#it might have been a mistake for me to learn how to draw the two of them. now there is no going back yknow. oh gods

[dizzybizz]

mingling memeing for today 🥰

#guys theyre so in my head i ????? helP???? #scum villian self saving system #svsss #sha hualing #liu mingyan #mingling #my art #doodle #for that last one teehee #honestly tho it could go any which way there #like... #both of them thinking biting? or kissing? shl thinking biting while lmy thinks kissing? #i kinda wanted to do full shoujo style for shl's but i went with the silly sloppy makeout instead #again IT WORKS wIT H BOTH #i was also thinking about keeping the veil for it but i didnt in the end ✋😭 #it might have been a mistake for me to learn how to draw the two of them. now there is no going back yknow. oh gods #anyways i love them and i think they could be so silly and good and aguuhhgooghgfhfghfhghghhg

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 29

summary: On your last day in Miami, Javier and you are tasked with babysitting the Murphy kids while their parents get some much needed alone time out of the house.

Back at home, it’s Javier’s birthday, and the two of you are on your way to meet Chucho for dinner when you run into someone who doesn’t know how to keep their stupid mouth shut.

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), consensual somnophilia, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, thigh riding, dirty talk, domestic fluff, babysitting, Javier being cute with kids, birthday celebration, death of a parent/grief, emotional hurt/comfort, Protective!Javier, Protective!Reader, verbal altercation, insults, not Lorraine friendly, small town drama, Chucho being the best father)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 19.6k+

a/n: There’s something in this chapter we’ve been waiting for. Because the chapter is so long, it might not let you reblog with a comment. Since reblogs are important you’re more than welcome to reblog without a comment and then if you’d like to say something, you can either comment on the post or send me an ask. Unbeta’d because I wanted to post it this week, so all mistakes are mine. Thank you to @juletheghoul for making sure the Spanish makes sense!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

It was warm, almost too warm, with the blankets over you and your human furnace of a bedmate cuddled at your back—his arm was draped over your middle with a hand up your shirt to hold your breast. The hazy dreamscape your mind had conjured was a beach you’d been to growing up with a giant sea stack in the ocean that rose over two hundred feet and was like a tiny rock mountain that you could walk right up to during low tide. As you strolled along the shore, ahead of you was a child who’d barely learned to walk with big, familiar, chocolate-colored eyes and messy brown hair in a shade you knew all too well, toddling beside a man you could recognize simply from the shape of his back, the broad shoulders down to the trim waist.

Their tiny arm was raised above their head while he was leaning a little to hold the small outstretched hand, his head turning with a smile to look at them with all of the love in the world—a baby’s cries sounded, and it had you worrying something was wrong with the toddler. Suddenly, everything in front of you disappeared, the fogginess of sleep dissipating as you were brought to by the noises coming from a baby monitor nearby that continued to worry you.

The arm around you tightened, and lips kissed the back of your head.

"I'll get him," Javi's voice was deeper and rougher from sleep. He kissed your head once more before moving to get out of the bed, hearing him groan and his knees pop as he stood from the mattress that was on the floor.

A sleepy smile appeared on your face as you thought about what a good father and husband he was—there wasn’t any annoyance in his tone, and he didn’t sound put out. He was happy to check on the baby and let you get some rest. You were lucky to have such a great partner who cared so much and took an active role in being a parent.

He was a keeper.

He was perfect.

There wasn’t anyone else you’d want to have a child with.

You were so happy your baby had such a wonderful father.

Your baby—wait, what was their name?

Why were you drawing a blank?

How could you forget your kid’s name?

Oh god, you were a horrible mother.

Hold on.

The cogs in your brain were turning now that the dreamy haze had lifted.

You didn't have a baby.

Javi wasn't your husband… yet.

You were at the Murphys, and the toddler crying was their one-year-old, Nate. Your fiancé had volunteered you both to take care of Steve and Connie’s three kids while they had a much-needed night alone at a hotel.

Throwing back the blankets, you moved to get up from the bed, it only taking you a moment to find your sleep shorts on the floor, you pulled on over your bare lower half and made your way barefooted out of the room.

Why were you getting up when Javi told you to keep sleeping? Why did you feel the need to go peek into the room he was in? You weren't entirely sure, your feet padding along the cool stone-tiled floor almost of their own accord.

Nate's door was open, and you didn’t hear crying anymore. Stopping at the doorway, you leaned against the wooden frame to take in the scene before you that made you smile.

The room was softly illuminated by a nightlight plugged into the wall near the crib that had the purple dinosaur Barney on it—Javi was just in his jeans, his chest bare, cradling and rocking the one-year-old in his arms and singing so softly it took you a second to recognize the tune.

It was ABBA.

And it was the song he got the 80s cover band at the bar you'd gone to that night to play by tipping them an amount of money he refused to disclose to you.

Your ears had perked and you were able to make out the words.

He was hum-singing it in a pitch a little higher than his usual low timbre:

"Don't go wasting your emotion

Lay all your love on me

Don't go sharing your devotion

Lay all your love on me."

He hadn't noticed there was an audience, and you were enjoying watching him putting the baby back to sleep, Nate's eyes getting droopier and droopier until they were completely shut.

It made you wonder what songs he'd sing to your future kids, imagining some of his mother's favorite Spanish ballads you listened to on the radio and Fleetwood Mac, probably some classic lullabies too, like “Rockabye Baby” and “You Are My Sunshine.”

Javi's head turned your way, his eyes looking tired, but he smiled and kept singing until the song was finished and he was sure the baby was back asleep, moving to gently put him in his crib. That was when you decided to walk into the room, your arms looping around his middle from the side. His arm went behind your back, and he kissed your hair.

"I told you I'd take care of him," he whispered. "You didn't need to get up."

"Oh, I wasn't gonna miss a chance to see a glimpse of my future," you replied just as quietly. "And I’m happy I got up and had the chance to hear you put the baby back to sleep with ABBA—you know, it really gets me going seeing you doing dad stuff, and then you chose that song? Talk about making a girl yearn for the day we have our own babies, and you did an excellent job getting him to fall back asleep."

"I can’t wait for our own babies, too.” He hugged you a little closer to him. “Connie mentioned the last few weeks Nate’s been waking up in the middle of the night with separation anxiety—it's common with babies his age."

Nate turned one the month prior.

"Awe, poor guy."

"Yeah, he's okay now." Javi reached into the crib and pressed his large palm to the child's wild black curls. "Dulces sueños, mi precioso (Sweet dreams, my precious)." He looked at you. "Let's go back to bed, mi amor (my love). The kids will be up early."

Watching him put Nate back to sleep and his gentle care had you going so soft you thought you might turn into a puddle. His last sentence made you smile because one day, he’d say that in regard to your own children—god, you were yearning so hard for your future with him.

"Early to you or early to me?"

If you had the day off, you wanted to sleep until at least nine in the morning. Javi's idea of sleeping in was waking up at six-thirty instead of six because he was a—you hated saying it—a morning person.

"Early to you,” he answered.

"Great, more morning people."

He huffed in amusement and started walking with you out of the room with your hands held, continuing to whisper. "From my experience, young children like to get up early."

You were in the hallway, and he quietly closed Nate's door behind you both. "What I'm hearing is you're volunteering to take mornings with our kids since you'll already be up."

"That was my plan, yes," he said as you returned to the guest room. "Just makes sense."

Once inside, the door was shut and locked, neither of you bothering to turn on the overhead light, instead carefully making your way in the dark to the bed. Javi took off his pants before he crawled onto the mattress naked, and you shimmied out of your shorts as you got under the warm blankets.

He scooted over beneath the covers until his body was spooning yours from behind, his arm going around your shirt-covered tummy, feeling his nose in the hair at the back of your head.

"Why are you wearing this?" he asked, pulling on your t-shirt.

Javi was against wearing clothes to bed, and you found out he even slept in the nude while visiting other people’s houses.

"So, I'm not completely naked if the children wake up and need us,” you said. “All I have to do is get up and put on my bottoms."

The frown was clear in his voice. "The door is locked, and it only takes a second to put it back on—can you take it off for now? Please?"

"Have we discussed how spoiled you are?" you asked as you sat up and started pulling off the apparent bane of Javier's existence—he leaned up and tugged it over your head, tossing it into the dark void of the room.

"I'm not spoiled," he said, cuddling close into you once you laid back down, his arm back over your belly.

"You're incredibly spoiled—you always get what you want, not to mention you basically have pussy on demand. Spoiled."

You didn't have to see his face to know he was smiling. "It just sounds like I'm living the fucking dream. And pot calling the kettle black, Cielito—the same could be said for you, too. I spoil the hell out of you, and you better know my dick is yours whenever you want it." To punctuate the sentence, he ground his hips into your ass.

"Fine, we're both spoiled,” you acquiesced. “But you're needier."

"I'm not needy,” he denied.

"You couldn't go one night in bed without me naked."

"I sleep best being able to feel you."

"Well, you got your wish." You patted his arm around you. "Now, go to sleep, babe. Wake me up when the kids wake up."

He was already falling asleep, his answer an affirmative hum. “Love you,” he mumbled, nuzzling his face into your hair.

“I love you, too.”

It wasn't hard to fall back to sleep, not when your previous two days had started before the sun had risen, and everything that had taken place on the trip—traveling, meeting and spending time with the Murphys, getting engaged, the hours spent fucking in a hotel, going to the beach, almost fighting a woman in a bar. It seemed like you closed your eyes, and not even a minute later, the Sandman was whisking you away to the land of dreams.

An hour passed.

Two.

Three.

Four.

It was deep sleep that had you under its spell, physically keeping your body in the guest room while the dream transported you back home to your living room, where you were alone with Javi on the couch, straddling his lap and lazily kissing him.

Something warm and wet and felt so good it reached you in your foggy dreamscape, had the scene shifting suddenly, where you found yourself on your back, missing the clothes on your lower half, seeing the brown hair of your fiancé’s head buried between your legs.

There were the delicious sensations of tingles racing up your spine and pleasure building in your core as your nipples tightened—a soft moan of his name escaped your lips, the image before you fuzzy around the edges, keeping you on the cusp between asleep and awake.

You were gonna come, your cunt beginning to pulse, and the muscles in your belly coiling, winding tight, Dream Javi’s mouth feeling so real on your clit, licking and sucking on the sensitive bud. Warmth had spread through your veins, your body hot at being so turned on.

His tongue was working its magic, and you weren’t even surprised at how quickly he was getting you close to your end.

The pleasure kept building higher and higher until you hit your peak, and you were coming, the sudden explosion of euphoria coursing out from your center waking you up with a long, shuddering moan, your body tensing, and your heart racing.

Confusion had come over you at being awake and still feeling a wet tongue lapping at your pussy, and it took a second for you to realize your legs were spread with someone between them beneath the covers. It was too dark to see the lump under the blankets, but when you reached, you could feel the hardness of a skull at the apex of your thighs.

“Javi?” It came out as more of a croak.

He hummed in acknowledgment with his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, and your confusion was replaced with burning-hot arousal.

He'd woken you up by going down on you—which was something you'd given him permission to do months ago; you'd given him permission to do a whole lot more to wake you up, but Javier was big on explicit consent, and there were some lines he couldn't bring himself to cross, which was sweet, and showed what a stand-up guy he was.

And you loved that he was a Consent King; however, you happened to be a horny bitch that fantasized about him fucking you awake.

You should mention Javi also gave you permission to wake him up by the same means, and the first time he woke to you slowly riding his dick, he came in record-breaking time.

Him waking you with his mouth on your cunt was kind of a big deal and a testament to the trust you had in each other; plus, it was fucking amazing—forget alarm clocks; you always wanted your mornings to start with orgasms.

"Oh, god," you moaned, pushing the bedding down to uncover your torso and his head, the chill air welcome on your heated skin. "It's so good, Javi." It was wet and slippery between your thighs, your pussy throbbing and feeling achingly empty. Your fingers went into his mess of hair. "Baby, I'm so horny. Can I please have your dick?"

He came off you, moving up your body, his wet lips kissing over the skin of your belly and chest, up the column of your throat to your mouth, smelling your musk in his damp mustache as he kissed you. His hips took their place in the cradle of your thighs, snaking his hand between your bodies to line the tip of his hard cock with your soaked entrance, pushing all the way in with one smooth thrust that stole your breath.

The orgasm had loosened you up, making it easier for your inner walls to stretch and accommodate his girth, easing the empty ache to feel wonderfully full.

He held himself up with his arms beside your head, your hands moving to dig your fingers into his shoulders.

His lips left yours. "Did you like it?" he asked his tone a deep rasp. "Waking up by coming on my tongue?"

He had started slowly moving, his dick sliding almost all of the way out and pushing back in.

"Yes," you gasped.

"You were moaning in your sleep and got so fucking wet." Another orgasm was starting to form in your center.

"Was dreaming about you."

His cock twitched hard inside you. "Shit," he hissed. His pace sped up, hearing the wet sounds of him working in and out of you. He pressed his nose against your cheek, his breaths coming out heavier. "I didn't think it'd turn me on," he said. "But you were so fucking responsive, and when you moaned my name, it got me hard as a fucking rock that you were thinking about me in your sleep, and it made me feel like less of a creep."

Pleasure was curling inside you with every slick slide of him fucking into your cunt, but that last comment cut through your blissful haze.

“I wanted it,” you said. “Do you like it when you wake up to me blowing you or riding your dick?”

A loud, ragged groan pulled from his throat. “Yes.”

The two of you were so in tune with each other that when you made the movement to try and roll you both, Javi completed it to have him on his back with you on top, his cock staying nestled in your depths.

Your knees were bracketing his hips as you rose until only the tip of him remained and dropped back down, using your hands on his chest for leverage and keeping your rhythm steady and hard—up and down, over and over again. Javi's palms slid along your belly on a journey to your breasts, where he took them in hand, gently massaging them before his fingers zeroed in on your pebbled nipples, rolling and pinching them. It fanned the fire growing in your center, and you angled your hips to have him press into that magical spot that made it hard to think with how fucking good you felt.

There was a delay in you continuing the conversation. "It's the same for me," you panted. "I like waking up to you going down on me. I'd like waking up to you fucking me—I want it, and I don't want you feeling bad."

"I'll try.” His words were strained. “Fucking love your tits—wish I could see you bouncing on my dick.” It was too dark in the room. “Wait, what time is it?”

"What?"

"What time is it?" he asked again.

You looked at the red glowing numbers on the alarm clock located above you on the bedside table.

"6:32."

"Shit."

He pulled you forward, his arms going around your back, and rolled you both to your original position with him over you, moving your legs up high on his ribs. "We don't have much time—touch yourself."

He began slowly rocking in and out of you, speeding up little by little.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Don't have much time?" you asked. "What?"

"The kids will be up any second, and I want us both to get off, so I need you to rub that pretty little clit for me."

Oh, right, the children.

The children you were watching.

The children you volunteered to watch and now held the power to cockblock you both.

The Murphy children.

"Shit," you said, getting your hand in between your bodies and locking your ankles against his lower back, feeling his muscles move beneath your calves. "Harder." The pads of your fingers were circling your bundle of nerves just the way you liked while Javi did as you asked, pounding into you hard enough your body was jostling, and you could hear the clap of his hips hitting yours.

The heat in your belly was getting hotter, Javi's lips sloppily kissing along your jaw and chin to claim your mouth with his, a thin layer of sweat coating both of your bodies.

"Need you to come for me." The sentence was muffled into your lips. "Need to feel it—let me have another, Cielito."

Pleasure was building inside you, every push and pull of his hips and swirl of your fingers getting you closer and closer to your sweet release.

He had you moaning into his mouth as he kissed you, Javi grunting, and you could hear how wet it was where you were joined.

His face pressed into your neck, his hot, heavy breaths fanning against your skin, your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades hard enough to leave crescent moon indents.

You were almost there.

"'M close," you said.

He put all of his weight onto one arm beside your head, and his free hand went to your breast, pinching and teasing your hardened nipple with his fingers—it had a current shooting directly to your clit, making you moan loudly.

"Come on, baby," Javi gritted through his teeth. "Give it to me—come all over my dick, and I'll fuck you full of me. I know you want it." He was moving faster, and you could tell he was close. "I know you want me to fuck a baby into you. Give me another, and I’ll give it to you."

"Yes," you gasped, clutching his back with one hand for something to hold onto as you fell over the edge and came, your cunt seizing up around him tight enough it stuttered his rhythm, and a rumbling groan erupted from his chest. Pleasure radiated out from your core, spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes, your mind going blissfully blank, your eyes closed, panting hard.

“Good girl,” he said, kissing low on your cheek. “My good fucking girl—god, I fucking love you.”

The second you relaxed, Javi was focusing on his own high, his nose pressed to the skin of your neck, hearing and feeling his heavy breaths as he pistoned into you. It was wetter between your legs, the sound of his cock working in and out of you amplified, and the suck of your pussy more pronounced.

He felt so good inside you, your hands moving to press into the sweat-damp waves of his hair.

"Let me have it, Javi." You scratched at his scalp, and he whimpered. "I want it, baby—come for me. Fuck it deep."

"I'm gonna give it to you," he grunted. "Te daré lo que quieras (I'll give you whatever you want)—Te conseguiré la pinche luna (I'll get you the fucking moon). Te daré el pinche mundo (I'll give you the fucking world)." His strokes were getting jerky. "Te daré tantos niños como quieras (I'll give you as many kids as you want). Haré cualquier cosa por ti (I'll do anything for you). Soy tuyo (I'm yours)—Siempre seré tuyo (I'll always be yours). Te amo (I love you). Te amo (I love you). Te amo (I love you)..." The last word turned into a strangled moan, Javi pressing himself all the way to the hilt deep inside you, the tip of himself kissing your womb as he came. There was the hard jerk of his dick, and you felt the warm spurts of his come filling you, his hips continuing to rock like he was trying to make sure he didn't leave any nook or cranny empty, wanting you to be completely stuffed.

The weight of him collapsing on you was familiar and welcome, stroking your fingers through his hair while he caught his breath in the crook of your neck.

One of the two baby monitors crackled to life, hearing a small, tired voice calling out for their mom—it was Stevie, the three-year-old.

Javi immediately moved to get up, giving you a quick kiss and making pained groans as he got to his feet.

"I've got him," he said, heading for the en suite. He turned on the bathroom light, your eyes squinting at the brightness and getting a glimpse of his naked back and bare ass before he disappeared behind the closed door—you sighed wistfully.

The water pattering told you he'd turned on the shower, and he must've gone in while it was still cold because it was turned off after only a couple of minutes had passed.

This had to be a record for how quickly he was going through getting ready.

You'd heard the sink run and knew he brushed his teeth, and when he came out with just a towel around his waist, his wet hair had been combed, but he hadn't bothered doing his regular styling.

"Cover your eyes," he said.

Your hands went over your eyes, and he flicked the switch for the overhead light.

"Do you want help?" you asked.

You heard him over in his duffle bag, pulling out clothes.

"With the kids? I can handle them on my own if you want to sleep in."

The sounds told you he was putting on a pair of jeans.

"I'm not gonna sleep while you wrangle the children by yourself. What I'm asking is how much time do I have to get ready? Do I need to try to break the world record like you? Or can I take an actual shower and brush my teeth longer than thirty seconds?"

"Hey, at least I brushed them," he said. "I don't wanna make him wait too long—I feel bad enough I had to shower, but I didn't have much choice since I smelled like pussy."

You were pretty sure he was buttoning his shirt.

"Yeah, a shower was needed—which, what prompted the unexpected wake-up call?"

"I had a dirty dream where I was eating you out in my old truck—the one I had in high school—and I just really fucking needed to taste you when I woke up. Took me a little bit to work up my nerve."

"Well, it was an amazing wake-up. Ten out of ten stars would love to experience it again."

He was moving, and you thought he'd grabbed his watch off the dresser.

There was a smile in his voice. "I'll keep it in mind—do your regular morning routine, baby. There's no need for you to break any world records." He was padding toward the door, it softly squealing as he opened it. "I love you."

“Wait, what color is the shirt you’re wearing?”

“Purple.”

The day before, you had to do a small load of laundry because you both had gone through the majority of the clothes you brought.

His answer made you grin. "Perfect. I love you, too."

The light switched off, and the door clicked shut. You removed your hands from your eyes and decided it was definitely time to get up out of the wet patch and shower—you made a mental note to wash the sheets and blankets before Connie got home. It seemed like the polite thing to do since you were heading home later that day.

Javi was up and ready in about five-to-six minutes.

It took you much longer to get clean and make yourself presentable, choosing to wear black leggings with your lavender-colored v-neck shirt.

Exiting the guest room, there was noise coming from the kitchen, hearing music playing low and voices, your socked feet carrying toward it.

Before the hallway opened into the living room, there was a doorway to the kitchen, and you stopped in your tracks when you got to it and looked inside, keeping half of your body hidden behind the wall.

Javi's profile was in front of you as he stood at the stove with Nate in a carrier on his back, and Stevie held in his left arm so his right was free to hold the black plastic spatula. Olivia was beside him, her back to you, with a plate in her hands that had a small stack of pancakes, all of the children still in their pajamas.

"Looks like your Mickey pancake is done, tesorito (little treasure)," he said to Olivia. "Can you bring the plate a little closer, please?"

She did as he asked, holding the plate closer but not too close to the hot stove. He scooped the pancake up and plopped it down on top of the stack.

Javi adjusted Stevie in his arm and set the spatula down to grab the large measuring cup half full of batter.

"Okay," he started, "What shape are we doing for your tía (aunt)?"

"Ninja Turtle!" Stevie shouted.

Javi smiled. "I’m sorry, bud, I'm not good enough to do a Ninja Turtle."

"What about a heart?" Olivia asked.

"Now that I can do," he answered. "Is it okay if I make your tía a heart pancake, Stevie?"

"Yes!"

Javi was cautious as he poured the pancake mix, a look of concentration on his face, finishing after some seconds.

"There," he said, he had a dubious expression. "It looks like a heart, right?"

Olivia peered into the pan. "Kinda looks like a butt.”

He let out a long sigh, and it took everything in you to hold back your giggle, enjoying watching this interaction.

"Well, guess I'm eating the butt pancake," Javi said, and you had to cover your mouth with both hands to keep from laughing because, of course, he'd volunteer to eat the butt pancake. The measuring cup was set back down, and he picked up the spatula. "I'll try again after this one. Hopefully, the next one looks like a heart."

"If it doesn't, you're really good at making Mickeys!" Olivia said.

