#love having a peek into actors their brains

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

This current piece is taking longer than I'd expected to finish, but I think y'all will like it. Thank you, as always, for your continued patience. Needless to say, I am a big sucker for darker (but still sweet) portrayals of Prewar!Cooper that play into the parts of The Ghoul that already live inside him.

Here's a little 500-ish word sneak peek for those interested:

Duplicity

Pairing: Prewar!Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Possessive!Prewar!Cooper, jealousy, dubious consent, infidelity (physical and emotional), decomposing marriages, acrimonious divorce proceedings, alcohol use, choking, biting, degradation, mild exhibitionism, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, love confessions, soft ending.

Things were heating up quickly between you and Cooper. Maybe too quickly. Your lover's lips were attacking the exposed side of your throat, your back pressed firmly into the plush mattress as you wriggled beneath him. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, between the one-too-many cocktails you'd had during the party and the way he was touching you, moving you, positioning you the way he wanted as he moved in between your legs, standing over you at the edge of the bed. "Maybe we should wait." you breathed, your breaths deep and deliberate as you tried to sober yourself up enough to string together a clear thought. It would've been difficult enough simply trying to resist his kisses, but this was some random Vault-Tec executive's guest bedroom. There was a party going on. Your husband was likely still outside mingling, possibly looking for you. The odds of that weren't high, but they weren't zero. While the two of you had fooled around a bit up until now, you couldn't help but feel like you wanted things a little different for the first time you really had sex, for when you fully took that plunge and committed to this path. The man on top of you seemed to feel differently. "Don't think so." he purred lowly into the crook of your neck, running his teeth along your collarbone and making you shudder. You could smell the gin martini he'd been holding earlier on his breath. "You made me watch him touch and kiss on you all night, and now you're gonna make it up to me." Cooper's warm, softly calloused hand found your throat, holding you firmly as he gazed down at you,. He wasn't choking you, per se; at least, not in the way that you would've anticipated someone would choke you, squeezing around your airway until your breathing was cut off. No, instead, he pressed his fingers and thumb into the soft flesh on each side, digging into your twin pulse points and slowing the flow of blood to your brain. It didn't hurt or make you feel panicked. In fact, quite the opposite happened, your squirming finally ceasing almost entirely, your brain buzzing with warm, tingly docility. Between that and the already toasty feeling coursing through your veins, you haltingly allowed your defiant thighs to fall open halfway, slowly forgetting the reasons you'd been resisting, forgetting where you were. "That's a good girl. You know who you belong to, don'tcha?" he praised, his free hand stroking the sensitive inside of your thigh reverently. The feeling of two of his thick fingers sliding inside of you suddenly sent you whining in response, both at the stretch and the slight sting of it. That sent a smirk ghosting across the actor's face, leaning in to run his lips along the soft, flushed skin of your cheek. "Pretty little cheatin' slut. Now, be quiet and let me have what's mine."

#cooper howard #the ghoul #prewar!cooper howard #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv show #fallout prime #ghoulcy #vaultghoul

[radiantaerynsvn]

tv series that have audio commentaries with the actors i love you

#we used to live in a society #ive finally been getting around to watching some farscape commentaries because i'm putting off finishing my second rewatch in as many month #and my mental health has been in need of a Significant boost #i'm just dying at claudia and ben so 10/10 boosting #also just swooning over her voice #but yeah bring back commentaries (i dont think anyone does them anymore?) #also comes to mind gillian anderson doing the commentary for all things and just knowing she had it all thought out so well even if it #didn't all make the episode #like damn she really put the first and only canonical lesbian couple into txf i love her fruity ass #love having a peek into actors their brains #also just love hearing about the process of filmmaking #farscape

[mellifiedprincess]

hii :) this is my first time writing on here, so please be kind to me. i do appreciate constructive criticism though!

a/n: while there isn’t any smut in this, there are some suggestive themes. there is also mention of anxiety

ANXIOUS MY LOVE?

jack champion x reader

He was spiraling. You could see it in his eyes, as soon as you looked over at him. He was freaking and you weren’t quite sure how to help. You couldn’t quite tell how deep in his thoughts he was at the moment.

You knew you needed to get him somewhere quiet though. Somewhere away from the prying eyes of reporters surrounding the red carpet.

“Hey, Jack? Hey-“ You pause as he meets your eyes. The whites of his tinged with pink from holding back tears. A soft worried smile makes its way to your face, and you place a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m gonna get you somewhere a little more quiet, okay?” All he can manage to do for now is nod.

You’re not sure if it’s the bright lights, the shouting from every direction, maybe even the nerves of everyone he loves watching the premiere of his new movie. Maybe it’s all of that and then some, but there’s one thing you know for a fact and that is he’s on the verge of an anxiety attack. You make quick steps to find the entrance of the building the premiere is being held in, avoiding the yells from cameramen trying to get pictures of your boyfriend.

You finally make it inside and find a quiet room, pushing him inside quickly, before locking the door making sure no one can disturb you two. “I’m just gonna let your mom know what’s going on. I don’t want her to panic when she can’t find us.”

After sending her a quick text, you stand in front of Jack, taking his hands into your own. “You wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty brain of yours?” You tilt your head a bit to look up at him, making eye contact so he knows he has your full undivided attention.

He’s leaning against a counter, big brown eyes staring straight into yours.

“It’s just a lot at once. This is my first big movie role, you know. I’m worried about disappointing you and disappointing my mom.

What if I’m a shit actor and this is all I’m ever gonna get because I suck so bad at doing the one thing I love.” Jack pauses, pulling you closer to his body, wrapping his arms completely around you and lays his head on top of yours before continuing.

“I just- We all have spent so much of our time on this movie. And not just the cast and crew, I’m talking about my mom too. She’s done so much for me. She’s given so much of her time for me.” He takes a breath in, his words getting caught in his throat.

“And you-“ He pauses again, moving his hands to cup your face. He smiles, his dimples peeking through, and then places a soft kiss to your lips. “You have been nothing but supportive, patient, and shown me nothing but love.”

You can hear the emotion in his voice. You can see the tears he’s trying his best to hold back. You can feel the slight shake in his hands.

“I’m terrified right now, baby. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

You place your hands on top of his, still resting on your cheeks. “Jack, I love you, okay? Your mom loves you too. And I’m willing to bet, she’d agree with me when i say, you could never disappoint us. We know how much you put into this. We know how hard you’ve worked.

You remember that little music video you made for school? About the pythagorean theorem.” A blush coats the apples of his cheeks, you know he hates that video. You love it though.

“Do you know how proud I was of you when you made that? You stepped outside of your comfort zone, and made something hilarious.” Jack shakes his head and he gives you a small laugh. “My point is, you can’t disappoint us. Cause no matter what you do, we’re gonna keep loving you and cheering you on.”

You move your hand down to his bicep, squeezing it before rubbing it up and down. “I seriously don’t deserve you.” Jack mumbles as he leans down to place another kiss to your lips. This time he deepens it, it lasting a lot longer than the other one. “Yeah, well you can prove your worth later when we’re alone.” You mumble back.

“We’re alone now.”

You push at his chest as his lips move down to your jaw. “I mean later in the privacy of our hotel room. Besides, my very attractive boyfriend is in this movie we’re about to watch. Can’t miss that, now can we?” You take your thumb and wipe away the pink lipgloss from his lips, a little more swollen from the heated kiss you two shared just moments ago. He grabs your hand before you pull it away and places a kiss to the palm of it, before grasping it in his.

