#ghosts-junk-pile

[chaifootsteps]

One of the many things that bugged me in the final, was Al's segment in the last few minutes, mostly because like everything in this show there was so much missed potential. So I present a part of a re-write I would love to do, this part focusing on Al because he could have been really cool and not an edge lord. Also most of this is stuff I've seen in other asks/re-writes that I think would be cool.

So Al in this version is pretty close with pilot/original Al. He was still a serial killer who loves to make deals. He has his code for killing of killing those who take advantage of the weak and most of his deals are deals of protection(ie. every time you help me, you can call on me to help you that number of times), he still makes deals for his own gain of course and is still as ominous as in the pilot. Also he functions like a warlock from dnd, with no real power of his own. Also also, he never swears at all, not once and if he does its a more old timey swear, he cannot talk with out his staff and has to perpetually smile.

Have him keep his sentiment from the pilot that he's here at the hotel for his own amusement and that he does not care about anybody in it. Have Al start of as very aloof and keep him this way for the frist 10(give or take) episodes(also give the show more episodes). Have Al never use his powers on screen have only give hints that he's as powerful as everybody says he is. Over the first season have the cast grow to like each other more Al include but much much more mildly. The main villains of s1 should be the Vs also save Heaven for last or later. So s1 final, the Vs attack the hotel or sm and the main cast + sinners who have checked in to the hotel(believing it not to be a lost cause, which also gives Charlie some extra motivation). During this have a part where Al has to use his suposed powers only to reveal that he has none or that they are extremely weak. At some point either durning or before his 7 year sabbatical they where either taken or disappears for some reason(maybe because of a deal he broke?). After this have Al use what little magic he has to teleport away leaving the hotel(because he's a coward/does not want to be seen as weak in anyway). The cast gets the Vs to leave them alone with one of Sir. Pent's machines bc he's the best and we love him.

Another thing that I want to do is show Al being aroace. Have an episode where he goes with Angel to the Vs tower just to mess with Vox but they run into Val and Alastor is very obviously uncomfortable near him, you could even have Angel notice this and try to have Val piss off.

Ok moving on to next season, Al is missing and have the gang(mostly Niffty and Husk bc in this au those three are friends and you can pry that from my dead hands. Also Husk and Al have a deal of mutual protection, they help each other out. Hell this could be another reason why Al left at the fight because he could do anything to help Husk.) start looking around pride to try and find him. They do and he immediately teleports away leading to a short chase until Al runs out of magic. Then the rest of main cast confront him about the whole ordeal. I'm not sure how exactly it goes but Al durning the whole conversation is trying to doge all questions and lie as much as he can(the main cast after this still don't know all the details but the main idea is that, Al had a deal with somebody who gave him powers when he first entered hell, maybe Lilith? And 7 years ago he broke it somehow, leaving him to disappear trying to regain lost power). Husk and Niffty manage to convince him to keep helping the hotel and probably question him more in private. I'm not sure what the rest of s2 would be about, I know that s1 is about more sinners checking into the hotel and also getting Angle away from Val. s2 Might be about Charlie finally getting to talk w/ Heaven and would you look at that they love the idea of a hotel for sinners to reform because heaven likes the exterminations about as much as hell does(exterminations are still about over population in this au). Also s2 introduces Lucifer.

I'm not quite sure what exactly happens in s3 and 4 but I know that in s3 Al starts believing in the hotel more and caring about the people in it(would he ever admit this? no.). Somebody in this season also presents him with betraying the hotel which he says no to. Idk how s4 goes but it ends with some angels(not all of them, only the most dedicated exterminators) going to hell against heavens rules to kill as many sinners as they can. They get stopped obviously but I still need to work out more details.

I'm still working on sorting out other stuff for this re-write also sorry if this is really long or annoying, I've had this sitting in my brain all week. If you don't mind I might also send asks about the other characters in the re-write

Good rewrite! Interesting stuff!

#ghosts-junk-pile #hazbin hotel critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

[tornrose24]

Was looking through the Ghost and Molly McGee posts when I caught something very interesting.

I saw that Adia had three pyramids in the memory scene. I didn’t think much of it at first.

Now when I looked through some old posts, there was one that had screenshots of the Internship episode when Todd was dropping stuff off. And amongst his ‘old junk’ was a pyramid.

Not just any pyramid, but one that looked like it could possibly be one of the three pyramids Adia had.

I KNEW that pile of junk could be important someday if the Wraith Theory was true. It’s one thing that Scratch’s child self from the back had bangs and a hair color that could be pretty close to Todd’s (even if the memory filter is effecting the coloring of that scene). I didn’t think there could be another connection in that scene until I looked back at that episode.

#the ghost and molly mcgee #the ghost and molly mcgee spoilers #i knew that junk pile could be important later #scratch the ghost #wraith theory

[zeestarfishalien]

Unwanted Farewells

[Day 5 DPxDC Week: Jason Todd // Soulmate AU // Funeral Rites ]

• Anger Management ship (Jasmine Fenton x Jason Todd) No relevant warnings beyond the usual DP stuff

Jazz has always had it the worst. Danny might have been the one to die but Jazz is the one who lost not only her soulmate, but her little brother too. It doesn’t matter that he’s still around, he knows the grief weighs on her sometimes. She overcompensates by being a massive mother hen and general pain in the neck but he tries not to get too upset with her about it.

With Dani with an “i” fresh out of high school and Jazz’s birthday coming up soon, he wants to do something special. He spends a lot of time bribing Ghost Writer in order to research his idea out.

It’s probably the most time and effort he’s put into a project that wasn’t about space.

Proposing the idea to her is the one big thing this all hinges on. He’s not 100% sure she’ll be on board with this but he’d like to try.

And trying is what kicks off the first part of his plan. It’s a little awkward to bring up the fact that he doesn’t have a grave and would like one. It’s almost physically painful to see the grief it brings to Jazz’s eyes. She tries to hide it but Danny has always been able to read her better than he lets on. It’s part of the process though. He needs her to see how this goes and feels. How it’s a celebration of life and honoring those who have passed and not just a somber reminder to the living of what they’ve lost. He needs her to see what it means to him. And what it would mean to her soulmate.

He makes the grave marker of course. They’re not about to buy one when he has the strength and abilities to carve it out himself. He makes sure that it’s vague unless you know him. No names, no identifying markers like age or dates. It’s simple and meaningful for him.

{May he rest here between walks among the stars, our friend and brother beloved}

From there it’s pretty much all fun and games. Literally.

Same brings the games while she has Tucker pack out the food. It’s a combination of some of Grandma Ida’s homemade desserts and various junk foods. Even Tucker brings some cookies his mom helped him figure out how to make.

Jazz is in charge of the drinks while Danny and Dani handled all the decorating. It’s a combination of solidified ectoplasm, his ice, and various flowers they’ve gathered and strung together in a flower chain.

It’s a smashing success and he sees something in Jazz release. Some niggling worry or grief she carried that is no longer there.

Now, he decides, it’s time for part two.

What throws part two for a loop is when Dani with an “i” brings up that she’d like a grave and proper funeral rites as well.

It’s not a setback. Definitely not when he sees how much more relaxed and content Jazz is at Dani with an i’s wake.

It’s only a couple days from her birthday when he brings it up. The funeral practices for soulmates are as varied as they are sacred. He proposes her options via a PowerPoint he put far too many hours into.

By the time he finishes rambling, she’s got this sort of startled look on her face.

He twists his shirt in his hands as he stands awaiting her judgement. The longer she’s silent, the more convinced Danny is that she’ll reject the whole thing and not talk to him for a month.

Okay, maybe a week but still a week is a long time.

Suddenly Jazz is crying and oh ancients he’s really messed up this time. She’s not even mad just straight up upset by his offer.

But then she’s hugging him, telling him she loves him, and thanking him.

It’s not as hard as Danny feared to actually track down the location of a Jason Todd who died before Jazz reached 16 (she never wanted to look him up before, didn’t want to know what she was missing) and the day before her 25th birthday Danny, Dani, and Jazz all pile into her little car to make the drive to Gotham, homemade foods in tow.

Danny and Dani made sure to swipe one of Vlad’s special rich dude credit cards to fund their trip and the stop at multiple flower shops to get enough flowers to make flower chains and crowns for all of them.

It’s closing in on evening, the day of Jazz’s birthday when they finally roll up and upload everything. They didn’t bring any lights, but none of them really need much light to see for eating food and drinking sodas. Jazz brought some jasmine tea and an extra cup to place on Jason’s grave. They make a funky, dark evening of it, but finally Jazz grows more somber and keeps taking long looks at the gravestone so Danny and Dani decide to make themselves scarce.

They’re about halfway across the cemetery when out of the shadows steps the looming menace of Red Hood.

“The fuck are you doing at that grave?”

It’s not his voice or his tone, but the sub vocal ghost speak that makes Danny and Dani freeze up ramrod straight.

That’s a revenant and they’re trespassing on his resting place without permission.

So of course like any sane person, Danny says something stupid. But he just can’t believe out of all the ridiculous coincidences to exist in the world, that Jazz’s soulmate is undead like him seems just too far to believe.

“Jason?”

Almost late despite having the day off work bc I had to go shopping and bc of where I live, shopping is essentially a full day affair. This is shorter than I’d like it but I also kinda enjoy where it ends XD imagine their next moments however you please or feel free to add onto this.

#angermanagement #soulmateau #dpxdc #dcxdp #jazz/jason #dpxdc week 2023

[sunnyswide]

Murderer POLY 141 🔪 x Oblivious Female Reader

NSFW/MDNI (sexual activities and sexual themes)

Instead of military.. Why not just a bunch of fucking murders.

To you, it seemed so odd that they would show up at the most convenient of times. Nonetheless, you were mighty grateful for the help. For the quick fix-up on your car. The multitude of groceries you had. The short-lived stalker you never heard from again. The drunken who suddenly approached you late at dusk, but also got taken care of quite swiftly. The fruitful amount of cash that was hidden under piles of junk in the drawer. They were a bit tinted with red… Chalking that up to “Oh I must have put that there” even though you had no recollection.

But to them, it was all fun and games. Who'd be first caught or who'd be the last one standing?

Gaz was just so kind, inviting you to every opportunity for tea or snack breaks. You’re surprised when he tells you he lives at the complete opposite side of town.

“Thats an hour away Gaz! Isn't it exhausting?”

“Not at all, I have work here.”

He lies theough his teeth but hey? Isn't it all lies around here. As long as your adorable mind doesn't realize.. It won't hurt. Just like the many times he takes you to where he resides, eyes staring at the two of you.

Course you’re scared, but he promises it's because they’re not too keen with visitors. Not realizing the multitude of people don't seem to be glaring at you. But at him.

You don't ask questions and go along with it. Letting him lead you to his apartment that seemed to be barely lived in.. But it doesn't matter after he Fucks those pretty thoughts out of your mind. Making you see stars as he finishes inside of you for the third time.

But Price isn't that open. He keeps the conversation entertaining but reveals absolutely nothing about himself as he listens to you talk.

He loves the expressions you make, your lips pouting when you talk about the scary days you had over the week because of some weird stalker.

“I promise! There is someone following me!”

“Then why don’t you let me take you home”

He walks you home every night the two of you go out. The one day he doesn't, you swear you could hear an extra pair of footsteps. Looking around deliriously you opt for a run instead, going through alleyways and shortcuts. Until you accidentally bump into someone, causing you to trip over your feet.

“Gah! Sorry!”

You look up to see Price! He looked shocked at first but soon composed himself, taking your hand in his.

“Dont be sorry”

He smiles gently, kissing the top of your forehead while you burst into soft sobs. You swear you saw something.. Or someone else behind him. On the floor? Maybe it was your imagination..

He takes you home but you beg him to stay the night.

“Can you stay?..”

He holds you tight, pressing his fingers deeper into your hips. This only leads to an excuse to fuck you on his cock as an “apology” for scaring you. He whispers sweet nothings to you as he overstimulates your dripping cunt, making you cockwarm him even after cumming.

But after meeting Ghost and Soap, the perfect self-proclajmed duo, you couldn’t help but find yourself attracted. They were a mix of dark humor and wholesome dad jokes.

They invite you for a quick drink as friends. Friends that sit too close to each other.. Ghost insisting you sit in the middle as Soap drapes an arm around your waist, pouring you more and more Alcohol you didn’t want to drink.

Sooner or later the “fun” was coming to an end as you try to stand up, toppling over Ghost’s lap. They chuckle at your vulnerable state, taking it up as a reason to carry you back home. Of course this attracting other drunken dudes to come up to them asking them where they think they’re going.

“Cmoonnnn, We can all have a piece of that”

Soap smirks.. He was damn happy they even asked.

“Why not gentlemen”

But you didn't see what happened after as Ghost drove you back to his place with Soap after the quick charade. Soap smelled a bit.. Odd.. His hands covered in a.. Red substance.

“Just wine luv”

A few minutes later you sobered up quite quickly, surprised even though you drank so much. But hey no hangover!

And as a thank you they happily ate you out. Getting Fucked by both of them at once felt.. Ruthless. Your clit brimmed with overstimulation as Simon rubbed circles over it and your mouth forced wide open as Soap shoved his shaft deeper and deeper.

You sobbed quietly into the pillow as Soap rammed his Dick into your sopping cunt, relieved for the pounding to stop until Ghost took his time teasing your entrance. Making you gasp..

“Fu..ck.. Wai-wait”

Begging? Uselsss.

He didn't mind you screaming for him to stop. Overestimation turned into torture for your pussy. Brutilized after just one night, you’d had to come back to them for more right?

But it wasn't much of your choice to come back.

Part two

#simon cod #cod #cod smut #ghost smut #Simon smut #ghost x reader #Gaz x reader #price x reader #price smut #soap x reader #soap smut #poly 141 #price cod #Gaz cod #soap cod #simon riley smut

[pidgefudge]

this one doesnt have blood but it DOES have fantastic hair dye options so i will gladly make that trade

@falloutcoys @trans-arthur-lester @ghost-with-teeth @pyxxie-nyxxie @nyxfaei @arthurlestermalevolent @lemonsrlit @c-a-r-0-l-i-n-e @origami-butterfly @orangesideirrational @vespersbelladonnakiss @thecatspasta @crows-junk-pile woe picrew chain be upon ye

#moving into my mlm flag era its so pretty and i can technically use it #picrew chain

[hs-transfusion]

> DAVE HARLEY

CHUMHANDLE: tenaciousGearbox [TG] STRIFE: machetekind MODUS: Magtape LUNAR SWAY: Prospit MYTH. ROLE: Bard of Doom LAND: Land of Junk and Ghosts

TG: listen hate all you want but you gotta admit its dang nabbin iconic

Dave is, to put it simply, SOMETHING OF A HIPSTER. Though he has access to LARGE SWATHS OF ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY, he opts to use as little of it as he can get away with, preferring more ANTIQUATED EQUIPMENT. He often records DOCUMENTARIES of the island he lives on, both to HEAR HIMSELF TALK and to KEEP HIMSELF COMPANY. He tends to TALK TO HIMSELF an awful lot, actually.

Dave's love for the RETRO AND VINTAGE runs deep. He has a fondness for VHS TAPES in particular, having TINKERED with enough VCRs to practically be able to BUILD HIS OWN FROM SCRATCH. Every so often he fools around with his KEYTAR, though he's not very good at it. Dave has also been getting into VAPORWAVE as of late.

Dave's MAGTAPE Fetch Modus is a somewhat outdated one. Items can be freely stored on any card in the deck, but doing so SLIGHTLY DETERIORATES THE CARD'S QUALITY. Should the card suffer too much damage, the item will either be DESTROYED or DISTORTED BEYOND RECOGNITION with severe VISUAL ARTEFACTS.

Dave's relationship with his dog BEC is a close one. He's essentially his ONLY REAL COMPANION, resulting in the two of them spending a lot of time playing together. Dave is JUST AS LOYAL to Bec as Bec is to him. His relationship with his GRANDPA, on the other hand, is much less close, seeing as how he's DEAD. He never learned how to stuff a corpse (just THINKING ABOUT IT gives him the willies) so his body rests peacefully IN THE FREEZER.

The Land of JUNK AND GHOSTS is a large SCRAPYARD teeming with GHOULISH GREEN SPIRITS. The clouds in the sky seem to dance in an ETERNAL VORTEX as the threat of a RAGING THUNDERSTORM looms everpresent. It's said that the key to the denizen THANATOS' lair is buried somewhere in one of the NUMEROUS JUNK PILES on the planet; a NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK as it were.

#homestuck #fosterquest au #dave harley #hiveswap #kidswap

[bluegekk0]

finally finished the new ref sheet for hollow for the au :D

following the end of the infection, and once hornet brought them to dirtmouth, hollow finally found peace after all the suffering they had to endure. unfortunately, the damage caused by the infection led to the exposed parts of their body becoming quite unstable, as the void in those spots is unable to form back into the hard shell. that is why they now have to wear an eyepatch (first made from bandages, then from hornet’s old cloak, a much stronger material), that covers their now blind eye socket, as well as a set of bandages wrapped around their missing arm. they are considerably weaker now, even after recovering from the injuries, so they spend most of their time resting in the house, away from noise and bright lights. this is where the traits they got from their mother manifest themselves: since the white lady is a plant (or at least a plant-like creature), she’s not very active and tends to stay still for long periods of time. in that aspect, hollow is very similar, so they’re not the most interesting to watch

once pk moved to dirtmouth, he slowly began working on a new arm for hollow, a custom made shell for their void tendrils made from scrap collected in the junk pit. this new prosthesis allowed hollow to pursue a newly discovered hobby: plush sewing. seeing the plushies of the little knight made by bretta, they became interested in the process of making one. with the help of hornet, they learned the basics and used their newly acquired knowledge to sew plushies of all the dirtmouth residents, especially their father, who now keeps all the stuffed toys of varying quality made by hollow in the big pile of pillows and blankets in his room, one he uses to hide away when stressed

and yes, since they have no mouth, they eat by absorbing food into their body, which then instantly dissolves into soul giving them nutrients. quite a traumatizing sight, but i couldn’t pass on the opportunity to make them a tad bit monstrous. they are made of void after all, and void is unpredictable and scary. i also like to think that, similarly to ghost in the game, they can store items within their body. who needs pockets, right?

also: pk taught them how to write, to make the communication between easier. moreover, he encourages them to keep a diary with them wherever they go, so that they can write down their thoughts and feelings about the everything and become more independent as a result

#hollow knight #feral pk au #thk #the hollow knight #hk hollow #the tall scrungle... #will drop a poorly made plushie of you on your doorstep without elaborating #gekko.art

[familyvideostevie]

october twenty-third

day twenty-three: eddie munson you and eddie go apple picking…and hook up in the parking lot | 18+, mdni, fem!reader, established relationship, car sex, unprotected sex | 1.8k detailed content warnings: fem!reader, sex in a car in a parking lot, mentioned oral (m receiving) but not on page, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, riding, creampie, dirty talk

“Please explain to me what makes apple picking a romantic date.”