He smiled, looking over at her. "Thanks, tesorito."

"I want a Mickey pancake!" Stevie announced.

Javi's head turned toward him with a frown. "I thought you wanted the ‘S’ for Stevie—that's what you asked me to make."

"I want a Mickey pancake now!"

“Guess I’m eating the ‘S’ pancake, too.” His eyes went to Olivia. "Set the plate on the counter, Mija. We're gonna be here longer than I expected—how's Nate doing back there?"

She set the pancakes down beside the batter, Javi twisting his torso to show her the one-year-old.

"He's just chewing on the teething ring."

"Good," he said, facing forward and flipping the pancake. "So, uh, what do you think about mi Cielito? You know, now that you've met her…"

You held your breath.

"I like her," Olivia answered. "She tells bad jokes like my dad, though. But she's really nice, and she made cookies with us, and I had fun with her at the beach."

You took a deep breath and felt relieved that you earned the approval of his niece.

"So, you're okay with her being your tía?"

"Yep! I like that she can speak Spanish with us and don't tell my mom, but tía's cookies are better than hers."

That made him smile as he moved the pancake from the pan to the stack. "I'll keep that between us, tesorito."

"Are you excited to have a tía, Stevie?" he asked the toddler.

"Yes, she made me cookies!"

Javi smiled. "Yes, she did. Okay—" he set down the plastic utensil and picked up the measuring cup again. "—let's hope this time it looks like a heart and not a butt."

Javier had always been an early riser—he didn't have much choice growing up on his parent's ranch, where their days started with his father's, who had to be out the door by six a.m. Any time he complained about waking up so early, his parents would tell him, ‘A quien madruga Dios le ayuda (God helps those who get up early),’ which equated to what they say in English, ‘The early bird gets the worm,’ or if you were early and eager, you were most likely to succeed; the saying didn’t improve his attitude about being awake when the sun hadn’t risen and having to help his dad do chores outside before he went to school.

Waking up at five a.m. for the first eighteen years of his life fucked up his internal clock to make it so his mornings naturally started at six now—which wasn't terrible during the week, but on the weekends, his fiancée slept until at least nine, and yeah, he could get up and go have some coffee while reading the newspaper or a book as he waited for her, except he'd miss her and feel lonely. His solution was he normally just stayed in bed cuddling her and allowed himself to relax and let his mind wander, usually thinking about their future.

This Saturday morning, he woke up too fucking horny to do his usual routine of holding her, and he knew she wouldn't mind if he disrupted her sleep to see if she'd want to fool around; she generally did the same when she was in his position. However, today, it popped into his mind about how much he liked it when he'd wake up to her sucking his dick or, Christ, when he'd wake up to her riding him; he wasn't ashamed to admit the first time he opened his eyes to her on top of him and using him to make herself come, he blew his load in a minute flat.

So, he was thinking about that and how she'd given him permission multiple times to do the same to her when he decided to give it a try. The issue he ran into was it made him really fucking uncomfortable to do things to her while she was unconscious—he needed his sexual partners to be coherent and consenting. It took him a few minutes to push down the feeling and remind himself she had consented, she'd enthusiastically consented on many occasions, and that he had to trust her.

And that was how he found himself waking her up with his face in her pussy. He ended up kind of liking it, or at least liking her reaction to it, and that it made her so horny she asked him for his cock.

Would he do it again? Probably. It seemed to be something she was really into.

He wished he would've worked up his nerve sooner so they could've had more time to fuck, but they'd made it just under the wire to the kids waking up.

Which, he was loving getting the chance to babysit with her. It felt like a trial run of their future, and he wanted to show her that she made the right choice, agreeing to marry him.

The children were pretty well-behaved, and they loved him enough that they weren’t too difficult—unless it was nap time or bedtime. The one he was most worried about was Nathaniel because the one-year-old hadn’t had as much time with him as the other two and was incredibly attached to his parents, especially Connie.

When Javier and Stevie went to go get the youngest Murphy upon waking, Nate had fussed for his mom, and once he realized she wasn't there, he became inconsolable if Javier tried to put him down—the solution was carrying the baby on his back while he made breakfast.

The two older kids wanted pancakes when he asked what they'd like to eat, and of course, Javier obliged because his sobrinos (niece and nephews) had him wrapped around their little fingers.

Here he was, making Stevie a Mickey Mouse pancake, even though he'd already made the three-year-old an 'S' shaped one, and his fiancée was doing a terrible job of hiding behind the wall to watch him with the kids.

He held Stevie so the child could see the pancakes being made, a black plastic spatula in his other hand. "Cielito," he said loud enough for her to hear. "How many pancakes do you want?"

She stepped into the doorway, and he glanced over, smiling immediately when he saw she was wearing her purple shirt. She was frowning. "How long have you known I was there?"

"Baby, you had half of your body showing. I clocked you the moment you got out here."

Her arms crossed over her chest, her eyebrow raising. "So, were you cheesing it up?"

She was asking if everything she saw and heard was genuine, and it felt like a gut punch that she thought he was faking it.

A frown formed between his eyebrows and on his lips. "Tesorito," he looked at Olivia, "¿He estado actuando diferente esta mañana (Have I been acting differently this morning)?"

"Huh?" The little girl had a confused expression on her face. "No." She shook her head. "¿Por qué actuarias de manera diferente (Why would you act differently)?"

His eyes went back to his fiancée.

“No sé (I don’t know),” he said evenly. “No tengo ninguna razón para actuar de manera diferente (I have no reason to act differently). ¿Le dirás a tu tía lo que te gusta que te prepare para desayunar cuando te visite (Will you tell your aunt what you like me to make you for breakfast when I visit)?”

The girl turned to face Cielito with a smile. "Mickey Mouse pancakes! He also does other shapes if we ask, but Mickey is my favorite, and the ones he's best at making!"

"Oh," the woman replied. Their gazes met, guilt written on her features as her arms dropped to her sides. "I'm sorry, Javi. I shouldn't have jumped to that conclusion."

“Flip it!” Stevie shouted about his pancake. “Flip it, tío!”

He focused back on the pan and used the plastic utensil in his hand to do as the toddler asked.

“Yay!” the three-year-old clapped.

“Thanks for paying attention, buddy,” Javier told the little one. “And I get it, Cielito. You've never seen me with them.” Javier sighed. “How many pancakes do you want?"

She moved toward him and politely said to Olivia, “Excuse me, kiddo,” the child letting her get to his side. She ducked under his arm that held the spatula, hugging him around his middle or as best she could with him wearing the baby carrier. Her face was tilted up toward him. “I’m sorry, Javi,” she quietly said. “I was rude, and I’m sorry for hurting your feelings. Can you forgive me?”

His head turned to her and kissed her forehead. “Yeah,” he answered truthfully. He pulled back to meet her eyes. “I’m not putting on a show for you—everything you’ve seen is just how I am with them.” Javier let out a long breath. “These kids are my family, and up until you told me you wanted children with me, they were the closest thing I thought I’d get to having my own—I couldn’t be a father, but I could be the best uncle, and I’m gonna keep being the best uncle, even when we do have our own, because I love them, and they’re my favorite sobrinos.”

“Somos tus únicos sobrinos, tío (We’re your only niece and nephews, uncle),” Olivia said.

Javier smiled, looking past his fiancee at the dark-haired girl. “Sí, los son y son los mejores (Yes, you are, and you’re the best). ¿Quién es tu tío favorito (Who is your favorite uncle)?”

Her beaming smile was missing some baby teeth as she pointed at him. “¡Tú, tío Javi (You, uncle Javi)! ¡Eres divertido y haces los mejores panqueques y nos compras los regalos que queramos (You’re fun and make the best pancakes and buy us the presents we want)!”

Cielito was smiling when he locked eyes with her. “I told you you’re fun,” she said. “And I can tell you love them a lot—you’re very adorable with them.”

“Thanks,” he replied and kissed her forehead again. “How many pancakes would you like, mi amor (my love)?”

“Two is fine.”

“What shape for your second one?”

Her smile turned mischievous. “I’d love a butt pancake, so we can both eat ass—” Her eyes got comically huge at remembering the children. “—sortments.” She cringed. “So, we can both eat an assortment of differently shaped pancakes.”

He snorted in amusement, trying not to laugh. “Right,” he said. “We’ll both eat an assortment of pancakes.”

“There’s really not much different between the heart and butt pancakes…” Olivia added with a look on her face like she didn’t understand what they were talking about.

“Is there bacon?” Cielito suddenly asked and stepped away from him, clearly trying to change the subject. “I could make bacon or maybe cut up some fruit?”

He looked between the two older kids. “Do you guys want bacon or fruit with your pancakes?”

"Bacon!" Olivia answered excitedly.

"Bacon!" Stevie squealed, clapping his hands.

His head turned to his future wife, smiling. "I think they want bacon."

"Then I'll make them bacon," she said, walking to the fridge.

It was like they were playing house—it was them with the three children they were taking care of, having to feed, clean, clothe, and entertain them, giving the couple a chance to see how the other handled it.

He loved standing with her side-by-side at the stove, making breakfast while they chatted with the children. He loved that Nate wanted to sit with her at the table when they ate, and she didn’t even blink an eye as she took the baby to put in her lap and eat his small plate of a plain pancake and cut-up bananas. He loved how she tackled cleaning up with him while holding the one-year-old on her hip like it was no big deal and kept an eye on the three little Murphys while he washed the blankets from their bed and put the mattress back onto the old, squeaky bedframe. He loved watching how easily she interacted with the kids and that they liked her—he knew, without a doubt, when he asked Olivia what she thought of the woman he was marrying, her answer was going to be positive because the nine-year-old trusted him, and would’ve said something to him by now had there been anything wrong.

Javier hadn't told Cielito this, but on their first night in Miami, when Olivia requested him to tell her a bedtime story, she worriedly asked him if he'd still love her and her brothers if he had a baby, and it broke his heart. He reassured her that, of course, he would and made a mental note that when they finally had a child, he'd do his best to ensure nothing changed regarding his regular phone calls with Olivia and sending them presents.

Seeing his fiancée happily helping him with the kids had him feeling some type of way; he couldn’t stop smiling, excitement vibrating just under his skin at thinking about her doing the same things with their own children.

On many occasions, she’d said their kids were going to be obsessed with him and love him more than her, but that wasn’t something he wanted—his future wife deserved their affection more, and he wanted them to be obsessed with her. He hated how she grew up—how she never felt loved, and he sure as fuck hated her family, and starting their own was a chance for her to have a do-over where she’d be loved unconditionally and knew her importance to him and their children. He just wanted her to feel loved and wanted, and he would do everything in his power to make it happen.

In the hours they waited for Steve and Connie to get back, they got a taste of what parenting together would be like, and he thought they didn’t do half bad—they got the boys ready for the day, getting them dressed, their teeth brushed, and hair combed. He saw how well she handled calming down a crying Nathaniel. They spent some time in the family room watching cartoons with the kids, and he helped Stevie with potty training, and she didn’t shy away from changing diapers. She French braided Olivia’s hair per the child’s request, giving her a plait on each side of her head. He showed her how to put Nate down for his morning nap, and they had lunch when the baby got up; then, they all piled onto the couch to watch The Little Mermaid.

Javier usually did most of this alone when the parents were away, but he had to admit that having someone helping him was nice and made things much easier.

Something he didn’t expect was how he somehow fell even more in love with her from being so good with the kids, and it showed him she was going to be an amazing mother one day—hopefully soon, if he got his way.

Javier was beside you on the couch with his arm over your shoulders and Stevie in his lap, Olivia on your other side, and Nate content sitting on your thigh with his back against you and a sippy cup in his hands as you all watched the movie.

"My favorite character is Ariel," Olivia said. "I'd love to be a mermaid and swim with dolphins! Tío's favorite character is Sebastian."

That was a piece of trivia you were not aware of.

Your head turned toward the girl. "Is that so? Has your tío watched this with you before?"

"Oh, yeah, it's my favorite movie!” That made sense since she had The Little Mermaid pajamas and bedding. “Last time, we ate ice cream sandwiches while watching."

Confusion came over you because you’d been sure Javi’s first time seeing this movie was with you—you’d been sure his first time watching many of the animated Disney movies had been with you.

“That sounds like fun,” you said slowly. “Have you watched other Disney movies with him?”

“Yep.” She pointed toward the entertainment center, where behind a glass door, you could see the spines of VHS cases, noting there were a lot of Disney titles and other children’s movies. “Um, I know we’ve watched Beauty and the Beast, Snow White, uh, Sleeping Beauty, Toy Story, Pocahontas, Aladdin, um, A Goofy Movie, um, oh! He took me to the movies to see Hercules!”

“I love that—have you watched Lion King together?”

He said he’d never seen it on your second date, and how he acted when you watched it on your third date made you believe it was his first watch.

“Nope—” She shook her head. “—I don’t like Lion King. It’s too sad.”

“It is kinda sad, and it’s okay that you don’t like it.” You gave her knee a pat before turning your head to look at Javi, whispering to him, “I thought you hadn’t seen Disney movies before we met?”

His face scrunched in confusion, meeting your gaze. “What? I never said that. I told you I hadn't watched Lion King, and I hadn’t. I’ve seen a few Disney movies with the kids—I figured you knew that…”

“I didn’t. I thought your first times were with me...”

“Some of them, yeah.” He shrugged. “They’re young children—what movies did you think we watched?”

“I don’t know, maybe Land Before Time or those cartoon movies not made by Disney.”

You felt dumb for not putting two and two together after he told you about Olivia and her brothers early on in your relationship—of course, it’d make sense he’d seen some of the movies before you got together.

Olivia interrupted. "We don't watch Land Before Time because it makes tío cry."

Your face softened, reaching across your body to caress his cheek. "Oh, babe, because of Littlefoot's mom?"

He was frowning, letting out a sigh, his eyes darting away from you. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Messed up way to start a kid’s movie and fuc—freaking traumatizing.”

“Yeah.” You pushed the hair off his forehead. “The beginning is brutal. I cried the first time I watched it, too.”

The children’s dad shouted from the front door, “Kids, we’re home!”

“Mommy and Daddy are home!” Stevie said, crawling off Javi’s lap to run their way.

“Mom!” Nate shouted, letting his sippy cup fall and needing help to get to the floor. He booked it the same way as his brother.

Olivia jumped up to go see them, too.

Javi leaned in close, your cheeks touching when he whispered into your ear, “I can’t wait to come home to kids who are excited to see me—can't wait to come home to you pregnant. I just can't fucking wait to have a baby with you."

You smiled. "I know," you said just as quietly. "I can't wait, either. You're gonna be such an amazing dad, and our babies will be lucky to have you."

"You don't know how fucking happy it makes me when we talk about having more than one—I get so excited, I feel like a kid on Christmas."

"You're so cute."

"Hey, Jav!" Steve called out. "The two of you need to come out here!"

Your fiancé kissed your cheek. "We better go see what he wants."

“Okay.” You took his chin in hand and moved his face in front of yours to give him a kiss on the lips.

Your hands were held when you both got up and made your way to where the family was, finding them all standing around the kitchen table, Connie holding Nathaniel and Stevie in his dad's arms—toward the end of the table you were closest to, sat a professionally made, circular, white frosted cake, with red outlining the top and fancy writing in the same color, spelling out, "Happy Birthday Javi!" and two lit candles shaped like a four and zero standing above the message.

The moment you entered the dining room, the Murphys started singing "Happy Birthday," and you joined in, Javi suddenly stopping.

"What's all this?" he asked.

It got to the part in the song where his name goes, and the adults said Javi, but Olivia and Stevie sang tío. When they finished singing, the three-year-old clapped his hands.

"It's your birthday party!" Steve said with a smile. "Get over here and blow out the candles so the kids can give you your presents and eat cake."

"Right," Javi replied, letting go of your hand to walk the handful of steps, leaning over the table between two chairs.

"Make a wish!" Olivia said.

His eyes closed, and he blew out the candles.

"Yay!" Stevie said excitedly, clapping his hands again. Nate copied his brother with claps and a big smile.

"What'd you wish for?" Olivia asked.

"If he tells you, then his wish won't come true, honey," her mom said.

Javi straightened, and you made your way to him.

"Oh, right," Olivia replied. "Can we have cake now?"

"Yes, baby girl," Steve answered, taking Nate when Connie passed him to his dad so she could cut the cake. "Olivia, go grab your tío's presents over on the coffee table." He nodded behind him, and the little girl ran in that direction.

Javi's voice was rough with emotion as he spoke, "You guys didn't have to do this..."

"Yes, we did," Connie said, putting a small slice on a tiny paper plate. "The kids wanted to celebrate your birthday with you and eat cake."

"Thank you." Your arm was around his waist while he pulled you closer to his side and kissed your hair.

Olivia came barreling back toward them with some folded papers in one hand and a small box under her other arm wrapped in red and white striped wrapping paper that was clearly meant for Christmas.

She stood beside him and handed him the folded papers first, which turned out to be handmade Birthday cards from the kids—the first one featured an array of colorful marker scribbles that had every color in the rainbow and an abundance of circles, the writing messy as if an adult was helping to guide their tiny hand to write in black ink, ‘Happy Birthday!’ Javi flipped it open to find a baby-sized orange handprint on one side, with ‘Love, Nate’ written above it in Connie's clean script, and on the other side was a blue toddler's handprint with the same messy handwriting from the front over it, spelling, 'Love, Stevie.'

His eyes were misty as he looked over at the boys. "Did you make this for me, Stevie?"

"Uh-huh." His little head nodded. "I colored it for you!"

"I love it, mi principito (my little prince). Thank you."

"What do we say when someone thanks us?" Steve asked his son.

Stevie smiled big. "You’re welcome!"

Javi's attention returned to his hands, putting the closed first card behind the second.

This one was clearly made by Olivia. She'd drawn a birthday cake with the frosting colored pink and a few candles on top, a bunch of vibrant balloons above it, and underneath, she'd spelled in block letters in different colors, ‘Happy Birthday!’ When he opened it, there was a colorful stick figure drawing of her family taking up both sides, their names written above each person, with Javi and you in the middle, and 'Cielito' put down as your name. Along the top in the child's script, it said, 'Happy Birthday to the best tío in the entire world! Love, Olivia.'

It surprised you that she added you amongst her family, and it warmed your heart, knowing how happy it would make Javi.

"Es hermoso, tesorito (It’s beautiful, my little treasure)," he said, sounding a little choked up. He pulled her in for a side hug. "Incluso incluiste a mi Cielito (You even included my Cielito)."

"Well, yeah," she replied, looking up at him. "Hablas mucho de ella y vives con ella, y te vas a casar con ella (You talk about her a lot and live with her, and you are going to marry her). Tuve que incluirla ya que va a ser nuestra tía (I had to include her since she is going to be our aunt)."

"Gracias, Mija (Thank you, Mija). Es perfecto (It’s perfect). I'm gonna hang these up at work so I can look at them every day." He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, handing the two cards to you. His head turned your way. "We're gonna need to pack these carefully."

"Of course," you said.

"Y aquí está tu regalo (And here is your gift)," Olivia held up the box to him, and he took it, quickly unwrapping the paper and opening it. He set it down on the table and pulled out what was inside.

It was a picture of Javi sitting on the Murphys’ leather sofa, holding a maybe six-month-old Nate in his arms, with Stevie and Olivia seated on each side of him, all of them, except Nate, who was chewing on his hand, smiling at the camera, the white ceramic frame around it covered in kid-drawn sunflowers and daisies, with ‘World's Best Tío’ written on the bottom in Olivia's handwriting.

He was smiling. "I love this—it’s gonna go on my desk," he said. His gaze went to his friends. "Thank you. This means a lot to me."

"You're welcome, Javi," Steve said, smiling.

"The kids had a lot of fun making your presents," Connie added, "and I've been meaning to get you a copy of that picture." Six plates with cake slices on them were sitting on the table.

“Thank you," he said again, gently setting it back into the box.

The birthday cake was eaten, and the majority of the hours you had left with the Murphys, Javi spent with the children while you took care of packing both of your bags, wanting him to have as much time with them as possible—the last thing you saw them doing was having a Nerf gun battle, Javi and Olivia versus the Steves; big Steve carrying around little Steve, both with weapons in their hands.

There was a lot of laughing and happy squeals.

A little later, when Steve and Connie walked into the guest room you were in, you were folding the basket of clean bedding.

"Oh, sweetie, you don't need to worry about folding all of that," the other woman said as she came over and carefully took the sheet you were holding, tossing it back in the basket.

"It's really not a problem," you replied. "I don't mind."

"We'll take care of it later." She waved away your words, then guided you with a hand on your back and arm to stand with them over in the space at the end of the bed. "We wanted to thank you for last night." She stepped to stand beside her husband, and he immediately put an arm around her.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry about how I acted." You covered your face with your hands.

"It's okay,” she reassured. "If I had been in your position, I would've wanted to kick that woman's ass, too, and to be honest, it made the night very exciting."

You lowered your palms. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. Steve—" She glanced at her husband. "—tell her about that time right after we got married when that woman tried to kiss you."

"First of all," he started, "I told that woman to leave me the fuck alone and was very blunt in how uninterested I was in her. Then she tried to lay one on me—Connie had stepped away to use the ladies' room—and next thing I know, my beautiful, amazing wife was pulling her off me by the hair, and gave her a black eye before myself, and a bouncer could separate them. We were lucky she wasn't arrested, but I had never loved her more." He had a dopey smile on his face as he looked at Connie.

"Sooo, I acted accordingly?" you asked.

"Yes," they replied in unison, focusing their attention on you.

You smiled. "That makes me feel better."

“We wanted to talk to you before y’all left,” Connie said, “and thought this was a good time since Javi’s busy with our babies.”

“Okay…” you replied, wondering what they wanted to discuss.

“We are so happy Javi met you, and you’ve been so good for him. We’ve never seen him happier, and the two of you are a great match.”

You were waiting for the ‘but,” their expressions turning solemn.

“We just kindly ask that you please don’t break his heart,” she continued. “With how head over heels he is for you, we worry about what would happen to him.”

Breaking his heart had never even crossed your mind, and you had no intention of doing it either—Javi was the love of your life, your person, your soulmate; doing anything to hurt him was unfathomable, and you got where they were coming from—imagining a life without him was bleak and painful, and you knew he wouldn’t handle it well.

“Oh,” you said, “Wow, you guys are giving me the shovel talk. Well, I just want to reassure you both—” You looked between them. “—that I love him more than anything, and I’m in it for the long haul; in sickness and in health, ‘til death do us part, he’s it for me—I can’t even picture my future without him.”