“I guess you’re right.” Jack says as he rolls his eyes affectionately. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at him. “But seriously, are you feeling better?” Physically you can tell he is, but you being you needed him to verbally confirm he was okay, before going back out there.

He smiles down at you once again and grabs your chin, kissing you one more time before answering.

“Yes baby, i’m feeling much better because of you.”

“Good! Now let’s go watch little Jack run around with that big ass forehead on display.”

“Oh you’re paying for that one later.” Jack says as he pinches your sides, making you squeal with laughter.

His little threat meant nothing to you, you were just happy he was feeling better.

#jack champion x reader #ethan landry x reader #jack champion #big forehead

[maybxlle]

✧˖°. 𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

masterlist | home | rules

contains: a daughter of aphrodite panicking over our favorite white boy. and vise versa (jason grace x daughter of aphrodite!reader)

warnings: shitty ass writing, language, use of yn, and CRINGE. it's pretty bad, read at your own risk ⚠️

author's note: first fic! also, its probably gonna be bad (because i'm a shit writer 😃) im SO sorry about all the cuts! i cannot write. [send in requests y'all!] ALSO if you see any incorrections, no you didn't.

special mentions: thank you so much @canonfeminine for helping me come up with the joke percy says and @hopelesslyromanticshark because i kinda stole her formatting and her amazing advice (love ya coves!)

final word count: 2,098 words

now playing 𓏧 down bad by taylor swift

jason grace was walking outside cabin 13 when he heard you tweaking.

it was only 11am and it sounded like you had been up all night.

"y'all, you know that one song from taylor's new album? down bad? that's so me about superman." you sighed, "i don't even think he cares about me. not even a little."

"now i'm down bad, crying at the gym. everything comes out teenage petulance. fuck it if i can't have him. i might just die, it'd make no difference." you sang under your breath.

jason peeked in the cabin. he saw you hanging off hazel's bed upside down, piper was on the floor painting her nails, while annabeth was sitting in an armchair, reading, and hazel was at her desk, writing a letter to chiron about why they should have state of the art, gold-plated horse feed. they were only in the hades cabin because nico was with will in the infirmary. (awww <3)

"ma'am, we know all of this before. you never shut about hi-" piper began.

"SHUT THE ACTUAL FUCK UP BEFORE I SHOVE A FOOT DOWN YOUR THROAT."

annabeth made a condescending mom face. "yn," she said gently. "maybe you should go to sleep."

you just glared at her until she looked back at her book (rolling her eyes).

"maybe he does like me! he just doesn't know it yet." you triumphantly said.

piper snorted. you got up, and whacked her with your pillow until she fell over.

"ok, geez, i get it. cough cough bitch." piper um-coughed out.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL ME? SAYS THE WHORE!"

hazel finally looked up, innocently, from her crazy letter, "ok, girls, let's calm down?"

you and piper obliged, scowling at each other.

"anyway, bACK TO WHAT I WAS SAYING. maybe he is in love with me, he just doesn't fucking know it yet!"

"wait, isn't superman jaso-"

"BITCH SHUT YOUR MOUTH BEFORE I GO TO THE DAMNED CABIN AND GET THE FUCKING DUCT TAPE. you don't know who the fuck is lurking."

jason took that as his cue to get the fuck out of there.

our favorite white boy RAN to his boys.

he gathered them in percy's cabin. "guys, i just overheard something."

"what? that the superman theme song plays wherever you go?” percy snickered.

while percy and leo... snort-laughed, frank actually asked what happened.

"basically, i was walking past cabin 13 and the girls were in there, right? so i overhear yn saying something about 'superman' and how this song -down bad i think?- relates to them or something."

suddenly all the boys had their thinking faces on.

"what if she's in love with the actor of superman?" frank suggested.

leo had this eerie look on his face. "grow a couple of brain-cells chinese canadian baby man. she's in love with jason."

everyone just looked at leo. "ok, think about it. who the fuck else flies here? only jason. who else flies? superman."

jason thought about it. "that would make sense since piper was about to say my name when yn cut her off-"

"WHY DIDN'T YOU LEAD WITH THAT???"

"i didn't think that yn would ever like me back." he said matter-of-factly.

to be fair, jason had a crush on you since he arrived at camp. you were so pretty but you were so lively too. your personality was bright and radiant and maybe a bit crazy. just a bit though. but in a good way!

you just radiated positivity as if you were the sun. to him you could've been.

jason didn't realize he zoned out until leo was about to shove a shoe in his mouth.

"LEO?! WHAT THE FLIP ARE YOU DOING?!"

"oh i got him back guys! you like... died." leo said.

"so you were going to resuscitate me by shoving a shoe in my mouth?"

"yeah, basically!"

jason didn't know what to say to that so he didn't say anything!

"can we get back on track?"

"yes," percy answered. "we shall."

"first things first, we already know that you love yn so much from the bottom of your heart. but how are you going to tell her?" frank asked.

jason was at a loss.

"don't worry, i'll sleep on it."

"hey sparky!" you exclaim.

"oh h-hey yn." you side-eyed him, wondering if he heard your gods-awful conversation yesterday.

then you slapped yourself. (mentally?) of course he wouldn't do that! he's your sweet little superman who you are hopelessly in love with!

"do you wanna race to the top of the lava wall with me? don't be shy, you always lose!" you asked.

"um, i don't think i can today yn, sorry."

you were a little lot disappointed. you just really liked him and he fucking rejects you??? what if you tell him how you feel and he doesn't feel the same way? what if you become the laughing-stalk of camp? “k, bye jase.”

after he left you sprinted to your girls.

"BITCHES, CODE RED. WHO HAS AN EMPTY CABIN?"

hazel slowly raised her hand. "just don't mess it up again. if piper doesn't want your foot in her face, don't put it in her goddamn face. ok?"

you scowled at her before sprinting to hazel’s cabin.

you guys took your seats from yesterday.

“JASON WAS ACTING FUCKING WEIIIIRD THIS MORNING.” you glared at piper.

“what the- wHY ARE YOU GUYS LOOKING AT ME?!” piper screeched.

annabeth spoke up, “you were the one who practically said jason’s name.”

“annie. you just said it. SUPERMAN ONLY BITCHES.” you said.

“what if that did happen?” hazel asked. “he’s not a pretty, perfect, goody-two-shoes princess? like you think he is. ”

“YES HE IS SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH HAZEL.”

annabeth, piper, and hazel all just looked at each other, tired with your shit.

“I CAME HERE FOR HELP, NOT THE BITCHY JUDGING COUNCIL!”

"i think she's onto me." jason said to his little boy band.

percy looked up from his game of chess with frank and stroked his chin, "why may that be?"

jason scratched his neck sheepishly, "um, she, like side-eyed me?”

“this is yn we’re talking about. she side-eyes everybody.” leo said.

“BUT NOT ME!” jason panicked.

frank tsked at percy, “what move you gonna make?”

“oh, shut it frank. i’m invested. what else did yn say?”

“i… don’t remember.”

all the boys collectively looked at him.

“I WAS NERVOUS! WHAT IF-”

“SHUT YOUR BLOODY MOUTH!” leo exclaimed. “we need a fucking plan.”

“do you have a plan leo?” frank asked.

“i actually do, frank. gather round children.”

after some meticulous planning, and a couple phone calls, a plan was set.

a prom dress, a boom box, and taylor swift.

exciting right?

it was two days after that stupid conversation (that jason totally didn't overhear).

annabeth, piper and hazel came to drag you from your seat at the docks where you were reading an angsty romance (like the sad emo girl you were after being rejected by the love of your life).