You shiver at the bottom of the ladder. Eddie climbs down a few rungs before jumping the rest, four apples cradled in his arm.

“You need more imagination, babe,” he says. You open the bag and he puts them on top of the pile you’ve collected thus far and then takes it from you.

You loop your arm through his and start off down the row. “I want your opinion.”

He hums. “Well, we both like the leaves, right? It’s pretty. And the weather is pretty nice.”

“It’s cold!”

“I said nice, sweetheart, not warm.” He taps his chin. “Oh, you look very cute, obviously. And so do I.”

That gets you to laugh. You’re wearing like, three layers, two of which are his, and a hat you found in his van.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“And we get apples. And doughnuts and cider.”

You can’t wait to get back to the farmhouse and warm up with some treats. “Valid point.”

Eddie leans close, even though there is no one around. “But best of all…”

“Go on.”

“Once the sun goes down, this parking lot is the best place to hook up.”

Oh, so that’s why he insisted you come in the late afternoon.

“You brought me here to have sex in your van?”

“I might have,” he says. His nose is a little pink. He looks at you with his stupid big brown cow eyes.

You’re used to Eddie by now and you love him and all of his ridiculous antics. He’s romantic when he wants to be and boyish and silly in the same breath. Honestly, you were probably going to go back to your place and fuck anyway, so why not make the evening a little bit more interesting?

“Okay,” you tell him. He beams and kisses your cheek sloppily.

He buys you all the donuts and cider you want and you take your spoils back to the van to wait. Eddie puts on some music and you chat and watch the orange rays slowly disappear behind the trees.

Darkness falls.

“You sure no one is going to think it’s weird we’re parked here?” He put the van in the back corner of the lot near the trees.

“Nah,” he says. “There’s an inn on the grounds, remember? People park here overnight but no one comes to look. I swear.”

“Done this before, have you?”

Eddie grins. “Harrington told me about it.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, great. You took advice from Steve Harrington on where to fuck your girlfriend.”

Eddie turns down the music and climbs back to the bench. The rest of the van is full of junk — blankets, milk crates of Hellfire supplies, a weird looking trash can shield that you don’t know why he has.

“This isn’t even the weirdest place we’ve done it,” he reminds you. You brush the sugar crumbs from your hands and follow him. He pats his lap and you straddle him.

“Remind me?” His hands rest heavy on your hips. You lick your bottom lip.

“The equipment shed at the pool,” he says. “Last summer.”

You remember. “What did you do, again?” Now you’re teasing him. He picks up on it and presses his fingers a little harder into your skin.

“Pretty sure I kissed you,” he says. He leans in, ghosting his lips over yours. “Kissed you so good you were begging for me to touch you, yeah?”

You close the gap. It’s not a bruising kiss, but a slow one. You trace the seam of his lips with your tongue and he opens. He keeps on hand on your hip so you don’t fall and cups your face with the other. You fist your hands in his shirt and grind on him as light as you can manage.

Something you’ve learned about Eddie is that he loves kissing you. He’s said he would make out for hours if you let him. He loves to lick into your mouth, loves to pull your bottom lip between his teeth. He loves the spit and the swollen hue of your lips after he’s nibbled on them.

But you also like to get things going. You pull away from him and he latches onto your neck, nibbling on your skin and then soothing it with his tongue.

“What did you do next?”

Eddie pulls away with a pop. “Pretty sure you got on your knees and sucked me dry.”

“Sounds like me.”

He presses his thumb into the corner of your mouth. “Always look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

You swallow. “Want me to?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve got another plan.” He taps your thighs and you stand, hunched over in the van. “Take off your pants?”

“I’m not letting you fuck me on the gross floor, Eddie,” you remind him. He laughs. You unbutton your jeans and push them down, bracing yourself on his shoulder as you kick off your shoes, too. He reaches out and snaps the waistband of your underwear with one finger.

“C’mon, baby,” he coos. “All the way. I want you bare.” That sends a bolt of pleasure between your legs.

You do as he says. “Satisfied?” Your boyfriend looks hungry.

“Course I am. Look at you!” You’re half-naked, crouched in his van, his flannel and t-shirt on top. What a weird dude. “Okay, so, lie back on the bench and put one leg up against the back, okay?”

It’s a bit tight, but you do as he says. Your other leg hangs off the edge and you’re spread wide open for him where he’s now kneeling, just barely fitting between the bench and the door.

“I feel like I’m posing for a painting,” you mutter. Eddie’s hands trail up your bare skin.

“Oh, you look like one.” You tilt your head so you look down the slope of your body to find him staring at you. Well, a very specific part of you. “Have I told you that you have a perfect cunt?” he says.

You clench around nothing and laugh breathily. “Once or twice.” He drags two fingers through your folds. You’ve felt your arousal pooling since you got on his lap.

“God, sweetheart,” he groans. “You’re soaked. Been wet since I suggested this, hm?”

“You gonna touch me or what?”

Without warning, he leans down and presses the flat of his tongue to your clit. You whine, hand pressed against the car door behind you. And then it’s all bets off — no more teasing, no more dirty banter. Eddie laps at you like a man starved. The angle is a little weird and the leg you’ve got against the bench is cramping a bit, but god it feels good.

“Yes, Eddie, right there, oh fuck —” He’s too far away for you to really grab his hair so you settle for shoving your shirt up and bra down and rolling your nipple between your fingers. “So good,” you praise him. “It feels so good.”

He sucks on your clit and slides two fingers into you, but you’re not as close to an orgasm as you want to be. His fingers are thick, capable of great things, but you need more.

You manage to tap him with the foot on the ground. He pulls up, mouth shiny. He licks his lips. “Can I help you?”

You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t so damn horny. “I’d like to ride you now. If that’s amenable?”

Eddie literally moans. “As if I’d say no to that.” You catch your breath as he shucks off his shoes, pants, and boxers. He gets back on the bench and you sit up to make room, admiring him in the dim of the van. You know every inch of him by now but fuck, you really love his dick.

You spit in your hand and stroke him a few times before he stops you with a hand on your wrist. “You said something about riding?”

“Impatient, aren’t we?” You straddle him and you’re back where you started, only this time down a few items of clothing. He helps you line up and you sink onto him quickly because you know you can take it.

“Fuck,” you hiss together. “It never gets old,” he says, ragged. “Being inside you.”

“I could just sit here,” you say, face in his neck. “See how long we last.” Its appealing. You’ve tried it a few times, his cock hot and pulsing inside you, both trying desperately to keep still. It’s relaxing in a really strange way, comfortable and intimate.

“Maybe another time,” Eddie says. He kisses your cheek, your nose, your lips. He tastes like you. “I…I’m too wound up right now.”

“From just fingering me?”

“C’mon,” he whines. “You know how magic your cunt is, don’t you sweetheart?” He bucks his hips and you both groan. “Just looking at it gets me hard as hell.”

You reward his compliment by rocking back and forth in his lap. He grabs your hips hard enough to bruise as you start to lift yourself a bit and slam back down. It’s not fast, it’s not desperate, it’s not the most comfortable place to be doing this, but it’s hard and deep and that seems to be working for both of you.

“Gonna have to — fuck — wash the seat after this,” he grunts. “Gonna make a mess all over it, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who is gonna come inside me.” His thumb finds your clit and you bite back a scream.

“Don’t want everyone who sits here to know how you took my cock, do we? How wet you are, how tight, how hot —”

The van is probably shaking but you don’t care.

“Eddie,” you gasp. “I’m close, I —”

He starts to lift his hips more, slamming into you. The tip of him brushes the perfect spot inside you and his thumb drags across your clit just right and then you’re coming, gripping his cock like a vice as you tremble in his hold.

He’s not far behind. “God, you feel so good, sweetheart, gonna be so full of me —”

You feel him spurt inside you and gasp your name as you pant into his shoulder.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “God, fuck.” You both catch your breath. The van feels much hotter than before and smells like sex.

“You sure made a mess alright,” you say. He laughs and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“If you keep it all in there till we get home I’ll clean you up.”

You just had an orgasm and his words make you feel on the verge of another right away. “Is that a promise?”

“Why don’t we find out?”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

#fvspromptober23 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 16

summary: It’s obvious Javier Peña loves you, it just catches you by surprise how he decides to finally tell you. 

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, Soft Javier Peña, alternating pov, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie(s), oral sex (f & m receiving), rimming (f receiving), cockwarming, overstimulation (m), spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, nude photos, Javier begging, love confessions, miscommunication, arguing, angst with a happy ending, period typical sexism, canon typical drug talk, emotions, dysfunctional family, past relationship trauma (Javier), Not Lorraine friendly, Javier’s poor little ass being bruised, Javier being so in love, the most romantic sex I have ever written)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (reader is a nurse with no physical descriptions)

word count: 17.8k+ (This is who I am)

a/n: Here we go! The first draft of this chapter was 3k… I’m as shocked as you are. I know some of the tags aren’t my norm, but I promise it’s a good time and things are resolved quickly. Shoutout to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing this. I love you. 

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

The time you spent reading had dwindled quite drastically since Javier Peña waltzed his way into your life, and you weren’t necessarily upset about this new development. 

Generally, you’d get home from work, shower, have dinner, then unwind by reading or watching a movie, wanting to relax after the busy day. Getting a couple of chapters in before bed was a must, needing it to lull you to sleep; that is, you did, up until Javi showed up, and now your bedtime routine had changed to either getting fucked and being so blissed out that sleep came easily, or laying in bed cuddled up with him while the two of you talked, getting so warm and cozy that you found yourself drifting off in no time.  

So, you weren’t getting much reading done, and your to-read pile on the living room bookshelf was haunting you, knowing that at the rate you were going, it’d probably take you years to get through the dozen or so books. 

It was a sunny Saturday, and not at all surprising that you’d awoken to a naked Javi pressed against your bare back, his hands ghosting over your skin while his lips trailed over your shoulders and neck, making you smile as you came to. 

He’d eaten you out until your legs were shaking, and the sheets below you were wet from your release, Javi telling you he’d take care of washing them after breakfast. 

God, there was something about a man taking the initiative. 

The windows in your apartment had been opened to let the early sunlight in and to air out the place; Javi not only putting the sheets into the wash but also replacing the bedding and folding the laundry that had been in the dryer, all while you’d tackled organizing the three junk drawers in the kitchen. 

It took everything in your power not to suck his dick when he asked if he’d folded your panties okay, knowing you had a special way of bundling them up. You’d approved of his efforts and smothered his face in kisses, him looking very pleased with himself. 

When your task was finished, the drawers finally organized, and Javi extremely happy with what you’d done now that he knew where he could find things, you’d decided to spend the afternoon reading. 

Settling on the couch, your legs curled underneath you, you’d opened to the first chapter of a book you’d gotten almost two weeks prior. Javi was sitting beside you, so close your bodies touched, his hand on your thigh as he watched tv with the volume low. 

This was another very welcome change in your life. 

None of your ex-boyfriends would have wanted to spend their Saturday morning cleaning your apartment, then be content to just sit on the couch and watch television while you read. 

They would’ve wanted to go out and do something, not waste their day lounging around, always needing to be active when they weren’t working—if you wanted to just relax and spend the day in, you were left to do it alone. 

But Javier Peña was different. 

All he wanted was to spend time with you, and he didn’t care what you did. 

Want to go to the diner for breakfast? He’s down. The farmers market? No problem. Run errands? He’ll drive. Clean the apartment? Tell him what to do, and it will be done. Relax on the couch and read? You’ve got cable, and there’s a Lethal Weapon marathon that will keep him entertained. 

Honestly, he was clingy, just not annoyingly so. You found it endearing and adorable how he had to be touching you if he was sitting next to you, a hand on your thigh or feet in his lap, and he loved when you’d lay on top of him; showering with you was essential after work, he honest to god pouted if you took one alone; in bed, you always ended up wrapped in his arms, him seeking you out even in sleep, needing you close. He never let you cook alone, him wanting to help, or at least keep you company, if not distract you a little with some impromptu dancing. 

Here you were, cozy on the couch, Javi rubbing circles into the skin just below where your shorts stopped, so caught up in what you were reading you weren’t entirely sure how much time had passed. 

The book was surprisingly good and had sucked you in; an orphan boy finding out about a secret magical world and his life changing for the better, reading page after page, chapter after chapter, wanting to know what was going to happen next. 

“Want more water, Cielito?” Javi asked. 

“Yes, please,” you murmured, eyes glued to the words, but knowing you’d finished your glass in the time you’d read six chapters. 

“I’ll be back.” 

He squeezed your thigh, groaning as he got up from the couch. 

At some point, he returned to set down the cup on the coffee table, letting you know it was there and noticing he didn’t sit back down. 

You were engrossed with the story, fascinated by the magic and world-building, and metaphorically on the edge of your seat when suddenly the light of the television was blocked by a mass, realizing Javi was standing in front of you. 

“Need something?” you asked, eyes not leaving the book. 

“No,” he answered. 

“Okay,” you distractedly answered. 

He didn’t move, which made you realize he was trying to get your attention. 

“Want something?” you asked instead. 

“Maybe,” he replied. 

Glancing over the pages, he was standing there with his hands on his hips, noticing his damp hair from showering, your eyes taking in the nakedness of his broad shoulders and moving down his chest and soft belly to the tantalizing trail of hair that you knew led to his big di—your eyes went wide when they landed on his crotch. 

“Underwear,” you breathed. “Oh my fucking god.” You blindly reached on the table beside you to grab your bookmark to shove between the pages, the book practically getting thrown onto the tabletop. 

Your eyes were stuck on his bulge, the white material hiding nothing, seeing the clear outline of his cock, your hand moving without thinking, reaching to touch your fingertips to it, and seeing him noticeably getting harder. 

“Holy fuck,” you said, maneuvering on the couch to get on your knees. You took in how they sat on his hips and hugged his thighs, rubbing both your hands up them, feeling the soft material and his muscles flexing, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “You fucking spoil me,” you purred. “This is what you grabbed before we left last night?”

The previous night you’d met Javi’s father for the first time, and everything had gone better than you expected, Chucho making you feel welcomed into their family. When you were leaving, Javi had run back into the house for something, and you hadn’t bothered to ask, so caught up in all you’d learned about your boyfriend and his parents. 

“Yeah,” he answered, a smirk on his plush lips, looking proud of himself. You couldn’t help pressing your face against his half-hard cock. “If I’d known I’d get this kind of reaction, I would’ve—fuck,” he groaned as you mouthed over him, wetting the boxer briefs with your saliva. 

Pressing a loud kiss to his now fully hard dick, you grabbed his hips, leaning back to forcefully make him turn to see how he looked from behind, but he didn’t budge. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, confusion showing on your face when you met his eyes. 

“Let me see your ass,” you said. 

He was frowning. 

“I liked what you were doing.” 

“And I’ll blow you after I see your butt. I need to know how it looks.” 

Grabbing your hands, he held them. 

“Or I can eat your pussy?” he bargained. 

Your eyes narrowed, realizing something was up. 

“Why are you being cagey about this? What’s going on?” 

He sighed, looking away, his thumbs rubbing circles on the backs of your hands. 

“I just don’t want you looking at it.” 

“Because..?” 

“I got bit by a horse…” he said slowly and matter of fact. 

It was just hitting you that you hadn’t seen his ass since showering after work the previous day. He let you shower by yourself the night before, which you should’ve found suspicious. If he didn’t want you to see it, that meant he knew you were going to freak out, worry swirling in your stomach. 

“Javier, how bad is it?” Your tone was serious. 

He grimaced. 

“It looks worse than it is.” 

“Turn around.” 

“Baby…” 

“With the way you hate clothes, I’m going to see it. Pull off the bandaid, babe. Let me see your ass.” 

He let out a long sigh, dropping your hands to perch his own on his hips, slowly turning. 

Fuck, he looked amazing in the underwear, the way they clung to the globes of his ass, it taking everything in you not to grab handfuls of him, wanting to squeeze the little bit of butt he had. 

Your fingers moved up to the elastic waistband, sliding them under and slowly peeling them down, gasping when you saw his right asscheek. 

“Javier Peña, you fucking liar!” you exclaimed, staring at the large black and purple bruise that had to hurt like hell and was about the size of his fist, and his hands were so fucking big. “Please tell me you washed it with soap and water,” you said, automatically going into nurse mode, examining as best you could, needing to make sure he was okay and that it wouldn’t get infected. “Do you want me to pull out my first aid kit? I can put some antibiotic cream on it, and are you up to date on your tetanus shot?” You leaned in closer, gently feeling it. “I can’t tell if he broke the skin, and it can be transmitted through animal bites. Shit, babe, it looks so fucking bad.” 

“I’m okay, Cielito,” he sighed. “Washed it when we got back to Pop’s and got a booster the first time that fucker bit me,” he seethed. 

“Javi, be real with me. Are you in pain? I can’t believe you sat next to me for hours! Your poor little butt. Do you need some Tylenol? Want me to ice it?” 

“It’s fine, baby—I can handle it.” He twisted his upper body to look down at you behind him, his eyes rounded. “I promise I’m okay. Just fucking sore.” He frowned. 

“Let me get you some pain medication then,” you said, starting to get up, but he stopped you with a shake of his head. 

“Already took some—I’m good.” He gave you a reassuring smile. 

Your eyebrow quirked.

“You really took some Tylenol to make sure you could fuck, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah,” he answered with a smirk. 

“And you really thought you could hide your ass from me while wearing underwear? Javier, you know how I feel about your butt.” 

“Love it as much as I love yours.” 

“Exactly! Oh!” you exclaimed, remembering something. 

Leaning forward, you pressed a loud smacking kiss to his bruise, followed by smaller ones all around the area, Javi chuckling. 

“Does it feel better?” you asked, meeting his gaze. 

He smiled, “Yes, Cielito,” he replied. 

“You’re a lying liar who lies,” you accused amusedly. Smiling at him mischievously, you said, “I do know something that will definitely take the pain away, but it has to be administered orally.” You grabbed onto his tiny waist and made him turn around, his cock still hard in his underwear. “God, just look at it,” you marveled. 

“Fuck, baby,” Javi groaned, his head falling back. “Keep looking at my dick like that, and I’ll need to put it in you.” 

He looked down to meet your eyes, seeing his own had gone darker, his cheeks and chest pinking up.  

“I want you in my mouth,” you replied, stroking him over the boxer briefs. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard. “Can I, Javi?” you asked. “Can I have your dick in my mouth?” 