A small smile was on Connie’s lips. “That’s good to hear,” she said.

"We're serious when we say you're the best thing to ever happen to him," Steve added, also smiling softly. "I'm not used to seeing him so fucking happy, but it's a good look—he deserves this, and we just hate thinking about him losing it.”

“I completely understand your worries,” you replied. “You just want what’s best for him, and you’re great friends—he’s lucky to have you. I want him to have happiness, too, after all the shit he’s gone through.”

Steve took a deep breath, his free hand resting on his hip. “He’s been through the wringer, and it’s about damn time he catches a fucking break.”

“It really is, and I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure he’s happy.”

“We appreciate it,” Steve said—he scratched at the back of his neck. “Also, I’ll tell him on our next call.” He and Javi chatted every Thursday over the phone. “But, I’m sorry about what an asshole I’ve been. I don’t know what got into me.”

“You needed to get laid, Steve.” You reached out and patted his arm, Connie giggling. “We know.” His cheeks had reddened. “If I only boned five times in an entire year, I’d also be a dick to the couple who are clearly doing it on the regular.”

He sighed, averting his eyes. “Yeah…”

You smiled. “Looks like you guys had a great night, though.” It was obvious they were much more relaxed. “Connie’s even glowing.” You gestured toward her, and Steve stood a little straighter, his chest puffing out. “Now, I need you guys to promise me something.”

Connie’s face showed curiosity. “What’s that?” she asked.

“You’ll start going on at least one date a month—get a babysitter for the night and take some time for yourselves away from the kids to have some fun. If you can swing it, I highly recommend getting a hotel room so you can go wild.”

The other woman looked at her husband. “I did enjoy the room last night. I’m sure my sister would watch the kids for us once a month.”

Steve had a delighted smile. “I enjoyed it, too—it’s a great idea, and we should’ve thought of it sooner.”

Her attention came back to you. “We’ll try—thank you. There’s something we want you to promise us.”

"Lay it on me."

“We know y’all are adventurous in the bedroom, but promise us you’ll avoid getting arrested by having sex out in public.”

You cringed. “Last night was a first for somewhere that public, and I don’t think I could stomach doing it again anyway.”

"Good." She nodded.

"Well, thank you for having us," you said. "It was lovely to meet you all and see Javi with your kids."

"I told you he's great with them," Steve replied.

"Yes, he is—we need to figure out a date, but hopefully, you guys can make it to our wedding next month. I'd love for Olivia to have the chance to be some kind of flower girl.” You weren’t having a traditional wedding with a whole bridal party; it was going to be a small ceremony with Chucho, Javi’s cousin, Seb, and your best friend, Robyn, the only people in attendance. “We'll make it work somehow."

"She'd love that," Connie said with a smile.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Steve added.

When it was finally time to leave for the airport, there were a lot of tears and promises Javi would see the children again very soon—Stevie had to practically be pried from your fiancé's arms with the grip he had around the man’s neck.

The drive to the airport was quiet, with your hand in Javi's, knowing he was sad about leaving his best friends and their kids.

On the plane, your bags were safely tucked away in the overhead compartment, and your future husband was again wearing his leather jacket and sitting in the aisle seat. He distracted you with his mouth on yours for take off, and you were thankful he remembered your fear of flying.

There was hardly any talking between you, mainly because you both were exhausted and ready to sleep in the comfort of your own bed.

An hour into the flight, as you read your book with the small overhead light shining down on you in the dark cabin, Javi nudged you with his elbow to get your attention.

"Cielito, look."

He was smiling with his reading glasses lowered on his nose, his hands holding his own book, and your eyes followed the direction he nodded in.

Across the aisle, in the row ahead of you, a mother was holding her baby, who couldn't have been a year old, in front of her and doing something you couldn’t see that had the child erupting in happy giggles with a big infectious smile.

"I want one," Javi said.

You snorted, laying your head against his shoulder. "And we're doing our best to have one."

His face turned your way, and he whispered, "Yeah, we are—maybe we should try joining the mile-high club. I'm sure I could figure out how to make it work in that small space."

As horny as the thought made you, a disappointed sigh exhaled from your mouth.

"Can't," you replied. "I promised Steve and Connie we wouldn't have sex in public anymore."

His eyebrows dipped low, and his eyes slightly squinted. "Why would you promise them that?"

"'Cause we were having a heart-to-heart, and I made them promise to fuck at least once a month. Anyways, they said ‘public’ and were referring to the bar yesterday, so us messing around in your truck is still okay—basically, in my head, as long as no one's around, we're good."

His face relaxed. "I can work with that—yesterday and the beach were too fucking risky anyway."

"Right? If we're gonna have a baby, we gotta start being more responsible."

A smile pulled up on his lips. "Agreed—god, I'm so fucking excited."

"About getting married and having babies?"

His expression softened as his eyes stayed on yours, grabbing your left hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss the largest diamond on your engagement ring. "Yeah, and that I get to spend the rest of my life with my best friend, living the fucking dream."

Next Day, Sunday, December 13

The day he’d been dreading had finally come—he was forty.

Forty.

That morning, he'd stood in the bathroom naked, staring at himself in the mirror, taking in every little detail of what he looked like after being on the planet for four decades.

There were more lines on his face and a grey hair on his head he plucked. He'd put on some weight, seeing his gut was softer and his face fuller.

He felt relieved that he still recognized the reflection—it was still him. He just had more wear and tear than when he turned thirty.

Cielito had woken earlier than she usually did on the weekends and found him doing his inventory of changes. He couldn't help it when he asked her if he was still attractive at his new age—he needed to know and have some reassurance. The question had her turning him to face her in order for her to press up against his front where she stared into his eyes and, honest to god, waxed poetic about how sexy he was for a solid five minutes; he'd felt much better afterward, and so happy, he sat her on the bathroom counter and ate her out.

He didn't want to make a big deal about his birthday—the small party with the Murphys was more than enough, and for today, he wanted to go to dinner with his fiancée and father at a decent steakhouse, where they both promised not to tell the servers it was his birthday so he didn't have to go through the embarrassment of being sung to by strangers.

As he said, he didn't want to make it a big deal—he helped Cielito make him breakfast, they cleaned up the apartment, washed their clothes from the trip, and ran some errands; typical things they’d do on a Sunday to prepare for the following week, plus relaxing on the couch and watching what she said was a Christmas movie he’d love: Die Hard.

She was right; this was the best birthday he'd had in years.

They'd gotten ready for dinner much earlier than they needed to so they could make a stop on their way.

His wi-fiancée looked stunning in her wine-red dress; the bodice had floral patterned lace, the skirt flaring out from the waist to stop just below her knees, and so she didn't get cold, she paired it with a jean jacket. Javier didn't feel like getting too dressed up and decided dark-wash jeans, a maroon button-up, and his black sports coat would do.

He held her hand as they quietly walked on the grass, his other fist carrying a small bouquet of bright orange and golden yellow marigolds; the wind was quietly whistling, two squirrels on a tree nearby were squabbling, and in the distance, faint sounds of cars traveling on roads met their ears, bringing life to a place where the inhabitants silently rested.

His eyes started watering before he saw the familiar stone, unable to stop from thinking how bittersweet this would be. They approached the headstone that had been so lovingly cared for, you couldn't tell it had marked this spot for close to ten years; the inscription was seared in his brain, knowing what it said without having to read the engraved letters and numbers.

Antonia Peña López

November 17, 1937-January 31, 1991

Beloved Wife, Loving Mother, Greatly Loved, and Sadly Missed

And he wished she knew just how greatly loved and sadly missed she was.

He bent down to place the flowers in one of the vases dug in the ground, grunting when he stood back up.

Cielito squeezed his hand to remind him she was with him, and he had to clear his throat before he could speak.

"Hola, Amá (Hi, Mom)," he said, "Te dije la semana pasada que por fin iba a pedirle al amor de mi vida que se casara conmigo, y lo hice (I told you last week that I was going to finally ask the love of my life to marry me, and I did)—dijo que sí (she said yes)." He held out his fiancée's hand to show the ring on her finger. He had to wipe at his eyes. "Me voy a casar, Amá. (I'm getting married, Mom). Estamos empezando nuestra familia (We're starting our family)," his voice cracked on the last word, and he cleared his throat again, ignoring the lump in it. "Estoy tan feliz, Amá, (I'm so happy, Mom)—nunca he sido más feliz y te extraño mucho (I've never been happier, and I miss you so much)."

Tears were rolling down his cheeks.

"Ojalá estuvieras aquí para ver cómo me he convertido en el hombre más feliz del mundo (I wish you were here to see how I've become the happiest man in the world). Ojalá pudieras estar aquí para conocer a la increíble mujer con la que me voy a casar (I wish you could be here to meet the incredible woman I'm marrying). Ojalá pudieras vernos casarnos (I wish you could see us get married). Ojalá estuvieras aquí para conocer a tus nietos (I wish you'd be here to meet your grandchildren). Solo desearía que estuvieras aquí, Amá (I just wish you were here, Mom)."

His lips had started to tremble.

"Hoy cumplí cuarenta años y me di cuenta de que la última vez que mi cumpleaños se sintió como algo para celebrar, estabas viva, estaba en casa desde de la universidad en las vacaciones de invierno y hicimos un pastel de tres leches juntos. (I turned forty today and realized the last time my birthday felt like something to celebrate, you were alive, I was home from college on winter vacation, and we made a tres leches cake together). No ha sido lo mismo desde entonces (It hasn’t been the same since). Mi vida es mejor ahora, y prometo celebrar más mi cumpleaños el próximo año (My life is better now, and I promise to celebrate my birthday more next year).”

He smiled.

“Me habré casado con mi media naranja, podríamos tener un bebé, al menos, espero que tengamos uno, y probablemente viviremos en nuestra nueva casa (I will have married my soulmate, we might have a baby, at least I hope we will, and we will probably be living in our new house). Tendré muchas razones para celebrar (I will have many reasons to celebrate). Te amo, Amá, y te extraño tanto (I love you, Mom, and I miss you so much). Gracias por visitarme la otra noche (Thank you for visiting me the other night). Lo necesitaba (I needed it).”

He'd dreamt about his mother the night before he proposed, and it had felt like she was giving him her approval of the woman he would spend the rest of his life with.

Cielito wrapped her arms around his middle from the side, and he hugged her back, sniffling loudly.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm okay."

"You know, wherever she is, she's so fucking happy and proud of you, right?"

His eyes blurred with more tears. "Yeah."

She squeezed him a little tighter, then moved from the embrace to look at the headstone.

"Hi, Antonia," she said, doing a little wave that made him smile. He knew she got nervous talking to his mom and preferred to speak English. "I love the ring." She held up her hand to show it. "It means a lot to me that it used to be yours, and I'm happy we have something to keep you with us every day. I just want you to know that I love your son so much, and I promise to take good care of him—he's everything to me, and I want him to be happy; I think you'd want that, too. So, I promise to take good care of him, love him with everything I've got, and make sure he gets that happy life we both know he deserves and want him to have.” She frowned. “I'm sad we never got to meet, but it feels like we have, and I want you to know that I love you, and our kids will love you, too, because you would've been the best abuela (grandma) to them. Thank you for raising such an amazing man, and don't worry, I'll keep him safe and love him forever."

The moment she stopped talking, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"I meant it all."

"I know."

Something that made Javier really fucking happy was how much the woman he’d chosen to marry loved his parents. She and his father got along so well they spent time together without Javier—she sometimes went out to the ranch after work to have a couple of beers with his dad and gossip about what was happening in town. Other times, she’d hang out with Chucho, and they’d cook Javier dinner together. And just like how Javier occasionally needed advice or a wiser perspective from his father, she did, too, and would visit him to talk things out. Javier loved that they’d bonded and developed a great father-daughter relationship.

Then there was how she never got a chance to meet his mother, yet through stories, pictures, home videos, and his mom’s recipes, she grew to love her and felt as though she knew her—Cielito genuinely loved his mamá, and had told him that when she makes his mother’s dishes, it made her feel closer to the other woman, and that meant so much to him.

He hated thinking about it, but there were so many signs that Lorraine was bad news, and one of them was how she never made any effort with his parents or wanted to—she hated going out to the ranch, she didn’t like to eat his mother’s cooking, and hardly spoke a word to them. He should’ve figured it out sooner that she was a waste of time. That she didn’t deserve him. That she wasn’t right for him.

He was with the right woman now. Cielito was the complete opposite of his ex—she actually loved him, she cared about him, she made an effort with his parents, and loved them, too; she enjoyed making his mother’s recipes, she learned Spanish for him and his family because she wanted to, and agreed to live at the ranch with zero convincing. She was perfect and everything he could want in a partner, and he was well aware that he didn’t deserve her. She was too good for him, and he was the luckiest man in the whole goddamn world that she’d chosen to be with him—she chose him.

They rode in his truck to the restaurant downtown and had to find parking on the street, ending up two blocks away before a spot was available. Christmas was weeks away, and people were out shopping at the small stores lining the road, and since it was dinner time, the restaurants were filling up—they had a small journey to make on foot, and neither of them minded.

It was one of those days where he needed her close because of the array of emotions he was feeling—there was unease from turning forty, sadness at missing his mom, regret for the things from his past on his mind, excitement at the prospect of getting married and starting a family, happiness from being with the woman he loved, and he was almost positive Cielito was hiding a new lingerie set under her dress, and that thought alone had him a little horny.

His arm was across her shoulders, keeping her against his side, his head tilted toward her as they walked and talked, his attention on her and her alone, loving the smile on her face, and her bright eyes, the smell of her perfume making him feel warm, and content—she smelled like home, she felt like home, she was home, and as long as she was with him, he would always be home.

"I'm telling you," she said, "your dad's gonna have a contract or something that he went through the effort to have notarized, or some shit to make it legally binding that he's okay living with a baby and will help us take care of them."

Amusement was on her face.

"He only had Friday to do something like that, and I doubt he could've done it in one day—I'm betting we just get a piece of paper that he wrote down he's okay living with the baby and helping us, that he signed on the bottom."

"Twenty bucks.” She glanced his way to meet his eyes as she smiled.

"What?"

"Twenty bucks says he went all out."

"Fine," he said. "I'm in, but don't be mad at me when I win."

His father was eager for grandchildren, would do anything to ensure he got them, and could be a bit ridiculous, but Javier didn’t think he’d go through so much trouble for what was essentially a joke, even though they all knew he meant what he promised.

She looked forward again. "Ha! You're the one who's gonna lose because your dad is—" she trailed off and suddenly stopped, and so did he. Her smile turned into a frown, and she glared at something ahead of them.

His lips turned down. "What?" He looked in the direction she was. "Fuck," he breathed. Javier got his hands on her shoulders. "Let's cross the street, baby," he said, trying to make her move, but she wouldn’t budge.

“No,” she replied. “We’re gonna ignore them and see if they’ll do the same. I need to know if they’ve stopped with their bullshit.”

He sighed. “I don’t think this is a good idea...”

She looked at him. “I promise, Javi, I won’t start shit if they don’t.”

“I know you won’t—I don’t have much faith in them.”

“Who knows, maybe they’ve grown as people.” She shrugged.

He highly doubted that.

"Hey, Javi.” The heavy Texan drawl of the woman’s voice had him tensing like he was hearing nails on a chalkboard.

“Or not,” Cielito said, looking at the group.

He sighed again, his attention going to the group of women, and sounded tired when he spoke, "Hi, Lorraine." She was with her cousin Tammy and her friend from high school, Tracy, the three women holding shopping bags. “Tammy, Tracy.” He nodded at each of them.

Javier was really fucking hoping this would be a quick hello, and they could continue on their way. “We’ve gotta get going,” he said. “We’re on our way to dinner.”

Grabbing his fiancée’s hand, he started to move and stopped when the interaction continued.

"I'm surprised you're still doing whatever it is you're doing with the same woman,” Lorraine said. “I'd think you would've grown tired of her by now with how you go through women."

He knew staying here was a bad idea. He ground his teeth, glaring, and didn’t have a chance to respond since Cielito beat him to it.

"Surprise, bitch," his fiancée said, holding up her hand, "we're engaged, so why don't you fuck right off with your shitty attitude and leave us the hell alone."

The other woman's eyes flashed as she looked at the ring. "His track record with weddings isn't great, and I wouldn't be surprised if he disappeared on you, too; that's what he's good at, up and leaving, and I doubt him giving you a ring is really gonna hold him to marrying you—there’s also the fact he spent over a decade paying a different woman to fuck him every night, and I just think he’s too much of a slut to settle down."

Cielito lunged toward her, and Javier quickly had his arms around her to hold her back.

"You don’t fucking know him!” she yelled, trying to break out of his hold. “And I don't recall him getting you a ring, you jealous hag!" Lorraine scoffed, and the woman in his arms went still. "That's it," she said, having a realization. "You know, I thought it was really fucking weird that you're married and have a whole ass family but are so obsessed with a guy you dated for a handful of months and tried to baby trap—you're jealous," she stated matter-of-factly. "I bet Javi was the best sex you ever had, and you hate you couldn't keep him—it grinds your fucking gears that he's in an actual, loving relationship with another woman who gets that fucking spectacular dick on the regular and is treated like a goddess while your husband probably doesn't even know where the clit is, and only cares about getting himself off; honestly, with how much of a fucking cunt you are to Javi, I'm gonna assume the only orgasms you've had since him were with your own fingers because the man you're married to is godawful in bed and it wouldn’t shock me, most likely cheating on you—and that's what you fucking deserve for being the biggest, selfish, stuck up bitch in the world."

The other woman's face was bright red, and she dropped her bags, Tammy and Tracy immediately grabbing onto her to keep her from moving toward Cielito, her expression showing pure rage.

His wonderfully amazing, beautiful, badass wi-fiancée seemed to have struck a nerve, and he had to keep himself from laughing at the other woman’s anger.

"I'm not fucking jealous!" Lorraine shouted. "He was lucky I even bothered dating a loser like him! And he humiliated me! Me! I was the prom queen! I’m a beauty queen! I come from money! My family name means something here! He had the chance to be something more than a poor farm boy with me! You're delusional if you think he'd marry an ugly fucking nobody like you when he wouldn’t even marry me!"

He was already pissed off, but that made him want to scorch the earth she walked on. He stepped in front of Cielito, his tone going icier than the Arctic. "Shut the fuck up, Lorraine," he said, staring daggers at her. "I've had it with your shit."

The woman stopped struggling, eyes wide like she couldn’t believe he was talking to her like this.

"You can insult me all you fucking want,” he told her, “but you will not talk about the woman I love like that, no matter how fucking jealous you are of her—and she's right. You are jealous, and you should be because you don't hold a single fucking candle to her.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I actually love her. I love her so fucking much, I proposed to her with my mother's ring, and what did I give you when you tried to trick me into marrying the devil incarnate? Fucking nothing because you meant nothing to me and deserved nothing from me. I'm done, Lorraine. I no longer feel bad about how things ended, and I’m fucking glad I left your ass at the altar because it led to me meeting the woman of my dreams who’s far more prettier than you and is somebody—she’s somebody better than you.” His hands went to his hips. “This is the last time you or anyone else in your shitty family harasses me—” He pointed at himself. “—or the people I love—it better be, or I'll get the Sheriff involved, and I’m sure with his connections over at the courthouse, they’d be more than happy to strap you fuckers with restraining orders.” Sheriff Arturo was respected and had a lot of pull in the community; he also was Javier’s boss and a family friend, who’d be more than happy to fuck with Lorraine’s family on his behalf. “As my future wife said,” he continued, “you can fuck right off; whatever this was is over. Have a nice life.”

His ex's face was so red, a vein was bulging in her forehead, while her mouth opened and closed, unable to speak from clearly being too angry and shocked. He grabbed Cielito's hand and pulled her around the other three women behind him. They were walking away, their backs to the trio, and he heard a frustrated scream, followed by an “I’m not jealous of her, and Rick isn’t cheating on me! He just works late at the office!” The other women were trying to calm her down, which made him smile.

It was about fucking time he told her off, and he felt free—a weight had been lifted; he no longer had to walk on eggshells. He was finally fucking free of his past, and it was like he could actually breathe.

There was nothing more he wanted to do than kiss the woman he loved, who always stood up for him and was simply incredible. They went across a street to be on the same block as their destination, passing people as they walked.

Cielito came to a stop, and he did, too; Javier grunted when she shoved him into an alley, making him stumble a few steps. The space between the two buildings was wide enough for a walkway, and he was confused when he turned her way, his eyes widening when she grabbed the lapels of his coat and pushed his back against the wall, her mouth following to crash into his.

A surprised sound left his throat that turned into a guttural groan when it registered she was kissing him; his arms wrapped around her back to pull her closer to his body, sliding a hand down the rough denim of her jacket to the buttery soft satin of her dress skirt to grab her ass.

It was obvious she was turned on, and he moaned when she palmed his dick over the front of his jeans. He didn’t need to ask what had gotten into her and had her all over him in a random alley; he knew it was because of how he talked to his ex, and honestly, listening to her lay into Lorraine on his behalf had his pants feeling tighter.

Her tongue licked hotly into his mouth to massage his own, and this was just what he wanted—to make out with the love of his life after they both told off the witch that ruined his life. Adrenaline was running high in each of them, and it was making them horny.

She had his body lighting up, prickling sensations shooting through him and making him thicken in his jeans. It got to the point where his lungs started to ache for oxygen, and her lips left his to sloppily kiss over his chin and along his jaw, as they panted.

“I wanna suck your dick.” Her sentence was muffled into his skin, her hand lightly squeezing over his half-hard cock.

“We’re not supposed to do shit in public anymore,” he breathily replied.

He’d love to get a blow job; however, he was acutely aware of their surroundings and the fact there was a steady stream of people passing by the mouth of the alleyway.

Her lips were on his neck, and it had him breathing hard as she licked and sucked at the sensitive skin, the scrape of her teeth making him shiver.

“That was before you were really sexy and went off on that stupid bitch.”

It was tempting. He glanced toward the sidewalk and realized how visible they were; anyone walking by could just look their way and see everything going on. They had too close of a call at the beach when the lifeguard showed up right as Javier was about to take off her pants; then there was the fact people heard them fucking in the bathroom at a bar—too many risks had been taken over the last few days, and he knew their luck would run out sooner rather than later, and he didn’t want to spend his birthday in jail; his dad would be so disappointed, and Steve would never let him hear the end of it.

He swallowed hard.

“You can’t suck my dick here,” his words came out rough.