"what the fuck do you whores want?"

"ok rude," annabeth replied, "but you have to come with us."

"we have something exciting for you!" hazel said enthusiastically.

you looked at hazel, "haze, 'excitement', does not exist for me anymore. ever since the love of my goddamned life rejected me- "

piper cut you off, "ok shut up yn. first of all, he didn't even reject you. he just said he can't climb the lava wall with you. just come with us. please don't make a big deal about it."

you looked at the girls suspiciously, "what's in it for me?"

the girls shared a look, "that's a secret. but believe me, everything's in it for you."

"i look like a fucking bratz doll!" you screeched.

"ok, so?" piper replied. "I DON'T WANNA LOOK LIKE A DOLL THAT GOT BOTCHED PLASTIC SURGERY!"

piper was doing and messing up your makeup while annabeth and hazel were looking for a good outfit.

"also miss bitchy," you said, "why am i wearing this much makeup? and why is annabeth and hazel trying so hard to find an outfit?"

piper could see that you were clearly becoming suspicious. she just gave you a small (knowing) smile, "oh don't worry about it sweet."

you were about to jump her when hazel and annabeth came holding ... a prom dress and two inch heels?

“are you shitting me? what the fuck is this?” you asked.

“yn, just put it the fuck on! no. arguments. ” piper said.

you weren’t someone to refuse looking good. (even if piper messed up your makeup.) “fine, but i’m watching y’all.”

they nodded while you went to the bathroom to change.

you came out and hazel to do the back. “ok, how do i look?” you asked, deadpan.

“yn! you look stunning!” hazel exclaimed.

you looked decent. you had an old prom dress that the aphrodite cabin just happened to have and slightly crusty heels.

“this will definitely work. he’ll be drooling all over her.” piper said to annabeth.

you were so confused, what the fuck is happening?

"excuse me? what's going on? cause i am about to shit my pants." you said.

annabeth, hazel, and piper just looked at each other and said, "don't worry about it dear." and burst out laughing. (about what? that wasn't even funny???)

suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"oh my fucking gods, who is it?!" you shout.

piper looked at you. "chill," she opened the door, "hey leo."

"why is leo here?!" she ignored you! leo pulled her outside, when she came back she nodded to annabeth and hazel.

"ok yn! time for your surprise!" hazel said, knowingly.

then, hazel blindfolded you, annabeth and piper grabbed your legs, while leo grabbed your arms. while you were screaming to satan.

next, y'all went on your merry way going gods-know-where!

suddenly you were dropped straight on the fucking ground so hard your ass hurt and all your bindings slipped off.

you were in the middle of the fucking woods. and you could distantaly hear hazel, piper, leo and annabeth running away.

really where you were dropped was gorgeous. you were at a clearing in the middle of the woods. it was around sunset so everything was lit up with the golden sunlight streaming through the leaves. you could hear the faint sound of a creek in the distance.

all of sudden you heard footsteps. you got up of your ass and cursed under your breath when you realized you have no knifes because somebody took them from you.

you turned toward the sound when you saw him.

jason, all dressed up in a matching suit.

"oh, h-hi jason. whatcha doing here?"

"oh, just waiting for a pretty girl so i can give her a dance."

you looked around confusedly. "jase, i think you went the wrong way. all the pretty girls are back at camp."

he chuckled, then pulled a boombox from his ass. "would you give me this dance milady?"

you were so so so baffled. what was happening? but your heart belonged to him. "um, sure?"

he clicked play on the boombox and 'you belong with me' by taylor swift started playing. he grabbed your hands and placed them on his shoulders. (TRUST ok? they're waltzing to "you belong with me", but its fine.

you felt like your heart was going a million miles a second but in slow motion at the same time. you were panicking but you felt so content.

the bridge was playing and you realized how much the song relates to you and jason.

you guys were best friends before you something happened two days ago.

y'all knew each other better than the back of your hand.

he would bring you ice cream when you were on your period and when you weren't.

anytime he had to go on a quest without you he brought you souvenirs.

you told each other about your crazy dreams. like when elmo was chasing you down rodeo drive.

the song ended.

"i-" you looked up.

"um-" jason cut you off.

"you go first." you were terrified, your heart pounding in your chest.

"well, i've had the biggest crush on you, yn. since i arrived, really-"

you cut him off, pulling his mouth to your own.

you were in euphoria for a minute until you both pulled away.

"soooo?" you were giddy, "what now?"

jason looked thoroughly confused, you were too. "i don't know but we'll get through it together."

your cold heart melted a little at that.

"i have a question," you asked, walking away. "did you have a crush only because of my fat ass?"

"oh my gods, yn!"

author's note: so yeah um... there it is. it sucks, i kinda hate it but i thought it was a good idea and i wanted to start writing.

#dividers by bunnysrph #⊹₊ ⋆ may’s creations #jason grace x reader #jason grace x aphrodite!reader #daughter of aphrodite

[heygerald]

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. This is the story of how he's first introduced to Colt's sister, Parker. Let's just say that neither party was all that impressed.

Tom Ryder was hot.

The ads plastered on bus terminals and billboards, with all of their post-photoshoot/pre-production editing and touch-ups, weren't shit compared to the real thing.

The real thing, standing fifty feet across from her having just finished talking through his upcoming scene with the production team was tall and hunky and had gel wet tufts of blonde hair perfectly strung across his forehead. He walked—swaggered—with a sureness that was hard to find nowadays; made all the more impressive when he was swarmed by makeup artists touching up the foundation on his cheeks without stumbling once.

The outfit didn't help either. She hadn't seen Colt yet, but she was confident that her brother wouldn't be caught dead wearing tight, white pants that clung to his every curve, indent, and muscle like Ryder was. He wore them slung low on his hips, perfectly hard abs trailing down towards the sliver of white skin peeking out from beneath an underwear brand she would never be able to afford. Some sort of aloofness—or, perhaps, a love for his own toned body—had his shirt strung over his shoulder as if it were a mere accessory and not something to cover his chest.

Even his eyes were bright, star-inducing, and captivating in the way romance novels often described Fabio.

And... god damn.

Parker had to remind herself to swallow, breathe, and close her mouth before the proverbial flies started swan diving inside.

She liked to think of herself as both professional and not a total creep. She didn't have a problem keeping her eyes to herself at the gym, at the park, at the pool. Blonde men weren't even her type. Actors much less so.

A movie star? The movie star? Please.

Parker would relentlessly tease her brother when he would get all flustered staring at the poster of Cindy Crawford on the wall of his childhood bedroom. She was just a woman, after all.

But now...

Christ, how was it so hot at six am?

She brushed some hair off of her forehead while fiddling with the flimsy label on her water bottle; trying, and failing to pretend that she hadn't just been ogling the lead actor like a starving dog staring at a hambone. People milled around her as she breathed, Venti offering a wave as she hurried off to her next location.

But then there was a wayward bee she had to swat away, pulling her gaze right back up to where it had been, and this time she found that he was the one staring at her.

Static hummed in the back of her mind; no thoughts.

Just Tom Ryder.

Tom Ryder looking delectable in his lack of clothing.

Tom Ryder gazing at her with eyes so blue she suspected he had to be wearing some sort of fake contacts.

Tom Ryder who now was opening his mouth, showing off the teeniest glimpse of dimples, a row of pearly white teeth (where those real?), clearing his throat to say—

"I've been waiting on my coffee for ten minutes now. What the hell is the hold-up?"

Static.

"Huh?" she asked dumbly.