“Yes, Cielito,” he answered, the words coming out rough. “You can have anything you fucking want.” 

Smiling, you hooked your fingers into the waistband, slowly pulling them down to uncover his straining cock and heavy sack, wanting to taste and feel him, your mouth watering at the prospect. 

“Have I ever told you,” you started, eyes locked on his as you took him in hand, feeling him hard and hot in your palm. “That you have the prettiest dick?” 

The head of him was reddened, a pearl of precum beading at the tip, stroking him up and down. 

“Fuck,” he gasped. 

“I dream about this dick,” you continued. “Fucking crave it. Want you inside me—my mouth, pussy, ass.” His eyes squeezed shut, groaning loudly, his cock twitching at your words. “You’ve ruined me for all other men, no one could ever compare, but that doesn’t matter because I only want you.” 

He met your gaze again, pupils blown wide. 

“It’s yours,” he rasped. “It’s only fucking yours—I’m yours, you fucking own me.” 

Hearing him say that had your body going warm, your pussy throbbing. 

“And I’m yours—all of me belongs to you, Papí.” 

A strangled noise came from his throat, his cock twitching in your hand again. 

“Take what you want, Cielito.” Desperation was in his tone. “Fuck, do whatever you want. Please.” 

Precum was steadily flowing from him, helping your strokes glide. Letting go, you licked your palm, taking him back in hand and gathering spit in your mouth, hovering your head over him as it dripped onto the tip. He groaned when your mouth followed, the heft of him sliding along the broad flat of your tongue and relishing in his taste, moaning around him. 

Your hand continued to work his shaft while your head bobbed, letting your saliva coat him, hearing the slick sounds as you worked him over, moans and groans filling the room. His hand went to the back of your head, his eyes on what you were doing, looking up at him as you licked from base to tip, and swirled your tongue around the crown, his mouth falling open in a gasped fuck. 

Moving back down again, you went lower, drawing a ball into your mouth, sucking on the delicate skin, Javi moaning loudly, his eyes squeezing shut with furrowed brows. 

“Shit, baby,” he panted. “So fucking good—so good to me.” 

At the tip, you let more spit fall onto him, taking him back into your mouth, your hand like a sheath around the base of him, pumping easily from how wet it was, while your head bowed forward, letting him hit the back of your throat before swallowing him down. 

He was breathing hard, his fingers digging into your hair as his hard cock carved out space in your throat, tears pooling in your eyes, saliva dripping out the corners of your lips. His dick was so solid, loving how it felt inside you, humming appreciatively around him that earned a punched-out groan that shot straight to your cunt, making you clench hard. 

You were so turned on, loving the noises he was making and hearing just how much he was enjoying himself. 

“Gonna make me come,” he groaned. “Don’t wanna come down your throat.” 

Coming off of him, you were panting, his dick glistening as your hand wetly stroked him. 

Looking up through your lashes, seeing his attention on you, you asked huskily, “Where do you want to come? My face?” You pressed your breasts together in your shirt. “My tits? On my ass?” 

“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes wild, looking wrecked with his pinched brow and the gorgeous flush all over his skin. “Wanna be inside you.” 

A grin turned up on your lips. 

“Of course, you want to finish inside. You’re fucking addicted to cream pies.” You rubbed your hands up his thighs, feeling the muscles tighten. “You like coming inside me, baby?” you asked. “Love filling me up—knowing you’re the only one who gets to?” 

His cock jerked. 

“Shit, fuck,” he gasped. “Yes, please, Cielito.” His eyes had gone round, pleading. “Please, baby. Can I fuck your pussy? Wanna feel you come around my dick—wanna fuck you full of me. Please.” He was begging, and it thrilled you, your cunt pulsing with want, panties drenched, wanting him as bad as he wanted you. 

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely? Javi, baby, you have to know I want you. My pussy is all yours.” 

He was on you immediately, his big hands cupping your cheeks as he bent to press his mouth to yours in a hungry kiss, his tongue eagerly licking into your mouth. 

It was almost disorienting how quickly he got your clothes off; his lips leaving yours to tug off your shirt and sports bra, pushing down and off his underwear, laughing when his hands grabbed onto your ass, and he practically picked you up, manhandling you onto your back on the couch, his hips slotting into the cradle of your thighs. 

He kissed you deeply before sitting up on his knees between your legs, a look of concentration on his face as he pulled off your shorts and panties in one go, dropping them to the floor. 

His eyes were locked on your pussy, moaning when he spread open the glossy lips of your sex with two of his fingers. 

“Fuck, that’s pretty,” he murmured, his other hand stroking his cock, hearing the slick slide of his hand working. “Look at how fucking wet you are for me, Cielito.” He slid a thick finger through your slit, pressing it inside your sopping entrance. “Mmm, you’re fucking soaked. Bet you don’t even need my fingers.” He pushed in a second, and you gasped, bucking your hips into his hand. His eyes met yours, all dark with want, languidly pumping his digits. “Want me to get you off like this, baby?” 

Shaking your head, you answered in a moan, “No—want your dick. Wanna feel it. Love the stretch.” 

He smirked. 

“Always hungry for my dick.”

“Yes.” You nodded. 

His fingers left you, watching as he sucked them clean with a groan. 

“Taste so good,” he said, pulling them from his mouth with a wet pop. “Keep your legs open—don’t move.” 

He moved toward the coffee table, reaching to grab the Polaroid camera that had been gifted to you both the day before, your heart hammering in your chest, realizing what he wanted to do. Your lip was pulled between your teeth as he looked at you. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, holding up the camera. 

“Yes.” 

“Press your tits together for me.” 

Doing as he said, he leaned back, holding the Polaroid camera up to his face. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said, the flash going off, the device whirring as the picture came out.

The photo was put on the table, Javi’s free hand spreading open your pussy, dipping his head down, his jaw working as he spit onto your clit, getting a shot of the hot saliva dripping down to your opening.

You were so into what he was doing that your cunt was throbbing in tune with your heartbeat. 

“I’m gonna fuck my hand looking at these,” he murmured, setting the picture with the other. 

“Really?” 

He glanced at you, smiling. 

“Oh, yeah. If I jerked off right now, I’d be thinking about this tight little pussy.” He cupped his large palm over your center. “Now, I have visuals. Wait—” His hand moved to grip his dick, knees shuffling to get closer so his thighs were flush between your legs, letting his cock drop onto your mons and stomach to see how far he’d reach inside. “Look at that.” The flash went off again. “Shit, what’s that thing you say about your guts?” He asked, meeting your eyes, the photograph getting placed with the others. 

Saliva and precum were smearing onto your skin, feeling how hot and hard his dick was. 

You snorted. 

“That I want you to rearrange my guts?” 

“Yeah.” He smirked. “I get so deep in there; I really do rearrange your guts.” 

You noticed his chest puffing up a little in pride, and it had you lowering your voice to speak in a sultry tone. “Yes, you do,” you purred. “You’re so big, making me feel so full. No one else has ever filled me so good or gotten so deep—only you, Papí.” 

His cock twitched. 

“Fuck,” he gasped. “One more.” 

He pressed his length through your folds to get himself wet, notching at your entrance, your eyes squeezing shut as he pushed in, moaning in unison. 

That first stretch was always the best—the slight burn, the way he made space for himself inside your depths, your inner walls hugging him close and pulling him deeper. He slid home in one smooth thrust, your back arching at how fucking good it felt to have him filling you.

“Fuck, Javi,” you breathed. 

The camera went off, and you knew it was a picture of him inside you, making your cunt clench. 

“Shit,” Javi groaned. 

There was the sound of him setting the camera down on the coffee table.  

His big hands gripped your thighs to hold you open, rocking his hips, letting you feel his thick cock move slowly in and out of you. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he rasped. His hand pressed to your lower stomach over where his dick was inside you. “Always take me so fucking well.” 

“So good,” you whined. 

He was sliding along all those spots that made your toes curl, loving how full you felt, how deep he went, filling you so perfectly it took your breath away. He sped up, getting into a steady rhythm that had his hips slapping into yours, hearing the rough sounds from his throat and the wet suck of your pussy taking him. 

You were panting out breaths, feeling the heat in your belly starting to build with every deep kiss of his cock inside you, pushing in and pulling out, your head fuzzy with pleasure. He pressed his thumb against your clit, making you gasp from the shock of ecstasy shooting to your core. 

“Want you to come for me,” he said through gritted teeth and heavy breaths. “Wanna feel you, Cielito.” 

It felt like every nerve in your body was lit up, your skin hot and buzzing, the fire in your core growing hotter and hotter while soft sounds spilled from your lips. 

You were getting closer, moaning louder, it building higher and higher. 

“I know you’re almost there—fucking fluttering. Give it to me.” 

He was thrusting harder, his thumb moving faster. 

“Soak my dick, Cielito. Come.” 

His order had you shattering, coming with a cry of his name, your body clenching up so tight he had to slow to a grind, letting out a long, low groan. 

“My good girl,” he said thickly. “So fucking good to me, baby. Shit.” 

Waves of pleasure radiated through your body, him drawing them out with every thrust, letting you ride it out, your pussy pulsing around him. 

She was so fucking gorgeous, spread out for him on this couch, his eyes locked on her pussy, all wet and puffy, swallowing his dick to the hilt. He took in her body—the sheen of sweat on her skin, her eyes closed, lips parted, her perfect tits rising and falling as she panted. 

She looked absolutely blissed out, pride swelling in his chest that he was the one to make her feel like that—that he was the only one that got to feel her come while balls deep inside her. 

Fuck, his dick was throbbing, heart pounding, knowing he was close to his own end, waiting for her high to subside, shallowly thrusting into her wet heat. 

The moment her breathing got under control, and she relaxed, Javier was pulling out, seeing her eyes spring open in surprise. 

“Want you on your knees,” he grunted, grabbing her legs that were bracketing his hips and helping her flip onto her belly, pulling her ass up by the waist to get her into position, shuffling her knees apart so he had more space. 

And if it wasn’t the prettiest sight, seeing her all open and ready for him, his tongue peeking out between his lips, wanting to taste the slick that had dribbled down between her asscheeks to her tight hole, mesmerized by how it shined in the light of the room. 

Looking over her shoulder, their eyes met, causing a sharp spike of arousal to shoot down his spine at her lust-blown gaze. 

“You gonna fuck me?” she purred, wiggling her backside. 

“Maybe,” he replied, seeing her eyebrows crease in confusion. 

His knees sunk into the couch cushion as he shuffled back a little, slapping both of his hands down on the plump flesh of her ass, hearing her moan as he grabbed handfuls, squeezing it hard and spreading her open. 

“Fucking love this ass,” he growled.

He bent his head, gathering spit on his tongue and letting it drip onto her asshole, following that up by licking a stripe from her entrance back up to the tight ring of muscle, groaning into her sensitive skin at the salty-sweet tang enveloping his tastebuds, her tasting so good. 

“Oh, fuck,” she whined. 

His hand moved to squeeze the base of his cock, needing to restrict the blood flow and calm himself down, the flat of his tongue lapping at her hole, feeling like fire was prickling under his skin, hungry for more of her taste—working himself up almost to his breaking point, needing to stop before he stained the couch in his come. 

He pressed a kiss to her asscheek before sinking his teeth into her skin, leaving a slight imprint as he sat up, taking his dick in hand, not wasting any time to sheathe himself back inside her drenched cunt—the way she cried out his name made him jerk inside her, and his breath go shaky, a low groan rumbling from his chest. 

Shit, he was so fucking hard he could probably fuck her through a brick wall. 

His fingers dug into her hips, swallowing hard at how tight and warm she was, her pussy fluttering around him, pulling out until just the tip of him remained, and thrusting back in, setting up an even rhythm that had her moaning. 

“Love being inside you, baby,” he groaned, looking down to see his wet cock disappearing inside her. “Push back on me—get me deep.” 

“Yes,” she gasped, pushing her ass back, Javi meeting her over and over, the wet slap of their bodies colliding sounding in the room. 

He wanted to get her off again, but pleasure had his stomach knotting up, fucking into her harder, the tight squeeze of her cunt overwhelming him, compelling him, making him lose his fucking mind at how good she felt—he was fucked, gone, he’d hit the point of no return, his balls tightening up. 

“Shit,” he grunted, pounding into her, “fuck, fuck, fuck, no.” 

His cock thickened, pushing into her hard one last time, a strangled moan ripping from his throat, his come flooding her hot depths, gushing into her. He rolled his hips with a shuddering hiss to get it deeper until it was too much for him, coming to a stop while euphoria coursed through his body. 

He felt wrung out and dreamy, wanting to touch her, needing to feel her skin, practically collapsing as he blanketed himself over her back, shoving his nose into her neck to breathe her in. 

“‘M sorry,” he slurred. “Mmm, you smell so fucking good.”

She giggled. 

“You came really hard, huh, baby?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” He nuzzled his face against the side of her head, holding himself up on an arm beside her own, and moving his other hand under her body to the apex of her thighs, feeling her tense when he rubbed her wet clit—his dick so tender that when she clenched around him, his eyes rolled back in his head, moaning at the sensitivity. 

He was panting, sweat soaking his skin, pushing through the discomfort of her pulsing around him to keep circling her swollen nub—her arms and legs trembling, soft sounds spilling from her mouth as he worked her up, her body crumbling to the couch, him going with her, using one forearm to keep his upper body off of her.

His cock was still hard, it feeling like his nerves were on fire, shallowly thrusting until the pain became pleasurable again, the familiar heat building in his gut. 

He pressed his lips to her ear, asking through gritted teeth, “You gonna come for me, Cielito?” His hips fucked into her faster. “Gonna be my good girl?” 

“Yes, Papí,” she whimpered. “So, close.”

His eyes squeezed shut at the knife-sharp pleasure that cut through him from her words, his wet strokes moving in and out of her, his insides getting hotter and thicker as he built her up—her mewling beneath him, stoking the flames in his belly. 

He kept going, feeling her pussy contracting, arousal dripping down his dick and coating his balls, her finally seizing up beneath him as she came choking him inside her and squeezing him so tight that it sent him with her—the pressure inside him expanding to the point Javier was coming with a shuddering groan, pulsing inside her, pumping her full of himself. 

Pleasure washed through him, grinding his hips, the slide of his cock making his come leak out and around him, stilling when it all became too much. To make her more comfortable, his arm wrapped around her middle, him turning them on their sides while he stayed inside, spooning her from behind. 

The TV's low volume and heavy breaths filled the room, Javi kissing her bare shoulder, rubbing his hand over her belly, and moving up to grab her breast. 

“Did you come again..?” she panted. 

“Yeah,” he answered breathlessly. 

He kissed her neck, loving the scent of her shampoo and how it made him feel warm and cozy. 

“That has to be a record. You usually need a break.”

“Finished too quickly, had to make up for it.” 

“...What?” she sounded confused, finally catching her breath. “You were a gentleman and made me come before you. How did you finish too quickly?” 

He buried his face in her hair. 

“Wanted to get you off again,” his muffled voice said. 

There was a pause before she spoke. 

“Babe?” She put her hand over his on her breast, lacing their fingers together. 

“Yes, Cielito?” 

“I know you’re really into making me orgasm so many times my legs turn to jelly, and I can barely speak, but you know one is enough, right?” 

He pulled his head back, eyebrows dipping together. 

“What..?” he asked. 

“We don’t need to have spectacular mind-blowing sex every single time.” 

“Why… not?” His heart had sped up, nerves making his chest feel uncomfortable. “Do you not like how we fuck?” he asked uneasily.

“Pause. Can you pull out real quick?” 

He did as she asked, feeling confused, and worried that he’d done something wrong, her flipping around to face him, pressing her hand to his jaw and looking him in the eyes. 

“Thank god, I got the couch protector. There is so much come dripping out of me right now.” 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, frowning. 

She smiled reassuringly. 

“Nothing to apologize about. I enjoyed myself very much—all nice and stuffed full.” She beamed, arousal stirring in his belly at the thought. 

Her fingers ghosted over his cheek and up to press into his sweat-damp hair, stroking lovingly through it. Fuck, he loved when she played with his hair; he always turned to putty under her touch. 

“Now, back to what we were talking about,” she said. “I love how we fuck, very much. Like, best sex of my entire life, and you’ve ruined me for anybody else—I love fucking you.” 

He could hear it coming. “But…?” he asked. 

“But, sometimes, I just like how you feel inside me and how close we are, and god, the kissing. It’s the connection and being with you, doing something so intimate. I don’t know. I just feel closer to you when we have sex, baring myself not just literally, but metaphorically, too, because I’m comfortable with you, I trust you, I lo–like—” She stumbled, eyes widening, his heart stuttering “—like you so fucking much. Javi, you’re the only man I’m genuinely okay fucking with the lights on.” Suddenly panic came over her face, her eyes getting big, “Fuck! The windows!” 

She started getting up, and he kept her where she was with his hand on her hip, Javier saying quickly, “I already closed them.” 

Her head rose to look over the couch armrest to the back windows, then in the direction of their feet to the large front windows, seeing that they were all shut with the blinds and curtains closed. 

She let out a breath, moving to kiss him hard, her fingers tangling in his hair. He moaned against her lips, loving her mouth on his, kissing until she broke away, smiling.

“This is what I mean,” she said. “You thought to close up the apartment before initiating sex because you care about me and wouldn’t want to put me in a compromising situation when you know I’m thinking with my pussy.” 

“You’re the one that initiated.” 

Her eyes narrowed, poking him in his bare chest. 

“Because you seduced me by wearing underwear!” 

He smirked, grabbing her hand to kiss her knuckles. 

“I’d think it’d turn you on more if I was naked.” 

Her eyebrow rose. 

“Javier, you’re constantly naked. You put on clothes, and suddenly I’m a Victorian woman going into hysterics over the slightest sliver of skin because I know what’s underneath—the feeling ten times worse when you’re in underwear or sweats ‘cause it’s like you’re teasing me, just Mr. Look-at-me-naked-from-the-waist-up-you-know-what-I’m-hiding. So, yeah, it fucking gets me.” 

He was well aware, able to see her undressing him in her mind, and it always went straight to his dick. 

“I know,” he replied. “Can tell by how you look at me.” 

He kissed her. 

“You fucking tease,” she murmured into his lips. 

“How I feel when you wear your dresses—know I can just lift it up and pull down your panties.” 

He was kissing her deeper, his hand grabbing her ass. She pulled back to pointedly look at him.

“You’re distracting me,” she said, making him pout. “As I was saying, I can trust you, and I like the closeness of fucking you, and every time doesn’t need to be toe-curling orgasm central. It’s cheesy as fuck, and I honestly cringe at saying it out loud, but I’d love to, god—” Her eyes squeezed shut, her face pinched in disgust “—it’s so gross. I’d love… to…” She was really struggling, and he wanted to know what was making her so uncomfortable. “Make… love… with… you,” she finally forced out. “Oh, yuck.” Her nose crinkled when she looked at him. 