Her head popped up with a look of confusion.

“Why not?”

“Because I love you, and it’s too fucking risky. I also don’t want your knees to get dirty.”

She pouted. “But you were so hot, you deserve a blow job.”

He smiled. “You can give me one when we get home or if you really wanna play with fire on our way home.”

She breathed out a long sigh. “Fine.”

He took her chin between two fingers, his gaze moving between her eyes and mouth, wanting to kiss her.

“Good girl,” he rasped.

His hand moved to cradle the back of her head, and he pulled her forward to smash his lips with hers, kissing her hard—his other arm was around her back as he turned her, pressing her spine to the brick wall while she clutched at the shirt over his chest, and he fit his thigh beneath her dress, between her legs for something to grind on.

He swallowed her moan, a sharp spike of arousal stabbing him in the gut at feeling the heat of her bare pussy through his jeans—he’d thought she was wearing lingerie under that pretty dress, but it looked like she was wearing nothing and that had blood rushing to his groin. She rocked her hips for some friction while his tongue delved into her mouth to tangle with hers.

This was safe—all people would see was them making out like a couple of teenagers. They weren’t doing anything illegal by kissing, though her getting off on his leg would probably be frowned upon.

Javier didn’t care; he wanted her to feel good, and he was in heaven getting to kiss her—he loved the feel of her lips against his and how their tongues danced together in a familiar routine. He loved the slight taste of her cherry-flavored chapstick and hearing her breathy moans and whimpers as she used his thigh to get herself off. He loved the softness of her body pressing into his and the heady smell of her perfume that made him think of his face buried in her neck while she held him in the comfort of her arms.

He loved her.

And just a kiss had him drunk on her—her smell, her feel, her taste, it all consumed him, making her every thought in his brain.

Her arousal seeped from her cunt, and he could feel a wet spot forming on the denim covering his thigh, her hips rolling to chase her release. His big hands grabbed onto her waist to help her move against the firm muscle, his cock now fully erect and straining in his pants.

He spoke into her lips, low enough for no one to overhear, “Are you gonna come for me? Are you gonna get off riding my thigh?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Good—use me, baby—make yourself feel good. I wanna wear your come on my jeans, Cielito.” He nipped at her bottom lip. “Mark me with it so everyone knows I’m yours. Make a mess of me, mi amor—keep rubbing that perfect clit for me.”

Her mouth separated from his, trailing wet kisses over the line of his jaw, to his neck, Javier’s eyes rolling back when she sucked over his pulse point hard enough to leave a mark—arousal was burning hot in his belly, sparks skittering through his body.

His voice was ragged, “I love you so fucking much.” He cupped her face, moving her head to get his mouth back on hers. “You were so fucking sexy sticking up for me,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m yours; all of me belongs to you. I’ll fight for you, I’d die for you, I’d go to war for you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe, and I won’t let anyone fuck with you.” He kissed her. “You’re mine—you’re my everything, and when we get home, you can have me however you want.” Grabbing her hand, he pressed it to his hard-on. “This is yours.” He put her palm over his heart. “This belongs to you.”

“I’m close,” she moaned.

Both of his hands moved to grip the globes of her ass over her dress, canting her hips back and forth, assisting her movements. "Come on, mi amor, come for me. Keep riding my thigh with that pretty pussy, and come."

His mouth claimed hers once more, dampening her sounds and deepening the kiss with a press of his tongue between her lips.

Moments passed of their mouths fused together and her wet cunt grinding against the flexed muscles of his thigh, when she hit her peak, her motions stopping, and her body tensing up tight, coming with a loud moan that vibrated in the back of her throat. He broke the kiss, sharing her panted breaths.

"Good girl," he purred and caressed her cheek, pecking her on the lips before they blazed a trail across her jaw to her neck, where he tasted her salty skin, kissing and sucking at it as she came down from her high.

It took a minute for her to speak.

"It's your birthday," she said, "why am I getting all of the orgasms? There was this morning in the bathroom, and now this. How do you not have blue balls?"

His head lifted to look her in the eyes with a smile. “It is my birthday, and I’m doing something I love, which is making you come, and yeah, my balls are aching a bit from not getting off, but I’m saving myself for tonight because I’m curious about what you have planned—I saw you put the sex towel on the bed before we left the apartment."

The sex towel was a big, thick, black towel they brought out when they didn’t want to dirty the bedding, like if she was on her period or he was in the mood to make her squirt—it kept things from getting too messy. If the sex towel was out, it meant they were gonna have some fun, and he was dying to know what she intended to use it for.

She laughed, looping her arms around his neck. “I’m not gonna spoil the surprise,” she said, smiling big. “But you’re gonna lose your fucking mind and probably ask me to marry you again.” Her eyebrows wagged.

That had excitement thrumming through him.

He grinned. “It wouldn’t take much to make me propose to you again.”

“That’s true.” His fiancee nodded. “You, sir—” She poked him in the chest. “—are incredibly whipped.” She flicked her wrist and made a noise like she was cracking a whip, which made Javier chuckle.

“Yes, I fucking am,” he said proudly.

“God, it’s so hot how much you’re into me.”

“Yeah—gets me going how much you love me, too.”

“The sweetest man,” she replied, leaning forward to kiss him. Her eyes were on his when she pulled back. “We better get going. We’re gonna be late to dinner.”

“Shit.” He checked his watch, then looked at her. “Pop’s probably wondering where the fuck we are.” Javier stepped away from her and turned his back to the alley’s entrance to adjust himself in his jeans and hide his hard dick by trapping it under his waistband—a dark patch had formed over the denim covering his thigh from her come.

Facing her again, his hands held her face, and he kissed her tenderly, his gaze on hers when they separated, and his lips turned up in a soft smile—she looked just as happy and so fucking beautiful. He was kicking himself in the ass for not taking a picture of her before they left for dinner.

“I love you,” he said. “Thank you.” His thumbs stroked across the apples of her cheeks.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “For what?”

“Loving me, marrying me, protecting me, making me happy—I can keep going.” He smiled. “Thank you for being with me and changing my life for the better; thank you for giving me shit to actually live for. And today, thank you for making this the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.”

“Even with what happened earlier?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I love it when you defend me, and it felt fucking amazing to go off on her—it was long overdue.”

“It was, and I’m proud of you.” She kissed him. “You also have nothing to thank me for—I love you, and all I want is for you to be happy.”

“I’m so fucking happy.”

Nothing was more true.

Javi was glued to your side as you walked the rest of the way to the restaurant. His arm was across your shoulders, keeping you tucked against him while his head was tilted your way, chatting about nothing important.

Before arriving at your destination, ringing sounded from inside your purse, and you wondered who would be calling. It took you a second to feel around in your bag to get the sturdy Nokia phone out, seeing your best friend’s name on the screen. You and Javi moved to the side of the sidewalk and out of the way of the other pedestrians.

“Robyn’s calling.” Confusion was laced in your tone.

“Didn’t you tell her we were going out tonight?” Javi asked.

“Yeah, this afternoon when I called her to debrief about our trip. I wonder what she wants.”

You hit the answer button and put the cell phone to your ear.

“Hello?” you said.

Her best friend spoke in her Texas twang. “What the fuck happened with Lorraine?”

“Hi to you, too—how in the world do you already know about that? It’s been fifteen minutes!”

“I’m at my mama’s, and she got a call from her neighbor, Miss Caroline, down the road, who heard from Mrs. Bell, whose daughter, Bernice, works at the jewelry shop downtown that Lorraine got into a screamin’ match with Javier Peña and the nurse he’s datin’ on the sidewalk outside the store—girl, you better spill.”

You were taken aback by how quickly word had spread.

“I cannot believe people are already talking about it…”

“Somethin’ excitin’ like Lorraine and Javier Peña havin’ a public quarrel? Of course, the news is gonna travel fast! You know better than anyone people still talk about their failed wedding.”

She made you frown. “That I do.”

“So, what happened? Tell me everythin’.”

“Well, Javi and I were minding our business, heading to meet his dad for dinner, when we ran into Lorraine, Tammy, and some other woman I didn’t care to get the name of—”

“Probably Tracy-Anne Walker,” Robyn interrupted. “She just goes by Tracy these days and is tight with Lorraine and her cousins.”

“Maybe?” you replied. “Anyways, we tried to ignore them, but Lorraine decided to open her big, stupid mouth to say some shitty things about Javi, and if he hadn’t held me back, I would’ve kicked her ass—instead, I called her out on being a jealous bitch because he’s with me, and Javi got a chance to lay into her, and finally, tell her to shut the fuck up. It was great; I thought her head was going to explode with how red she turned. Hopefully, she’ll leave us the fuck alone from now on.”

“I’m upset I missed the drama. From what I heard, after you guys left, Lorraine had a meltdown and had to be dragged back to their car.”

“Good. And that’s all that happened.”

“It’s surprisin’ y’all hadn’t crossed paths until now. It’s good you put her in her place.”

It was surprising you hadn’t had another encounter with her since the first one.

“There’s no way in hell I’d stand by and let someone talk to Javi like that,” you said, “and now she knows we’re not fucking around.”

“Yes, she does. Okay, I’ll let you get back to your evenin’. Tell Javi happy birthday from me again, and Chucho, hi.”

“Will do.”

“See you tomorrow at work.”

“See you.”

You clicked the end call button, and put the phone back in your purse.

“Everyone knows?” Javi asked, taking your hand.

“Yep,” you answered and started walking with him.

He breathed out a long, weary sigh. “Of course—this town is full of fucking gossips.”

“It’s annoying as fuck when you’re the gossip, but I’m guilty of enjoying hearing the tea.”

​​"I am, too—I love it when you tell me about what's going on at the hospital."

"And I love when you bring home hot goss from work—still not over that deputy finding out his wife was having an affair when he saw her at the motel he was doing a drug bust at."

It happened in a neighboring city.

"Yeah, talk about a fucking coincidence."

The place he chose for dinner was relatively new to Laredo. It was a nice steakhouse that only served locally sourced beef and had the best steaks in town. The owner was a local who'd gone to some fancy culinary school and spent time working in a Michelin-star restaurant before coming back home to open this one, and the food was surprisingly good.

Inside, the lights were slightly muted, the brick walls decorated in paintings of pastures, with some featuring cattle grazing. A bar was on one side of the place that could've come from an Old West saloon with all of the carefully crafted mahogany wood.

It was easy to spot Chucho when you arrived, the older man waving you over to the booth he was in. His white straw cowboy hat was sitting on the table with a cold bottle of beer and three menus, the man getting up as you approached with a beaming smile.

"Hola, mis hijos (Hello, my children)," he greeted and gave you a big bear hug when you were close enough, then a simpler hug to Javi that included some back pats. He looked your way when he stepped back. “Quiero ver el anillo (I want to see the ring).”

Holding out your hand, he took it in one of his as he admired the engagement ring through his glasses—the gold band that used to belong to his wife with a decent-sized princess cut diamond in the middle, flanked by two smaller ones on either side of it, Chucho’s eyes beginning to shine.

“Es hermoso (It’s beautiful),” he said. Glancing at Javi to your right, he continued, “A tu mamá le encantaría que intercambiaste el diamante original por algo más grande y estaría muy orgullosa de ti, Mijo (Your mom would love that you exchanged the original diamond with something bigger and she would be so proud of you, Mijo). Ella estaría tan feliz (She would be so happy). Permítanme tomar una foto (Let me take a picture).” He turned back to the table, lifting his hat to get his camera under it, and faced you again.

“De verdad, Pop (Really, Pop)?” Javi asked. “Quieres tomar una foto aquí (You want to take a photo here)?”

“Sí (Yes).” He nodded. “Quiero tomar una foto de la primera vez que la vi usándolo (I want to take a photo of the first time I saw her wearing it)—dale un respiro a tu padre (give your father a break). Estoy emocionado (I’m excited).”

“Yeah, Javi,” you said, looking over at your fiancé with a smile. “Let your dad enjoy this.”

“Fine,” Javi replied, wrapping his arm around you to pull you against his side.

Chucho put the camera up to his face. “Okay, Mija, put your left hand on his chest so we can see the ring.” You turned your body toward your future husband and pressed your left palm over his heart. “Perfect. Now smile—a bigger smile than that, Javier, you’re getting married!”

“Sorry,” Javi said. “People are staring.” He hugged you closer to him.

“That’s better.” The flash went off, making you blink as spots dotted your vision. The camera was lowered. “See, that wasn’t so bad. Now, please sit. I want to hear about your trip.”

“Thank Christ,” Javi said under his breath and let you scoot into the side of the booth you were going to share.

A server came over to get your drink orders the moment the three of you had settled in your seats, and Chucho put the camera back under his cowboy hat. Javi’s arm was around your back, with his hand under your jacket, drawing shapes against your dress-covered hip with his fingertip.

“How are Connie, Steve, and the kids?” the older man asked. He picked up his beer and took a drink.

“They’re great,” Javi answered. “Olivia’s Spanish has gotten better, and the boys have grown a lot since the last time I saw them. Steve and Connie are doing good, too.”

Chucho set the bottle down. “Good, good.” His dad nodded. “I’ll have to call Connie this week and catch up—I love talking to her. What’d you guys do while you were there, besides getting engaged?” He was smiling.

“We hung out with the Murphys,” Javi said. “Spent a day at the beach, went out for drinks with Steve and Connie, babysat the kids so they could have some time alone, and yesterday they threw me a small birthday party.”

“That was sweet of them. Did you get any gifts?”

“Yeah.” Javi smiled. “The kids made me cards, and I got a framed picture of me with them from my last visit.”

“I can’t wait to see it.” His attention turned to you. “Did you have fun and enjoy meeting Javi’s friends?”

“Yeah!” you answered. “They were wonderful and so welcoming. I had a great time, and I loved going to the beach. It was also really cute to see how Javi acts with the children—they love him so much.”

“I’ve heard.” He grinned. “He’s gonna be a great dad, which speaking of that—” he looked at the seat next to him toward the wall and picked up a large manila envelope he set on the table in front of you both, his eyes back on you. “—I said I’d put our deal in writing, and there it is.” He nodded at it.

Javi picked it up and unclasped the flap, pulling out a small, stapled stack of papers. His eyes moved over the first page before flipping through the others, the last one containing some kind of official seal and signatures.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Javi said in disbelief. His gaze landed on his dad. “You had your lawyer write up an agreement for you babysitting and us living with you?” He held up the stack. “You even have a rental agreement in here stating you won’t accept rent from us.”

“Figured that’d be good to have on paper.” Chucho shrugged. “You’re my son—” His head turned toward you. “—and my daughter-in-law and I won’t have you paying to live with me. Just having you there will be enough, and hopefully, I’ll have a nieto (grandchild) there, too.”

Leaning into Javi, you whispered, “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said. “I can’t believe you went through all this trouble, Pop.”

“I needed you two to know I was serious, and what better way than a legal document.” He looked very proud of himself. “It was also time I met with my lawyer to update my will. We always had it that Javi would get everything, but I wanted to make sure you inherited all of mi Antonia’s jewelry and her recipe box, Mija.”

“Oh,” you breathed, your eyes suddenly burning. “You didn’t have to do that,” you told him.

His gaze was on yours, his mouth turned up in a sweet smile. “Yes, I did. It was important to me those things would go to you, even though I’m sure Javi would’ve given them to you anyway. I also wanted there to be something in there about the ranch staying in the family—I know you’ll have your new home to raise your children in and won’t need my old one, but I hope after I’m gone, one of your kids will want it.”

“Yeah,” Javier said, his voice thick from the emotional subject. “Of course, Pop. We’d never let anything happen to the ranch or your house.”

“Good.” He passed each of you a menu and took one for himself, his eyes scanning over it. “Let’s figure out what we’re eating and talk about happier things.”

Your future husband put the agreement back in the envelope and handed it to you to set out of the way on the booth seat beside you. The server returned with your drinks and a basket of freshly baked bread with soft butter, telling you they’d return to take your orders in a few minutes. As you all read over your menus, you idly chatted about the choices and were ready when the employee returned to find out what you’d decided on, taking the menus with them when they left.

“So,” Chucho started, his hand wrapped around the glass bottle in front of him, “have you had any ideas for your wedding?” His eyes went to Javi. “I can talk to Padre (Father) Jorge if you want to get married in the same church as your mamá and me. I still go there, and since you were baptized, I’m sure I can convince him to let you—he officiated a wedding there not too long ago between Juan Barocio’s oldest son and a nice Protestant girl.” He lifted his beer to his lips for another drink.

It was sweet of him to offer, and he was probably hoping you’d accept, but Javier and you didn’t want to have a big wedding and had no desire to get married in a church.

“Actually, Pop,” Javi said, adjusting in his seat to lean closer to the table and rest his arms on it, “we talked out what we want to do for our wedding.”

The bottle was set on the table again, and the elder Peña’s face brightened. “What have you decided?”

“You know the big oak tree up on the hill, you and mamá would take me to for picnics?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Somewhere on the trunk, I carved her and my initials.”

No wonder that spot was so special to your betrothed; it was somewhere he had fond memories of and had made new ones with you there, too.

“Yeah, you showed me,” Javi replied. “We wanna get married there at sunset with just you, Seb, and Robyn with us, and afterward, we wanna have a party at your place—if you’re okay with it—to celebrate with everyone.”

Chucho’s expression had gone soft. “That would be a beautiful way to marry your media naranja (soulmate), Mijo, and of course, we can throw a party. Have you picked out a date?”

Javi and you looked at each other. “Hopefully, in about a month,” you answered.

“I’ll call Padre Jorge tomorrow to see when he’s available,” the older man said.

Your fiancé faced his dad. “We don’t want Padre Jorge to officiate,” Javi informed him with a shake of his head.

Chucho looked confused. “Did you have someone else in mind?”

“You.”

His father’s eyebrows lifted almost to his hairline. “Me?” He pointed at himself. “I’d be honored to do it, but Mijo, I’m not ordained—if I marry you, the law wouldn’t recognize your marriage; you wouldn’t be legally married.”

“We have a solution to that,” you said and met his eyes. “There’s this church that will let you get ordained through the internet.”

He frowned. “I don’t have a computer and have never used one... I wouldn’t know how to do something like that…”

“Easy solution: we can take you to the library, and I’ll help you—Javi can just watch since he hates computers and types with his index fingers.” You imitated the way he typed by pressing the fingertips of your pointer fingers against the tabletop, pretending there was a keyboard.

All of the times you’d visited him at his office, you’d never seen him touch his desktop computer once; you had, however, seen him use his typewriter and were absolutely tickled by how he stared at the keys like they insulted his mother and only used two fingers to hit them.

Javi looked at you. “Are you seriously making fun of how I type?”

Your head turned his way. “Lovingly,” you answered. “I’m lovingly making fun of how you type like an old man.”

He breathed out a sigh and focused his attention on his dad. “Anyways, what my rude, future wife is trying to say, is she’ll handle the computer shit, and we'll just be there for moral support.” His hand gripped your thigh under the table. “Isn’t that right, honey?” he asked you.

Your eyes narrowed in his direction. “Did you just honey me? You have never honeyed me—Cielito, amor, hermosa, cariño, baby, babe, light of my life, The Artist Formerly Known As Prince, and Your Royal Highness, Queen of my heart, are all acceptable terms of endearment, that are incredibly sweet, and cause me to swoon like a Victorian woman who’s caught a glimpse of a male wrist; honey makes me feel like you’re mad at me or being condescending, which I know, it’s what Steve calls Connie, but they’re so… vanilla.”

“Is that your nice way of saying boring?” His amused gaze met yours.

“I mean… you said it.”

“They are vanilla, and I’m sorry, baby,” he said, rubbing his hand over your leg. “Let me try again—isn’t that right, Your Royal Highness, Queen of my Heart?”

You giggled and playfully smacked his arm. “You smartass. I do kinda like that, though. Back to our discussion.” Your focus shifted to Chucho. “Yes, I’ll handle the computer and do all the work while the two of you stand behind me looking handsome.”

The elder Peña chuckled. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll get ordained if you’ll help me do it. I’m touched you want me to be a part of your special day.”

“There was no version of our wedding where you weren’t there, Pop,” you truthfully told him. “We love you, and you’re important to both of us.” You gestured between yourself and Javi. “Having you officiate one of the happiest moments of our lives would mean the world to us and was how we hoped we’d be married.”

The older man’s eyes had gotten watery as you spoke, and he had to take off his glasses to wipe at them.

“Yo también te amo, mis hijos (I love you, too, my children). Me han hecho el padre más feliz y orgulloso (You have made me the happiest and proudest father). Desearía que mi Amor estuviera aquí para compartir esta felicidad conmigo (I wish my Love was here to share this happiness with me). Tengo que ir a verla mañana para darle la noticia (I have to go see her tomorrow to tell her the news). Ella estaría muy emocionada (She’d be so excited).” He sniffled, putting his glasses back on. “¿La visitaste hoy (Did you visit her today)? Le costaría creer que su nene tenía cuarenta años (She’d have a hard time believing her baby boy was forty years old).”

“Sí, Pop (Yes, Pop).” Javi answered. “Nos detuvimos en nuestro camino hacia aquí (We stopped on our way here). Nosotros necesitábamos (We needed to).”

“Bueno, bueno (Good, good).” He held his son’s gaze. “Feliz cumpleaños, Javiercito (Happy birthday, Javier). Te has hecho un hombre increíble y no podría estar más orgulloso de ti (You have become an incredible man and I couldn’t be more proud of you). Sé que tu vida no ha sido fácil, y como tu padre, me mató ver todo lo que has tenido que pasar sin tener ninguna manera de detenerlo (I know your life hasn’t been easy, and as your father, it killed me to see everything you had to go through without having a way to stop it). Me siento aliviado de que finalmente estés a salvo en casa, donde perteneces, y de que hayas conocido a una mujer maravillosa que te hace sonreír y te ama tanto como tú la amas a ella (I’m relieved that you’re finally safe at home, where you belong, and that you met a wonderful woman who makes you smile and loves you as much as you love her). Tu madre y yo rezamos durante años para que seas feliz de nuevo, y ahora lo eres (Your mother and I have prayed for years for you to be happy again, and now you are). Esperábamos que encontraras a tu media naranja y tuvieras tu propia familia, y finalmente está sucediendo (We hoped you’d find your soulmate and have your own family, and it’s finally happening). No he estado tan feliz desde que tu mamá estaba viva y aún vivíste en casa con nosotros (I haven’t been this happy since your mom was alive and you still lived at home with us). Feliz cumpleaños, Mijo (Happy birthday, Mijo).” He held up his beer. “Se te ha dado una segunda oportunidad en la vida y esta vez, sé que estará llena de felicidad y amor (You’ve been given a second chance at life, and this time, I know it will be filled with happiness and love)—finalmente estás obteniendo todas las cosas buenas que te mereces (You’re finally getting all of the happy things you deserve).”