He rolled his eyes, squaring his shoulders at her as he slumped inelegantly into what had previously been her seat.

"My usual. Flat white, nonfat milk, three shots of espresso, with no foam. Extra hot, of course," he recited in a deadpan. It wasn't a polite sort of thing, though, and as she continued to stare at him Parker watched as he swatted away the same bee that had been bothering her with a huff.

As if—how dare a bee bother someone like me!

"Um," she started. Then, when she realized that she wasn't speaking real words, Parker quickly tuned her brain back to a channel that wasn't just static. This channel concentrated around the disbelief at his attitude. "Excuse me?"

He was on his phone now—she wasn't sure where he had conjured it from considering how desperately tight his pants where—and without even looking up he scoffed. "I have a scene in twenty, and I need to have time between drinking my coffee and acting so I'm not all jittery. Honestly, it's not that hard."

Parker blinked at him, then in the general area around them. For a moment she expected a bunch of cameras to be shoved in her face—ha ha! you've been punk'd!—but no one popped out of any bushes. In fact, it seemed that the moment Ryder approached her the surrounding vicinity had emptied.

A pair of assistants across the way caught her eye, immediately went pale in the face, and quickly ducked in the opposite direction as if they had forgotten some important task.

She didn't know what to say, or how to say it, and so Parker just settled with an emphatic scoff. "No."

To that, Tom paused in his texting, and glanced up at her. This time, he was the one that looked bewildered. "What?"

"I said, no," she repeated a bit firmer this time. It felt a bit like sailing, though, and now that she had some wind beneath her sails she found her thoughts functioning once more. "Find someone else to get your cappuccino. Or, better yet, do it yourself."

His eyebrows furrowed crossly. "It was a flat white."

"Fucking great," she snarked, throwing her arms up at him because she didn't quite know what else to do. "There's a Starbucks right over there."

Tom's entire face scrunched up. Ironically, it wasn't an attractive look on him, and suddenly Parker was wondering if all the photo editing was necessary if that's what he normally looked like.

Arrogance was not a good look on anyone. No matter how tight the pants.

"It's your job."

"It's absolutely not," she snapped. He responded by straightening in his (her) seat, phone cast aside, but she cut him off before he could say anything else as equally ridiculous. "And, for the record, if someone ever talked to me like that at my real job, I would quit on the spot."

His features slackened in response.

Parker half wondered if he was hearing static now.

There was the sound of a bullhorn on the far side of the parking lot, and a whole train of people slowly started swarming the area as whatever scene they were filming ended. A pair of stuntmen ambled by, followed by some camera crew, and on the far edge of everything she saw a familiar head of hair step out of a truck.

Familiar as it was identical to the man sitting in front of her.

Not having anything else to say and not trusting herself not to get escorted off the premises for verbally berating the star actor, Parker just snatched her jacket out from behind him with a pointed glare before heading towards where she had last spotted Colt.

It took a bit of effort to dodge all of the people, equipment, and vehicles.

"Uh, hey!" he called after her. Just the sound of his voice seemed to scare some nearby crew into pretending they were busy, and Parker bit the inside of her cheek when she heard his sneakers scrambling after her. "Who do you think you are?"

"Who do you think you are?" she scoffed.

He appeared at her elbow, ducking at the last minute to avoid walking directly into a wooden panel that was being hefted by two burly men. "I'm Tom Ryder."

Bleh.

Parker almost gagged. "Jesus Christ. You can't be serious?"

"Are you—? Of course I'm serious. I am Tom Ryder!"

"That was a rhetorical question," she deadpanned. Something red and embarrassed colored his cheeks. Parker may have taken sympathy on him if he didn't immediately power through the feeling to glare at her. "Just because you're Tom Ryder doesn't mean you get to be an ass to people. Employees or not."

They paused in their argument as a full length mirror was carted in front of them, and with the tug of an elbow she didn't have a choice but to face him.

"I'm not an asshole," he stressed. Though, his tone and glare counteracted the statement no matter how much emphasis he put into it.

Parker rolled her eyes, pleased when the mirror moved past, and elected not to respond at all as she continued on her way. He followed with another, sharper scoff.

"I'm not!"

"No, you're just waiting on your cappuccino, right?" she retorted before squeezing between two tightly parked trailers.

"It was a flat white!" he called after her.

Parker waved a hand flippantly over her shoulder, happy that she had finally managed to shake him, before she was popping out on the opposite side. It was much less crowded here. Just a few assistants, some guys with sound equipment, and her brother chatting a little bit too closely with a pretty blonde woman.

When they didn't notice her approach she had to clear her throat.

The pair jumped apart. The woman, with a red blush on her cheeks, smoothed out her hair with a nervous smile. Colt, on the other hand, greeted Parker with his stereotypical 'no-thoughts-behind-those-eyes' grin.

"Hey, there you are. I was worried you got lost or something."

"Once or twice, but Venti was nice enough to keep me company while we waited for you to come back. Here's your phone," she handed over the device with a half-hearted tut. "Next time don't leave it at home when you have to be on set at a quarter to dawn."

Colt faked a wince. "Sorry. Thanks for bringing it."

Parker waved him off. It wasn't the first time that her brother had forgotten something important, and it certainly wouldn't be the last time. The woman he had been canoodling with was far more interesting a subject this early in the day.

"Hi," she said, sticking her hand out. "I'm Parker."

The blonde responded with a warm smile and a firm hand shake.

Pretty, she thought. Then with a glance at her brother the snarky voice added, too pretty for this idiot.

"Jody. You're Colt's sister?"

"Ah, that's what Mom and Dad told her," Colt joked, leaning towards Jody to add in a stage whisper. "Truthfully, they found her in a parking lot. Just crying in a cardboard box, covered in shit. Tragic, you know. But what can you do? The orphanage wasn't accepting anymore walk-ins so they just had to keep her."

Parker smacked him on the back of the head while Jody laughed.

"Hey, take it easy, Park. I think I still have a concussion from this morning's barrel roll," he whined while subtly rubbing a sore spot on his neck. He was covered in sand and fake glass, and Jody took a moment to brush it out of his hair. He was utterly pleased to have her touching him. Suddenly, the wounded look didn't feel so genuine. "My insurance doesn't cover domestic violence, you know."

"Does it cover domestic kissing?" she asked with a devious waggle of the eyebrows.

Jody immediately turned pink.

"You can leave now, Park," Colt deadpanned. He waved his phone at her pointedly. "Thanks for the delivery and everything, uh, see you at Christmas, have fun with whatever it is you spend your days doing—"

Parker swatted his hands away as he tried to usher her in the direction she had come. He whined at that as well—blowing air on his bruised and bloodied knuckles—while she slipped under his elbow to shoulder right up next to Jody.

"Want to get drinks?" she asked.

Jody blinked. First at Parker, then to Colt. "Er... right now?"

"After your shift. I have an over abundance of limes and mint at the moment thanks to my roommate. I could make us some mojitos. Share some childhood stories about Colt, maybe show you some high school yearbook pictures. He had a bowl cut until his twenties, you know."

"No, no, no," Colt intervened with a nervous chuckle. His bruised knuckles didn't seem to mind manhandling her by the neck as he tugged her away from Jody. "That's not—bowl cuts were cool here in America, but, uh... You don't need to talk to her, okay. Just ignore her, Jody. There's no need to take pity on her just because she was abandoned in a Walmart parking lot."

"Oh, it's Walmart now, is it?" she chirped while struggling in his hold. Jody bit her lip to hold in her laugh. "Last time it was Target. The time before that it was a Ralph Lauren."