The difficulty it took for her to say it had his stomach dropping, insecurity squeezing his chest tight. He swallowed hard, eyes darting away from her. 

“I don’t think you do…” he said slowly. 

“Fuck.” She cradled his cheek. “Please, look at me.” He did, her looking apologetic. “I can see how I came off, and I’m sorry, it’s not you; it’s the fucking phrase.”

“Okay..?” 

He was so fucking bewildered trying to follow along with everything she was saying, not sure what she meant about making love but understanding the things she said about the connection and closeness during sex, he felt it, too. When he’s inside her, it feels like everything is right in the world, and it’s where he’s supposed to be. He just wasn’t sure what she meant about only one orgasm or not every time needing to be mind-blowing—it was all he had to offer. 

Javier was broken, his head fucked from everything with Lorraine and Colombia, trying to do his fucking best navigating this new relationship, not knowing what the fuck he was doing. Cielito tried hard to guide him like a bright star on the horizon, leading him, helping him, but what did he bring to the table aside from knowing how to make her come? He didn’t think his love and devotion were enough; she needed more—deserved more, and all he had to give was his body, wanting to make her feel so fucking good that she wouldn’t want him to leave. 

And she’s not happy with what he has to offer—at least, that’s what he thought she was trying to say. 

The day before came to mind when she told him she felt the same, that she loved him, too, but would wait for him to say it first, and that gave him hope that maybe he just wasn’t understanding this conversation—his worries getting the better of him, which was a problem of his; spiraling, something negative having him play out all of the worst case scenarios and making dread wash over him thinking the other shoe was about to drop.

He took a deep breath, his hand flexing, listening intently, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. 

“You know how people hate the word moist?” she asked. “Like it makes their skin crawl and is just so cringy?” She shuddered.  

“Yeah, it’s the same in Spanish. People don’t like húmedo, which means the same thing.” 

“Love that it’s universal. I have the same kind of aversion to the phrase-that-shall-not-be-named.” 

He was curious. “Why?” he asked. 

“Oh, it’s overused by people who think sex is a dirty word, and ‘fuck’ is just way too profane for their sensibilities, but they aren’t actually… making love.” She cringed. “It’s usually the guy getting off without a care for his partner—so, basically, it makes me think of really bad heterosexual sex, and it’s gross.” 

Javier snorted. 

“This is why we fuck,” he pointed out. 

She grimaced, and he frowned, rubbing his hand over her back, needing to feel her, grounding himself in her comfort. 

“I would like to do the real thing with you…” she said softly.

“I’m sorry…?” 

What did she mean?

“To me, I think it’s the perfect way to describe that really tender, intimate fucking where you’re staring into each other's eyes, and taking your time, just enjoying one another. There’s no rush, no pressure to make the other person come over and over, it’s just being in the moment with your partner and feeling it, you know? I wanna do that with you.” 

His eyebrows were in his hairline. 

“You do?” he whispered. 

She smiled, nodding, “Yeah, I do, very much, ‘cause I don’t know if you’re aware, Javi—I really fucking like you. A lot, and I’d be so into it.”

“Oh.”

He was stunned. 

She stroked his cheek, worry etched on her features as she asked, “Are you okay, babe?”

It took him a second to wrap his brain around it. 

“You don’t care how many times I get you off…” he started. “You just want to have sex with me because you like it… You like me, and not how many times I make you come…?”

That didn’t seem right…

“One orgasm is enough. Multiple isn’t necessary, but sometimes nice,” she answered, shrugging her shoulder. “I like the intimacy and don’t care how many times you get me off. You finishing before you wanted was totally fine—it’s honestly really fucking sexy that you couldn’t hold out, like, fuck, I got you that worked up? Me? Makes a girl feel really good about herself.”

He saw in her eyes that she was telling the truth, and his mouth fell open. 

Her eyebrows furrowed, asking, “Why do you look so surprised?” 

“Fuck,” he sighed, closing his eyes tight. “You like me.” 

“I more than like you, but yes, I do.” 

Hearing her say it out loud made his heart pick up in speed. 

“Shit, I’m so fucking stupid.” 

“Javier, what’s going on?” 

He looked at her, seeing the concern on her face. 

“A long time ago, fuck,” he sighed. “A long time ago, with my ex—”

“What the fuck did Lorraine do?” she cut him off, seething. 

A smile crept up on his lips, warmth filling his veins at how protective she always got over him. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he said, rubbing her back. “It was so fucking long ago, but, uh, one time I came too quick, and she bit my head off about not getting her off.” 

“You made her come during foreplay, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah… Figured it wouldn’t be a big deal, so I let myself go, and she got so fucking mad.” 

“That greedy bitch.” 

“I should’ve seen it sooner—I can’t believe I was so fucking dumb.” 

“About dating her?” 

“Yes. My mom tried to warn me, and I fucking brushed her off because I thought she was just being overprotective ‘cause I was her only kid, su bendición, her blessing.” He sighed. “Pop told me when I came back from Colombia the first go around that they knew she was using me to get back at her dad—he thought I wasn’t good enough and fucking hated me dating her. And it’s taken me over fifteen fucking years to realize she was using me for sex, too. She didn’t want me,” he spat, anger simmering in his gut. “She wanted my body and what I could fucking do with it.” His eyes were beginning to burn, pressing his hand to Cielito’s cheek, swallowing hard, his voice thicker when he said, “You want me. You like me. You care about me, and I thought the only fucking thing I have worth anything to give you in return is my body.” A tear rolled down his cheek. 

“Javi,” you gasped, tears brimming your eyes, so utterly upset by what he just said. Guilt had your chest aching, thinking about how he’d wanted to take things slow at the beginning—the three dates he wanted to go on before sex, and now it was dawning on you how important that was to him. “I really fucking hope I haven’t made you feel like all I want from you is sex—you know, right, that I more than like you, and the sex is just a bonus?” 

“Cielito, baby, I know.” He stroked your cheek, his eyes rounded. “Our relationship is so fucking good, and I’ve felt every goddamn day since I met you how much you care about me. It’s just—” He sighed “—in the back of my mind, I wonder what the fuck I have to offer you?” 

It broke your heart how he didn’t see his worth, answering quickly, “You, Javi, not your body, but you, just you,” you said. “You cherish me, you care about me, too, and show me every day with the things you do and say that aren’t even sexy. Do you have any idea how much I love that you wanted to spend time with me today while I read? It made me so happy because none of my exes would’ve wanted to do that, and you keep my water refilled, which is so fucking romantic. I like your company. I like being with you and talking to you. I like everything about you, even if you get into your head sometimes.” You smoothed your hand through his hair. “But Javi, I more than like you a lot, and you give me so much—offer me so much of yourself, and I have never been happier in my entire life.”  

“It’s enough?” He asked, barely above a whisper, and you could see the worry in his eyes. 

You took his hand from your face, lacing your fingers together. 

“It’s more than enough, it will always be enough. You’re enough.” 

His eyes were rimmed red, smiling as he crushed his mouth against yours in a searing kiss that lasted until your lungs protested with a need for oxygen, Javi pulling you into his body and holding you close. 

Learning about Javi’s past over the last two days had given you a clearer picture of who he was and what he’d been through. He was like a puzzle that, since the first time you spoke, you’ve been putting together piece by piece, starting with the edges—him telling you some of his favorite things and about his job with the DEA; a large chunk in the middle coming together with the story of Lorraine, filling the rest of it in with little clusters of information he’d revealed, and at this point, it was almost completed, there was just this one big empty part in a corner that was still missing—Colombia, and all of the horrors he’d gone through. One day he’ll tell you, and you’ll be there to hold him tight and kiss away the memories. 

Time passed, both of you cleaning up, getting dressed, putting the couch protector in the wash, and ordering food to be delivered. 

The entire pizza was eaten, the box lying open on the coffee table with six empty beer bottles surrounding the cardboard. You were sitting in Javi’s lap, his arms wrapped around you with your head resting on his bare shoulder, the man only wearing sweats as you both watched the first Lethal Weapon movie, the marathon having started over. 

The characters work for the Los Angeles Police Department, one of them being a sergeant in the narcotics division, and it had you wondering something while you watch. 

“Javi?” 

“Yes, Cielito?” he asked, kissing your hair. 

“What made you decide to become a cop?” 

He took a deep breath. 

“You know how we’re on the border with Mexico?” 

“Yeah?” 

“There’s a fuck ton of drug smuggling. I couldn’t show you all of Pop’s land, but the Rio Grande runs along it, and if you go out to the edge of the property, sometimes you can spot people on boats.” 

“Maybe they’re fishing? Enjoying the sun? Not all boats on the river are smugglers...” 

“Right.” He didn’t sound convinced and frankly a bit paranoid. “Well, somehow, even with a heavy fucking border patrol presence and the DEA breathing down their necks, drugs are getting into Laredo—my money’s on the river.” 

“I can tell. So, you’ve just always hated drugs?” 

“No.” 

“No?”

Turning your head, you looked at his face, Javi meeting your eyes. 

“When I started elementary school, I didn’t speak a single word of English—had no idea what the fuck anyone was saying. They had me in the ESL program, but my regular teacher didn’t know Spanish, and I struggled. The kid I shared a desk with helped me.” There was a sad smile on his lips. “His name was Neil, and he came from one of the wealthier families in town, so he had a nanny who’d taught him some Spanish—he was my first best friend. If you remember from the photo albums, the random white kid with the curly brown hair, that was him.” You nodded. Chucho had said it was Javi’s friend when you’d been going through pictures, remembering him popping up through the ages they were in elementary school, not recalling if he was in any of the later photos. “As we got older, we drifted apart. His dad’s a hardass. He got into high school and pretty much wasn’t allowed to do anything that wasn’t academic or fucking extracurriculars ‘cause his dad wanted him to get into a big university. It was a lot of pressure, and he started smoking pot freshman year to relax—he got me to try it.” 

You gasped dramatically. 

“Javier, you snorted the mari-j-uana? You? A narc?” 

His eyes narrowed. 

“Did you just call me a fucking narc..? Snorted..? You don’t snort weed, baby…” 

“That’s something a narc would say,” you teased.  

He pinched your thigh, making you giggle. 

“I smoked it and didn’t like it. Not my thing—prefer booze.” 

“Like the narc you are,” you said, kissing his cheek. 

Javi sighed. 

“By junior year,” he continued, “he was under a lot of pressure, and I guess he asked his dealer for something stronger.” He inhaled deeply, letting the air out slowly, before he spoke again, “Kid overdosed.” 

“No,” you gasped for real this time. “I’m so sorry, Javi.” Throwing your arms around his neck, you hugged him, Javi pulling you closer. 

“Yeah, it was fucked.” There was an edge of anger in his tone. “They caught the guy who sold it to him, but at that time, police didn’t give a fuck about cocaine possession, pretty much got a slap on the fucking wrist, and they didn’t bother finding out his supplier. A great fucking kid with his whole life ahead of him, dead, and the man who caused it was out before I went off to college—didn’t sit right with me that Neil didn’t get any fucking justice.” 

“And so you helped take down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel—Jesus Christ, Javier, you don’t fuck around. I think Neil would be proud of what you accomplished.”

“Maybe.” 

The frown was evident in his voice, leaning back to look at his face. It was clear what he was thinking, asking him, “Why don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

His eyes were on yours, “There’s still all the shit here.” He swallowed. “I was asked to go to Mexico after I took down Cali, but I was so fucking tired of all the bullshit.” 

You could see the exhaustion, sliding your fingers through the hair above each of his ears. 

“Babe, you’re one man. I know you want justice and to right all the wrongs, but you can’t single-handedly dismantle the drug trade—you did more than enough. Rest, let other people handle it.”

He let out a long sigh. 

“You’re right, Cielito.” He smiled softly. “I’ve got you now, and I’m so fucking happy about it.”

You smiled back. 

“Good,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him. 

When you pulled back, he asked, “What made you want to be a nurse?”

“Oh, when I was eight, my appendix burst, and I had to be hospitalized.”

“The scar,” he said, touching your belly. 

It was so long ago it was barely visible, it surprised you he’d even noticed. 

“Yeah, the scar.” You smiled. “My mom stayed home with my little brother, and aside from my dad being the doctor he is, checking that the surgery was done properly and I was healing okay, I was in the hospital alone for almost a week.” 

Javi was frowning. “Nobody was with you…?”

“Nope.” You shrugged. “But, this lovely nurse who had the daytime shift would keep me company as much as possible and make sure I wasn’t lonely. She was wonderful and so fucking funny. I just knew I wanted to be exactly like her—I wanted to make being in the hospital less scary and people smile even when they’re feeling miserable. So, nursing.”

His hand came up to cup your jaw, looking deep into your eyes. 

“It’s the perfect job for you—you’re so fucking warm and bright that I know people love you taking care of them ‘cause I sure as fuck do.”

It felt like you were melting at the sincerity in his voice. 

“That’s very sweet of you, but you’re not my patient,” you said. “You’re my boyfriend and get special boyfriend treatment, they just get silly jokes and compassion.”

“What’s the special boyfriend treatment?” He asked, head tilting in interest. 

“Cuddles, kisses, naked stuff, food, basically anything you want from me is yours.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, saying into your lips, “I like the sound of that.”

“I’m glad.”

He broke the kiss, meeting your gaze with a frown, “I’m, uh, gonna be honest—your family has left a bad fucking taste in my mouth, and I’m happy to meet them or talk to them on the phone, but I don’t know how I’d handle them treating you like shit.”

“Well, we’ll have to figure out different plans for Christmas, then.”

His frown deepened. 

“You don’t have to skip because of me...”

“Oh, don’t worry.” You waved away his concern. “You’re giving me an excuse, and I’m taking it. It’s bad enough I talk to my mom once a week or so—if I was strong, I’d go no contact, but I’d feel too guilty.” 

His eyes were big, the honesty showing as he said, “Whatever you choose to do, baby, I support you, and know that my family will welcome you with open arms.” 

“Are you sure?” you asked softly. 

He smiled, “Oh, yeah. Pop loves you, and I know everybody else will, too.”

“That makes me happy.” 

“You make me happy.” 

Laughing, you replied, “You’re so fucking cheesy, but—” you moved your face closer to ghost your lips over his “—I more than like you, a lot.” 

“I more than like you a lot, too.” He closed the space kissing you with such passion that you knew what he said was true, those three little words screaming in your brain. 

The sun was high up in the sky, the straw cowboy hat atop his head keeping it out of his eyes. It was hotter than hell today, the heat making sweat rise on his skin as he walked over the neatly cut grass, taking the same route he’d taken hundreds of times before, ignoring the slight ache in his knees. 

He came to a stop, groaning as he bent down a little to wipe away some dirt that had accumulated on top of the grey stone with one hand. The white leather ring box was slightly discolored from age, not as pristine as it once was. Chucho set it down where he had just cleaned, popping it open, the diamonds on the ring sparkling in the sunlight. 

Straightening, he said, “Mi amor, nuestro Javiercito conocio a una chica maravillosa (My love, our Javier met a wonderful girl).” 

His eyes tracked over the engraved letters of Antonia’s name, imagining how she’d react to the news, seeing so clearly in his mind that bright smile he’d loved so much and her excitedly saying, ‘Háblame de todo (Tell me everything).’ 

A smile was on his lips when he continued, “Yo la amo y tú también la amarías (I love her and you would love her too). Él va a casarse con ella y limpie tu anillo de compromiso para cuando él lo quiera (He’s going to marry her, and I had your engagement ring cleaned for when he wants it). I’m probably jumping the gun,” he chuckled. “Pero sabes que soy un romántico (But you know I’m a romantic).”

“Ojalá pudieras ver lo feliz que está con ella (I wish you could see how happy he is with her). Todo sonrisas, mi amor (All smiles, my love). Los que nos perdimos y pensé que nunca volveríamos a ver (The ones we missed and thought we’d never see again).” 

His eyes were starting to water, feeling his throat get tight. 

“Él está contento otra vez (He’s happy again). Ayer pasé horas con ella y ella es perfecta para el (I spent hours with her yesterday and she is perfect for him). Ella es amable, y muy divertida (She is kind and very funny). Puedo ver cuánto lo ama (I can see how much she loves him).” 

He chuckled again, thinking about what Javi’s Cielito had said the day before. 

“Ella dijo que mataría por probar tu comida (She said she would murder to try your food). Hubieron cocinado juntos y Javiercito los habría distraído a ambos (You would have cooked together and Javier would have distracted you both).” Chucho laughed. 

“Ellos son buenos juntos, mi amor (They are good together, my love). Me recuerdan a nosotros y estarán juntos para siempre, también (They remind me of us and they will be together forever, too).” He pressed a hand to the stone. “Te amo, mi media naranja (I love you, my soulmate). Déjame contarte sobre mi semana (Let me tell you about my week)...”

One month later…

The cordless phone was pressed to your ear, using your shoulder to keep it in place while you cooked, not paying attention to what your mother was saying, seeing as she’d been going on and on for the last—you checked your watch—fifteen minutes about how perfect your little brother was and all of the amazing things he’d done since the last time you spoke a week prior. 

“...and they’ve decided to try for another baby,” your mom gushed, unable to stop the look of disgust on your face.

“Wow, that’s so exciting,” you replied, not sounding excited at all. 

It was honestly such an odd thing how couples were so happy to announce they were having unprotected sex to their friends and family. 

Javi was running late coming over after work because he had an errand to do. The sauce was simmering in the pan, the noodles boiling, and the side salad was already prepared in a bowl on the kitchen table. 

“It’s high time you started thinking about settling down,” she said, making you groan, not wanting to have this discussion. “You know, your father was in Boston this weekend at a surgeon’s conference—he was the keynote speaker and ran into Daniel—Dr. Andrews. I miss Daniel, he was so wonderful and talented. I heard he’s up for an award for a new procedure he invented. Whatever happened between you two?” 

Daniel Andrews was a cardiothoracic surgeon you’d met five years ago while working at a hospital in Dallas. He was pretty with his blue eyes, perfectly styled hair, and clean-shaven face, honestly surprised he’d taken an interest in you, and so you’d dated for about six months—him even meeting your family, but it definitely wasn’t meant to last. 

“Remember he had the accident?” you replied. 

“What accident?” 

“When he slipped and fell into another nurse’s vagina.” 

“That is so vulgar!” She sounded appalled, and it made you smile. “Why are you like this? If you weren’t so… independent, you could find a nice doctor to settle down with, have his children, and become a stay-at-home mother like your sister-in-law.” 

