

“That’s not until next year, though…” Horacio trailed off, his lips devouring Javier’s neck, nibbling until Javier wriggled in his hold.

“Well, we better make the most of this before your family arrives.”

Horacio hummed in agreement, his mouth still buried in Javier’s shoulder. “Especially as there’s a quick turnaround before New Year’s.”

“True. I take it Felipe and Juana are still okay to come?”

“I forgot to tell you – I spoke to him earlier. Juana’s feeling much better now the morning sickness has passed. And with Cali gone and FARC taking up more and more CNP resources in the jungle, it’s mostly turf wars between the smaller gangs in Medellín. So, Martínez authorised his leave, and they’re flying out on the 30th.”

“Glad to hear it. It’s all good on the Miami front as well. They arrive the same day, late afternoon, once Connie’s finished her shift and Steve’s picked Olivia up from his parents’ house.”

“Okay, good. So, everything’s sorted then.”

“Not quite…I still need to clean out the guesthouses. Don’t think our old one’s been done since the Navarro Vega family left.”

“At least it’s still getting used since we moved out.”

“Yeah, well, I guess someone always needs it. Especially with IIRIRA coming into force. So many more fucking deportations. So many people taking bigger risks ‘cos they've got no choice.” Javier exhaled harshly through his nose.

He ran his fingers over his moustache and chin, pressing his thumb into his jaw and resting his face in his hand. “It’s starting to feel like the old days again.”

“But it’s not, Javier. You’re on the other side of it all this time.”

“It’s not just the border, though, is it?”

“What isn’t?”

“Legislation that could have us arrested for fucking in the privacy of our own home.”

“We’ve always been careful.”

“We thought we were careful back in Colombia, Horacio. And look where that got us.”

Javier didn’t think about those days much anymore if he could help it. Neither man did, except on specific dates or bad days if they were unlucky. But it was hard to shake the sense of paranoia in light of what the laws of his own state had to say about his sex life. It wasn’t far-fetched to imagine someone like Mia Domínguez spying on them through a long lens, waiting to catch them out.

“True. There’ll always be a risk. But people like us have always existed under the radar. And we’ve been here over a year now, remember. Anyone who’s got a problem with us has already made their feelings perfectly clear. The rest either don’t know or don't give a fuck. Our story doesn’t have to end like the one you showed me in The New Yorker.”

“I know.”

Javier had been in two minds about whether to share it. But Horacio insisted he was the one to be read to for a change, preferring to hear the evocative imagery of the wild American landscape from the mouth of a Texan. The parallels were undoubtedly there between the glossy magazine pages and elements of their lives – but luckily, not all of it rang true for them.

“For a start, they were sheepherders from Wyoming,” Javier added with a tone of defiance.

“Exactly. Completely different.”

“Yep.” Javier exhaled loudly, his mind already returning to his previous stubborn thought. "But it’s the same government smoke and mirrors shit all over again. The same fucking hypocrisy. If it's not chasing people down the river or letting them die in the desert, it’s drug shipments they made easier to transport here in the first place. Or you’ve got couples like us crossing over looking for safety, only to run into fucking sodomy laws. It’s never gonna stop.”

It was the same sleight of hand tactics Javier had seen before. Legislation made thousands of miles away would claim to solve a problem whilst exacerbating it on the frontline. Whether it was drugs or human beings, they proved time and time again that they couldn’t be contained by a border or a statute book. Whether it was Border Patrol or the DEA, choppers would fly over the river at night, fruitlessly chasing traffickers despite the extra budget. If the usual border crossings were out of bounds, people would risk more remote or treacherous spots to try their luck.

It wasn’t unheard of for them to emerge from clusters of trees like the one they were sitting in now, drenched and shaking from the cold and dehydration. Or for Javier to be ready and waiting with towels, a change of clothes, a hot shower, or food and drink. Some would present themselves willingly to the authorities, others would disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. If anyone ever asked, Javier had seen and knew nothing.

“And neither are you. Look at all the people you’ve helped already. You might not be able to save everyone, but you’re making the difference you always wanted to make.”

Horacio coaxed Javier to face him again, cupping his jaw and rubbing a thumb over his stubbled cheek. “Estoy orgulloso de ti.” (I’m proud of you)

Javier closed his eyes, basking in Horacio’s touch and closing the gap between them. “Y yo de ti.” (And I of you)

Easy kisses followed – the kind that were grounding and familiar, safe and timeless.

They rode back to the cottage with only the moon and stars guiding the way. Horacio clasped Coco’s reins whilst Javier held onto his waist from behind, making the most of the idyllic evening spent alone. Because even here, they knew it couldn’t always be like this. But despite all that life would throw at them in the years to come, they would be there for each other, to grow and change, to sail in the same direction, even if not always in the same boat. To make peace with the past, to live in the present, and to look to the future on their own terms.