"It's going to be a retirement home if you don't—"

"I love mojitos," Jody chimed in much to Parker's delight.

She grinned while Colt pinched the bridge of his nose in defeat.

"You really don't have to," he tried.

"I want to."

"Are you sure? Like sure sure. Because she was arrested once for stalking, you know. And lying. She's a big ole liar, this one."

"Oh," Jody giggled with a sparkle in her eye, "I'm very sure."

"Because—"

Colt and Jody's joking was cut off when Tom Ryder—gone, but not forgotten—appeared with a huff. He still didn't have his coffee, and it looked like the lack of caffeine wasn't helping his mood in the slightest. At the very least he was now wearing his shirt. "Is she bothering you, too? Do I need to call security?"

The three froze.

Colt swung his head between Ryder and his sister (who he now had in a head lock) while his eyes grew to cartoonish proportions.

"She bothered you?" he asked in a high-pitched voice. Parker pinched the sensitive spot on his hip when he squeezed her with his elbow, and Tom's eyebrows drifted all the way up his forehead when Colt let out an embarrassingly girlish squeal. Her brother did his best to save face by clearing his throat. "I, uh, I thought I told you not to talk to anyone, Park? Or bother anyone? Or do anything other than sit and wait for me!"

"I was waiting for you."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh, nothing. That's rich," he hissed down at her before planting a big smile on his face. As if he wasn't currently talking around the woman he had in a chokehold. "Sorry, Tom. She was just dropping something off for me. I told her to mind her own business, but she's never been all that good at doing what she was told. I'm pretty sure she should be in a med ward right now. Insomnia, pill addiction, the works. Nothing she says should be taken for granted. You know, one time she broke into a—"

"Okay, that's it," she sighed.

Then promptly elbowed her brother in the balls. Colt didn't have any air in his lungs to squeal, but they all watched him pitch forward with a noise that sounded suspiciously close to a gag.

She shot him a purely unimpressed look before straightening up, fixing her hair, and announcing, "I wasn't bothering him. I was minding my own business. He was bothering me."

Tom's jaw slackened in disbelief. "You called me an asshole!"

"You were being an asshole!"

"I'm Tom Ryder. I'm allowed to be an asshole if I want!"

Parker smirked. "Oh, so you admit it then. You were being an asshole."

He stuttered, unsure of how to respond to that, while Colt propped a finger in the air between them. He was still bent over in pain, breathing through his nose, as he added in a breathy voice, "you can be an asshole if you want."

The placation did nothing, and Tom's eyes bugged wide in disbelief as he shouted, "I wasn't being an asshole!"

The crewmen milling about all paused to glance at Tom; an assistant started yelling into her headset in the interim. Embarrassed, Tom took a few deep breaths while running a hand through his hair. Parker hated how easily his locks fell into perfect curls on his forehead. Effortless.

Hot.

Ugh! She really hated men.

There was a noise halfway between a giggle and a cough, and Parker peeked over her shoulder to find Jody smothering her amusement at the situation behind her hand. Her eyes still sparkled, though, and Parker was sure right then and there that she would get along just fine with Colt's new lady friend.

When Tom glanced at her, however, she pretended to swat away a bug with an innocent wide-eyed look.

"Sorry," she cleared her throat as professionally as she could manage. "There was a... fly."

Colt found his voice—and breath by then—and as he straightened to his full height he put on his best serious looking face. "Listen, man, I'm sorry about my sister. She's not even supposed to be here. I just forgot something at home and—"

"She's your sister?"

Colt hemmed and hawed. "Well, you know, not technically. There was this whole box-at-a-Walmart type situation but—we don't have to get into it," he waved a hand flippantly when he caught the bewildered furrow of Tom's eyebrows. "She was just about to leave. You'll never have to see her again. Who knows? Maybe she'll die of loneliness or something. Crazier things have happened."

Parker rolled her eyes at her brother's blatant ass kissing. It was pathetic, and a little bit embarrassing.

"I didn't know you had a sister," Tom said as he stared at her. There was a new light in his eyes; enlightened, maybe. Suspicious, definitely. Parker crossed her arms with a petulant huff through her nose. "I thought you were, like, an orphan."

"Why would you...?" Colt started, before shaking away the thought. "Nope. I got parents. And a sister. Obviously. A sister that was just about to leave. Right, Parker?"

She definitely could have hung around a little longer if she felt like being a right pain in the ass, but it wasn't even seven am, she had yet to eat breakfast, and she was getting a headache from being around someone that was so incredibly hot yet so incredibly awful. It was like her brain didn't know how to compute every time she looked at him.

Parker conceded with a sigh. "Yeah, I was just leaving."

"See?" he smiled. "She was just leaving."

She ignored her brother's pestering to smile at Jody. "It was nice meeting you. You can get my number from Colt, and I'll text you my address."

Despite the attention of Tom and Colt, Jody managed a genuine smile. "Brills. I'll see you later then. Assuming you don't die of loneliness between now and then."

Parker snorted. Jody giggled. Colt was still breathing steadily through his nose and trying not to puke.

"You can come too, dipwad," she reminded him tartly. Beside him Tom crossed one arm over the other with a sour look. She doubted he liked being talked over and not to, as well as having been called an asshole three times in a single conversation. To him she gave a pretty flap of the eyes. "You're not invited."

He ground his jaw at her, but she could see the flicker of annoyance to not be included in this little get together. "I'd rather eat dirt."

"You might have to if your coffee takes any longer," she chirped in response. Parker stuck around long enough for him to realize she was goading him before turning to leave. She waggled her fingers at him on her way past. "Break a leg!"

She was feeling pretty good about herself as she headed off in the direction that she had come from. There were even more people milling about now that the new scene was about to start. And just as she ducked past a truck of equipment, there was a shrill call of, "I have a flat white for Mr. Ryder!'

Parker peeked back just in time to watch him burn his tongue on the coffee.

Extra hot, indeed.

...............

The Fall Guy was one of the best movies I've seen in a while! As an OG Aaron Taylor-Johnson fangirl, I had to write this blurb just to get the itch out of my brain. No idea if I will transition this into something more or not. For now, please enjoy my brain itchiness and ATJ.

#plot bunny #the fall guy #tom ryder #original female character #tom ryder x oc #tom ryder imagine #au

[ramp-it-up]

Santa, Daddy

Paring: Chris Evans x Reader

Word count: 3K

Summary: Thanks to a bet with Scott, you are Santa’s Helper for the night.

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI. RPF, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. Not Beta’d. Consequences of a bet, Christmas party, suggestive outfit, drinking, getting wasted, continued flirting, dirty Christmas list (sex toys), suggestion of anal, oral (f receiving) p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) Daddy kink, Good girl kink, breast play, copious cum, praise, dirty talk.

A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

“I triple dog dare you.”

You rolled your eyes as Scott ‘oohed’ at his own dare.

“There are kids in there, Scott!”

“As soon as Chris passes out the presents, they are going to be going home to get in bed for the real Santa. No young minds corrupted..”

Scott was too sure of himself.

You peeked out to the living room where Chris was holding court with the Evans and Capuano clan children. He looked perfect, the padded Santa suit, wig and beard complimenting his pale complexion. And the voice. He was a good actor.

Meanwhile, you were standing in Chris’s bedroom, staring at a box on the bed which contained something his brother, (who was also your first best friend in Boston) ordered for you. You looked down at the skimpy Santa’s little helper costume and bit your lip.

It was all going to be on display out there.