“Wow, mom, it’s not the fifties anymore, and some women like having careers and don’t want to make motherhood their entire identity. I’m happy she loves being at home with her kids, but that’s not something that calls to me—I love working, and if I had children, I’d keep working after they were born, and my partner and I would have equal responsibility taking care of them.”

She scoffed. 

“It’s the mother’s job to rear the children while her husband provides for the family.” 

“I think you personally just caused a regression in women’s rights, and another thing—” You were getting heated. “—I don’t need to meet a ‘nice doctor,’ I’m dating a wonderful man, thank you very much.” 

“The farmer?” The disdain was evident in her tone, and it pissed you off. 

With how your parents had welcomed your exes and how charming Javier was, you assumed they’d like him, too, especially since he’s so amazing. It was your mistake to make assumptions because when you finally revealed you were seeing someone, and your mother asked what he did at the hospital, finding out he didn’t work there, she was not very welcoming and outright dismissive of your relationship. 

“I’ve told you multiple times he’s a rancher—Javier told you he’s a rancher on his dad’s ranch.” 

She’d talked to him one night when he’d answered your house phone, and to your absolute horror, she’d grilled him about his job and how much money he made before you could take the receiver from him. 

“Right, but he isn’t a serious relationship—just something to work out of your system, and eventually, you’ll meet a man who makes actual money and can take care of you.” 

Your blood was boiling, rage making your heart pound, absolutely done with the bullshit. 

“We’re very serious, for your information, and I don’t give a flying fuck how much money he makes because I can easily support the both of us with only my job, that I, a woman with a degree, work!” you yelled. There was the sound of knocking on the front door. “Well, I’ve got to go. My very serious boyfriend, who I plan on marrying, is here! Have a nice night, mother,” you spat, ending the call, the phone thudding across the counter. 

Quickly, you were heading out of the kitchen, relief washing over you when you pulled open the door to find Javi standing there with a concerned look holding a small bouquet of sunflowers. Seeing him and the flowers, Javi always bringing you a new bouquet every Monday had you going soft. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I thought I heard yelling?” 

“My mom,” you sighed, anger flashing across his face. 

“Fuck.” He stepped forward to pull you into his arms while still holding the sunflowers, walking you into the apartment and closing the door with his foot, hugging you tight in the entryway. 

Leaning back, he held your chin with two fingers, moving to kiss you so tenderly it made your heart squeeze. Breaking it, he looked at you with round eyes, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked. 

His presence had calmness spreading through you, so happy he was there. 

“I’ll tell you while I finish making dinner.” 

“Okay.” He nodded. “I’ll take care of the flowers.” 

You smiled. “You’re the best.” Quickly kissing him, Javi toed off his shoes by the front door and emptied his pockets in the bowl on the console table in the entryway, following you back into the kitchen. 

You moved the sauce to a cold burner before getting the strainer out of a cabinet, putting it in the sink, and pouring in the pot of noodles while your boyfriend discarded the dead flowers currently on the dining table into the trash. He grabbed scissors, expertly trimming the stems on the new ones before sidling up next to you to fill a clear glass vase with fresh water. 

It was nice how comfortable the two of you moved about the kitchen together, Javi bumping his hip against yours and kissing your hair to make you smile, him waiting for you to start talking. 

Sighing loudly, you finally spoke, “Like, because I’m not a fucking doctor, the next best thing for me to be is the wife of one, popping out kids and raising them.It’s just so fucking sexist.” 

Javi was listening while he arranged the sunflowers in the vase. 

“It’s fucked up,” he mused. 

Shaking out the rest of the water from the pasta, you continued, “Don’t get me wrong, stay-at-home moms work their asses off, but I never saw myself being one—I wanna be a nurse in a hospital, doing the thing I love.” The noodles were put back into the pot and onto the stove, pouring in the sauce, Javi taking the flowers over to the kitchen table and setting them in the middle. “It’s just so fucking exhausting not being good enough.” 

Arms wrapped around your middle, Javi hugging you tight, his mouth at your ear as he whispered, “Fuck what your mom thinks. You’re incredible and hardworking. No one gets to tell you how to live your life.” 

It had you going gooey, tears threatening to spill, stirring the pasta. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

He kissed the side of your neck. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Dinners ready.” 

“I’ll get water for us.” 

The dining room wasn’t much of a room but more of an attachment to the kitchen that featured a two-person table and a window that you’d shut the blinds on so you had privacy while you ate. 

The salad bowl was next to the flowers, Javi sitting across from you, each with your plates full of food.

“How are Daphne and Velma?” you asked before taking a bite. Those were the two calves Javi had basically raised from birth that you both jokingly called your bovine children.

A sweet look came over his face, smiling as he said, “Our hijas (daughters) are doing great with the rest of the herd and picked up grazing quickly, but I knew they would.” 

He sounds like a proud father, and it makes you wonder if he’d be the same with his human children, deep down, knowing he would—he’d be a fantastic dad, ignoring the sting of sadness that he doesn’t want to be one.

Grinning, you reply, “We’ll have to go have a picnic with them next weekend.” 

During the week, sometimes you’d meet Javi out at the ranch after you got off work, and the two of you would sit in his dad’s backyard eating dinner with the two little cows lying down next to you both. With them now out on the land, it’d require a horseback ride, but you loved the picnics and the two girls, who were like giant puppies, always happy to see you guys. 

“They’d love it,” he replied. “Any other news?” Javi asked as he started digging into his food with gusto. 

“You know, the same shit,” you answered, waving your fork. “Mandatory fifteen to twenty minutes of waxing poetic about my brother. Oh, he’s fucking his wife raw now.” 

He choked, coughing as he grabbed his water to take a big drink. 

“Sorry!” you exclaimed. 

Setting the glass down, his voice was rough, looking confused, “It’s okay—why do you know that..?” 

“They’re trying for a baby—like people just broadcast that? ‘We’re trying for a baby,’ wow, thank you so much for letting me know you’re only serving cream pies. My boyfriend fucks me raw on the daily, too. Love when he comes inside me, but I’m not telling my fucking parents.” 

His cheeks were flushed, clearing his throat while he reached across the table to hold your free hand. “Baby, are you okay?” he asked gently. 

“Yeah, sorry, it wasn’t a good phone call—it’s never a good fucking call, and recently they’ve been worse.” 

“I’m sorry.” His thumb stroked over the back of your hand, frowning as he said, “It’s all my fucking fault.” 

“Don’t say that,” you replied in a serious tone. “It’s not your fault, and you’ve done nothing wrong. They’re too fucking stuck up, and after today, I think I’m done trying—there’s no point with how set in their ways they are.” You were getting angry again over what your mother had said. “I won’t fucking sit back and let anyone talk shit about you, my family included, so they can get fucked. I’ve got you, and that’s all that fucking matters.” 

His eyes were misty, squeezing your hand, saying barely above a whisper, “You’d choose me?” 

“I am choosing you. Zero hesitation. Next time she calls, I’m letting her know if she says anything negative, then it’s over, and I won’t be answering anymore.” 

He was giving you that look, the one where you could see in his eyes how much he loved you and that he was struggling not to just blurt the words out loud. 

“You know I support you,” he said thickly. “Whatever makes you happy.” 

“You make me happy.” 

He chuckled. 

“You make me happy, too. Want me to eat you out after dinner?” 

That had you perking up, nodding your head, “Yes, that would be wonderful. I planned to serve you ice cream for dessert, but if you’d prefer pussy…” 

He crookedly smiled. 

“I always prefer pussy for dessert,” he said, winking, making you laugh. 

Focusing on eating, it was quiet as you forked bites into your mouths, Javi groaning around bites. He ate like he hadn’t eaten all day, which you knew was a lie. 

“Slow down,” you giggled. 

“No. It’s too fucking good.” 

His plate was empty before yours, serving himself up seconds and finally taking his time. 

He was very nonchalant when he spoke like it wasn’t anything to get excited about, his eyes on his plate, saying after swallowing a bite, “I start a new job next month.” 

The sentence had you pausing, your fork inches from your face now in limbo. Your eyebrows knit together, eyes narrowing, trying to process the words, thinking maybe you’d misheard. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” you asked. 

“I start a new job next month. Is this a new recipe?” 

“Yeah… what do you mean a new job? Like something different at the ranch?” 

He’d told you he was happy working for his dad, finding the manual labor pretty relaxing compared to what he’d been doing with the DEA, and preferring the animals to people. 

“No,” he answered between bites, shaking his head. “Sheriff hired me.” 

“The Sheriff hired you…?” 

Why would he want to get back into law enforcement? He’d been through so much in South America and put it all behind him to live his life, and now he was going back? This wasn’t making any sense to you—the DEA exhausted him, he was miserable, and now he suddenly wants to be a cop again? 

Finally looking at you, he set his fork down, you doing the same. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Since I came back to the states, agencies all over the entire fucking country have been trying to get me to work for them—the Webb County Sheriff has been up my ass about it, making house calls and sending letters trying to get me. I went through all the job offers I’ve gotten, found the one with the best shit, went to the Sheriff today, and told him if he matches it, I’ll work for him. He did.” Javi grinned, looking pleased with himself. 

“Okay…” you said slowly. “I’m proud of you for swindling cops, but why are you getting back into law enforcement? I thought you were done after Colombia? What about your dad, the ranch, Daphne and Velma?” 

“Our hijas (daughters) will be okay. We can keep going out there during the week, maybe a day on the weekend, if you want. They’ve got all the other cattle to keep them company, but they’d love seeing us, Pop, too.” 

“We can do that…” 

“And the ranch will keep going without me—they’ve got it handled. It was time I got a job.” 

“You have a job.” 

“I needed a real job.” 

“Your current job is pretty fucking real,” you pointed out.

He sighed, his eyes darting away. 

“I need a job that I can support you with,” he said. 

That had you so taken aback you jolted. 

What was he talking about supporting you? As you told your mom, you made more than enough money to care of both of you... Shit, your mom. 

“Javi, is this because my mother gave you the third degree over what you do for work?” 

His eyes met yours, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about since we started dating, and your mom sure as fuck didn’t help—but I do need to be able to take care of you.” 

Take care of you? What the fuck? Does he expect you to quit your job? You were literally just so fucking upset with your mother for being sexist, her saying it was the man’s job to provide for his family, and now Javi had your hackles rising; this was so unlike him. 

“I don’t need you to take care of me financially, Javier,” you said carefully. “Things are perfectly fine how they are, and there’s really no reason for you to be getting a new job.” 

You’d thought what the two of you had was great, working similar schedules and spending all of your free time together. If he became a cop, you doubted he’d have that same regularity, expecting he’d work long hours. 

He let out a long breath, pressing his fingers to his forehead. 

“Things aren’t fine, Cielito.” 

Your body tensed, dread coming over you. 

“What?” you asked softly, your eyes beginning to burn, afraid of what he was going to say, automatically thinking the worst, like he didn’t want to be with you anymore, or he was unhappy, maybe that he hated your career. You felt sick to your stomach, pushing your plate away. 

His hand ran through his hair, meeting your gaze. 

“I’ve got money saved from the DEA, and the change Pop pays me to work, but when I think of renting an apartment or buying a fucking house, it’s not enough long term. I’m here all the time, staying over, eating your amazing fucking food, and I haven’t pitched in on your rent and only pick up groceries when you ask. I need a real job to provide you with the life you deserve.” 

You had to take a deep breath, processing what he said because now you were upset that he hadn’t been listening about how you wanted to work and didn’t need a man to take care of you. Not once had you mentioned a need for money, frankly living quite comfortably, and this just sounded like he hated that you made more than him, and he needed to save his ego by getting a better-paying job. 

“Firstly,” you started, trying to keep your voice even, “I don’t need you to pitch in. I’m happy to offer my home and food to you because you’re my boyfriend, the one I more than like, who always pays when we eat out. Secondly, I was employed and completely self-sufficient before you came along, and I am beyond capable of contributing my share and more for both of us. Thirdly, I will not be told that you need to work a dangerous fucking job that you hated, all for the archaic notion that because you’re the man, you need to ‘support me.’ Not in this house, not ever, Javier.” 

His jaw flexed, his right hand clenching, saying in a tone that brokered no argument, “I’m not letting you be the sole provider in this relationship.” 

Your eyebrows shot up, your mouth falling open at his audacity, hitting your fucking limit for this shit today. 

“Excuse me?” Your voice rose. “You’re not letting me?! Why can’t I, a woman, provide for us?!” 

His eyes narrowed in confusion, “What the fuck are you talking about? This has nothing to do with you being a woman. I respect you! I respect women!” he exclaimed, exasperated. 

“You said you needed to take care of me and that I couldn’t support us!” you shouted, your chair scraping across the floor as you stood up, staring down at him with your hands on the table. “That doesn’t sound very fucking feminist, Javier! What, are you going to tell me to quit my job, too?! Have me be your good little housewife who waits on you hand and foot?!” 

His face reddened, scrunching up in anger, getting up from his seat so forcefully it slammed into the wall behind him, “You’re not getting what I’m fucking saying!” he yelled. “You’re turning this into something it’s fucking not!” 

“Then what the FUCK are you trying to say, Javier Jesús?!” 

Your heart was pounding hard, blood rushing in your ears, so fucking angry it had your stomach in knots, not believing your sweet boyfriend was being such a dick. He was mad, too, seeing it on his face and how he was so tense, his hands clenched tight at his sides. 

He knew you hated your mother implying you needed a man to take care of you, and then he decided it was time to show his true colors and that he wanted to do just that—have you rely on him, be the man of the house, and make the most money. You felt off balance because it made no fucking sense. This was not the Javi you knew and loved. Your Javi respected your job, your hardwork, you, and he’d never take away your agency.  

“I’m trying to fucking tell you I love you!” he shouted. 

It felt like time had stopped, your eyes going big at his outburst, stunned—speechless—not imagining this would be how he’d finally tell you those three words you’d been waiting so long to hear. It shocked you so much that the hot anger inside you fizzled out as if you were doused in cold water. 

It was clear how upset he was with the tears in his eyes, lowering his voice, his words coming out thicker from emotion, “I love you so fucking much,” he continued. “I want to spend the rest of my fucking life with you,” he choked on the last word, a stray tear falling down his cheek. His gaze was locked on yours, seeing the truth in the depths of his eyes. “I love you, Cielito, and me getting a job and wanting to pay for shit isn’t me trying to fucking control you, fuck, I’d never want that. That’s not me. It’s not me being fucking better than you either, and it has absolutely nothing to do with you being a woman.” His fingers slid through his hair, his other hand on his hip. “We’re building our future together, and I want us contributing equally—I don’t think it’s fucking fair that you’re taking the brunt of the money shit.” He inhaled deeply. “I want us to be equals—you’re my equal, my other half, my fuckin’ media naranja (soulmate). I want to share my life with you, share everything with you, and live with you in a bigger apartment or a house, fucking anywhere that I don’t have to see Mrs. Hernandez glaring at me like she wants me dead ‘cause you were screaming my name the night before.” 

The last bit had you laughing, tears falling down your cheeks, it all finally making sense. This was your Javi—the man who had the utmost respect for women, hated toxic masculinity, was fair and loved you. He was a good man, the best you knew, and you felt stupid for jumping to conclusions that made zero sense for his character. 

Standing up straight, wiping your eyes, and smiling, you replied, “I love you, too, and I’m so happy you said it.”

He ducked his head, looking a bit sheepish. 

“I was gonna tell you after dinner…”

“Wait, what?” 

Looking at you, he said, “It’s so fucking stupid, and I should’ve told you the moment I knew I loved you, but I was scared. So fucking scared that it was too soon, and it had to be too good to be true, except it wasn’t—it was real.” His hands were on his hips, weight to one side. “A couple of weeks ago, I started figuring my shit out, looking into how much money I had and the cost of living—crunching the fuck out of the numbers. I’ve got a pretty good amount saved up since the government basically paid for everything while I was in Colombia. It’s just not enough for me to retire early—too young. So, it was time for me to return to work because I love you, and we’re equal in everything else, like splitting chores and taking turns cooking. I think we’re pretty fucking good at this relationship shit.” 

“I think we are, too,” you giggled. 

He smiled, nodding, “Yeah, we are. I got the job, and it just felt like everything came together, you know? The universe or whatever the fuck was confirming we’re meant to be together, that it was fucking time for me to just tell you, and I rehearsed how I would say it on the drive here.” He sighed, “But your mom kinda fucked things up, and you didn’t react to my news the way I thought you would…” 

“I’m so sorry, the whole conversation with her was a clusterfuck, and then you hit a nerve.”

“Yeah, some of it’s my fault for not saying the right thing, and I’m sorry for that and also for yelling at you.” He looked at you with puppy dog eyes, a sad frown on his lips. “I didn’t like that shit.” 

Guilt was roiling in your gut, feeling so fucking terrible. 

“Javi, I am so insanely sorry that I lost my cool and upset you. I’ll do better not to let it happen again and make sure that we communicate like adults.” He nodded. “Are we okay?” you asked. 

Smiling, he answered, “Yeah, we’re okay. We’re more than okay.” 

“Good.” You felt relieved, your mouth curling in a little smile. “Wanna know a secret?” you asked. 

His head slightly tilted in curiosity. 

“Yeah?” 

“You told me you loved me before you fell asleep Friday night in Spanish.” He’d whispered it when he thought you were sleeping. “I fucking knew you were gonna break soon,” you said, grinning.  

Flush appeared on his cheeks, scratching at the back of his neck. 

“Shit, I usually wait for you to start snoring.” 

“I don’t snore.” It came out defensive. “You snore,” you accused, pointing at him. 

He smiled. 

“You snore, baby. It’s cute. You wanna know a secret?” 

“Is it that you’re lying about me snoring?” 

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Something better.” 

“Tell me.” 

“Remember that first time we went over to Pop’s last month?” 

“Yes?” 

“That’s the first time que dije te amo en español (I said I love you in Spanish). Told you every night after.” 

He, along with some of your coworkers, had been helping you learn Spanish, which was your second language when you were in school.

“Why is that so romantic?” you asked. “Friday, I said it back in English, but, te amo, mi amor (I love you, my love).” 

He gave you a beaming smile, pressing his hand over his heart.

“Te amo con todo mi corazón—eres el amor de mi vida (I love you with all my heart—you’re the love of my life).” 

There was a possibility you would melt into a puddle, hearing and seeing his devotion for you. Remembering what you were discussing had you sobering up, needing to talk about the matter at hand, worry beginning to well up inside you.

“You’re such a fucking sweetheart! Ugh, I love you so much.” Taking a deep breath, you said, “We’ll get back to being disgustingly in love in a minute. I just need to know why you didn’t talk to me about getting a job? And why you’re doing law enforcement again?” You were frowning, continuing in a softer voice, “You’re going to hate it and be so fucking miserable you’ll end up resenting me.” You worried at your lip between your teeth. 