Glancing over at Javi, his cheeks were wet, and you leaned your head against his shoulder as you raised your glasses. The two men took drinks before you all set them down.

“Gracias, Pop (Thank you, Pop),” Javi said. His hand lightly squeezed your thigh, and you grabbed it to lace your fingers together. “It’s been a great birthday.”

“I’m glad, Mijo,” Chucho replied. “That reminds me, did the two of you really have an, eh, altercado con Lorraine en su camino hacia aquí (altercation with Lorraine on your way here)?”

“Lorraine started it!” Javi and you said at the same time.

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! 

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

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Do It For Me

Pairing: Marcus Lopez Arguello x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: After pissing off Brandy and finally getting what was coming for you. Looking for a quick way out, your eyes luckily land on the new kid. Thinking on your feet, you swoop I'm in for a little kiss to try and ward off the wolves that were on your trail.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Fake Dating'

*Gif does not belong to me

Your slightly heeled boots clicked through the hallway quickly, walking at a steady pace so as to not let on to how much worry was flooding through your body. You hadn't meant to piss off Brandy, scratch that, you hadn't meant to piss off Brandy enough that she'd get her whole cheerleading squad to go after you.

That's why you were hurridly walking down the school corridor, not even bothering to look over your shoulder as you could hear their pig-squeal-laughs as they followed. As you went you could see heads start to turn when they heard the parade of cheerleaders, their eyes only setting on you after they realised what was happening. The more heads that turned, the more you began to realise just how doomed you might be.

It was only when your eyes landed on some guy you had never seen before. He stood tall as he opened his locker, shoving something into it that vaguely looked like some teddy bear that had poorly been impaled. Your eyes quickly scanned over him, trying to put together the puzzle pieces as to who he might be.

You have never seen him before in one of your classes, which could just mean he was in the year above but you didn't think so. He seemed too fresh, unaware of what he was getting himself into to be familiar with this place.

That was when you remembered what Billy had been telling you. Some new kid was being recruited into this school. Some child killer. The orphanage killer, or something like that.

You had no idea what this killer was meant to look like. Billy had told you stories but even then he hadn't said anything about the boy's features. How could he? He had never seen him before last night or whenever it was that the green-haired boy slunk off with his skateboard and too much excitement flickering through his bones.

You couldn't help but count this as a win as you realised this was the boy who set that orphanage on fire. Never had you thought you would say those words in your head.

Changing the course of your walk, you head straight for the new kid, placing a heavy hand on the locker next to his head and staring up with a large smile. Eyes were instantly on the two of you. If someone hadn't been staring at one of the two of you before, they definitely were now.

"Look who finally decided to show up after my months of begging." You exclaim, saying the first words that come to mind to make it seem like the two of you had known each other previous to joining the school. His head snapped towards you when the slam of your hand had first sounded, face full of shock which now morphed to confusion at your words. "You could've told me you were coming."

"Do I know you?" The boy said, voice not as loud as yours. It seemed he was trying to keep his words on the down low so as to not embarrass you in case you had made a mistake. How sweet.

"Don't be silly," You laughed, your voice calming but still loud enough for any onlookers to easily hear. Lowly though, your teeth bared in a smile to try and not draw too much attention to your next words though, you say, "Just play along."

He blinked almost owlishly at you in return as if your intentions still weren't setting in. You rolled your eyes, your irises landing on the teddy bear that had in fact been stabbed in his locker, a not stuck to it. You sniffed at that. Seems like you were right.

"Oi, cunt," One of the girls--one that you had never bothered to learn the name of--yelled from not too far away, her and her pack catching up to you.

That was the only kickstart you needed to reach up and grab onto the boy's face, pulling him down so he reached your height and smashing your faces together. Your lips moved quickly, almost in sync as he finally realised what was happening.

Reaching a hand up to place on your hip, the other awkwardly hanging in the air before cupping your cheek, he angled your face up slightly so it would be easier for him to kiss you back.

You could hear the sudden stop of shoes as the group after you stopped a few feet away, watching with wide eyes as you kissed the boy's home killer. Someone whistled, probably some lowlife or one of your friends who were also lowlifes. You didn't care though, not when you heard the muttering or the laughing, not when a horde of footsteps kept walking, acting as if nothing had happened.

It was only when the bell rang did you pulled back, taking a big breath of air in as you looked up at the boy through hooded eyes. Hopefully, you didn't share any classes with him or this was going to be an awkward few hours.

"I'm Marcus," The boy says, blinking at you with a smile on his face as if he couldn't believe what just happened.

You returned his smile, grinning up at him sharply. "Hi Marcus, you just saved my arse." Slowly, you push yourself off the locker you had been leaning against, ready to go about your day as if nothing had happened. Marcus didn't seem to like the sound of that.

"What, no name?" He teased, shutting his locker and trailing after you, not caring if the storage unit was actually locked. "I did just save your arse, according to you."

"Don't you think it's a bit too early for me to give you my name?" You joked, walking down the hall without stopping or waiting for him to catch up.

"Well, you did kiss me," Marcus pointed out, grinning cheekily as he fell into step next to you. "I think that you should count for something."

"I don't kiss and tell," You said simply, leaving him to wonder for a little bit longer.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me your name," He started, pulling out a folded piece of paper from his blazer pocket. Unfolding it, he turned it around and showed it off to you. "Could you at least tell me where my next class is?"

You take one look at the piece of paper and say, "Fuck."

#deadly class #marcus lopez arguello x reader #marcus lopez x you #marcus lopez imagine #marcus lopez x reader #marcus lopez arguello #dealy class Marcus #reader insert #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #mattheo riddle x reader #eclipsing bingo #eclipsingbingo #matteo riddle #mattheo riddle

[dinodanicus]

you can skip this wall of text its just about the scam this illustration was involved in.

This fairly ordinary illustration of two hands holding was involved in a very weird and convoluted scam. Last month I was commission to illustrate this image for invitations meant to go out for a supposed wedding anniversary coming up in March. The whole commission seemed odd to me I mainly draw dinosaurs and aliens. Not many people know I also draw people but the buyer who called himself Petterson Reid was offering to pay 300 up front and 200 after the work was finished. A nice offer for what was a very simple illustration. I took the job and sent him a very rough sketch of the hands to show him what the final image might look like. He liked the sketch and told me to finish the image after he sent the first payment I went ahead and finished the image that night. I held onto the picture to see if he would really send the 300 dollars first. The buyer wanted to send a check by mail which is weird but I thought he might have been a boomer who didn't understand how to use PayPal. His emails and text seemed like something my grandmother would write very proper and overly polite. I was fairly suspicious of him and waited to see if a check would actually be delivered. To my surprise a check did arrive a week later from Petterson Reid except it was for 2,790 dollars. knowing this was far too much money I asked him if it was a mistake. He said the extra money was for a PayPal invoice to the printers involved in the invitations. He wanted me to use the extra money on the check to pay the printers on his behalf. Again very weird but I chalked it up to an old person who didn't know how to pay online. I cashed the check the next day, since it was from an out of state bank they were putting it on hold for 3 days to see if the funds would clear. I told the buyer about the three day waiting period and asked for the invoice I was suppose to be paying and he went absolutely ape shit. He claimed I was trying to steal his money and was threatening to pursue legal action I was completely shocked by the change in attitude. I had to mute my phone because he kept sending wave after wave of threatening texts. At this point I was 90% sure this was some sort of scam but when I called the bank they said there was nothing to do until the hold expired. I was confident it wouldn't then to my surprise the check cleared and the money was in my account. At this point I had the finished artwork and the money so I wanted to get this crazy asshole on his way so I wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. I told him to send the invoice for the printer and I would pay it with the money on the check then I would send the picture and our business would be done. This prick sends some half assed looking invoice with a payable link on PayPal. When I try to pay, it says payment will be held till Feb 7th. Apparently this date is too late for the printers so now that processing payment has been canceled by the printer in favor of a new payment process through Zelle. I was trying to figure out what was going on, if its a scam what is the take the entirety of the check was still in my account it didn't even say it was pending. I go to pay on Zelle and discover the 2,790 dollars has been rescinded by the bank. I call and learn this ass hair had sent a forged check to the bank in an effort to have me pay these fake invoices with my own money. He guessed the bank would deposit the check without fully vetting it for the standard 10 days since I'm a long time member. He knew he had until about five a clock that day before the bank would catch the discrepancy. He was posing as the printer in order to scam 4,740 dollars from me through both attempted payment methods. luckily for me I'm broke as hell right now and didn't have the money in my own account to cover either payment with out the check. everything has been taken care of now I just thought I better share this story since I've never seen a scam like this before. It took an entire month for him to essentially get nothing I really don't know what to think of any of this its such a weird scheme.

#my art #illustration #hands #sketch

[siempre-bucky]

Matchmakers

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: As soon as you and Benedict locked eyes, Gregory and Hyacinth knew you were smitten with one another. Now, the youngest of the Bridgertons are bound and determined to get you two together.

wc: 3.4k

A/N: thank you so much for requesting Anon! I fell in love with this as soon as you sent it to me. Sorry, it took so long. I'm hella sick and wrote the second half while delirious but please enjoy ♡

Being one of the 8 Bridgerton children had its perks amongst the ton, first invites to fabulous parties, lines of established suitors, and a good education. Yet, the greatest perk was only bestowed amongst the 8; the uncanny ability to see a love match. 

This ability formed in even the youngest Bridgertons. Hyacinth and Gregory saw true love the moment you and Benedict locked eyes one fateful morning in the day room.

 You sat in the pale blue day room beside Hyacinth, tucking your pencil behind your ear as you showed her how to draw the vibrant green plant sitting on the table in front of you. You were the newest tutor to enter the world of the Bridgerton family, a talented artist who was bound to teach the youngest all you knew. Hyacinth was completely smitten with you, attached at the hip whenever you were around. 

Benedict entered the room with Gregory on his tail, jokingly mimicking his older brother's walk. Hyacinth looked up and started to giggle at Benedict's mocking shadow. You softly grumbled at your student, nudging her with your elbow but she didn't budge. With a roll of your eyes, you glanced in the direction of the source. 

A breath got caught in your throat at the sight of the tall brunet man in the cream-colored waistcoat. He was the most handsome man you had ever seen, better than any portrait in the most famous galleries, and certainly better than the men you drew from imagination. You couldn't help the soft amused giggles that escaped you while Gregory mocked Benedict's movements. 

Benedict huffed and looked directly at his baby sister and the tutor he'd never met. His stone face completely crumbled at the softness of your face, the way the apples of your cheeks lifted as you tried to mask your smile with your hand. "Hello," he exhaled, every word he had ever learned suddenly escaped him as he looked at you. 

"Hello," you smiled softly, the background fading so he was the only thing in focus.  

"I do not believe we've had the honor of meeting." 

Shoving the drawing pad into Hyacinth's lap you rose quickly and smoothed out your dress, much to the youngest Bridgerton's protest. "Y/N L/N, Miss Hyacinth's drawing tutor." 

Benedict paused. His lips formed a bright boyish smile, an artist, he thought gleefully to himself. Benedict bowed his head and finally managed to speak, "It is a pleasure Miss Y/N. Benedict Bridgerton." 

While the two of you stared at each other longingly in a quaint silence, Hyacinth and Gregory peered around and looked at each other with knowing wide eyes. They had seen this look before; the one where they viewed the other like they were the only ones in the room as if they were the most beautiful thing to grace the earth. They saw it when Anthony and Daphne viewed their partners, Violet had once mentioned that it was the look of true love. It was true love! A pure love match! Even if the two artists didn't see it, they were determined to match them. 

Later in the evening, Hyacinth pulled Gregory aside, dragging him into one of the many unoccupied rooms. "Ouch!" Gregory whined after his shoulder roughly brushed against the doorframe. "What is your problem, sister?" he huffed as he finally writhed free of her surprisingly strong grasp. 

"We must get Miss Y/N and Benedict to fall in love," she answered in a hushed tone. The maids knew everything. 

"Are we sure they like each other?" the curly-haired boy mused, "They only met once... it might have been a mistake- the way they looked at each other. I me-" 

"They do!" she interrupted. 

Gregory paced the floor, placing his hands behind his back as he thought. Hyacinth cracked a smile, it was something similar to what Anthony did when he pondered over something. "I got it!" he exclaimed happily. 

Her ears instantly perked up. 

"I will need a book."

A week later, you sat with Hyacinth in the day room along with her family, struggling to keep focused. You were too preoccupied with watching Daphne harass Benedict about his painting. He defended his work so proudly, laughing as he swiped blue paint on her cheek. 

He looked over and met your amused stare, wiping his hand on the handkerchief sticking out of his pants pocket. Benedict smiled at you bashfully and returned to his work. You desperately wanted to convince yourself that he was blushing because of you. 

The youngest Bridgertons looked up at each other and smirked. Gregory nodded and swiped his nose with his forefinger as a signal. "I have decided who my favorite poet is," Gregory loudly announced, earning the attention of the room. 

Violet placed her embroidery hoop in her lap and smiled at her son, "And who might that be, dearest?" 

"Byron!" 

The room fell silent, confused faces replaced the amusing ones. "Byron?" You and Benedict shout at the same time. 

"He's awful!" Benedict shuttered.

"A terrible excuse for a romantic poet," you add. 

The family shifted their gaze between you and Benedict as you fell into your own little world. Ignoring the fact that there were other people in the room, you and Benedict went on and on. He placed his paintbrush down and made his way over to the snack table, and without skipping a beat he plucked a fruit from the platter and carried on with his rant. 

It appeared that phase one of the operation was complete! Benedict was smitten with you. Gregory and Hyacinth nodded at each other with proud smiles adorning their faces. It was time for phase two: get the other to admit feelings. 

"Mama," Hyacinth sighed a few days later. 

You once again joined the family in the day room, drawing over Hyacinth's work in between stealing glances at Benedict. 

"Yes, dear." 

"Could Miss Y/N join us on our promenade this afternoon? I would love to learn how to paint the pond." 

"Well, that would be up to her." 

"Miss Y/N," Hyacinth tapped your leg, finally pulling your attention away from Benedict. 

"Y-yes? I'm so sorry, I lost focus. What was that, dear?" 

"Promenade with us!" She gleefully asked of you. 

You hid the warmth of your cheeks by turning to look out the window at the cloud-covered sun, "I would love to." 

You had quickly fallen in love with the large family. Watching them laugh and joke with one another as you all walked along the stone path of Hyde Park. Normally you would have felt like a sore thumb dressed in your pale sand-colored dress, one made of cotton and not the fancy fabrics from the modiste, but they all made you feel like you belonged. You wondered if Benedict liked what you wore, he didn't seem like the type of man who judged a girl based on her fabrics. 

Hyacinth held your hand as she skipped along the path, her brown curls bouncing with each step. "Do not forget we came to paint," you reminded her as you broke off from the rest of the family. 

She rolled her eyes dramatically and let go of your hand, only to swirl around in circles. "I did not forget," she grumbled as she stopped, "relax and enjoy the park...and the view?" 

You turned your head, Benedict and Gregory were a good distance behind you, tossing their snacks in the grass for the eager birds. You hummed softly to yourself before returning your attention to your student. Why was she smirking like that? "I assure you that I am. The view is...lovely." 

"I heard something the other day," she spoke quickly returning to your side, looping her arm around yours. "Did you know that boys let girls know they like them by tugging on their hair?" 

You chucked, "Oh Hyacinth, that is for children. Do not believe everything the other children say," you lectured her, trying to ignore the buzzing near your ear. 

It was easy to tune her out from the pesky buzzing. Your hand rose to swat at the back of your head but nothing you did got it to stop. Furrowing your eyebrows, you halted and shook your head in hopes to rid of the bug introducing your space. "You annoying little," you hissed, "ouch!" 

You felt a strong tug on the back of your hair, one of your curls falling from its confines. You whipped around to see Benedict's surprised expression, caught red-handed, his hand still close to your form. "Y/N..." he gulped. 

"Y-you pulled my hair," your voice faltered as you accused him, your mind instantly reminding you of what Hyacinth said. But that wasn't true, at least not for grown adults. Boys didn't pull on girls' hair to show affection, it was all made up for children. 

"I did," he admitted, "there was a bug! I Promise I meant no harm... there was a bug." You fought back a giggle amidst your astonishment as he flashed you his palm before rubbing the residue off on the side of his pants. 

"Well then," you hummed, tucking your hair back in place, "Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton. I am lucky you were around to save me from a bug." 

He smiled and took a step closer, "I would save you from all of them if given the chance, Miss." 

"Very noble of you." 

"Shall I protect you from the ones down by the water? Join in on your painting lesson, I'm sure you could teach us a thing or two?" He wrapped his arm around Gregory and pulled him close to his side. 

Your breath hitched in your throat at his offer. "I would enjoy that, and I'm sure Hyacinth loves having her brothers partake in her lessons." 

Benedict bid his farewell and hurried Gregory along to fetch his painting kit. While you were dazed and confused, standing frozen in your spot, Hyacinth took her opportunity. "Miss Y/N, do you have feelings for my older brother?" She asked bluntly, her grin rising high on her cheeks. 

"I do," you whispered, barely audibly, and placed your fist over your heaving chest. Suddenly realizing what you had admitted to and who you admitted it to, you looked at her with a stern glare. "You tell anyone Hyacinth and I swear I will have you sharpen every pencil in England. Twice." 

Hyacinth bounced over and held your hand with her fingers gently curling around yours, "Cross my heart... and to be honest, I wanted another sister." 

A few days passed and Benedict found his new favorite spot at the window ceil of the day room. He sat with a pencil stuck behind his ear leaving a charcoal mark above his dark brow. His eyes lingered at the lawn of the backyard where you sat on a picnic blanket with Franchesca, giggling while Hyacinth drew the scene.  

The second-born had become completely enamored by your presence, consumed by your talent and matching wit. Of course, he thought you were beautiful, a masterpiece that couldn’t be captured by the masters themselves. You inspired him, y-

“-Benedict!” Gregory’s airy voice finally cut through. 

Benedict released a small puff of air through his nose and turned to him, “What can I help you with?” he asked, trying to mask the frustration of the interruption. 

Gregory pouted his lips and hopped onto the couch, groaning as the spine of Benedict’s sketchbook poked his back. He scrunched his face and pulled the book out from under him. “Just waiting for my Latin tutor,” Gregory told him simply. 

The man rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the window and the woman outside it. 

The boy took the opportunity to open the book, careful fingers silently turning the pages. Some of the cream-colored pages contained light-hearted doodles of flowers and his sibling's expressions, and some had drawings Benedict crossed out in black charcoal. A grin grew on his face when he found what he was looking for; pages and pages of detailed drawings of your face, your figure, and even a small corner filled with the pattern of one of your dresses. Benedict did that on occasion when he fancied a dress you wore, he’d draw you in it then draw the pattern so he could remember. 

“What’s a muse, brother?” Gregory hummed. 

Benedict scoffed lightly and bit down on his fingernail while his eyes followed your every move. “It is someone who is your inspiration. Gives you a desire to create your best work. Beautiful. Ethereal,” he responded dreamily, a boyish smile threatening to grace his lips. 

“Like,” Gregory hummed and looked up at the white ceiling to fake like he was thinking, “Y/N?” 

His heart sunk into the deepest part of his stomach, “You’re joking?” Benedict laughed. He whipped around and was caught red-handed as Gregory showed him his own drawings as evidence, the boy's lips curling upward in a large grin that caused his eyes to narrow. 

“Is she your muse, brother?” 

“Are you going to blackmail me if she was?” he hummed with a smirk, sauntering away from the window. 

“No! You should be happy… like Anthony and Daphne are. Like mama…” 

Putting his guard down, Benedict sat across from his younger brother and snatched the book out of his hand, shutting it with a loud clap. “She would make me very happy if you must know,” his demeanor shifted, face falling as reality set in, “she doesn’t feel the same.” He tossed the book onto the table with a loud thud. 

The excitement was bubbling inside the rosy-cheeked boy at the confession, eagerly bouncing and springing from the couch. “I have to tend to my Latin,” he announced nervously, sprinting off towards the opened doors.  

Racing down the stairs, he found his younger sister lying on the floor with a book pressed to her nose. “Hyacinth!” he called, reaching out to grip her hand. 

She huffed and placed the book on her chest, “I was at the good part, Gregory!” 

He tugged and tugged until the brunette finally reluctantly got off the cold floor. She smoothed out her dress before he dragged her into an empty room. After checking for maids he turned to her and released her arm. “Benedict admitted it! He loves her.” 

Hyacinth grinned widely and hopped up and down for joy. “He’s going to tell her, isn’t he?” 

Gregory shook his head solemnly, “He does not believe she feels same.”

“But she does!” 

A silence fell over them as their brains got to work. “We should move on to phase three,” Gregory spoke after a while. 

“Are you sure it will work, brother?” 

“It must.” 

Gregory entered the day room, a Latin book tucked under his clothed arm. He nodded at Hyacinth who sat on the couch, her drawing pad opened on her lap, charcoal pencil twirling between her thin fingers. 

“I am terrible at Latin, why do you need my help?” Benedict wondered as he entered the room, annoyance written all over his face. 

“Well… you helped Colin,” Gregory stumbled in his response as he sat down at the desk. 

Benedict ruffled his hair, “He was a much better listener than you,” he laughed before hovering over him and opening the book. 

“I’m so sorry I am late,” you huff a moment later, hurrying into the room. You panted as you placed your things beside the Bridgerton girl and moved the fallen hair out of your face. 

Benedict felt like everything was moving in slow motion once your voice hit his ears and his eyes met your frame. He noticed every movement; how your face twinged as Hyacinth made a witty remark, how your dress ever so slightly lifted as you fixed your hair. He swallowed hard and tightened his grip on the edge of the book, nearly breaking the cover. 

“Got lost in a painting again, Miss Y/N?” he smirked, regaining his composure. 

You turned your head in his direction, placing your hands on your hips and feigning offense. “Very funny, Mr. Bridgerton… but yes I did.” You intoned, taking your spot next to your student. You were thankful that the Bridgerton’s couldn’t see the small smile that adored your features as you ducked your head. 