“You owe me one, unless you’re too chickenshit…”

“Fuck you Evans. I’ll do it, but not until the minors are gone.”

“Thank you for honoring your bet. You said you’d serve my drinks, anytime, anywhere, when we bet on the game.”

You shook your head. You had been shitfaced when you came over to Chris’ house for the Patriots-Giants game in August. You didn’t think an innocent bet would cost this much.

“I hate you Scott.”

“I love you too, now I want to see that body ody ody.”

“Shut the fuck up. And get out.”

“Alright. I’ll text you when the kids are gone.”

You looked at yourself in one of Chris’s many mirrors. You weren’t ashamed of your body, and while you weren’t shitfaced just yet, you were mellow enough to not have any of your normal body image issues.

The bathroom was full of the smell of Chris. As you inhaled the scent of him, you thought about the fact that Scott always accused you and Chris of having a thing for each other. 

It was ridiculous. 

Just because you and Chris shared long looks, you always leaned your head on his shoulder and clutched his arm when you were watching a movie, and yes, he always gave you a forehead kiss goodnight when you left his house but that meant nothing.

There was nothing to Scott’s accusation, except for the fact that you were gone on Chris and wanted to fuck his brains out.

But you knew what happened to the women he brought around. You never saw them again. You didn’t want to lose your friends. Fucking Chris wasn’t worth it. Even if you did have feelings for him.

You turned back to the box on the bed, feeling a different kind of way about wearing the outfit therein.

30 minutes later, five minutes after Scott texted you, you came out of Chris’s bedroom in the outfit.

Scott and company whistled, clapped and stomped their feet when you emerged as Chris stripped off the hat, wig, and beard. When he saw you walking over to the bar with your ass practically all the way out, Chris’s mouth hinged open.

You looked at him over your shoulder and Chris took it as an invitation.

“The bar is open.”

You announced it, and Chris thought that it was a sign. He sauntered over, still in the padded red suit.

You batted your eyes at him as he approached.

“Aren’t you just Santa’s little helper?”

You smiled.

“What would you like, Chris?”

The bet was service with a smile, so you were playing nice. Scott was eagle eyeing you and Chris from across the room.

Chris licked his lips wolfishly.

“I’m not going to say what I’d like, but I’ll have a vodka cranberry right now.”

You served it up while Chris blatantly ogled you. You weren’t mad at him. You tried to keep your mind pure and didn’t flirt as you worked.

“Scott came up with a good bet this time. It seems like we all won.” 

Chris’s eyes moved from your black platform high heeled boots with the fur to your barely there black-laced teddy showcasing your apple bottom, to your red hat hanging jauntily off your mountain of hair. 

“Holy shit, you’re so hot...”

Chris’s blue eyes tried to capture you as you drank and you pushed away from him and the bar as Scott beckoned you over. You tossed Chris another look over your shoulder as you took Scott a beer.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Wonder what else you can take?” 

Chris said it half to himself but he saw your smirk in response.

Chris played Santa for a while longer, hosting friends on his lap and asking what they wanted for Christmas. You played helper, standing beside them for pictures. Your turn was last. You looked at Chris’s wide open legs and thanked whatever god was in heaven.

“What do you want for Christmas, little girl?”

You sat on Chris’s lap, as demurely as you could, your ass on one of his large thighs. You knew that you were getting hot and wet by sitting this close to his dick, and you could swear that you could feel it on your leg. You kept trying to scoot off of it, but Chris grabbed you closer. You narrowed your eyes and he grinned as you became sure of what he was doing.

Okay, he wanted to play. You would play.

“Well, SantaChris, I either want a good Daddy with a thick dick or a new purple deep thrusting wand so I can get off. Haven’t had good dick in a while.”

Everyone was busy getting wasted and you were speaking low, so no one heard what you said.

Chris didn’t think you’d come like that. He gulped.

“Uh… ummmm. I- I- I think I can manage that. Deep thrusting you say?”

You managed your best innocent look and batted your eyes up at him. You felt his cock swell on your leg.  

“Yes. I like it hard, deep, and rough. Can I also ask for a new vibrating butt plug?” 

You tapped your hand on your chin and looked at him questioningly. Chris eyes were dilated and his mouth was open.

“Fuck yeah.”

He practically moaned, then cleared his throat.

“I mean, yes, little girl. Have you been good?”

You smiled at Chris and then leaned in, swerving to his ear as he puckered up for a kiss.

“Well Santa, that's for my Daddy to decide.”

Your sultry whisper made Chris’ brain short circuit and you were up off his lap before he could grab you and take you into his room.

—--

Chris was thankful for the padding in the Santa suit; he walked around for the rest of the night with his cock hard. He always knew you were gorgeous, thick and seemingly soft in just the right places. He knew that body was banging. When he had to jack off, it was frequently to you and after tonight, there was no other choice. 

The problem was that Chris didn’t want to ruin the friendship. You were fine, but you were also smart and funny and if he risked hitting on you seriously, you might disappear. You were worth more to him than those random hookups.

As a result, he relished movie nights, ogling you from across the room, and your drunken debates with Scott. Kissing you on the forehead after a fun night with the homies was the closest he came to admitting his feelings. 

One day, he promised himself.

But here you were tonight, Christmas Eve, wrapped up seemingly just for him. And the presents you asked for! Surely that was an invitation, right? Or were you just fucking with him?

Damn, he wished you’d fuck with him.

For the rest of the evening, you and Chris did this dance. Literally for your friends’ cameras and private IG accounts when you hammed it up to some christmas music, and figuratively as you two eye fucked each other from afar, your usual cadence knocked into overdrive.

Chris’s Santa outfit came off, bit by bit, until he was in a wife beater, suspenders and the huge red pants and boots as he partied with his friends.

He was walking around, holding his crotch and acting like a frat boy, as he does, and you were loose, giving people lapdances while staring at Chris. The energy was on a thousand as the night ended. 

You announced that you were changing while Scott and his boyfriend waited for you. You, them, and Chris were the last four people in his house. 

“Do me a favor. Both of you walk your asses to the kitchen and drink at least 12 ounces of water before we leave. I want to see you start sobering up, now.”

“I’m not too wasted, Scotty. My dick is still hard.” 

Chris grabbed himself through the red velvet and you giggled as he followed you into the kitchen to get some bottles of water.

Chris watched your mouth wrap around the water bottle.

“Fuck! I want those lips around my cock.”

He practically yelled it as you sputtered your water and coughed.

“What?”

Chris was staring at you.

“What?” He looked at you questioningly. “Oh shit, did I say that out loud?”

The door closed in the living room and you went to see that Scott and his guy were gone.

“Yes, you practically yelled it, and now Scott thinks we’re trying to get busy!”

You went to the door to see Scott’s taillights.

“There goes my ride.”

You stepped to Chris and glared up at him, hands on your bare hips.

“Fuck you Chris, you better get me an Uber!”

Your finger was in his face and Chris stared at you.

“Yes, and no.”

His voice was extra deep and menacing.

“What the hell?”

“I’ll take you up on the first and say no to the second. I’d fuck you in a minute, and I don’t want you to leave.”

Chris stepped to you.

“You feel the same, yeah?”

You tried to step back, but Chris followed you.

“You’re being ridiculous, Christopher.”

You crossed your arms and cocked your hip, not realizing that it enhanced your curves. Chris looked down and licked those cherry red lips. He caught you staring and gave you a sexy side smile.

“Am I? See something you like, Beautiful?”

Your eyes met his and that was a mistake. He saw the emotion in yours and you felt like jello as his deep voice began to rumble through you.