There was no point in sugarcoating your fear. Colombia fucked him up, and he was still recovering from it; going back to that kind of job again won’t be healthy for him—guilt will eat at you because he’d be doing it for you, and he’d absolutely resent you for it, you didn’t see it going any other way. 

He looked like he’d been slapped. Suddenly, he was moving around the table, his big hands cradling your face, making you look at him. 

“Resent you?” His voice was gentle. “How the fuck—” he choked. “I could never resent you. Cielito, baby, no, I love you too fucking much. It’s nothing like the shit I did with the DEA, I’d be consulting.” His thumbs stroked over your cheeks. “Basically, I’d be doing training and offering my expertise—a fucking office job, really, nothing dangerous, no stress, I get  to choose my schedule, so I lined it up with yours. Pays pretty fucking good, too, and uh—“ He looked a little nervous. “—I thought when your lease was up, we could see about getting a bigger place together.” 

It was a relief to hear that what he’d be doing at the Sheriff’s department would be different from his previous work; now feeling much better about everything and happy, so fucking happy. 

“Javi, I own this apartment,” you said. 

His eyes widened in surprise.  

“What..?” 

“It’s a condo that I bought with cash. The big south-facing windows sold me, and I figured it’d be a better investment than renting,” you answered, shrugging. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. Planned on living here at least a year to make sure I loved my job, then wanted to buy a house—need room for more plants and a garden.” 

That was your dream, planning on a little house for just you, but now you’d need something a bit bigger with Javi. 

He looked a little downtrodden, his eyes moving away from yours.

“Yeah, that’d make sense...” 

“Javi?”

Hopeful big brown eyes met yours. 

“Yes, Cielito?” 

“Wanna move in with me, and then we can buy a house together next year?” 

He visibly brightened, thinking his dimpled smile could outshine the sun, a happy chuckle coming from his throat, crushing his mouth against yours, kissing you passionately, reverently, feeling his joy. 

“Yes,” he murmured into your lips. “Fuck, yes. Please. I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

Happiness was overflowing inside you, thinking it would seep out of your pores, flinging your arms around his neck, Javi pulling you into his embrace, holding you so close to his body like he was trying to fuse you together, his mouth never leaving yours. 

For so long, you’d known how he felt, seeing it so clearly in how he looked at you, hearing it in the words he said, feeling it in his touches. He may not have said the sentence out loud, but he still made you feel loved regardless. Now you’ve heard those three little words that, when said from his lips, felt like the heavens above had opened wide, showering you in contented bliss, spreading the warm fuzziness through your body, and cementing in your brain that he was it—he was home, and now you’d share a home, a life, and your future with him. 

Javier Peña loved you, and you loved him, and nothing else in the world seemed truer than that fact. 

Neediness hit you like a freight train, wanting him inside you so badly there was a throbbing ache between your legs, Javi greedily licking into your mouth and swallowing your moans, his tongue tasting every bit of you he could reach. 

The tension rose until you couldn’t take it anymore, breaking the kiss, Javi chasing your lips as you leaned back to start opening his shirt's buttons. His hand cupped your jaw, his lust-blown eyes on your face. 

“I fucking love you,” he said, moving to kiss you again, your fingers getting the last button undone, pushing the material off his shoulders, him shrugging it off. 

Grabbing the bottom of your cotton t-shirt, his mouth left yours to get it over your head.

“I fucking love you, too,” you panted, and he grinned, kissing you hard. 

The majority of things Javier and you were on the same page about—pineapple did not belong on pizza, coffee was necessary for survival, Coca-Cola is superior to Pepsi, Star Wars is better than Star Trek—and many more you were having trouble remembering, because you both understood each other so well, that you knew at this moment your clothes needed to come off as soon as possible, and you weren’t making it out of the kitchen. 

There was eagerness, impatience, and kissing as you stripped one another—which probably wasn’t the best decision when Javi was trying to peel off one of his socks and ended up falling backward onto his bare ass, the air leaving him in a grunt.

Your hand flew to your mouth, unable to stop yourself from chortling while standing completely nude, him trying his damndest to keep a straight face, laughter sputtering out of him with a big, shining grin. 

“Your poor little ass!” you giggled. 

The rogue sock was thrown haphazardly, finding yourself pulled down into his naked lap, your knees bracketing his thighs. 

“My ass is fine,” he chuckled, his lips finding yours again. Big hands grabbed the globes of your backside, him saying into your lips, “Your ass is more than fine.” Squeezing it and pulling you forward to feel the hard line of his cock pressed between you, making you rub your wet cunt against him, moaning at how it was hitting your clit just right to have sparks igniting in your belly. 

“Javi,” you gasped. 

Kisses were pressed along your jaw, moving lower to your neck, the roll of your hips coating his length in your arousal. 

“God, I love you.” His voice was muffled in your skin. He ducked his head down, pulling your hard nipple into his hot mouth, you moaning at the sharp jolt of pleasure. 

“Fuck, Javi, let me sit on your dick,” you whined, wanting to ease the needy ache between your legs. 

He came off your stiff peak with a wet pop, meeting your eyes, him looking at you with such a tender expression. 

“It’s yours,” he rasped. “I’m yours—I love you.” 

Every time he said it, a thrill ran through you, a smile immediately on your lips, the happiness consuming you. 

“I love you, too,” you replied, holding his cheeks. “And I’m yours—forever.” 

That had him kissing you, feeling him smiling into it, you pushing on him to lay down flat on his back, keeping your mouth on his. 

Moving to settle yourself over his hips, you held yourself up with one hand beside his head, the other moving between your bodies, lifting up to guide him to your entrance. Sinking down had you both moaning, feeling him stretching you to your limits, savoring the slight burn as everything pulled taut inside you, so incredibly full when you bottomed out. 

He’s been inside you so many times you’ve lost count—double digits? Possibly triple? You’re not sure, and even though you’re intimately familiar with the feeling of his dick filling you, nothing had prepared you for this—it had both of your jaws going slack, your eyes locked on each other, staring in wonder at how perfect it felt. The world faded away. Nothing else mattered but the two of you, your love and devotion; this feeling that mind, body, and soul, you were one person in two bodies, and now you were whole once more. 

“Fuck,” Javi whispered in awe. 

“Do you feel it, too?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded, his hands coming up to your face. His throat worked, swallowing hard, his eyes shinier, voice deeper, raspier, “Te amo tanto, no puedo vivir sin ti, mi Cielito (I love you so much, I can’t live without you, my Cielito).” You could see and hear the honesty in his words, your heart pounding in your chest, feeling the prickle of tears. “No puedo respirar sin ti—me muero sin ti (I can’t breathe without you—I’d die without you).” 

“Javier, you can’t just say exceptionally romantic things during sex and make me cry,” you sniffled. 

He chuckled, lifting his head to kiss you. 

“Yes, I can,” he murmured against your lips, his broad palms moving to skim along your back. Nipping at your chin, he grabbed your ass. “You feel so fucking good. How is it better?” 

“Magic.” 

He was thinking it over. 

“Your pussy is pretty fucking magical.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggled, reaching behind you to grab his hand, moving to press it beside his head, one then the other, interlacing your fingers and holding his hands—him happily, letting you pin him down. 

“It’s the truth.” 

“I’m gonna start calling your dick a ‘magic stick,’” you replied, circling your hips to end the sentence, watching in delight when his mouth fell open. 

“You think my dick is magic?” he gasped. 

Rocking on him, feeling him so deep inside you, answering breathily, “Absolutely, it’s fucking magic how perfectly it fills me—doesn’t leave any empty room.” 

He groaned, his cock jerking inside you, making you smile. 

“Can, uh—” he was breathing a little heavier “—can you stay still and kiss me?” he asked, looking up at you with those big eyes of his. 

“Of course, baby.” Lowering your head, pressing your body into his, staying seated as you gave him what he wanted, kissing him. 

You understood what he wanted completely—that ache in your core quelled by him filling you, loving having him inside you, feeling him throbbing and every vein and ridge pressing up against your sensitive walls, him so hot and hard. Slick was soaking him, gathering where you were joined, knowing it was probably dripping down him, happy to stay like this as long as he wanted, comfortable; Your body relaxing, melting into him, contentedness warming your very soul. 

He kissed you fervently, his tongue pressing between your lips to slide along your own, squeezing your hands beside his head, the two of you losing yourselves to each other, basking in one another—your bodies intertwined so tightly, it all blurring where you ended and he began. 

It was almost too much how he encompassed everything. Your brain could think of nothing else but him—feeling him, tasting him, hearing him, seeing him, smelling him–it was all Javi, realizing nobody else had ever affected you like he does, nobody else had ever treated you like he does, nobody else had ever loved you like he does. 

The saddest part was you were positive that went for family, too—Javier was the only person to ever truly love you, but he was the only man you’ve ever truly loved, too. 

The kissing became languid, minutes passing with him stuffed deep inside you, feeling so full and getting worked up from all the emotions you were feeling—happiness, relief, joy, tenderness, love. You were fluttering around him, your tongues tangling, beginning to squirm with the need for friction.

Breaking the kiss, he asked, “Need to come, mi amor?” through labored breaths. 

“Yes.” 

His hooded eyes showed earnestness, immediately saying, “Use me, Cielito. Take what you need. I’m yours.” 

“Fuck, I love you,” she said. 

He felt her words in his heart, them dancing across his skin, leaving warmth in their wake that seeped down into his bones, pretty sure he might be drunk on her—feeling euphoric, floaty, so unbelievably happy that it should be illegal. This was the high they tried to achieve in manufacturing drugs, something so addictive the user won’t want to stop, and Javier was hooked; addicted, gone, letting himself enjoy this bliss and the high of hearing her tell him she loved him. 

She loved him. 

It was embarrassing how giddy it made him feel, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know how she felt—she’d made it known without saying the words, leaving little doubt in his mind. Everything she did, and said, made Javier feel how much she loved him, but hearing her say the sentence out loud made it real; it brought life to the three little words that would title the next chapter of their lives together and solidified how they felt for each other. 

Add in her asking him to move in with her, and he was the happiest man on the entire fucking planet. 

His throbbing cock was buried to the root inside her, feeling her velvety walls pulsing, burning around him, so wet he could feel her dripping, soaking him in her slick. Sweat had their bodies sticking together, neither giving a single fuck, her face so close he could feel her breathing. 

“I love you, too,” he replied. He’d never tire of saying it, planning to tell her every single day for the rest of their lives because she needed to know—she had to be aware of how he felt and that his love for her grew stronger the longer they were together. 

Her mouth collided with his in a heated kiss that was over too soon. Unclasping her hands from his, she moved them to his chest, leveraging herself to sit up on top of him. A small noise left his throat as she rolled her hips. His fingers itched to touch her, grabbing her hips before moving over the soft, supple skin of her belly, up to palm the familiar weight of her breasts, her breath hitching when he tweaked her pebbled nipples between his fingers. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he husked. 

The shitty hanging light over the dining room table glowed behind her, making her look ethereal, angelic, a goddess above him chasing her bliss. He was enraptured by how she looked with her eyes fluttering closed and lips parted, watching her throat work as she swallowed her moans—thinking she was the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and she loved him. 

She started moving, working herself up and down his dick, her body shivering in pleasure, feeling her cunt squeezing him tightly as she slickly slid along him. She felt so fucking good that it had his breath going shaky, his heart hammering in his chest. The pressure was slowly building at the base of his spine, so turned on by how she was riding him, finding it so fucking sexy watching her take what she needed and using him to feel good. 

It was true that he loved getting her off and probably knew her body as well as his own, learning all the little things that turned her on and got her there. He was aware that if he played with her clit, it’d have her coming quickly; teasing her tits enough could get her to finish, too, but he wasn’t the one calling the shots right now; she was in control—she had the power, and he’d do anything she asked. 

Her heavy-lidded eyes met his, making his cock twitch. 

“Touch me,” she moaned. 

Quickly he was pressing his thumb to her clit, rubbing it the way he knew she liked it, his mouth falling open when she clenched around him. Her moans were getting louder, it getting even wetter between her legs, and he knew she was almost there. 

He was breathing hard. “You gonna come, Cielito?” he asked. “You gonna let me feel you?” 

“Yes,” she gasped. “So close.” 

“I know you are, baby.” He pressed a little harder. “Wanna feel you come. Can you do that for me, mi amor? Be my good girl and come for me?” 

“Yes, Javi,” she moaned. 

Her thighs were quivering, and the way her cunt was beginning to spasm had him feeling dizzy, ignoring the heat growing in his belly. 

“Dámelo, mi amor, give it to me. (Give it to me, my love).”

It wasn’t much longer that her body was tensing up, crying out his name as she came, her clenching down hard around him. 

“So good to me,” he groaned. “My good girl. Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito).”

He grit his teeth, grabbing onto her ass, and started thrusting up into her to extend her high, grunting as he pistoned. Her moans were stuttered, digging her nails into his chest, and when he came to a stop, needing to catch his breath, she’d left half-moon imprints in his skin. 

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” she croaked. 

His head came up to look at her. 

“What?” he panted. 

She had a lazy smile on her lips. 

“I’m gonna marry the man I love one day, and that’s you.” She poked him in the chest. 

A laugh escaped him at how adorably fucked out of her mind she looked, groaning as he moved to sit up, an arm around her back to keep her on him, spreading his legs with her in his lap. 

They were face to face now, him smiling. 

Leaning in, he nudged his nose against hers. “You’re gonna marry me one day, huh?” he asked. 

She slid the fingers of one hand into the hair at the back of his head, pressing the other to his cheek. 

“Oh, yeah. You’re my dream man; you check off all of my boxes.” 

Her thighs were on either side of his hips, his hands gripping her ass, helping her to start moving on him, pressing a soft kiss to her chin. 

“What’s on the list?” he asked against her skin, moving to peck one side of her mouth, then the other. 

“He’s gotta be loyal.” 

“I am,” he replied, kissing her jaw. 

She was sinking down his hard cock slowly, canting her hips to get a better angle. 

“He’s gotta love me.” 

“I do.” A peck to her cheek.

She listed the items, rising up on her knees and falling back down, Javier responding, kissing anywhere he could reach that wasn’t her lips. 

“Considerate.” 

“I try.” One over her pulse point. 

“Affectionate.” 

“Always.” A kiss to the tip of her nose. 

There wasn’t any rush, her rocking in his lap, sliding along his length smoothly, her inner walls massaging him.

“Romantic.” 

“I am,” he said, pecking the side of her mouth again. 

“Fun.” 

His lips paused, her continuing to slowly ride him. 

“Maybe?”

“You are.” 

“I am.” He smiled, kissing her other cheek.

“Easy going.” 

“I try.” A press of his lips under her jaw. 

“Gives me his pickles.” 

That had his head coming up to meet her eyes, his eyebrow quirked. 

“My dick?” he asked. 

She gave him a look, slowing to a grind, her arousal wetting his lap. 

“I said ‘pickles,’ not ‘pickle,’ Javier. Literal pickles.” A smirk pulled up on her face. “But, yeah, your dick, too.” 

He chuckled, finally kissing her mouth.

“You can have both,” he murmured into her lips.

She held onto his shoulders as she started moving faster, his mouth falling open in a moan, her all warm and wet, fucking herself on his cock. The knot was tightening in his belly, their eyes locked on each other, groaning when she nipped at his bottom lip. 

He could feel himself getting closer, her slowing down, grinding on him as they lazily kissed before pressing their foreheads together. They stared into each other’s glazed-over eyes while they shared breaths, him helping her move with his grip on her ass. 

There wasn’t any other place he’d rather be than right here, with the woman he loved, who he knew without a doubt he was going to marry one day. 

She picked up in pace again, sweat beading on her forehead, his lap wet from her slick, letting her control the speed and intensity. Javier was happily at her mercy, feeling their connection of the love they shared, taking their time, and being in the moment—zero pressure, just doing what felt good and enjoying one another. They found themselves kissing when the need became too high, wanting to feel the other’s mouth—quick kisses or drawn-out ones, biting lips, and tangling tongues. 

He knew he’d come soon, could feel it building inside him, but wanting to stay like this for as long as possible. 

Through panting breaths, she asked, “What’s on your dream girl list?” 

He was so fucking lost with her fucking him that he answered in a weak voice, “What?” 

“Your dream girl. What’s on your list?” 

There was only one answer that was coming through his pleasure-addled brain. 

“You,” he gasped. 

She grinned. 

“I love you,” she said. 

He was quick to reply, “I love you, too.” Kissing her until it got sloppy, breaking apart when she started riding him fast and hard, Javier’s eyes squeezing shut, whimpering, his body trembling with the tension winding tighter inside him—he was so close, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer. 

His eyes went wide when she clenched around him on a downstroke, her continuing to do it. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whined. 

A knowing smirk was on her lips. 

“You gonna come for me, Javi, baby?” she panted. 

She was doing it on purpose, riding him hard and tightening up to squeeze his dick over and over, trying to fucking finish him. 

He smacked her ass, making her laugh. 

“You’re—” he gulped, it hard to speak when it felt like he was going to explode “—you’re playing fucking dirty.” 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

His insides were burning up, the pressure getting to the point that he was done for. It was over—his cock thickening, falling over the edge with a guttural moan, her sitting flush against him as he came, gushing so deep inside her he’d be in her for days. 

Euphoria had his mind going blank and body lax, her pulling his head into her tits, cushioning him on the pillowy softness as he came down. 

He was in heaven. 

Both literally and figuratively. 

Your fingers rubbed through Javi’s sweat-soaked hair, his face pressed into your bosom. 

His shoulders started shaking before you felt his hot breaths and heard his muffled laughter. 

“What’s so funny, Chuckles?” you asked. 

He said something into your chest, unable to make out the words.

“Gonna need you to get out of the boobies.” 

Lifting his head, he looked beyond amused, him trying to hold back his laughs. 

“You’re my Cielito,” he said. 

“Yes…” 

“My little heaven.” Air left his nose in a snort, having to compose himself. “I’m literally inside heaven.” His breath sputtered, his eyes crinkling at the edges as a short burst of laughter sounded from him, ending in his body silently quaking, smiling from ear to ear. You couldn’t keep a straight face, joining in the merriment. 

“You’re so fucking dumb,” you laughed, playfully slapping his shoulder. 

His arms pulled you in for a hug, shoving your face in his neck, the two of you working out the giggles in your system, bodies shaking against each other. 

It took a minute for him to calm down, finally saying, “But you love me.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, his hands rubbing along your bare back.

“I do.” Moving your head to look into his eyes. “I love you very much.” 

His chocolate brown eyes were shining brightly, giving you a dimpled grin. 