“Miss Y/N,” Hyacinth spoke brightly. 

“Yes, Hyacinth?” you matched her tone, taking her pencil out of her hand. 

“I believe that I am ready for drawing two people interacting,” she told you confidently. 

Pursing your lips, you looked through the pages of her book and analyzed her previous work. “Well,” you muse, scrunching your nose. “I believe we can do that.” 

Hyacinth grinned and tucked her curls behind her ears, “You must be my model,” she insisted, pulling you up by your wrist. She placed you in the center of the room and skipped over to the two boys, “And Benedict can be my other model,” she grabbed him by the fabric surrounding his elbow and stood him next to you. 

“I-is this necessary?” you asked her, rubbing your hands together anxiously, refusing to look at him. 

“Since when did you get so strong?” Benedict asked in between laughs, looking down at his now wrinkled coat. 

“Hush, both of you,” she huffed as she began to pose you. She placed one of his hands in yours, instantly igniting a fire on your skin. “There,” she murmured, adjusting you to face him with your free hand on his arm. 

Without instruction, Benedict placed his hand on the small of your back, his fingertips tracing the floral embroidery. You heard the hitch in his breathing, your eyes flickering upward at his visibly clenched jaw. “Hello,” he chuckled. 

“I apologize for her, I do not know what has gotten into her,” you sighed. 

“I should be the one apologizing. She’s my sister after all,” he told you, shaking his head. 

“Stay still,” Hyacinth scolded as she scurried off towards the couch. She moved her drawing pad and examined the couch. “Gregory, have you seen my kit?” she asked. 

Gregory perked his ears and looked up from his book, “Why no sister I have not,” he replied overdramatically, making you and Benedict knit your eyebrows. 

“Help me find it would you? It might be in the hallway,” she guessed, matching her brother's dramatics. 

“Of course,” Gregory all but slammed his book shut and hurried out of the room, his giggling sister on his tail.  

You stood in the center of the now lonely room, Benedict's hand still pressed to your lower back. You felt every twitch of his fingers pressing into your back and on the smooth skin of your hand. "Benedict," you breathe, finally meeting his eyes. He was so handsome up close, the mixture of his cologne and earthy charcoal intoxicated your senses.  

"It appears my siblings are quite troublesome," Benedict chuckled, turning his head to view the empty hall just outside the room. 

"They did this on purpose," you sighed as you realized what was happening here. 

"Are you upset?" he asked you hesitantly. 

"Quite the opposite," you chuckled. 

A warmth instantly graced your features as his face slowly got closer. Your breaths mixed, timid eyes meeting and too scared to look away. "Y/N..." he trailed off, exhaling shallowly. 

Leaning forward, your pounding chest met his, allowing your hearts to beat in a perfectly chaotic rhythm. "Benedict..." you whispered, your nose brushed his, but he didn't move away. He stayed there, his hands gripping you a little tighter as if he was telling you to stay.  

"Is this what you want?" he asked. 

"This is what I've wanted since the day we met." 

The man sighed with relief, cracking a smile. He finally captured your lips, his hands gently holding the sides of your face as if you were the most delicate thing in the world. "Do you have feelings for me, Miss Y/N?" he asked playfully as he pulled away. 

You giggled and placed your hands on his chest, "I do very much." 

"You know... I heard Paris in the spring is wonderful for painting outside." 

You laughed, "Are you asking me to run away with you, Benedict?"

"We must finish our lessons! You cannot run away together yet," Hyacinth scoffed as she emerges from the doorway, Gregory murmuring complaints from behind. 

"Well then," you hum, looking around Benedict to look at the younger Bridgertons, "How about painting in the park instead?" 

"Deal," the three agreed in unison, Benedict's arms wrapping lovingly around your waist. 

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x f!reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfic

[akosijayjay]

January and February dump

This is my most recent work of Lloyd, and my most recent work in general. I made this in the computer room at school with a painful high-sensitive mouse. We have these special course thing in our junior high, so every tuesday after class, I get to be in the computer room. For six hours... (My course is Visual Graphics Design. I'm kinda regretting it now since I've been thinking of becoming an architect... I can't change my course now since it's too late. Which is stupid.)

I'll try to draw more there! I really like drawing with a mouse cause I like the challenge. And since I'm not accustomed to a high-sensitive mouse, it'll be a bigger challenge for me!

I made these two in traditional then polished them digitally since I straight up just used a pen. I rarely use a pencil nowadays so I can learn to fix mistakes without erasing it. Usually it ends up looking like chicken scratch but I'm getting better.

My Harumi one is so bad lol.. When I was making it, my classmates around me were messing around and moving the chairs in the process, making me have to draw strokes with shaky lines. It's not that noticeable though since I made the lines thicker.

I was planning to make something for Rebooted's anniversary but I got busy... (And lazy) The PIXAL one was inspired by an animatic I saw.

If you compare the previous Arin portrait, yes, they don't look the same. I'm trying to find a look for Arin, as I do with every character, that I'll be satisfied with.

By the way, I'm kind of basing Arin's hair with my classmate's hair. Which is funny because my other classmates compared this artwork to my classmate, who looked nothing like Arin but have similar hair, commenting they're the same. (I'm not mad because I actually find this a bit humorous)

I was trying to make an animatic and this was going to be the sketch. But then again, I got busy and lazy. (Mostly lazy)

I accidentally changed their facial features a bit by accident on the second page because I forgot to reference the first page. It was tiring flipping pages every 5 seconds, ok! Also, I drew it after 2 days when I drew the first page, and I didn't have a design I liked for them yet. (...I just noticed Jay has different eye colors in both pages...)

I think I'm sticking to these looks for Lloyd. I'll try to make it accurate to this. (I think I did great with the first image of this post. Though, I made him too round for my liking.)

Discard the growing beard post redesign Lloyd has. That beard thing was supposed to be where his chin was until I realized it was too small. And it's still too small.

Child Lloyd is so cute! The eyeshadow wasn't intentional at first, but then it got me thinking, what if Lloyd had an emo phase? And now emo child Lloyd is my headcanon.

Pre redesign Lloyd kind of reminds me of TommyInnit, and I find it quite funny. Maybe it's the facial gesture, I know a lot of TommyInnit fanarts with that silly face.

For Dragons Rising Lloyd however, I want him to have long hair with his post redesign face. I'll try to make full body designs of the 4 Lloyds.

You guys probably don't care, and this is the first time you've seen me because I don't have an exact artstyle and I dont post as much, but I'm going to put descriptions now since this blog is going to be a silly little art dump! And blog posts are supposed to be descriptive. Which I should've done in the beginning and explained my works..

Anyhow

If you liked my art, thank you!

If you saw me before and told me I did well, thank you and I'm sorry!! I know my previous posts have gotten comments and I'm sorry I didn't respond.. I'm not trying to be ungrateful, I just don't know how to express my appreciation for your positive feedback! Or just reply in general... I get nervous even when I'm wearing my mask..

Please don't hate me, I'm just really anxious to show my work to people I don't know to the point where I might think people disliked my artwork when it's the opposite..

(I'll probably copy paste this in future posts now lol. But I AM thankful that some of you guys think my works are great!)

#everytime i draw idk #traditional art #digital art #2024 #2024 art #ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago lloyd #ninjago lloyd garmadon #lloyd garmadon #ninjago harumi #ninjago arin #ninjago pixal #pixal borg #ninjago zane #ninjago zane julien #zane julien #ninjago jay #ninjago jay walker #jay walker #ninjago cole #tag

[multifanderwrites]

Anakin Skywalker x Autistic!Reader (Well… Technically Writer) Headcanons

(This will have been sitting in my drafts for a long time. By the time this is posted, the writers and actors strikes will be over. Hopefully, everyone is paid fairly!)

TW: Mentions of ableism (ANAKIN IS NOT THE PERSON BEING ABLEIST! TRUST ME: HE’S THE OPPOSITE), some very explicit asking for consent about kissing (why this is a trigger, Idk)

A/N: This really, really got away from me. This might actually be way longer than the Eleventh Doctor HCs. I honestly debated whether or not to just incorporate Earth stuff into this, but I decided against it because I’m already doing that with the Mixiverse. More on that later. Also, I’m drawing from even more personal experiences. 😔 It’s kind of how I cope.

Part two (NSFW. As always, MDNI)

You’re not like other people. You know that much. And that’s exactly what attracts the Chosen One to you

Much like himself, you express yourself in ways that are entirely different from others. Hell, you even express yourself much differently than the Jedi!

When Anakin meets you for the first time, it’s when he’s still a padawan learner. He’s immediately smitten by you. He loves talking with you about the things that interest you, and how similar you sound to him whenever he’s talking about mechanics.

He’s devastated when he learns that you come from a planet where people like you aren’t treated equally. It’s why your family took you to Coruscant in the first place: so you could be in an environment that fostered being different as a good thing.

Although Anakin knows nothing about autism, he’s willing to learn more. The more he learns, the more he comes to realize that he loves you. Not because you’re on the spectrum… but because you’re a lot like him. You’ve been put under pressure since a young age, and yet you’ve proven yourself time and time again.

Whenever you two go on an adventure- when Anakin has the opportunity, which is pretty rare- you find yourself falling for him too. But you’re terrified to confess your feelings because you know he’s training to be a Jedi, and you don’t want to get in the way of his dreams.

But when he tells you that he loves you… it feels like the world has collapsed. You wonder what you did wrong. And you make the mistake of asking that question out loud… in front of Anakin Skywalker, the boy who’s madly in love with you.

His heart nearly breaks in half when he hears you ask that question. To him, you can’t do anything wrong. He believes you’re the most perfect person in the galaxy. Anakin tells you exactly that, but it sends you deep into a state of overwhelming anxiety. You feel instantly afraid of being a burden on his life as a Jedi.

“You’re not a burden. Not to me. Not to your parents. Not to anyone,” he says, his voice soft as velvet thunder. [yes, I made a reference to B99. And what?]

“But your dream is to be a Jedi,” you sob.

“Why does that matter, Y/N?”

“Because you can’t have attachments!”

You’re overwhelmed now, and Anakin hates it when you get overwhelmed. It’s not annoying. But it definitely feels terrible to see you in such a heightened state of anxiety and frustration and panic.

The tears on your face make him feel awful. He wants nothing more than to take away your pain. He doesn’t like hearing you talk this way. Anakin is suddenly overwhelmed now too, but by something much different: the urge to press his lips to yours. “Y/N, is it okay to kiss you?”

The question is straightforward, simple… and it brings the heat to your cheeks. You’re not sure if you even heard him. “What?”

He can’t help the smile that comes on his face: soft, sweet, and oh so full of love. Love he feels for you. “I asked if I could kiss you.”

“Oh.”

He feels like a little kid when he asks, “Well, can I? There’s no pressure.”

You eagerly nod. And then his lips are on yours. He’s a very gentle kisser. When he pulls back, he smiles at you and holds your face in both hands. “Now, how in the universe could you possibly be a burden if you’re so wonderful, Y/N?”

From then on, you two start a relationship. But it needs to be kept secret. Not because Anakin is embarrassed to be seen with you- quite the opposite, actually. But he’s sworn himself to the life of a Jedi, and attachment is forbidden. That doesn’t stop you two from doing all you can to see each other and spend time together. Whatever that looks like.

On days where you’re feeling depressed, he takes you out to dinner. He makes sure that it’s at a place where you’re able to eat something that doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, but that also allows for you two to be unrecognizable to patrons and employees… and a place that isn’t too loud or overwhelming for you. That’s challenging but you manage somehow.

When he’s drafted into the Clone Wars, you’re devastated. You barely get to see him as it is, and now he’s going off to war? Top that off with a very secret relationship between the two of you, and the fact that he’s got a fourteen year old padawan now? Why can’t he just be with you?

You completely forget that he’s there. Anakin is right there when you vent out, “He should just be mine!”

To your shock, he agrees. “I wish I was yours too, but I can’t.”

You immediately feel shame. “I didn’t mean it like that, Ani. I’m sorry-“

He hugs you, rocks you from one side to the other to soothe you. The same way your parents would sometimes do for you. Anakin has truly done his research on autism and how best to help you whenever things get tough emotionally.

Oh. By the way, your occupation is in the arts. You have a big bag of art supplies that you carry around wherever you go in case you get inspired by something you see. And Anakin Skywalker is one of your most frequent muses.

So, when you see him sporting that CW hair [not the obnoxious CW variety. I’m referring to the Clone Wars], you’re instantly inspired. And you draw him in action with his lightsaber and that gorgeous curly hair, and you give it to him as a gift when he comes back from one of his missions.

“What could I have done to deserve you?”, he asks before kissing your cheek. He goes on to praise your talent, which you’ve been very insecure about lately.

There are times when you get overstimulated by the world around you. The first time Anakin is present for an instance like that is when he’s taking you for a ride in a speeder.

He’s alarmed at first, but he pulls over quickly to help you.

“What can I do, sweetheart?”, he asks.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s so loud here. I can’t think!”

The instant he hears you say that it’s too loud, he pulls your head towards his chest. Anakin has a tight but gentle grip on your body as he does his best to keep your ears protected from the noise. And he reaches out with the Force, going through your mind to make things a little easier for you as he takes you back to your place.

By the time you get home, you’re mentally exhausted from being so overwhelmed. But Anakin carries you into your room- your mom knows him, and she adores him. She calls him your boyfriend… which is a very scary thing for you and him because he’s absolutely not allowed to have any attachments whatsoever- and he puts you down on your bed.

When you open your eyes, he smiles at you and runs his fingers through your hair. You can’t smile back because you feel embarrassed about getting so overstimulated by everyday noises.

“Y/N, I understand how hard it can be to deal with noise like that. It’s no big deal,” he whispers. The reason he’s whispering to you is because he knows you’re very tired and just want to sleep.

And, after you do all the things you usually do before bed, you fall asleep in the arms of Anakin Skywalker. And even though he has no choice but to leave, he makes sure to leave a note on your nightstand that says “So sorry I had to leave. I would’ve stayed with you all night if I could’ve. But duty calls. I love you. See you soon, my star”. Gosh, what a sweetheart.

Sometimes, Anakin gets very protective of you, especially when he comes across people from your birth planet.

And if he finds out that they’ve- as he so bluntly puts it- “wronged you”… he’s even more protective. He won’t let you out of his sight because he’s terrified of you getting hurt again.

When Anakin crosses paths with a person who was supposed to be your friend, he’s instantly upset with them because he can sense that they didn’t love you as much as they really should’ve. And as much as he’d like to see them in the same pain you suffered, he’s wise enough to know that you wouldn’t want that.

However, he doesn’t let that “friend” get away without knowing the face of the man who loves you more than anything else he’s ever known.

When your birthday comes around, Anakin gives you a new set of art supplies. He knows you very well, and this only proves that.

All in all, Anakin Skywalker is the boyfriend of the century. And come what may, he’ll never stop loving you. Though that might be your undoing… but let’s just assume that he never turns to the Dark Side, shall we? After all, this is a different love story. And who knows? Maybe you foil the plot to overthrow the Republic!

If that’s the case, then hurrah! You and Anakin live happily ever after with four children! (Three sons, one daughter: Luke, Leia, Finn and Poe) Also, Obi-Wan is happy to help. And Anakin welcomes his help because he knows how difficult life can get. Not because of you being on the spectrum… but because this is Star Wars, not Star Domestic Life.

However, if you prefer the original trilogy… then yeah. You’re doomed. But, on the bright side, you know for certain that there is good in Anakin. Your son is proof of that.

But let’s just stay in the reality that has the happy ending.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #Anakin skywalker x autistic!reader #headcanons #star wars prequels #soft bby #hayden christensen #soft Anakin skywalker #autistic!reader #fanfiction #soft!anakin #star wars #darth vader

[fablepaint]

First off, congratulations on your help with Lackadaisy!✨️✨️✨️

Second, I've been practicing with the Lackadaisy style using nothing but traditional art (paper and colored pencils), and I'm nervous about using digital art for the first time😓

I've been procrastinating with practicing digital art for years, and now I'm ready to get started!✨️✨️✨️

Got any helpful tips or advice for drawing Lackadaisy characters with digital art?🤔

Also, I have ADHD and I'm Autistic so trying new things takes time with me😅

Well the nice thing about ADHD and Autism is when you get into something, you get REALLY into something. So if you are able to build a routine that allows you the freedom to explore the medium you want to jump into, then you'll steamroll ahead. If you're finding it hard to kick off that fixation so you can focus easier, try to pair it up with an existing fixation. Are you into every kind of horse? Okay then, draw an example of every warmblood, coldblood, and hotblood you can think of. Every pony, every donkey, every mule. Find some good photos and go to town. Piggy-backing off my existing fixations is how I can chain together a lot of information that I would otherwise struggle to absorb and recall fully.

As for helpful tips, you're already doing it. I think starting with traditional materials is a good way to build up good art habits without the convenience of infinite colors and the undo button. You'll make quicker decisions and be a little less precious about mistakes. Cuz you have to live with them IRL, so might as well keep going even if the work didn't turn out great. Maybe you'll learn something along the way?

A second tip, more specific to Lackadaisy, is breaking characters down into simpler shapes and seeing if you can build them back up again. Feel free to trace them to turn them into mannequins. Then, knowing the proportions of those mannequins, can you draw them doing other things?

And research. Tracy deep-dives into historical stuff like clothing, hairdos, jobs, jewelry, etc. If you immerse yourself in something you find interesting, you'll see it cropping up in your work occasionally. Look into art deco and art nouveau, two schools of design thought that have a thread running between them that goes solidly through the 1920s. Consider how that design philosophy might get integrated into clothing or furniture.

Other than that, digital specific? There's isn't much, just have fun with what program feels good to use. Don't go too nuts on color (you have a million colors, but a million colors does not a good painting make) and make sure the ergonomics of your digital art situation doesn't hurt you longterm. Take breaks for your hands and stretch. It's more strenuous than traditional. Maybe it's the lack of physical feedback or the way we tend to curl around our devices. Not sure, but I find it more draining than trad work.

#lackadaisy #question #answer #digital art #illustration

[carbuncle-paws]

I've made a pokemon AU for Peter :3 yaaaay! Doubt I'm the first to draw him as a sneasler but I'm not gonna let it stop me.

Some information!

Sneasler ♂ lv???

Dark / Poison Ability: Insomnia (might change this) Lonely nature + quick tempered Main Attacks: Slash, Lash Out, Dire Claw/Poison Jab, Hone Claws/Nasty Plot Lesser used: Bite/Crunch/Jaw Lock, Close Combat, Thief, Endure, Spite

Design notes:

Very tall (6'5'') and thin, even by species standards.

Completely hairless (and featherless) and by extension, no facial or feet markings. Torso and poison are discolored (both blue)

Ripped off both his forehead and chest gems, there are faint scars where they used to be. The one on his chest is covered by a gem you gave him.

Wears a hood made from a Mightyena's pelt.

The back of his claws (the blue part) is razor sharp, they're basically gigantic knives. If getting backhanded by them doesn't kill you, the poison probably will.

From a distance or in dark lighting, he can be easily mistaken as a human. He can also speak our language (just like meowth), his voice is raspy and a bit deep, perhaps from an injury.

The PeterAU x Reader story outline below, if you're interested!

Character/Story notes:

(OOOPS this sort of became a whole story teehee oh well. This is basically what my outlines look like but I probably won't make this into an actual fic. So, enjoy!)

He has no name, but wouldn't mind if you gave him one.

He grew up with a fascination for humans, and even learned to speak our language, but was betrayed by the ones he had trusted. He almost died, and was left hideously disfigured in the eyes of his species (furless/featherless and discolored). For a long time he hated all humans, and would murder any unfortunate enough to enter his territory. Until he met you.

He saves you from being eaten by a pack of Mightyenas, which goes against his usual hatred for your species. He stalks you through the mountain forests for a while, thinking that he'd gather reasons why you deserve to die so he can savor killing you himself.

Instead... he gets attached, and that infuriates him. From the shadows, completely unbeknownst to you, he helps you return to civilization. He looked forward to forgetting you, and going back to the worldview he's comfortable with.

But then you keep coming back to his territory, which is bad for two big reasons. He doesn't like the effect you have on him, and the area is dangerous... he doesn't want you getting hurt. So, without revealing himself, he tries multiple times to show you how his mountains are no place for a human. Nothing works. Ironically, he also does things to protect you from real threats.

His fleeting attachment for you grows into a burning obsession in time, and he wants so badly to interact with you. But not only is he a pokemon... he is also ugly.

One day he slips up, and you spot a glimpse of him through the trees, but it's too shaded and you mistake him for a person, and you call out to him. Instantly understanding what you've mistaken him for, he tentatively responds, but refuses to leave his hiding place. You figure he's just shy, but are happy to see another person who isn't afraid to visit these mountains, which have a horrible reputation. Probably because he's been killing people, but you don't know that. It's a shame, because you find it so beautiful up here...

Visiting him becomes routine for you. He says some really weird things, but the way he views the world is so unique and refreshing, and you form a fast friendship. He is very stubborn about remaining out of sight, but does start altering his appearance so he can stop worrying that the occasional glimpse you do get might give him away. He tailors a crude Mightyena hood for himself to obscure his face and ears.

He becomes desperate to spend more time with you, especially when you start talking about moving away someday soon, away from the town full of people who don't understand you. He wants to go with you... he wants to be your pokemon, but thinks you won't accept him as he is. His past with humans has him believing that trainers only value beautiful or strong pokemon. So he starts doing crazy things to prove his worth. Like, killing the strongest pokemon in the area, and leading you to its corpse to gauge your reaction. He hoped you'd be in awe and wonder what could've felled such a beast, and then he would reveal that it was him... but instead you were terrified, and sad for the dead pokemon.

It shakes him, makes him hate himself so much more. If a monster isn't what you want... then he'll just have to become human for you. He destroys the parts of himself that makes him different from you, starting by ripping off the gems on his chest and forehead. His claws will be next... but the pain and blood loss from just the gems is too much, and almost kills him. You find him while he's passed out, and although you don't recognize that he's who you've been speaking to, you rush him into town and save his life.

He wakes up in a pokemon center surrounded by strange humans, and freaks the fuck out. He wounds one of the nurses badly and would've killed someone he didn't hear you screaming at him to stop. The future he built up in his head, of either becoming your pokemon or close enough to a human that you might accept him, shatters in an instant. He runs, breaking out of the building and mindlessly fleeing into the mountains. You're shocked by his reaction, and something about the silhouette he makes as he escapes through the trees is familiar...