“You want a Daddy to fuck you hard and rough and deep, in all your holes? Did I hear you right?”

He was closer than close now, and your hands were on his chest now, your brain telling you to push him away, but your pussy making you feel up his pecs. You shook your head no.

“A thick Daddy.”

Chris looked up at the ceiling. 

“Ohhhh. A thick Daddy.”

You stared at his Adam's apple and wanted to suck it. Chris took one of your hands in his and brought it down to his crotch. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you held his hard, throbbing length.

“That thick enough?”

You whimpered as Chris’s mouth crashed on yours. The kiss was intense, and your mouth was claimed by one of your best friends. Your mind emptied of all thought as Chris’s hands went everywhere on your body, everywhere his eyes had been all night.

“Do you want this?” 

You didn’t expect Chris to pull away, but he did, needing to verify your want before he let years of anticipation loose.

“Absolutely.” 

Your smile was upside down as Chris threw you over your shoulder and took you back into his bedroom. You were thrown on the bed as Chris reached for his suspenders and disrobed down to his boxer briefs. You licked your lips at the story his stiff cock was telling through his garments and unconsciously let your legs fall open. 

Chris fell to his knees and immediately pushed his nose into you, sniffing and giving your pussy pecks through the sequined material.

“Good god, I’ve wanted this forever,” Chris told you as his hands moved up your legs to your thighs, to grasp the crotch of your outfit and tear it.

“Hey!”

“I need to determine if you’re a good girl or not. I’ll get you another outfit, if you want one.”

You leaned up to watch Chris start to devour your cunt with that mouth, tongue collecting your liquid and mouth slurping; it was like a dehydrated man drinking from a fountain.

All the while he kept eye contact until you couldn’t do it anymore. You grabbed his hair, threw your head back, closed your eyes, and moaned as you came into his mouth. Chris brought his thick fingers up to fuck you through it and the prolonged orgasm knocked your flat on your back.

“Mmmmmm. A very, very, very, very, good girl you are.”

You opened your eyes to the sensation of the head of Chris’s cock at your entrance as he tore the rest of your outfit off you. He grabbed your breasts as he slid slowly inside your generous wetness, your face a silent, erotic scream at the stretch.

“Looks like it’s thick enough. Good. Girl. Good fucking girl.” 

Chris rolled your nipples and you arched into his hands as he rotated his hips, then slowly pulled out and then in again, fucking you thouroughly, deeply, but slowly.

“Ohhhhhhh. Shit. Dadddyyyyy!!!”

You started gasping for breath at the sensations you were feeling.

“That’s it. Only ever imagined that face as I gave you this cock. Fuck. Reality is so much better than my mind and hand. So fucking tight for me. Taking me so well.”

Chris looked down at your cunt clenching down around him, and the cream you were giving him.

“Suchhhh a fucking good girl.” 

He looked back up again.

“And those tits.”

He started pounding even harder and your tits started bouncing.

Your only response was his name.

“Chris!”

“Oh my god this is heaven.”

When his thumb went to flick your clit, was when you lost it all around him again. Chris held your hips and continued to fuck you deep and hard through your orgasm. He held on as you shuddered around him, eyes dilated, and mouth open. You pulsed again as he spit on your clit and rubbed it into your sensitive flesh. He looked up at you. Those blues were piercing.

“Mine.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Shhhhiittttt!”

Chris’s eyes rolled and his rhythm sped up a bit as he almost lost control at your words but he stopped and gathered himself together, letting you both feel the pounding of your cock together. Then he pulled out. He twisted your nipple with one hand and stroked his wet dick with another.

“You are so fucking hot. This cock is ruined for you.” 

His voice was so sweet.

“Let me suck my juices off, Daddy.”

Chris’s eyes went wide and his hand seemed to blur as he stroked his cock faster. He twisted your nipple hard, then smacked it.

“No, fuck…. Shit…. no, I’d cum down your throat…”

You had him out of control as you sat up.

“If you want to, Daddy.”

You licked your lips in front of him, but you didn’t move, just stared up with those eyes.

“Holy shit, I want to, fuckkkk, I really wanna, but I’m gonna finish inside you tonight. Turn the fuck around, lemme see that ass. Gotta get a condom…”

“No you don't, Daddy. I have an IUD.”

Chris growled.

“Fucking perfect…  on your knees.”

“So goddam beautiful…”

You presented your ass to him and his throbbing member was quickly at your entrance. He sank inside you to the hilt, then grabbed your hair. He leaned down to your ear.

“You like it rough?”

“Yes, Daddy!”

“Hang on.”

Chris drew back, almost completely out of you, then, he starting fucking you. Hard. Deep. Thorough. It was everything you wanted and needed.

“Oh myyyy….Gooood Godddddd!”

You were cumming almost immediately and Chris slapped your ass.

“Shit, this feels so…Ummmmmmm! I can’t…. I can’t stop now.”

He started getting sloppy and you knew he was right there with you. 

But you had to ask.

“Can I cum, Daddy???”

Your whiny baby voice pushed him over the edge.

“Absofuckinglutely. My good fucking girllllll!”

Chris emptied so much cum into you that it started leaking out and down your legs as you collapsed on the bed, Chris still inside you. You were still shaking and vibrating as he held you tight, kissing the back of your neck.

“Shit, Chris…” 

You couldn’t stop trembling. He held you tighter and pulled the comforter over both of you, half unmaking the bed.

“I know, darlin’. So so good. Damn. Why haven’t we done this sooner?”

He really couldn’t think of a good reason.

“Friendship…” 

You were slipping over the edge of consciousness.

“Oh yeah, that. Yeah. Don’t wanna be your friend anymore. You gotta be my girl...”

Chris’s voice was sleepy too.

“Haha….you’re funny…”

You giggled and fell asleep, listening to Chris snore as he softened inside you.

The next morning, you woke up, sunlight slicing through your eyelids and your head. You groaned and rolled over, immediately realizing what happened. You looked around for Chris, who was gone.

You gingerly got up and went to the bathroom, starting the shower to get cleaned up. You were dreading facing him. He was probably just waiting for you to be done to call the Uber.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, he was there, handing you a robe, some aspirin, and some water.

He kissed you on the forehead.

“Merry Christmas!”

You were reticent and replied a subdued “Merry Christmas” in return. 

He sighed and shook his head, smiling at you.

“Don’t even overthink it. Yes, we did that, and yes, I said that.”

Chris raised his eyebrow at you.

“Now are you ready to stop fucking around and do this thing?”

You sipped your water and pretended to think as you took the aspirin.

“Well it is Christmas. And it seems my wish has come true.”

You smiled wide and Chris let out a breath.

“Good. Now let me cross that wand off your list. No need for that ever again.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Well then, be a good girl and don’t close your eyes.”

Chris grabbed the tie of your robe and led you back into the shower.

Reblog this shit, Boo! 😘

#dj’salliwant4kchristmas22 #ask dj #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans rpf #chris evans x you #scott evans

[malarkgirlypop]

He's the Boss Part 4 (Bull Randleman x F!Reader)

WELL WELL FUCKING WELL. Jesus christ I have been looking at this part 4 in my wips for ages. Finally got an idea, that then may have spiralled into a whole fucking rabbit hole, but lol here we are! But anyway it's done, woooh, we get a bit of Cowboy Bull thrown in so that's fun! I hope you all enjoy the last instalment of this Bull series. But not to worry, I love Bull and I'm sure I will write another one for him. We need more Bull content goddammit! if this is bad don't tell me lol

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to the people involved.