“I love you, too, Cielito.” He kissed you sweetly, pulling back to hold your face, as he said, “Mi vida estaría vacía sin ti (My life would be empty without you). Te amo más que a nada y soy feliz de compartir de mi vida contigo a mi lado (I love you more than anything and I’m happy to share my life with you by my side). Eres el amor de mi vida y mi media naranja (You are the love of my life and my soulmate). Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito).” Your eyes were watering, holding the tears at bay, his lips pressing against yours in a tender kiss that had you sighing happily. Breaking it, he asked, “Do you need me to translate?” 

“No.” You shook your head. “I got it, and you can’t just say exceptionally romantic things after post sex giggles to make me cry.” You were so fucking happy, it was taking everything in you to keep from crying. “It’s rude.” 

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled. He kissed you, saying into your lips, “I’m gonna keep doing it, because I love you, Cielito—mi amor (my love).” 

“I love you, too, Javi.”

“My back is gonna be fucked,” he said between kisses.

“I really fucking love you, too.” 

“Fuck, I love you.” 

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @lola766 @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin  @themarcusmoreno @woomen23 @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @lupinshouseelf @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @tumblertatiana @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @enjoyourlattebitch @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @theewokingdead @guess-my-next-obsession

#pedro pascal #Javier peña #javier peña/reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

[tiffany-loves-broadway]

Miscellaneous Infinity Train Fan Cars

@lakesbian You said you were interested in these, so here goes - the full set of Infinity Train fan cars I made. I made these nineteen cars for five different passengers in all, mixed in with canon cars and a fan car a friend made.

The Alphabetized Car is a car with a wide assortment of miscellaneous items that are all tagged and neatly sorted in alphabetical order. Featureless denizens occasionally manifest to maintain the car's organizational system, and to tag and add inexplicable new shipments of junk. If you come across them, you can help them with their work, but there is a continuous hazard of being identified as an item that belongs in the car and tagged. If this happens to you, you can wait for them to leave and then escape, but the tag does not come off.

The Murder Mystery Dinner Car is exactly what it says it is; it's a fancy dining room where a fair play whodunnit murder mystery plays out and you need to solve it to leave. The murders aren't 100% real; everything has a very staged feel to it, like it's self-consciously a show being put on for the benefit of the passengers. A relatively common source of companion denizens.

The Back On Earth Car briefly makes it seem like you have escaped from the train and are, in fact, back on Earth. You quickly realize that you're like a ghost and can't be perceived or interact with anything, though. The visions this car gives you of Earth aren't perfectly reliable, although it isn't just making them up out of whole cloth, so it can be kind of hard to disentangle. The car generally directs you towards scenes of people worrying about you, missing you, and assuming you're probably dead.

The Conspiracy Car is a windy void that manifests your thoughts in real time as scraps of paper with images and text, hanging and connected by red strings; more relevant thoughts manifest come closer to you and less relevant thoughts pull away. As you play around with it, it begins to subtly insinuate itself into this process to alter your thinking, first by improving it and generating useful insights that you wouldn't have thought of yourself, and then by making you paranoid and despondent. If you get caught up in this and stay put for too long, the car will ensnare you in this web and consume you.

The Maid's Car is a room featuring a two-foot-tall denizen with a jellybean for a head, wearing a maid outfit; when met, she is usually cleaning up a pile of spilled jellybeans from some unspecified incident. She is a very frequent companion denizen, and is extremely experienced as such; she's something of a foil to Lake, being very comfortable in her assigned role. Even as it's grown routine over the years, even with its ups and downs, she thinks of acting as a companion for passengers as her purpose, and the idea of casting off the denizen role and leaving the train is unthinkable.

The Biplane Car requires you to fly a biplane from the entrance to the exit. It's set up so that you'll have an argument with your companion that will distract you from flying the plane.

The Henry Car introduces you to Henry, a psychic, shapeshifting denizen who appears human, and will try to follow you on your journey, much like Perry. You will remember that Henry has been accompanying you throughout much of the train, but this will be false. You will remember knowing and liking Henry on Earth, but this will be false. Henry is basically malevolent in nature, and will be a burden on you at best; the sooner you realize something's up and dispel him, the better. (Worth The Candle didn't invent this general concept, but the name Henry is a reference to its use of it.)

The Apocalypse Car is kind of a counterpart to the Back On Earth Car. It takes you through a distorted, fake version of Earth where something is horribly wrong, and all the people are missing or dead. It's unclear exactly what happened, but you get the sickening feeling that it's a plausible future somehow.

The D&D Car is just a fun cute little car with a group of denizens who want you to join their TTRPG campaign, which the car helps produce dramatic visual aids for. It's very easy to spend too long there, if you're the type to go for that and you aren't too concerned with making forward progress through the train.

The Airport Car is arguably a utility car, which denizens can use to return to their home car. (Passengers can technically also use it in the same way, but you can't control where it sends you and it only sends you elsewhere on the train, so it'll actually just send you to a random car.) Its real purpose is to divest you of a companion - it shows up when your companion is getting tired of being your companion and you need a teary-eyed airport goodbye where you try to convince them to stay.

The Motel Car is a seedy motel where you need to do a chain of fetch quests for assorted primate denizens to get the key for the exit. A very tedious car even if done exactly correctly.

The Marathon Car is a car designed to exhaust you. The path through it is very clearly marked; it's simply a very long way from the entrance to the exit. It has a racing theme to it, but thankfully no actual time limit; you'll definitely need to pace yourself. Expect to spend at least a day here.

The Vivisection Car is a hospital ward with a large and horrifying betentacled denizen who, driven by curiosity, will attempt to surgically take apart any living thing it encounters.

The City Of Cards Car is a city made of cards, inhabited by little card people. The whole city is extremely delicate and will collapse if not treated with great care, at which point you have pissed off all the local denizens, who will need to rebuild it.

The Nuclear Test Site Car is a little '50s Americana town, eerily devoid of life. There is a heavily-armored observational building near the exit, where a passenger poking around is likely to set off a nuclear bomb that destroys the town.

The Folsom Prison Blues Car is a car that is a prison, inhabited by both guard denizens and prisoner denizens. Passengers will generally be identified as a prisoner, and the guards will refuse to allow them to leave the car - even treating a passenger's number falling as an escape attempt to be punished.

The Survivor Car features a mid-sized group of denizens (one or two dozen) who are collectively quite unpleasant. When a passenger arrives, the group will begin voting at regular intervals as to who should be kicked out. The Survivor Car's denizens treat this fate as especially unpleasant, like they're being sent to their deaths; however, they're just playing it up as part of the game, and getting voted out is in fact the only way for a passenger to leave the Survivor Car. The longer you manage to politically maneuver yourself into staying on the Survivor Car, the likelier you are to wind up stuck on it as its newest permanent denizen.

The Elephant Car has a society of mouse-like denizens milling about chatting with one another, totally ignoring a large elephant standing in the middle of the car. It's a bit of a Rorschach test, and if the passenger acknowledges the elephant, the results are a coinflip - sometimes the elephant is a grave taboo that the passenger will be chased out of the car for violating, and sometimes the passenger will be lauded for bravely speaking up where no one else would, making the elephant feel welcome, etc.

The Grand Theft Auto Car is set in a stereotypically/unrealistically crime-ridden modern city; passengers must navigate, Scylla-and-Charybdis-style, a complex gang war between several factions to get through.

#Infinity Train

[screaminglygay]

third time is a charm, right? (part four)

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff

summary: getting to know wanda and natasha must be wonderful, right?

warnings: swearing, bad flirting once again, hints of sexual themes

word count: 2.4k

an: hi! hello! im back, hopefully my wifi will work forever from now on. thank youuuu for all of your support, i love you guys so much!!! so sweet!  💞 💕 💞 

(italica = your thoughts)

In the last three days you checked your phone like nine billion times, still nothing. Being frustrated is a weak word to use in this situation. You were furious, screen time on your phone went up by 89% as it almost hit the number of 13 hours per day. You could make a bet that you´ve seen every Instagram post, every latest information on twitter, in the second it was posted.

I am going to die, I swear. Did I just get ghosted again? Again?  

You let out a big sigh, looking around your room makes you go back to reality as you notice the mess. Not just in your head, but also everywhere around your camp spot, for the past days. Seeing this doesn’t make you very happy, but you're really not in the mood to clean up this bomb situation.

Your phone buzzes.

Every thought bothered by the junk in your living room is now out of your mind at the same speed as it came in. Jumping for your phone wasn’t the smartest idea as you stab yourself with something, you grab it.

What the fuck? A fork?  

The fork is being thrown away, landing somewhere between your box from take-out and dirty sleeping shirt.  

Your phone buzzes again.

Finally, you took it and looked at your messages. Your eyes quickly scan who texted you. It´s Natasha.

Oh my god! It´s her! Yes! Celebrations!

You smiled to yourself as you did something like a cheerful winning dance. Knowing you´re alone, you went fully in with that dance moves. Clicking on the message so you can get some satisfaction makes your heart skips a beat.

Natasha🔥

<12:49>

Hey sweetheart! We´re at town, would be okay if we came to yours for a bit?  

<12:50>

To talk of course 😉

Your cheeks immediately turn to a shade of pink. The heat makes you take off your hoodie, but it does not help at all, you stand up and start to walk around the messy room, dodging everything that lies on the floor. Looking back at the phone, your fingers quickly type your agreement.

They did not ghost me, nice.  

Your phone buzzes one more time.

Natasha🔥

<12:55>

20 minutes and we will be there! xx

You look around and a sigh of relief escapes your mouth. Typing quick “okay” as a reply must be enough, your brain can't type more than that as you're already smiling. Only happy thoughts in your head, the two gorgeous women are actually sent from heaven. Sitting back on the couch did not last long, you got back up as you noticed that the mess was still everywhere, and you had 20 minutes to clean it.

Shit.

You cursed yourself for being gay mess, literally. Being the clumsy you, it took you seven slip ups on your own clothes and three times spilling the same coffee cup to understand that you have zero chance of cleaning this in time.  

Okay, come (Y/N), you’ve got this.

You look at the floor where the spilled coffee is slowly rolling to you.

Maybe I don’t.  

The more you look around the more you feel trapped, the chaos on the ground surrounds you. You don´t even know where most of the things came from. Papers and books are scattered across the coffee table, empty snack wrappers the floor, and a pile of laundry has found its way onto the couch as well as on the ground, chair and somehow even on the kitchen counter. Taking off your rings sounds like a good first step.

Sigh.

Determined, you grab an old towel and luckily you find a bucket, so you fill it with soapy water, ready to clean it all. As you kneel, you can't help but wince at the sticky sensation as your hands encounter the wet mess. You start scrubbing aggressively, hoping to remove every trace of the many accidents. But the coffee spill is just the beginning. Your eyes dart around the room, searching for the next task. You spot the papers first, and you quickly gather them up, trying to sort them into some order.

Burger king coupon? Where did i even get this?

You aim it from a distance, thinking you won't need to take the extra five steps to actually put it in the trashcan. Unexpectedly, your aim is much better than you thought it was possible. You grin with pride, quickly forgetting that you have work to do.

Okay, what´s next? Oh.

Rushing to the couch, you scoop up the pile of laundry, quickly folding and stacking them in a corner. It's not perfect, but it will have to do for now. Time ticks away, urging you to keep moving. The once cluttered floor now starts to regain its sense of space, giving you a glimmer of hope that you might finish in time.

But the clock continues to tick faster and faster, and there's still work to be done. You dart around the room, dusting off surfaces, straightening cushions, and rearranging misplaced items. Your hands move swiftly, almost instinctively, as you strive to restore order to your living room.

It doesn't look that bad. It looks like my old apartment... kinda-ish.

It's not perfect, but it's significantly improved. The spilled coffee has faded, the papers are neatly stacked, and the floor is no longer a minefield of wrappers and clothes. You take a moment to catch your breath, wiping sweat from your forehead.

Quickly running to the bathroom, you take the first perfume and spray it in the living room. Breathing faster than you should you start coughing at the way too sweet perfume hitting your nose.

With only moments to spare, you make a final sprint to the front door, checking your appearance in the mirror. Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself for your angel's arrival, hoping that they will see it as a normal apartment, despite the recent chaos that had occupied you and your living room.

Ding ding.

Oh my god, they are here! Okay, it´s happening. Everybody stay calm. Everybody stay calm down! Haha, office reference.

You giggle at your own thoughts as you peak at yourself one more time in the mirror, winking at yourself.

That was cringe.

You shake your head a little bit, trying to gain confidence you once definitely had somewhere. Quickly opening the door was one way ticket to gay panic once again. Your heart skips a beat as you take in their presence. Natasha, with her confident stance and piercing gaze, smiles as you open the door.  

Beside her stands Wanda, radiating an otherworldly aura. Her expressive eyes hold a mixture of sweetness and authority at the same time.

Speechless for a moment, you find yourself in the presence of two ladies who probably have the superpower of looking heavenly in any circumstances. The gravity of their presence fills the room, and you can't help but feel hotter than from the world record cleaning you did just a minutes ago.

“Hello, pretty girl.” red head said.

“Hi! Hello, welcome!” You move to the side so they both can enter your apartment.

Welcome? What am I? A bellboy or something?

Closing the door, you let out a big sigh, trying to get your brain cells together to work as a team.

They both walk in, looking around the place you're living in. Trying to take small details about you, Wanda immediately looks at the pictures you have on the wall. Bunch of meaningfull and meaningless pictures together.

“Aww you look very cute here, is this your dog?” Wanda asks with a wide smile as she turns to look at you for a second and then she looks back on the pictures.

“Uh no, that was... Uh my friend´s dog.” You stutter a little bit, that caused Natasha to look at you straight away.

“Friend´s?” She comes closer to you. “I don’t like lying, sweetheart, do you love?” She tilts her head, and her beautiful eyes look at her girlfriend.  

“Nope.” Wanda smirks already knowing what´s about to come, but still pays more attention to the pictures.

Natasha's eyes meet yours, her gaze steady and observant. Swallowing hard was another indicator for the older woman that you're not telling the whole truth.

“Technically it´s not a lie.” Your eyes squint a little bit.

Hearing Wanda let out a very adorable chuckle didn’t help you at all. But you don’t dare to look at her, you're still fixated on Natasha, who is watching you like a mother who is waiting for your explanation after being at a parent - teacher meeting.

“But practically we were uh more than friends...” you squint your eyes even more, biting the inside of your cheek as a replacement of fidgeting with your rings as you took them off while you were cleaning.  

“You were?” She was playing with you, it was obvious, you knew it right away. Simply nodding wasn’t the answer here, but you suddenly lost your voice. It was like she caught it and with her big, muscular fist and didn’t plan on letting go any time soon.  

You clear your throat, hoping it would give you few milliseconds to think of an answer.

“That´s why the picture is ripped. He was uh also there, but I cut him off. I love his dog thought.” You try to laugh it off, but Natasha maintains the same face expression. “I call it my straight era.” another joke that actually worked this time. 

All of you laughed at that statement.

Bingo. Mrs. Joker is back in the game. Oh gosh. Cringe, extra cringe. Calm down. Please and thank you.

“We all had that era.” Natasha added, while Wanda came back and nodded.

“I get it though, that dog is very cute.” she chuckled.

You smile at Wanda but hearing Natasha´s comment made you turn back to her.

“Oh, you did? Tell me more!” You smirked looking at Natasha, hoping she will tell you something about her “straight era”. “Pretty please!”  

“Aw you have such a nice manners, darling. Okay, alright.” Natasha giggles. Wanda was already sitting down as she almost broke your arm dragging you with her as well. She pulled you towards her, so you were sitting on her lap.

“Oh... um I-” you blushed already feeling the warm feeling in your stomach.

“We need to train this a little, baby, you're just sitting in my lap now, can you imagine other things? You would explode.” Wanda winked at you, wrapping her hand around you, squeezing you a little tighter. As Natasha finally sits next to you on the couch, watching your interaction with Wanda.

After two hours of talking from your first boyfriends to your favorite episode of Scooby-Doo, you figure out both of them are not so different from you. Maybe Natasha owning a big motorcycle company and Wanda owning architectural corporation makes them richer than you, but besides that. You three are pretty similar. You have lots of things in common, reading, watching movies and shows, cooking, going on walks, cuddling.  

Wanda and you were having the longest conversation about why Emily Dickinson is the best poet, while Natasha only knew she was very fruity and wrote a poetry, but she was admiring how you and her girlfriend were understanding each other so effortlessly without speaking like a normal human being. When the new topic finally came in, Natasha took the lead and asked you a bunch of questions about your favorite music. When she showed her playlist, you had to let out a big laugh.

“Taylor Swift, really?” you look at her, while you shift at Wandas lap to get a better look at her playlist.

“What? I don’t look like a Swiftie?” She acted like she was hurt by your words.

“Uh, no?” you laugh even more. “You look like a Nirvana kind of guy, Blink 182, Pink Floyd, but not a Swiftie, no.” you admit.

“When we started seeing each other I told her I like Taylor Swift, since then she is listening to her non-stop.” Wanda explained.

“See? That makes sense. Wanda...” you nod towards her “the ray of sunshine is a Swiftie and it make so much sense.”  

“So just because I wear black that means I can't listen to Taylor?” She fights playfully back.

“I didn’t say you can't, I just meant that you... a motorcycle company owner who wears leather even as a pj´s won't just play Shake It Off in her shop.” you try to make your point.

“True. Because I think Shake It Off is a song that gets too much credit, just because it´s a simple pop. But something like Eyes open or Better Than Revenge would be great to play in there.” she smiles “Also I don’t think people would mind if I played anything like Lover, because sometimes you much rather hear a song that speaks to you, other than something that just sounds okay and has a lots of drums in it.” she finishes you off.

You don’t say anything at all, you just nod.

“It was your game and you still lost, baby.” Wanda teases you a bit.

“Okay, fine. Fair points, you won.” Even though you don’t want to, you admit it.

“Like I always do.” She moves closer and kisses your cheek.

You tense in Wanda´s arms.

“Relax, detka. We got you.” Wanda whispers in your ear, slowly moving her hands to your stomach as Natasha comes closer to you.

“Yeah, (Y/N). Relax, baby.” Natasha finally connects your lips together as she makes your mind empty. The gentle pressure of her lips against yours sparks a surge of warmth. Her touch evokes a tingly sensation that makes your heart skip a beat. The warmth and softness of her touch imprint upon your senses, etching a memory that you know will linger long after the kiss is over. But for now, her lips are in the perfect place, on yours. If this wasn’t enough, you feel other lips on your neck. As Wanda´s lips trail along your neck, a shiver dances down your spine, electrifying every inch of your being. The gentle press and release of the younger woman kisses unleash pleasure and vulnerability at the same time, leaving a mark, both physical and emotional on your neck. 