The people in the town know that he must be the monster that's been killing people, and at the same time, you realize that he's actually the boy from the mountains. Your dear friend. An armed mob storms into his territory intent on revenge, despite your protests. They locate his den and start a fire to smoke him out or kill him via burning or suffocation.

You had followed them, and when they start the fire you try to physically stop them. They're stronger though and throw you to the ground, yelling insults at you for defending such a loathsome creature. They kick you into the den so you can burn with him.

You hurry further inside but can't seem to find him... instead, he finds you. He lunges from the shadows behind you, not realizing who you are, pinning you to the ground and snarling in your face. He would have ripped your jugular out with his teeth if you hadn't wrapped your arms around him and hugged tight, instead of fighting him off like he expected. It confuses him and he thrashes to get away but you don't let go, and he slowly comes to his senses, realizing that it's you.

Why are you here, after everything he did? That he's done, his reputation as a people killer? You know who and what he is now, but you're still here and the way you hold him, whispering soothingly into his ear... Is this really happening or has he finally lost his mind? He breaks down and squeezes you back, sobbing into the neck he'd been seconds away from tearing his teeth into.

Smoke starts robbing his den of breathable air and brings the both of you out of the moment, forcing you to confront the situation at hand. You try to run back to the exit first, but it's engulfed in flames. He takes you further inside, to where he usually sleeps, and light shines through a crack in the rocks above. He pushes you up to it and you crawl out, but he's too big to follow and he urges to go without him. This is the fate he deserves.

But you refuse, and start tearing at the stone and dirt above the opening with your bare hands. It finally sinks in, seeing you desperately trying to save him, just how much you really care and maybe... maybe that means his life might be worth living after all. That he deserves another chance.

He joins your efforts and uses his claws to pry apart more of the stone. It takes a gargantuan effort, and he starts to pass out as the oxygen in his den dwindles. You grab onto his arm and pull with all of your strength, and against the odds are able to drag him out.

You're both exhausted and completely out of breath, but you drag him into another embrace anyways. You tell him to never ever sacrifice himself like that again, that he's so important to you and you'd be devastated to lose him. You ask him... if he would go with you, away from here, and although the strong emotions that overtake him have him choking up too much to respond with words, the way he holds you back is all the confirmation you need.

Together the two of you travel far, far away, going on an adventure that explores the best and worst that humankind has to offer, and form an unbreakable bond.

Aaaaand that's it! Sorry if it's pretty cheesy hahahaha it's just what my brain went for in the short amount of time I wrote this up. Again, probably not going to write an actual fic out of this (or at least I won't consider it until my current one is finished) but I had a lot of fun and it was a nice little break before delving back into Angels Fall. Hope you guys liked it too >w</

#carbie draws #my art #yourboyfriend #yourboyfriendgame #yourboyfriend game #yourboyfriend peter #yb peter #y0urb0yfriend #yourboyfriend AU #pokemon #sneasler #fanfic

[votederpycausemufins]

I have been bitten by the Gemcyt bug caused by @chrisrin

I thus present to you Zedaph as Poudretteite as well as Worm Man as 'Pink Chalcedony' and a fusion of WM with @sweetest-honeybee 's Evil Xisuma design. (Mainly bc i had a better idea of a fusion btwn the two rather than with chrisrin's tango and impulse, but i might figure it out) Thanks for letting me use your design! It let me make Covelite!

And while there's some notes in the drawings, there shall be more below the cut!

Okay so I immediately jumped to Zed being a pink colored gem and stumbled upon a few options. I knew I wanted to pick 2, one to be Zed's gem and the other to be WM's supposed gem, and almost swapped their gem types before learning that there was a chalcedony on the show.

I think it is a fun thing to have Zed and WM insist they are totally not the same person (or gem in this case), and here we see that WM is shapeshifting the gem position around, and that could have worked... if it weren't blatantly obvious that he looks nothing like a chalcedony. I mean look at how close the different colored Pearls look, or Sapphire and Padparacha.

The base form I used for Zed is from a gem silhouette from 'The Answer', which was the only one to have those lil ball hands as the others had at least some semblance of regular hands. So I kept that detail and even made a joke about how Zed can still just pick stuff up, and that even carries over to the fusion

speaking of the fusion.

Other than a ZIT(S) fusion, the most obvious one is w/ Evil X. And I absolutely love Bee's design and brain went nyoom with it, expecially the fact that he's corrupted??? Hello???!??! We saw in the show w/ Jasper and one of the corrupted Jaspers fusing that it left remnants of the other's corruption on Jasper herself. I loved the idea that Zed could get lil sheep like horns post-first fusion with Evil X, so boom, it now exists.

(Also the lil spots carrying over makes it even more obvious Zed/WM are the same gem so haha lol)

As for the fusion itself, I saw that Evil X seemed to have dragon elements, and that fits perfectly w/ my personal headcanons of them being an ender dragon (hybrid), and then we have sheep hybrid zedaph, and what is a fluffy dragon? luck dragon!!!

The front legs are more dragon like, back legs more sheep like (claws and then hooves respectively) and then there is fluffy luck dragon tail! oh! and I had fun with making the mane of hair work as Evil X's fancy collar thing.

Their head is based a lot on Alexandrite's, with the two mouth thing going on. I thought it would go nicely with their concept and i think it works well.

And then other details! I used the distance models style to show off the past reformations of Zed and WM. Also slight drawing mistake, in the lil comic of WM showing off his new corruption marks, he should be in his 'Early s5' design (I'll prolly go back and fix it in the morning fixed 'n added Covelite's colors). I picture the first fusion btwn the two being an adaption of when EX trapped WM in prison, then reappeared being good now to help him escape, but they needed to fuse to do so. (Oh i also used the distance models to do a lil size comparison)

#gemcyt #hermitcraft au #zedaph #worm man #evil xisuma #steven universe au #mcyt au #my art

[nutmeg-mayonnaise]

(Gregory Wright AU)

I was supposed to pair this artwork with this ask, but it was posted by mistake when the art wasn't done yet.

After I finished AAI2, I had to draw Raymond Shields with Gregory. I was sad to realize how much he would age--he's about 66 here--but it was really fun to design him older and make a drawing in a similar style to the other photos he took in AAI2.

I also wrote a short story of these two meeting for the first time, and the circumstances around the photo below the cut. It's about 2500 words long. Hope you enjoy it! ˙ᵕ˙

“Good luck with your trial Mr. Edgeworth.”

My adoptive father sighed. “We’re not in the courtroom, Gregory. You needn’t be so formal.”

I chuckled. “I can’t help that you brought me up as a professional, Pop.”

“Indeed.” He turned to the door of the courtroom. “I’ll see you at your dad’s office.”

I waved at him and headed to a nearby vending machine to get a cup of coffee. As I watched the paper cup fill with my much needed source of caffeine, I heard someone greet me from behind.

“Hello, Mr. Wright!” I spun around and looked at him. He was an older man in a trench coat with gray, curly hair poking out from under his black fedora. He grinned at me as he walked by.

“H-hello.” Do I know you? I watched him do a double-take. He stopped and turned around. He leaned forward and adjusted his thin, rectangular glasses with his thumb and index finger.

“It might be my aging eyes, but you look shorter than I remember!”

“I guess the courtroom makes everyone look a little bigger, huh?” I thought maybe this man may’ve observed one of my trials.

He tilted his head at me with a stern expression, but he checked his watch. “Well, it was nice seeing you! Best of luck with work!”

“You, too.”

It then occurred to me that he may have confused me for my dad, who I got my last name from. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.

I took my coffee from the vending machine and heard Pop make his opening statement from within the hall. I smiled. At home, he was usually soft spoken, but once he was at the prosecution desk—or annoyed with my dad—he was resonant.

As I turned to go on my way, I saw the strange, old man linger at the door to the courtroom Pop was in. He had his hands in his pockets and gazed wistfully at the door.

That was a few months before I knew who he was.

“You have a son?”

Pop sighed. “Yes…”

“And he’s a defense attorney?!”

“Yes…”

“What a twist of fate! Say, does he need a mentor? I could take on an apprentice.”

“I appreciate the offer, but you must realize how many people in law Gregory has grown up with.”

Ray Shields stopped to have a hearty chuckle. “No offense, Miles, but I think he ought to learn from an actual defense attorney and not from that family of prosecutors.”

This made Pop uncomfortable. Although Mr. Shields was my grandfather’s apprentice and he and Pop worked together briefly nearly thirty years ago, their relationship has always been somewhat estranged. 

Mr. Shields always had a chip on his shoulder when it came to prosecutors. I can’t say I blame him, considering one murdered my grandfather—Mr. Shield's mentor—and took my father in as his adoptive son on some sick power trip. However, Pop never really kept Mr. Shields up to speed with his own personal life.

“He’ll be fine.” Pop finally said after a few moments of silence. “My partner—his… father—is a defense attorney.” Mr. Shields had his own moment of silence.

“Hold on a second, Gregory Wright? As in Phoenix Wright? He’s your kid’s father—wait, he’s your partner, too?!” 

Pop is not overfond of detailing his personal life to anyone—especially to anyone in the law business. It took him a while to finally say, “That is correct.”

“...You really need to keep Uncle Ray in the loop a little more, Miles.”

After that exchange, Pop arranged a meeting with me and Mr. Shields at a cafe in town. “I want to see how your boy thinks as an attorney,” he told Pop. I didn’t mind meeting him. I was curious about my grandfather, and I was sure Mr. Shields was curious about me.

I arrived at the cafe and ordered a large chai tea—something I seldom had at home since Pop prefers English teas. I took a seat and waited for Mr. Shields to show up.

I was lost in my thoughts until I noticed an older man in a trench coat and a black fedora walk into the cafe. He looked around, like he was looking for somebody. He looked awfully suspicious, until something on his lapel caught my eye: a defense attorney badge.

Then it dawned on me: it was the man that confused me for my dad, and lingered around the door to the courtroom. Small world.

I saw Mr. Shield’s eyes light up when he saw me. His thin, gray mustache stretched as he smiled at me and walked my way. I sat up from my seat as I saw him extend a hand towards me.

“Mr. Gregory Wright!” He said as I grabbed his hand. He shook pretty firmly for an old guy.

“Raymond Shields!” He put his other hand over mine and continued to shake.

“It is an honor to meet Mr. Gregory Edgeworth’s grandson!” I smiled awkwardly at him, thinking it odd that he skipped over Pop to mention my grandfather, but I didn’t know about his resentment towards prosecutors at that time.

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

I stood in line with him as he ordered coffee and a scone. We had a bit of small talk over coffee and tea and how much he loved the cafe’s scones.

“You know, the original owner of the cafe was your grandfather’s last client.”

My eyes shot wide. “Was he?” 

“Seems like your old man doesn’t tell you much about your granddad, does he?” Mr. Shields raised an eyebrow at me.

He was right. All Pop really told me about him was that Dad named me after him, that he was a defense attorney, and that he was no longer with us. Most of what I knew about my grandfather was through my mom and Dad, and Pop wasn’t around when they told me about him. I guess it’s still a sore spot for him after all these years.

I’m really lucky I have three parents, but I would be devastated if anything happened to any of them. Pop only had my grandfather. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain Pop had to go through… so I forgive him for not wanting to reminisce with me. Thankfully, I could learn a little more about him from Mr. Shields.

“Let’s play a little game, Mr. Wright.”

“Call me ‘Gregory’.” Mr. Shields pressed his lips together. His eyes gazed down on the table. I grimaced. “O-or you can call me ‘Grey’. That’s what most of my family on my mom and dad’s side call me.” Mr. Shields smiled.

“And you can call me Uncle Ray, Grey.” He chuckled. “Grey and Uncle Ray. I like the sound of that.”

I chuckled nervously. “So about this game…”

“Right! For the game, I’ll ask you a question, and then you ask me a question. How’s that sound?” I nodded. He took a bite of his scone and gestured to me. “You go first.”

I tapped my fingers on the table, thinking. I’ve heard plenty about the DL-6, the case in which my grandfather was the victim of murder. I met him once when I was very young when my Aunt Pearls channeled him with my family so he could meet me, but I knew nothing about my grandfather as a person.

“What did you admire the most about my grandfather?”

Mr. Shields smiled and looked fondly out the café window. “His commitment to finding the truth. He wasn’t afraid to stand up to corruption, even if it made things harder for him in the end.” Hearing this made my heart feel full.

I smirked. “Feels like I’ve heard that mantra my whole life.” 

Mr. Shields smiled. “Probably from Mr. Wright, right?”

I shook my head. “My Pop—er, Mr. Edgeworth, too. Nothing is more important to both of them than uncovering the truth. They ingrained that into me even before I wanted to be a lawyer.”

Ray took another bite out of a scone and I watched his lips curl into a smile. “So… for my first question—I have to ask because I know your old man probably won’t tell me—how long have your dads been together?”

“Well, Pop started staying at my dad’s to help him take care of me when I was two.” I forced a smile. It’s not the first time anyone’s assumed the nature of their relationship, so I like to play dumb.

Mr. Shields looked at me with small eyes. “Is that when they started dating?”

“I think it's my turn for a question, Uncle Ray.”

I gave him a grin. “Alright, alright… I suppose you won’t tell me either.”

“Sorry,” I said with a smile. I didn't think it was any of his business. Besides, if Pop knew I detailed his home life with my dad to Mr. Shields, he would kill me—then my mom would kill him, and I don't think my dad would be able to defend her in court.

Mr. Shields gestured his hand upwards. “Anyway, what’s your next question?”

I put my fist to my cheek and looked up. “Seeming as you’re quite the seasoned attorney, looking back, what do you think Gregory Edgeworth could’ve done better?”

Mr. Shields smiled. “Asking the tough questions, eh, Grey?” He sighed and his posture sunk. It was as if didn’t want to dare criticize his late mentor. “I think… he could’ve shown his feelings more—both to his clients, and to those close to him.” I made an amused huff. I felt that way about Pop. “Your old man didn’t even know that your grandpa was worried about him.”

“Really? What was he worried about?”

“He was worried about his boy spending too much time with his nose in his law books and not enough time making friends and… being a kid.”

I frowned. I thought about my own childhood. I played. I had friends. I also did plenty of snooping through both my dad and Pop's law books—especially Dad's, and most of them were really my late Aunt Mia’s books. Sometimes when I was in Dad's office after school and I finished my homework early, and I didn’t feel like reading the comics and fiction books my mom left in the office, I'd skim through the law books until Pop came at the end of the day to take us home. When Dad was out of the office after school, I'd hop on the bus, go to Pop's office in the Prosecutor building and look at his books until we would get in the car and pick up my dad from wherever he was.

My earliest memories of Pop was of him teaching me things like how to read and write. I mostly played with Dad and my mom when she was around, but when either of them were busy or away for some reason, Pop would certainly try to play with me. He was happy when I was old enough to play strategy games like chess.

I couldn't help but wonder if things would be different if Pop was the only one who raised me. Would I have played less? Would Pop worry about me?

“I see,” I said, getting out of my head.

Mr. Shields smiled. “Anyway, I have another burning question for you.” I saw his eyes move down to my neck. “What’s that odd-looking stone you have instead of a good tie?”

I glanced down and smiled. “Oh, this is my magatama—well, it’s my late aunt’s. She was also a defense attorney.”

“Oh?”

“Does ‘Mia Fey’ of Fey & Co. Law Offices ring a bell?” I watched Mr. Shields squint his eyes, thinking thoughtfully. 

“Ah, yes! Now that you say it, I recall reading about her m… her unfortunate death in the papers. However, I don’t recall if I ever met her.” He smiled at me. “Thirty years is a long time ago.” He then gestured back at my magatama. “So tell me about this… mega-tama.”

I looked down and held it between my index finger and thumb. “It’s a charm that members of the Fey Clan use.”

“Those fortune-tellers?”

“Well, no. They’re spirit mediums—at least the women are.” I took a deep breath and glanced down. There weren’t a lot of men in the Fey Clan. As a matter of fact, I’m the only one I know of, and I am definitely not a spirit medium.

“Ah! So they’re a bunch of ladies who can talk to ghosts!”

I nodded slowly. “Sort of. Anyway, my mother is the head of the Fey Clan, and the master of the Kurain Spirit Channeling Technique. She gave me this when… I was small.” Mr. Shields sat back in his chair, eyebrows raised.

“Your mother’s their leader, huh?” He smirked. I nodded. “I must say, Daddy-Wright has… interesting taste in partners.” That one got a mild chuckle out of me. “And I imagine you wear that in honor of your mother’s family and the memory of your Aunt.”

I nodded. “Exactly.”

He crossed his arms and smiled. “That’s sweet.”

We exchanged more questions which moved beyond our relations and into our profession. We had a good chat about the legal system and how much it has changed in the nearly fifty years he Mr. Shields was an attorney. I was happy he had the stage for the most part so I could sip on my chai tea—which had long turned cold. After telling me stories about his career for about a couple hours, he looked at his watch.

“Well Grey, your Uncle Ray ought to get going.” I quickly glanced at my phone to check the time, and saw a missed call and a text from Pop.

“Likewise.”

He stood up out of his chair and extended his arm for another handshake. I stood up and we shook.

“It was great meeting you, Uncle Ray.”

He smiled, but I noticed his whole face light up, and he put his hands together. “Oh! One more thing. Could you come over here?”

I raised my eyebrow and walked to him. He pulled out an old—and I mean really old—camera, and turned it toward us. “U-Uncle Ray?”

“Say ‘Cheese!’” I saw a flash and I was amazed to see a photo come out of the camera's body a moment later. I’ve only heard of cameras like those, but I’ve never seen one in person. Mr. Shields took the photo and he had a big smile. “Oh good, it still works!” 

“The camera?”

“Yes, I need it for my, erm, investigation this afternoon.”

“Can’t you just use your phone?” Mr. Shields waved his hand. 

“What’s the fun in that? I like having them printed out so I can attach them to my wall in the office and see everything all at once.”

“You can also just… print photos out at any—”

“Gregory, I’m old. Leave me to do things as I always have.”

I smiled at him calling me by my full, first name. “Fair enough.”

“I’ll be seeing you, Mr. Gregory Wright, and don’t be afraid to give ol’ Uncle Ray a call or pay a visit to your grandpa’s Law Office.”

“I just might do that.”

#ace attorney #aai2 spoilers #gregory wright au #raymond shields #gregory wright #my art #meg text #my writing

[zmayadw]

Foolish Fears || Duskwood Jake x Fem!Mc Oneshot ||

Genre: mix of hurt/comfort/fluff/humor (I suppose😅)

A/N: Hello, hello! 😊 Sooo, uhm, have I kinda said that I won't be writing for Duskwood any more? Yup, yes I have. Have I just written a Duskwood oneshot? Again - yup, yes I have 😅 The point is - when after very long time of not writing anything you suddenly get hit with inspiration, you don't ask unnecessary questions, you just write! So here we are! Hope you will somehow find this likeable! Take care! 💚

Ofc, as always, don't pay much attention to my crappy title 😅 And please don't mind any mistakes you might stumble upon! Happy reading! 😊💚

The piercing blue eyes stared back at him in the mirror with doubt and fear in them. He pinch himself on the arm, expecting to wake up from this dream the moment he did so, but nothing happens. He was still here, standing in Mc's bedrom, staring at his reflection.

It's been two months since the Ironsplinter Mine events, and although Hannah was found alive, not all ended well. And for most of it he only learned about yesterday when he showed up at her door, after making absolutely sure no one was on his track and it was safe for her.

But the fear and doubt in the eyes staring back at him wasn't because of it - at this point he didn't really care anymore about his safety. If he only had a day, or even just a few hours of freedom left, there would be no other place he'd rather be right now than here with her.

No, his fear was something else entierly.

Not taking his eyes away from their mirror self, he slowly take off his shirt, exposing to the mirror his naked torso.

Even in the dim light of her bedroom, the numerous tattoo's adorning his body weren't enough to draw away the attention from all the hideous scars covering him.

Being on the run didn't really give him much opportunities for proper medical attention to any possible injuries most of the time, be them small cuts or something much severe. He took care of himself with what he had, not giving much thought about aftermath, as long as he healed.

But now, as his eyes slowly moved from one hideous scar to the other, he was afraid.

Afraid of her reaction.

Will she be scared at seeing all those scars? When she finally realise how dangerous it really is to be around him, will she flinch away from his touch, repulsed, after seeing him, the whole of him, and think of him differently? Will she still be able to repeat those same words to him, the words that gave him strenght and made him determined to keep his promise and come back to her?

After so many years spent in solitude, he found the courage to let someone in, to trust someone again, he let himself feel again. He found a reason that gave his life a meaning again, and she was the one responsible for it all.

So , yes, he wasn't just afraid - he was terrified.

"Eh, sorry it took me so long, but I made us something to eat, too!"

Her cheerful voice make his head jerk up, and when their eyes lock in the mirror he tense watching her expression change.

Quickly putting his shirt back on, he turns around facing her. She just stood there motionless by the doors, mouth half open, but no words came out.

His heart sank more with each beat it made as he contine to watch her. She didn't need to say anything, her expression was more than enough for him to know his fears were just. But the pain he felt at that moment was even more excrutiating than he expected, he barely managed to keep himslef from falling apart completely.

"I shou..." he start to say, but his voice betrays him. Taking a few deep breaths, he turns away from her stare, clears his throath and with shaky hand goes for the hoodie lying on the bed "I sould go."

"What? Go? What are you talking about, Jake?"

The genuine surprise in her voice felt like a knife to his heart. Why would she do that, when he perfectly understood the look of horror on her face. She didn't want him, so why is she doing this now?!?

"Jake?"

Her voice came from right behind him this time, almost as a whisper, but when her hand touched him lightly on the arm he jerked it away like being burned "Don't!"

His unexpected reaction make her back up a few steps. Confused and concerned, she tries once more "Jake, what is going on?"

"Like you don't already know." he scoffs still keeping his back to her.

"No, I don't know." Mc grits through her teeth clearly annoyed "So, care to explain what the hell happened while I was gone, because I sure as hell can't figue it out!"

"You're really going to continue with this charade?!" he almost yells and turns to face her now.

But this time she didn't back off, instead she take a step closer, defiant to get to the bottom of this and raise her voice at him "What charade? What the hell are you talking about?!?"

"I saw the way you were looking at me, Mc!" he scream desperate at her, no longer able to control his emotions "The shock and fear in your eyes - I learned long ago the meaning of those looks. I know damn well what they mean!"

"No, Jake," she sigh after a short moment shaking her head, taking another step closer to him "you really know nothing."