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Burnt oranges and yellows filled the stone fireplace, the crackling of charred mesquite wood accompanying the dulcet tones of Elvis on the turntable. A fresh pine tree stood in the corner opposite a set of bookshelves, its white lights and a row of candles on the mantlepiece casting a soft glow across the lounge.

By next year, they would have to re-think the room's layout as the shelves were almost out of space. They had transferred all of their old books, records and tapes when they moved in – two poetry books in particular taking pride of place – which now sat alongside newly purchased or gifted titles from the likes of Fernando Vallejo, E.M. Forster, John Rechy, Gloria E. Anzaldúa, Alejo Durán, Linda Ronstadt, K.D. Lang, Vicente Fernández, Walt Whitman, Pedro Almodóvar and Gregg Araki. And no doubt there would be further additions to their collection on Christmas Day.

Luna was the sole canine guest tonight, her bond with Horacio somehow stronger again since Kira’s and Fuego’s arrival. Sol and Leo had grown increasingly fond of their new playmates in the last few months, so it was often the three of them in the cottage nowadays. Horacio hadn’t discussed it with Chucho, but he hoped she would stay with them permanently – and see out her retirement years – once the new cattle were in place.

She lay in her favourite chair, fast asleep with her head on the armrest and oblivious to their return home beyond a drowsy wag of the tail, before resuming her dreams.

“You had a good day, then?” Javier asked from the comfort of Horacio’s shoulder, their arms wrapped around each other as they gently swayed to the music.

Horacio let out a contented hum of approval, burying himself against Javier’s shirt, breathing all of him in. “It was perfect.”

“It was.”

“Although…I think there’s one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Your present.”

Javier’s chest shook, and something that sounded remarkably like “You fucker” was sworn against the crook of Horacio’s neck, followed by a sharp nip of the teeth.

“It’s only fair.” Horacio tried to keep an authoritative edge to his tone. But it was far from convincing when he ended up laughing as much as Javier.

“Actually…it’s only fair if you wear your hat too.” Another neck bite, accompanied this time by a trail of kisses along the open collar of Horacio’s red plaid shirt, shoving the bandana aside for easier access. “Deal?”

Horacio’s back arched involuntarily, the rumble threatening to escape from his throat tempered into an elongated sigh instead. Not much of a win, but he’d take it. “Deal.”

And so Javier fetched the Stetsons from the coat hook in the hallway whilst Horacio switched records once Elvis had finished.

Javier lowered Horacio’s hat into place, encouraging Horacio to do the same with his.

“Satisfied?” Javier asked once they resumed their embrace, the cumbia beats of Lucho Bermúdez now replacing Elvis.

Horacio’s fingers slid from Javier’s waist to the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him forward until their lips met and the brims of their hats jutted together. “I am now…cowboy.”

They let another vinyl play before undressing, every movement sensual and considered as they removed boots and unbuckled belts between slow, thorough kisses. With hats relegated to the couch for now, Javier untied the silk bandana from Horacio’s neck, teasing smooth fabric along the nape and tossing it to the floor, revealing faded tan lines from the unforgiving summer months. Buttons from their plaid shirts were next, followed by jeans and underwear, chestnut lost in charcoal as they stood bare in each other’s arms but for the silver and gold pendants.

Neither felt the need to give into temptation, not yet, at least. Instead, they put on another record and danced, hand in hand, skin against skin, soul against soul. Because they were never in a rush anymore; now they had all the time in the world. Now they were home.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

[thestayathomedragon]

Good morning folks. And welcome to random Serennedy headcannons with Goose.

Leon can understand about 80-90% of what Luis says in Spanish but he hardly ever responds in kind if he doesn't have to. He's very self conscious about his accent and doesn't want Luis or anyone else making fun of his pronunciation. Even though Luis wouldn't be mean about it at all. He'd just appreciate that Leon was even trying and gently correct him if it's just the two of them.

Also I totally headcannon that when Leon is tired or just super relaxed his American accent is stronger just like Luis's accent. I also headcannon Leon's American accent sounds a lot like he might have grown up in or very near to Boston, Massachusetts. (Ya'll not gone tell me that Nick's Boston accent didn't come out of hiding during that line in RE2R when Leon was talking to Marvin about being told to stay away from the RPD/Raccoon City but he came anyway. It was adorable btw and I may have swooned.)

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #luis serra #luis serra navarro #serennedy #my fan fic #fic: .scar.crossed.lovers. #re4r #re4 remake #resident evil 4 remake