Your brain is now overtaken by these two goddesses, leaving it empty as the first time you saw them.

That empty you don’t even realize that they didn’t need you to text them your address to find out where you live.

an2: let me know your thoughts on this and what should happen next! If i didn´t tag you, let me know as well and i´ll add you!!

taglist: @arualdcg​ @beholdagaywriter​ @snowdrop1026​ @itsdoni@newawakening9​ @aliherreraaa @zzswiftyzz​ @lesbiantothemoonandback​

#wanda x natasha #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #third time is a charm right? #adele writes #wlw

[maireyart]

Dude, I just had the best image: so it’s Obito-Lives AU, and part of his capture and house arrest and stipulation to his living is all his criminal assets are turned over and searched. That includes Kamui. So Kakashi goes to Kamui to search for the items Obito admitted are stored there, and he returns so appalled. Because, yes, Obito put bodies and important documents and items there, but he also just dumped a lot of junk. There are stacks of old magazines, dirty clothes piles, an assortment of bento box containers that were too nice to throw away, souvenirs from different places, crap Obito stole just for shits and giggles and Kakashi recognizes some of the stuff as things he “misplaced” over the years. “This was my favorite shirt.” “I knew that.”

Hi anon! And I'm sorry it took me so long to reply :3 The way it played out in my imagination was angsty and a little melodramatic, so no funny illustrations this time 😅 Ok, I admit Obito did call his dimension a "trash basket" (屑かご kuzukago) once in canon, and there must have been blood splashes, debris and not only from his battles, but something tells me he didn't use it as a literal trash dump xD (I guess he could just burn all that junk with a good katon jutsu). But I love the idea of him storing there something curious, something unexpected. I imagine he didn't want any reminders of his friendships, after everything... Even for shits and giggles. They could mess with his evil plan. Evoke the memories he didn't want. He was too vicious to be sentimental anymore, but he could take there something accidentally! Imagine the ANBU Kakashi period. Obito was often spying on his old teammate, and at one point he teleported into Kakashi's room to inspect it or look for specific papers and documents he could be interested in. Instead, he found something unrelated to his objective, something personal -- an old letter from Rin to Kakashi (that Kakashi seemed to have been in the mood to reread some time prior, wallowing in his sadness, so it was right on his table). Obito was standing there deep in thought, looking at the letter, absently analyzing the handwriting, but not really taking in the words yet, and then suddenly felt that Kakashi had shunshinned nearby ->

Obito had to return to Kamui immediately, but forgot to put the letter in place! It stayed in his hand, and then forever in Kamui; he never brought it back. Having read it for the first time, he felt anger and only anger and threw it away somewhere. The letter got lost among the gray blocks. He forgot about the thing altogether. But way later, when he was in his late 20's, or maybe even not long before the war, he found it again, and the words kept ringing in his head till the very end.

This old letter was… Rin's letter about Obito! The real Obito, the kid Obito, which the current Obito had killed in himself once.

It went something like this: "Dear Kakashi, I'm writing this letter to you because it's not easy to talk about these things in real life, but let me try to express my thoughts here. I know you can't stand Obito, but please, please, for the sake of our team, try to understand him, because he's… that and that… (describes his loneliness, and kindness, and potential, and aspirations, and dreams). Maybe if you just show him a flicker of warmth, he will open up, and you'll see for yourself how much it will benefit us as a team and in all other possible ways. I'm his friend and I know him well, and it's so worth it! Just please believe in Obito, just please try, and you'll see how much it will change things."

Obito was so irritated when he read it for the first time. He couldn't feel the message at all, they were just words of a ghost, of an unreal Rin, and that unreal Rin was babbling something about that miserable unreal Obito, the helpless one. Trying to reach Kakashi's heart. How futile.

Later, when he found the letter for the second time as an adult, he wasn't outraged anymore; he was too numb inside for that. But what he didn't like was that the words made him think. They were haunting him, and he hated that. And then, when the Juubi almost destroyed his consciousness, he made himself recall what had made him whole and hopeful once, and Rin's message sparked in his mind's eye again, more brightly, and it helped him take control of the Juubi. But only after the change of heart he finally started seeing the truth in those sentences and even hearing her voice saying them in his head; the words became alive and almost prophetic. And Kakashi's faith in Obito… It did finally touch his heart (as did Naruto's, of course), did finally reach him… and it DID change everything. * Now, Obito lives! And Kakashi somehow keeps the Sharingan eye or gets it back from him. He goes to Kamui after the war to "turn over his criminal assets" and finds that letter…

He brings it from Kamui and gives it back to Obito.

Obito, scratching the nape of his neck: "Ah… Sorry, I accidentally stole it from you ages ago." "I never noticed." "You didn't?" "I… memorized it so well that I never needed the original piece of paper anymore, the words were ingrained in my heart, is all…" "Why did you bring it back?" "I feel like you still need it. …Besides, thanks to it being in Kamui, it wasn't destroyed by Pein, unlike the contents of my whole apartment. When he attacked." "…Sorry." "Albeit losing things is nothing, in comparison with losing people." "Sorry." "I'm glad you're back..."

#post-war #obito #kakashi #uchiha obito #hatake kakashi #kakaobi #obikaka #obito lives au

[hiveworks]

June is winding down, but our recommendations are never ending. Now is also a great time to remind you that our creators are supported by ad rev. When you read these comics, be sure to white list their websites and support your favorite creators!⁠

Ghost Junk Sickness by @studiocartridge

Trigger Elliot is a bounty hunter who travels around the galaxy with his not-so-fully-licensed-and-technically-illegal-hunting-partner Vahn Gavotte. They're lousy at what they do and often resort to petty tactic just to get a bounty. This is their life. Their home planet, June 7, is a world rebuilding itself form an inexplicable catastrophic phenomenon that destroyed 75% of the planet's surface. It has been 5 years since the destruction of June 7 and the planet now thrives on the transient and growing population of bounty hunters. Trigger and Vahn's routine changes when an ambiguous huge bounty surfaces; an alleged bounty hunter killer named "the Ghost" with frightening abilities and an unknown motive. When Trigger's past catches up with him, there begins a strain on his and Vahn's hunting dynamic, forcing them to become further involved in chasing the elusive and unpredictable ghost. Ghost Junk Sickness is an action packed sci-fi LGBTQ+ comic created by CARTRIDGE.

Kochab by Sarah Webb

Kochab is a YA wlw fantasy comic about two girls lost in a pile of ruins under the woods, inspired by various myths and fairytales. A lost skier trying to survive a snowy wilderness and find her way back to her village stumbles across and awakens a fire spirit trying to fix the home that she’s let fall apart around her.

Shaderunners by Alex Assan & Lin Darrow

A thousand years ago, the last colour in the world faded to grey. Now, after the great archaeological discovery of Queen Sorizahana’s shade-stocked tomb, it stands ready to enter the world again. Ironwell City will become the birthplace of the burgeoning colour industry, where colour is pumped out of factories, poured into perfumed bottles and sold at exorbitant prices to those wealthy enough to afford the luxury. At least, that’s the plan according to the Five Financiers of the Sorizahana excavation. One part Prohibition fantasy, one part Robin Hood, and a whole lot of epic heist, Shaderunners follows a group of ragtag bootleggers and bohemians who band together in an effort to steal colour from the wealthy echelons of Ironwell’s high society. Among them: a philosopher, a puppeteer, a gutter rat, an opera singer, a naval officer and a hopeless romantic. Together, they run The Glass Dial, former watch shop and future night club, where all the house drinks run red. Speak easy, pal, ‘cause the road to ruin is paved with good intentions.

Augustine by @windywallflower

Augustine follows the adventure of August and her friends: Brick, Heti and Ande as they survive in the perilous region known as the Crater. You can call them all Trouble (with the capital T) as they wrack up bounties for their rowdiness, most especially from the local head honcho Tanto the Bull. During these escapades, however, the group stumbles into an ancient artifact, a possible piece of an old myth surrounding the Crater. This discovery soon leads them down a path of chaos, chased by bounty hunters and old forgotten gods. This comic uses aspects of Greek Mythology, and delves into concepts of ancient relics and the deities they represent and what it means to find your own family.

#hiveworks #queer comics #webcomic #pride month #lgbt art #augustine #ghost junk sickness #shaderunners #kochab

[pidgefudge]

new chain i like this one a lot

@falloutcoys @trans-arthur-lester @ghost-with-teeth @arthurlestermalevolent @nyxfaei @pyxxie-nyxxie @crows-junk-pile @lemonsrlit @c-a-r-0-l-i-n-e @origami-butterfly @orangesideirrational @thecatspasta + anyone else who sees this

#picrew chain

[sonicasura]

Let's be honest with ourselves that Transformers Earthspark has its issues. It isn't uncommon for the series to have a few messy iterations throughout the years. However those at least have something going for them.

Bayverse is a junk pile yet there's a lot of material you can build off on and some pretty interesting concepts. RiD15 is an awful sequel to Prime but does decently well as a standalone although there are much needed changes to be had. Earthspark... Well, it's just there.

I can be lenient with the plot holes and poor pacing as Nickelodeon is notorious for interfering with any show that isn't SpongeBob to the point of cancellation. The issues truly land on the characters themselves. I'm gonna try to simplify it without devolving into a rant like the previous draft.

Edit: Gonna add some further edits as I wrote this in the middle of the night. Plus my simplified version skipped some key details.

Robby. Somehow they made a human character I actually dislike instead of be neutral about. In the official Transformers wiki, he's labeled as a big brother who cares for his siblings but his actions so far say otherwise. Robby literally ran away in the first episode because they moved then decided to try and hide the Terrans from his parents.

Yet he rarely gets enough consequences for his actions. I think we don't just need less Emberstone saves not just because of plot armor but force actual character growth on him. Like a life changing to one of his siblings as consequences for his actions and strained relationship until he gets his head outta his ass.

Edit: Yes, I know Robby is a teenager but that isn't a decent enough excuse for his behavior. Seen the trope about big brothers who do act closed off or at some points rude but they haven't done shit that put their family in serious danger. No, I didn't try to purposely forget the times he was injured badly.

There honestly needs to be less of those and his consequences be adjusted to it affects someone else badly. *

Next issue is lacking confrontation with Optimus choices alongside the obvious misplaced trust in the 13 Primes. Quintus Prime literally emotionally manipulated and scarred Mo through a fake bad ending reality because she doubted herself. No good person would do that, much less an actual ally. Even moreso on a child.

I seen this shit in Trollhunters but at least Jim, the main character, was a teenager. (It still was wrong though.) We also got remember that Liege Maximo and Megatronus/The Fallen are Primes. Yet somehow it is best to trust them.

Don't get me started with some of Optimus' choices when it comes to GHOST. He probably did it to protect his Autobots but what about the Decepticons who are locked away? Why are there so little of his companions with him especially since Bumblebee had fucking went into hiding before the show began.

There needs to be tension between Optimus with his Autobots. Someone is bound to snap and Bumblebee would have the biggest impact. The man clearly isn't okay as he's doing things that even Megatron admits ain't like him.

Mandroid needs to be written differently. He has the making of a sympathetic villain but oh boy. First off it is clear that his depiction is ableist aligned since the reason he doesn't like Cybertronians is because he lost his arm. Major thing to change right there.

Give him a narrative where his interest been genuine but slowly declines as the Autobot/Decepticon war increases the number of destroyed lives. Let him become a victim to this than just 'I lost my arm so death alongside experimentation to all Cybertronians'. Also don't make Mandroid ignore the obvious fact that the Transformers parts he puts into his body is slowly poisoning and instead come up with ways to fight the infection. Kinda like in Ironman 2 where Tony's arc reactor began to do the same thing.

Edit: Mandroid's negative views on Cybertronians are about the war and he's aware of the Energon poisoning. It is just that it is poorly portrayed to the point you rarely see it over his Arachnamechs/his ruined life.

Have the man present various evidence of destruction the war caused by both sides at the Malto children or anonymously spread such info around town to sew discontent with the townsfolk. 'These are the people who you consider heroes. Who you see as family and friends. Or should these tragedies be forgotten?'

Do a Baxter Stockman where you frequently see him try to fix the Energon poisoning than just simple dialogue. Even have testing on organic subjects to see how they react and find ways to counter it. Don't keep these key points as simple dialogue. *

I don't think Karen needs much changes either. 'But her taking over Cybertron doesn't make sense!' It actually does for one reason: hubris. Have you ever seen what happens when you give a control freak power? Their behavior becomes more erratic as they begin to think they deserve more. She is xenophobic in nature so imprisoning Decepticons and ordering around the Autobots is a drug to her.

Karen wants to treat them like slaves so the next step in her mind is Cybertron. Her death is well deserved and well played. Just like Icarus, the bitch flew too close to the sun.

I think the last major issue, other than out of character racist Shockwave, is the Terrans. No offense but they need a bit less screentime so the rest of the cast can shine. We barely see Alex and there's unclarified issues involving Bumblebee with Arcee if he's uncomfortable around her.

I also want their flaws to be at the forefront. Thrash is the only one who gotten such character development from his encounter with Swindle. We need more of that! Like Hashtag's overreliance on the Internet biting her back as she is forced to use real world skills.

Edit: I accidentally put in Terrans when I really meant Twitch. The screentime for everyone needs to be balanced mainly for the Malto family. Alex alongside the three younger Terrans rarely get involved or their characters further build upon. Twitch needs to get benched more.

Also the Dad Number 2 should really be addressed. Wheeljack was clearly uncomfortable when it been brought up. Plus it is way too fast to even consider such ideas unless you plan to have it addressed properly. Like 'Kid. We barely know each other yet somehow I became a father figure in an instant? It's best not to do that until you truly certain "Dad Number 2" doesn't mean harm or feels comfortable with it.' *

Earthspark clearly has potential but these problems need to be handled better. Addong the deleted scenes help add some clarification but canon needs to present it. We are supposed to get a second season so hopefully some of these are addressed.

#sonicasura #maccadam #transformers #transformers series #transformers earthspark #tf #tf series #tf es #tfes #personal idea #rambles #tv shows #slight rant #personal review #fixing canon #canon divergence #character flaws

[wolfavens]

ghost car of barna road

track 3 - liberty belle 1/2

my manager greeted me in irish.

i blinked at the screen in mute panic. i couldn’t remember how to reply. words and languages collided in my brain. it was a car crash, baby, and in the end all that came out of my mouth was a prolonged aaah with no end in sight. a perfect visual representation would be a multilanguage tsunami, pouring out of my ears and pooling around my slippers on the dusty rug of my childhood bedroom.

i used to write those words down into a black notebook, watching you mock me from that dusty rug. you and your smug gaeltacht born grin. who would’ve thought i will forget them all by the time i’m 30.

“how did the move go?”

move. to galway. my hometown. i found my voice again and rushed out: “oh yeah! the move went okay. got here late last night. drive was smooth. not many cars around after midnight.”

“hehe, don’t get used to it. it’s a totally different story after 8am.”

we chatted for a while, arranging to meet in dublin next month when i was all settled in. won’t take long. all i needed was to get a flat, a car - did i need help with the flat? there are probably relocation programmes for employees available. no. i think i got it. did i tho?

we finished the call twenty minutes later. the fact i managed to scrape by enough words to at least tell him goodbye in irish seemed to cheer him up a bit.

i finished up some minor work tasks, sipping at the remainder of my mother’s disgusting herbal tea and took a short break to open the dusty unused storage areas of my childhood bedroom. i needed to clean up the old junk before moving in the new junk. i had to give one thing to my mother; she did an excellent job of preserving this place. if ever i managed to do something worthwhile with my life she could start charging fucking entry for this museum of fiadh kavanagh.

shaking my head i started pulling out old clothes and creating a pile on the floor. if she believed i still fit into these jeans i should be worried about early onset neurodegenerative diseases.

i was done with the columns and moving on to the hangers by the time she stuck her head in and quirked her dark eyebrows at me. “need any help?”

“mom, why the fuck did you keep all this?” i asked, showcasing fist-full of short gothic dresses. “aren’t you worried about clothes moths?”

ignoring my point she sat down on the bed, smiling. “oh, i though you might still like to keep some of it. it’s not like we need extra storage.”

“mom, look at me!” i threw another armful onto the pile, lifting my arms to indicate my age ravaged body. “how could i possibly fit into size four?! some of these are from the children’s section!”

“you look like a string, you could easily fit. it’s the cigarettes. they are not good for ya.”

i rolled my eyes. “i’m not even fucki…”

the feel of a familiar soft fabric beneath my fingertips made me stop midsentence. i pulled it out into the light with shaking fingers, heart racing against my ribcage. it looked huge in my palms. the faded graphics were barely visible in the shadowy light of my room. if you tried hard enough you could just barely make out the name of the band. distantly i heard my mom echo my name but i was stuck in the past, standing in the cold autumn rain by the open driver’s side window of your car.

“ooooh, i remember this one,” my mother said with a nostalgic smile.

i made a small sound at the back of my throat.

“it’s the donovan boy’s, isn’t it? i remember teasing him about it. i told him: young man, this is not a free laundry i run here! you know what he said to me?”

i nodded, whispering, “it’s not my fault yer daughter is a stinkin’ thief.”

she laughed. “little bastard. he was the worst influence on you. funny how he turned out. would never expect a son of deirdre donovan to make something of himself. i guess we owe it all to the wife. she…”

my body snapped back to action. i was moving away before she could say her name. putting the sweater on the bed next to her, i brushed my hands against my sweatpants and mumbled: “right, look we need to get rid of all this before i can unpack. do you know someone with skinny teenage children? ideally with a questionable fashion sense?”

“we can drive to the clothes recycling point.”

“grand! let’s do that after work.” i told her, kicking my way through the discarted clothes toward the closet and dumping whatever was left on top of the rest. “i need to get back to work now. i have a meeting in 20.”

“oh, ok. sorry.” she chuckled, standing up. “i will bring some bags to put all of this in.” she reached for the sweater on her way out and i jumped in to block her path on impulse.

“uh… where are you taking that?”

she blinked up at me, brown eyes surprised. “downstairs. i figured i could return it to the rightful owner rather than donate it to charity. although,” she giggled, pulling it apart for scale, “i doubt it will still fit him.”

she was gone before i could open my mouth, taking the sweater with her. my clenched fists unclenched with effort as i pushed the door closed and leaned my back against it. i was breathing too hard. the way you handed me that sweater through the driver’s side window on that rainy, a blast from the past; a ghostly memory. just enough to make me shudder.

#simblr #ts4 story #s:gcbr #oc:ann marie #oc:fiadh #it's adorable how gorgeous fawn believes #she looks old and ugly #hell i wish i looked like fawn #also join me in appreciating stolen garments #the best possible sweater is one you don't own #amen