"Mc, please, just - just let..." but she didn't let him finish, she kept advancing towards him, and not a second later she push him down to sit on the bed and kneel in front of him.

"Now, you shush it and listen to me, all right?" But when she didn't get any response from him she once again asks firmer "All right!?"

Without looking at her he nods slightly, and for her that was enough to continue.

She takes a deep breath "For someone who says he has problems reading emotions, you were quite right back there. When I stepped back into the room and saw you like that, I was shocked, yes. But not because of the reasons you think.

I was shocked by a realization, as my eyes continued to jump from one scar to another, of how much pain a person can take and still keep going, and how much suffering one can endure without falling apart or giving up. But I was shocked, and scared, too, when I realized how you have done all of that, for all these years, and alone.

You said it to me yourself not that long ago, how all these years on the run you got so used to loneliness, and I got scared, that after all that time, and even though you said that changed when I stepped into your life, you would still prefere to do everything all by yourself, and eventually decide to leave me out of your life completely. And I don't want for that to heppen. Ever.

So you see, Jake, even though you were kinda right, you were also completely wrong. And I know that this, us, must be some scarry shit for you, but news flash dummy - it's the same for me, too! And it seemes to me that we both share similar fears. But if you are willing to take this new and unexplored path with me, than rest assure, I will always, ALWAYS be here for you, no matter what."

When she finished, her heart was beating so fast, and she didn't even realise her face was wet from silent tears. She was just extremely nervous, waiting for any kind of reaction from him.

And as more time passed, and the awkward silence around them only grew, she almost screamed in fright when he suddenly threw his hands around her embracing her tightly, almost knocking her down from the impact.

Her hands instantly wrapped around him gently stroking his back, and this time he didn't flinch at her touch. This time, he felt relaxed and at peace, realizing how much he missed this - to genuinely feel wanted by someone.

"I - I don't know what to say, really. I feel like such a fool right now."

His warm breath on her neck sent goosebumps all over her body, inciting a sly smile forming on her lips as she remembered what else she felt when she saw him in front of the mirror before "Just promise me one thig."

"And what's that?" he ask, sounding genuinely interested.

"Well, next time, can I please be the one that takes your shirt off? I mean, don't get me wrong, that was a sight and a half! But, I really want to be prepared for it next time, my legs almost gave up on me!"

"Seriously?" he questions, moving from her embrace to look at her with a raised eyebrow "You're gonna joke about it? Right now?"

"What? It's no joke! I mean it! You almost gave me a heart attack! I mean, really, do you even know how hot you looked back there?!"

Shaking his head he chuckles "You are impossible!"

"Yeah, yeah," she grins placing her hands around his neck "but you love me, nonetheless."

Wrapping his hands around her waist and keeping his piercing blue eyes firmly focused on her green ones, he slowly leans towards her, stopping just close enough so that his lips only teasingly brush hers as he whispers "You have no idea how much."

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #iamjake

[thankshermin]

About Beast!Dazai and His Strategies Backfiring

It backfired so bad he ended up offing himself so I have to talk about it a little. I might be a little biased because I've been crying to Beast for like two years now and I can't be consoled.

Look... Beast!Dazai makes me want to cry hysterically, just like most things about Beast, but one thing especially strikes. 

Literally, NO ONE liked him and that was not what he wanted, at all he was not cool with this but there was nothing he could do about it.

He did every little shitty thing purely out of his selfish wishes– he wanted to be loved, particularly by Oda. So he thought he could do whatever he wanted because he knew he had/has people who cared/cares about him in the other universes. He was paying special attention to Oda because they couldn’t be both alive and well and friends in any other universe. He thought that the other bonds he had with other people would just happen someday and that it was a package deal. 

But he did NOT put any effort into that. Therefore, no one likes him. In fact, I'd say lots of characters dislike Beast!Dazai strongly. 

(and I can't even blame them because Dazai was an asshole for the whole light novel,,, if you want people to care about you YOU have to show them that, Dazai, I'm sorry no one taught you that you are so tragically unaware of everything it makes me sad) 

Still... he didn’t want it to turn that way. The thing I'd like to see more people mentioning is the fact that Beast!Dazai is a very emotionally driven character. He might be the Boss of the Mafia but that doesn't automatically mean he can't be highly emotional. He acted the way he did because he tried to pursue something he wanted, not because it was necessary for the Port Mafia. 

...Says the Boss himself.

While the mafia is obviously powerful as hell in Beast, it is still sad because... well, still no one likes the boss so what is even the point of being the leader. (I’m aware Mori is also not loved among most of the characters but it’s not his turn yet so just ignore him.) 

And I’m always telling people this but what makes me like (canon) Dazai’s character is the fact that he is constantly trying. He is not the best person out there but hey he is improving, okay? And that’s what matters to me. I love it when characters show development, whether it’s towards the good or bad side. 

What draws the line between Canon and Beast Dazai’s is that Canon!Dazai has people who care about his well-being (I'm not arguing about this with anybody but just in case if you want examples; Atsushi, Kunikida, the whole ADA actually, Chuuya, Ango, even Mori and i can still go on) and that he is learning from his mistake whileBeast!Dazai had never tried to change and just did whatever he wanted and now, surprise surprise, no one likes him. 

TL;DR: I feel so bad for Beast!Dazai I wish he didn’t constantly harm those around him and instead made some friends. His small conversation at the bar with Oda speaks volumes.

He was so happy that his eyes were glowing because he finally found someone he thought would be the #1 best friend in the world (yeah how did that feel when you got a gun pointed at you, Dazai? Turns out you don't automatically become friends with the person who has a valid reason to hate you.) 

Anyway thx for reading my rambling I have to go back to study biology for now.

#bsd #bsd manga #bsd beast #bungou stray dogs #beast dazai #bsd analysis #bsd meta

[dandorime]

In Dr. Zor's Car, in an Airplane over the Sea

When he'd first discovered it, Agent Phoenix naively thought he was in some kind of space-age training program.

Everything had happened so quickly.

Two weeks ago, he had signed and submitted the paperwork across the desk to a rather severe-looking man in a black suit and dark sunglasses.

Only ten days ago he'd been wide awake as they drilled a tiny hole into his skull and implanted a piece of equipment in his brain. Except for the first couple of shots of local anesthetic into his scalp, he hadn't felt a thing. It took less than 20 minutes, start to finish. 

Seven days ago he'd had his first and only training session to use the implant and discovered, much to his awe and delight, that he now commanded the mysterious power of telekinesis. He'd likewise been warned never to use it in public, no matter how fun it might be... the enemy already knew they had this technology, and past agents had accidentally given themselves away with errant floating objects. Emphasis on "past" agents.

Yesterday he'd been assigned an office at headquarters. He'd "met" his handler, a voice with neither a face nor a name that came to him via a radio in his ear, and learned he was being sent on a mission immediately.

Certainly his first mission, to steal some evil genius's car and drive it out of a moving airplane, must have been a training exercise. It was a wild gambit, an over-the-top affair like the plot of a movie, too crazy to be anything a rational defense agency would actually ask their agents to do... but here Phoenix was, in the car, in an airplane over the sea.

His handler never mentioned a training mission. He never said the word "drill", so Phoenix played along.

He was surprised when the laser that tried to shoot him in the face left a very real burn on the headrest. The revolver he found in the back seat fired a real slug through the window when he pulled the trigger, too. Obviously these EOD guys liked to train with live fire.

Breaking the window, though... that was his first mistake. The poison gas (comically even labeled "poison gas" on the pipe delivering it to the cargo hold) started to flood into the cabin of the car, and Agent Phoenix found himself very legitimately unable to breathe.

His lungs burned, his eyes stung, his vision began to narrow. His last thoughts were confusion and panic as he realized that he was genuinely, categorically, one-hundred-percent dying.

...then he awoke in a strange room. 

Agent Phoenix took a deep breath. His lungs easily filled with air: in, out. In, out. The bitter tang of the gas was gone. He felt fine now, as if someone had flipped a switch and turned off the pain, but the confusion still lingered.

Was he... dead? Really, actually dead? 

He was in a blue place, as blue as the sky outside the windows of the cargo hold in which he'd only just met his fate. It wasn't the open sky, though. It was very perceptibly a small, rather square room, containing only a chair (in which he found himself sitting) and a small table. The table looked a lot like the desk in his office, actually. 

There was a briefcase open on the desk before him. Bad espionage practice, Phoenix thought, starting to read the exposed contents within. He froze when he realized what he was reading. 

A death certificate.

His death certificate.

Death by poison gas, it said. There was an unhelpful drawing of a human outline and arrows indicating the flow of gas into his lungs. 

So he was dead, then, and whatever power of the universe decided to explain it to him had a strange sense of humor.

He looked around the room. He got up out of the chair and walked around the table. He sat back down.

How strange that nothing was happening, Phoenix thought. He'd never been religious, but if he was going to be conscious after his death, he at least expected to meet his ancestors, or some cosmic deity, or something.

"Hello?"

No answer.

Huh, he thought, maybe they weren't expecting me so soon, either.

Agent Phoenix pondered a bit about what his handler must think of him, dying less than five minutes into his first mission. Although he'd only heard the man's voice a handful of times, he had sounded pretty friendly. He hoped losing an agent so quickly didn't give the poor guy a complex...

He plucked his death certificate out of the briefcase and read it more closely. Maybe he wasn't allowed to get to the eternal judgement part until he finished the assigned reading. 

At the bottom, there was a form message from the Secret Agent Group to whomever it may concern:

Our condolences to the bereaved, but Zoraxis must be stopped at all costs. This agent's death will not be in vain. We will prevail.

The agent hummed to himself. Among spies and soldiers, he was a lucky one: he didn't have any family to receive a KIA letter. Nobody would be broken up about him, nobody would struggle without him. 

His only regret was not staying alive long enough to contribute to the Agency. He'd been genuinely eager to have a hand in saving the world, like they'd promised he could. All his life he'd been part of the defense complex, but the only deployments being handed out now were to bomb women and children living in jungles overseas. He didn't want to do what his country asked of him, he wanted to do good. To stop a war, like he'd believed when he was little...

Well, so much for that. 

Pulling the report out of the briefcase had revealed something else tucked away in the same pocket: a long card. 

It looked like an airline ticket, he thought. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, wondering why on earth the dead would need tickets for air travel.

It had his name on it. Not his intake number, not "Agent Phoenix", but his real name. It also had the logo of the EOD on it, and, confusingly, the personal mark of that evil genius whose car he had been trying to drive off an airplane: Dr. Zor.

Why would those things be together in the same place? Why would either of them be part of his (admittedly, weird) afterlife?

Most mysteriously, on the line reserved for the name of the destination airport, the word "RETRY" was printed bold in dark red ink. The characters had been pushed so heavily into the thick paper by the printing block that they felt embossed, like a fancy invitation.

Agent Phoenix ran his fingers over the letters, deep in thought.

...and, all at once, he was back in the car, in the airplane over the sea.

"What in the hell?"

"Something the matter, Agent?"

It was his handler, acting convincingly like nothing was amiss. 

"I... I just-..."

Agent Phoenix twisted around in the driver's seat, dumbstruck, examining his surroundings for evidence of what he knew had just happened moments before. 

The windows were intact. The poison gas was safely outside. The headrest of the seat behind him was unburnt. The revolver was still sitting on the back seat, exactly where he'd found it last time. 

Everything was reset, even the time on the car's clock, to how it had been the moment he began to work towards the mission objective.

"...but how?" Phoenix quietly muttered, replaying the events of his death in his mind step-by-step.

His handler's voice in his ear gently shook him back to the present.

"Agent, are you quite alright?"

He sounded concerned.

Slowly, Phoenix pulled himself out of shock. He was starting to connect the dots. The insane premise of this mission, the strange room, the logos on his return flight ticket... 

So it was all a training exercise... but not any kind of exercise he'd experienced before. This was an advanced program, far above storming plywood houses and red-team/blue-team, beyond firing blank ammo at mockup targets. The Agency must have some cutting-edge secretive technology that made the mission feel brutally real. Something with lasers and holograms, if he had to guess. 

Well, damn!

"Sorry, I'm fine... I just wasn't expecting whatever the hell that was," the agent chuckled into his microphone as his heartrate gradually returned to a sensible figure.

His handler took a beat before replying.

"Whatever the hell what was, Agent?"

If they went to all the trouble to make a mission experience this realistic, of course they weren't going to reveal it to the agent being trained until it was over...

"Nevermind," Phoenix chirped, internally assuring himself he couldn't possibly have been the first agent to shoot out the window and die to the gas. He wouldn't make such a rookie mistake again.

"I'm good, let's do this."

He did, ultimately, make two more rookie mistakes. He blew himself up trying to defuse a bomb, and while trying to drive the car off the plane, he accidentally put it into reverse and backed into something explosive.

Each time, he found himself in the weird little room again. He had a good head-shaking session reading his death certificate, then popped back into existence in perfect health in the undamaged car on the plane. 

His was grateful that his handler was stayed mute about his past errors. He even cracked some of the same jokes he'd made the previous rounds. Maybe it was just a recording of his handler, Phoenix mused to himself, programmed into whatever massive system is running this whole thing. 

Finally, after much education, Agent Phoenix had the objective in his grasp. The cargo bay door was open, the engine was purring. He put his foot down on the gas like a drag racer.

The luxury coupe sailed out of the cargo bay into the beautiful blue sky. Just as his handler had assured him, a set of parachutes deployed from the vehicle and unfolded above him, offering a gentle ride to the ocean below. He could feel the G-forces changing as he went from freefall to paraglide. 

The view was spectacular. He rolled down the windows just for fun and breathed in the clean air. The wind through his hair felt real. It even smelled real, he noted, deeply impressed.

When the car at last splashed down and inflated a raft from beneath the tires, he had a good time looking for fish in the water as the patrol boat sent to collect him closed in on his location. They'd put all kinds of his favorite ocean creatures into the scene: he saw a shark, a man-o-war, and much farther out, a whale's tail fluke breaching the water.

Whoever designed this training mission thought of absolutely everything, Phoenix marveled. 

(Unfortunately I can't finish a chapter this week, but this is part of what will eventually be in it, just for fun.)

#i expect you to die #ieytd #agent phoenix #the handler #poor Phoenix doesn't understand what's happening to him yet #but at least he's having a good time

[thesaturn1nez]

Ricky headcanons!!!!!!!

everyone’s faaaaavorite footwear 🧦 what is he plotting

Ricky 🧶

• no duplicates. one Ricky is enough.

• had a pretty rocky relationship with Richie Bromine. Ricky always struggled to understand you didn’t talk to adults the same way you talk to kids, he still doesn’t get it to this day. it kind of confirmed to Richie that Ricky was just another prop, something you could never really open up to or even chat with for fun.

• if he doesn’t want Gordon to see something he’ll toss himself over the man’s eyes like a towel [he always gets ripped right off]

• does feel guilt about letting the others consume such disturbing media, but thinks it’ll go away once they’re back on air again. besides, he thinks most of them handled it ‘pretty well’, taking it as a sign that they could put more darker material into the episodes.

• trust me, the tv did effect him as much as it did to the others. he thinks all the bad in the world could have been easily avoided if people just thought a little more positive, including things completely out of control. the moron genuinely thinks reviving My Friendly Neighborhood will solve all those horrible things that were discussed on the news - while it might help younger viewers act more nicer and have families bond, just having the show back won’t give the world a do-over. Gordon’s eventually going to bring this up and it won’t be a fun discussion.

• while he does feel, he actually isn’t a very expressive person on the outside despite truly experiencing whatever emotion he’s trying to express. visitors noted that in every conversation, he sounded happy, but looked very distant and bored [ and, of course, took it as an insult then complained to Al. ] every time he even wants to add something to the conversation, he has to go ham using acting techniques and gestures he learned - just to avoid anyone thinking he doesn’t care. you’d think he’d get better after all those years, but people still notice it, even if they mistake it for him just lying.

• doesn’t even realize how untrusting his tone tends to come off as, since he’s so used to having to talk down so children could understand and not explain more than what’s neccessary. Stevie was the one who did the speeches and motivating talks, not Ricky. despite this, he really wants to help people.

• has a couple of tiny clothing accessories that they used for special skits. Gordon came across them thinking it was barbie clothing 😭

• avoids the unfriendly neighborhood as much as he can. Ricky can be a little naive at times, but he’s smart enough to know those guys don’t want him around. if some of the unfriendlies were to ever feel comfortable going back to the surface, Gordon would have to keep them in separate buildings to avoid any conflict.

• day two of ‘mission: help the unfriendlies,’ Ricky received a very crude drawing of him being skewed like a shish kabob on a wooden stick surrounded by demonic looking puppets, complete with a YOU -> and a messy ‘PILLBUG’ signature in the corner. this little sock went wee wee wee and tattled to Gordon, acting all scared like just barely got away from the unfriendlies�� grasp too.

• whenever a bigger puppet was acting out, it was considered Ricky’s responsibility to solve whatever was going on. being the closest thing to their leader as well as a translator, he always had to be the one to get the felt beings back to their place. he was only ever ordered to make the others just stop, rather than helping them with whatever was the matter. it’s why he insists the others are fine, their issues are all gone now that the show is going to come back!

• before the show was even picked up, there was a scrapped idea of having him be a human puppet. in the end Al decided Ricky would be more charming the way he is. the unused puppet was repurposed to be this minor character, who was eventually picked up to play the role of a hairdresser. neither puppets are aware they were supposed to be one.

#my friendly neighborhood #mfn game #mfn ricky #mfn headcanons #headcanons #the mail comes everyday #this is all i got #i love the sock i do i swear #really wanna draw pillbug’s doodle for giggles #toxic positivity #lottie sucks at headcanons

[looptroupe]

At the end of part 6 Lupin got VERY close to killing Goemon

What if Jigen didnt shoot the gun out of his hand on time

I need to preface this with the simple fact that I LOATHE part 6. I’ve tried and tried and tried to love it, and it’s… complicated. There are sparks of greatness there, there really are! And I’m a Brit, so seeing Lupin & co cruise through London? Yeah. That’s pretty cool. Or, yknow, it would have been, if the backgrounds weren’t descaled stock images. That said, I’ll try my best just for you anon. 🫡

I’d like to think that ‘sleeper agent Lupin’ has a little more control over himself than is shown. I can’t find it in me (in good faith) to genuinely believe that he would ever, under almost any circumstance, hurt any of the gang. He’s in there somewhere, and we know that Lupin can do incredible things when he puts his mind to it. That said, if he had hit Goemon…

Jigen would never forgive himself, I don’t think. Not quick enough, not smart enough, not sharp enough… he strikes me as the kind of man to stew quietly on a mistake like that. He’s not gonna voice how he’s feeling to anyone, but the others can feel it in the way he’s taken to drawing his gun that little bit quicker. He doesn’t hesitate anymore, maybe they leave heists with a few more bodies littering the ground. He’s certainly much less considerate for a while. There isn’t space for compassion if his companions could get hurt. He comes off as more violent, when really, he’s just more high-strung. He needs time to relax into their rhythm again and things will even out, but for now, he isn’t taking any chances. Especially not when he could have the weight of someone’s life on his shoulders.

When Lupin comes around, he’s terrified. Naturally, he masks this fear with his usual blasé attitude, but to those that know him, he might as well be biting his nails. Goemon is his friend. One of his closest, dearest, friends. And to Lupin, no treasure is more important. The people he keeps close are there for a reason— he loves them, he loves their company, they’re important to him— and so, knowing that he could have seriously injured (or, God forbid, killed) one of them? He feels cold to the core. His first instinct is anger. Anger at himself, anger at anyone in his way, anger at whoever orchestrated the whole thing. That anger takes longer to fade than usual. He’s on high-alert in their heists, now, and he’s even more self-critical than usual. He refuses to eat or sleep until his plans are foolproof, he tinkers with gadgets until they’re perfect, he takes far less chances than usual. He reverts back into the Lupin they likely first started working with, and like Jigen, he comes across as far colder. A little more calculating. Certainly a little more manipulative. Though the outside world seems none the wiser, considering he’s just as jovial and entertaining— as far as they can tell— as he usually is.

Goemon… oh, poor Goemon. He’s okay, right? You’re not gonna make me write that he’s dead, right? (Jokes on you, I don’t write much angst. You’re getting alive and well Goemon.) …makes a rather miraculous recovery! (Ha!)

Naturally, this comes with its own issues. He’s totally out of commission for a solid six months, at the very least, and he’s left— to his chagrin— totally at Lupin and Jigen’s mercy. As ruthless as the two of them have become on heists, at home, they’re closer than ever. Jigen dotes on Goemon, and has learned a handful of authentic recipes he might never have picked up otherwise. He’s taken to tending to Zantetsuken, too, even if it’s always under Goemon’s watchful, ever-critical, eye. Lupin, on his part, is still not allowed anywhere near Zantetsuken, though this is more a reflection of his Lupin-isms than it is the whole shooting fiasco, and instead has made it his mission to force Goemon into watching movies with him.

Lupin confides in Goemon about his plans. He checks constantly for a second opinion, and his frantic pantomiming of whatever scheme he’s cooked up this time keeps Goemon mildly entertained. It’s a great comfort to Lupin to have Goemon’s level-headed attitude present around the hideout consistently, and though Goemon has been incredibly critical about the logistics of ‘The Wizard of Oz’, he’s come to find that the Samurai makes a great plot-hole finder. The two of them have taken to blasting popular films on Letterboxd, if only to laugh (or smirk, and insist stubbornly that he isn’t, in Goemon’s case) at the incensed replies they get from die-hard fans.

Fujiko comes and goes, visiting more frequently in the beginning. She often drops little gifts off for Goemon (things she’s picked up in Japan, most likely) and pretends that she has no idea where they came from. As if she’d have the time for all that, anyway. She’s a busy girl, you know? Though, she’d love to know if Goemon enjoyed the konpeitō Jigen found on the hearth. Just because she’s curious.

Zenigata, having witnessed the whole thing, has quietly defended Lupin’s honour. While he certainly can’t say anything publicly, he’s been a forum warrior and a staunch advocate for ‘slimy-and-a-pain-in-the-ass’ Lupin, rather than ‘now-blatantly-evil’ Lupin. Because he might hate Lupin’s guts— or at least pretend to— but deep down, he’s offended at the mere insinuation that Lupin is morally corrupt. They might be opposites, but Zeni can respect Lupin’s unshifting personal morals if nothing else.

#lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin the 3rd #ask box #looptroupe rambles