Tag list: @footprintsinthesxnd, @vikinglover07, @next-autopsy, @panzershrike-pretz, @xxluckystrike, @bucky32557038ww2, @b00ks1ut, @paula-912 (I can't remember of anyone else has asked to be tagged, if you have please remind me, I'm so bad!)

I finally left the room. Bull and I talked for hours laying together on his bed. I looked at the time it was four in the morning, I knew I had to leave before everyone else got up. It wouldn’t be a good look sneaking out the Seargents room in the early hours of the morning, looking freshly fucked. 

“I have to go.” I whispered trying to get out of bed, Bull pulled me back down onto the bed kissing me gently on the lips. I groaned in frustration, he was making it very hard to leave, and he knew it. He watched me intently as I got dressed again, laughing at me as I scoured around for where I had thrown my bra. He was enjoying the show. 

I waved goodbye sneaking out of the room, closing the door quietly behind me. I walked down the hall, the realisation of what just happened hitting me. I couldn’t help but grin, I skipped down to my room. I shut the door behind me, flopping down onto my bed. I glanced at the time, “Ugh I have to be up in 3 hours.” It was a later start on the Saturday but we still had duties to attend even if there was nothing to do here in Austria. We were still waiting for the German army to surrender, but even then we weren’t set on going home after that, they were still fighting over in the Pacific. I fell fast asleep under my covers being so tired from the events prior. 

My alarm blared next to me, I groaned rolling over wrapping my pillow around my head to block out the annoying noise. I sat up smacking the clock off.  A knock rapped on my door, George didn’t wait to be invited in, waltzing into the room and shutting the door behind him. He flopped down onto the bed next to me. 

“We gotta get up, Y/N.” He moaned into the pillow, I peeked my eye open at him, he looked like a bus had hit him. His hair all tousled and dark circles under his eyes. 

“No.” I mumble into the pillow, pulling the covers over my head. He pulled them back down inspecting my face.  

“Why do you look so tired, you barely drunk anything?” He squinted at me. 

“I didn’t get to bed till late. Do we have to get up?” I asked, enjoying the warmth under the blanket. I was so cosy I didn't want to leave my little nest I had made.

He raised his head from the pillow scanning my features, his brows furrowed together in concentration. “What do you mean, you didn’t get to bed till late? We got home at the same time. You and Bull put me to bed. You and Bull. YOU AND BULL!” I flinched away from the man as he pounced on top of me pinning me to the bed. 

“Shhh, George!” I said trying to cover his mouth which hung open. 

“I just didn’t sleep well is all.” I lied, pushing him off of me. I threw the covers back, hastily getting changed into my uniform while George looked at me, I could see from here the cogs turning in his brain. 

“Stop thinking so much, you’ll hurt yourself.” I threw the pillow that had fallen off the bed at his face.    

—--------------

We walked down the hall together, “So nothing happened last night?” George asked for the umpteenth time. 

“George, would you quit it! I told you. After I put you to bed, Bull and I had a drink and then we parted ways.” He looked at me suspiciously, still not believing the story I had told him. 

—--------------

We made it to the mess hall in time for breakfast, standing in line for our food. Luz spoke cheerily with the other men, seemingly forgetting about the terrible hangover he had. I grabbed a few things off the table that had been prepared, popping them on my plate. My eyes constantly flitted to the door waiting for Bull to walk in. Even though I had only seen him a couple hours ago, I desperately wanted to see him again. Send him a little smile or wink as he walks in. A look that we shared that no one else knew but us. 

I sat down at the table with the rest of the Easy men joining George and I. They all chatted as I nibbled, patiently waiting for Bull to arrive. But he never did, his tall frame never coming into view. He had missed breakfast all together.

“Hey little bird!” George snapped his fingers in front of my face, pulling me from my focus on the door. I looked at him, confusion on my face.

“We are leaving, come on!” George said as I looked around the table we were the only ones left there. 

“Why did you call me little bird?” I asked standing, following George with my plate and putting it on the counter to be returned. 

“Cause you were nibbling on one piece of toast all of breakfast like a little bird.” George said over his shoulder as we walked out of the mess hall. I sighed trailing behind. I had wanted to see Bull so bad, but I know he’s a busy man.

We walked through the buildings, I walked behind George sighing loudly and scraping my feet. George walked briskly ahead, only turning around occasionally to check I was still meandering behind him. Another sigh left my mouth but it was quickly stopped as my arm swinging by my side was snatched up swiftly. My eyes widened as I went to scream, but a large hand covered my mouth stopping any noise from leaving my throat. I was dragged behind one of the walls of the houses we were walking through. I struggled tirelessly against the firm hold that had me, with no success. This person who had me was very much stronger and bigger than me.  

“Easy there!” The warm timbre of the voice stilled me. I knew that voice anywhere. His hands set me free as soon as I stopped struggling. I swung around to face Bull. I crossed my arms over my chest trying to appear annoyed, but the grin on my face gave me away. 

“What on earth are you doing, Bull?” I asked him. He grinned down at me. 

“Come with me.” He replied, gently taking my hand in his leading me away. 

“Where?” I queried, but I let him take me. I held onto his hand following behind my question still left unanswered. All he did was smile at me, his face beamed with excitement. 

We walked for a bit, leaving the buildings behind we were staying in. He walked us onto a gravel road in between rolling fields. We walked all the way down the road, hand in hand, enjoying the scenery. We finally came to a stop under a tall tree, its branches so wide and thick it shaded us from the hot sun. 

“Are we here? Is this it?” I asked again. Bull nodded, hopping the wooden fence with ease. 

“Bull! What are you doing?” I asked in a hushed voice even though no one else was around to hear us. We hadn’t seen people since we had left the town. 

“Come on, it's this way.” He held out his hand for me to help me climb over the fence. I stepped from one foot to the other, looking around to see if we would get caught. 

“You trust me don’t you?” He said hand still reaching out for me. I sighed nodding, I did trust him. I climbed over the fence, Bull lifting me off the other side, once I had reached the top, and placing me gently on the ground. We walked into the field, the edges lined with pine trees. It seemed to sprawl for miles, filled with lush green grass and patches of wildflowers and trees here and there. 

I watched as Bull placed his thumb and index finger in his mouth in a ‘o’ shape. I tilted my head curiously, but soon figured out what he was doing, when a loud whistle left his lips. I stared at him as he swung around sending me a wink. I heard the sound of heavy footfalls racing towards us. There in the distance a horse sprinted towards us. It nickered and whinnied as it ran. It arrived stopping right in front of Bull. It pushed its head into him, as he lifted his hand to pat it. 

“Come on over, he’s not scary.” Bull beckoned me over, as I stood wearily to the side. I moved closer, reaching out for the horse to smell me. He snorted softly pushing his head against my hand as I stroked the bridge of his nose. 

“I don’t know what his real name is but I call him Randy.” He told me. I couldn’t help the laugh that left my lips. 

“What?” He asked, looking confused.    

“Randy, I love it!” I laughed more, hiding my chuckles behind my hand. 

“Well it’s Sir Randy to you, if you’re going to take that attitude!” He said with a serious tone. I couldn’t help but throw my head back in laughter at his antics.  

“Hello Randy.” I cooed as I patted the horse. I watched Bull raise one eyebrow, not looking impressed. 

“My deepest apologies, Sir Randy.” I bowed deeply to the horse to show my respect for his title. Now it was Bull’s turn to laugh as he watched me. 

“Alright, you ready?” Bull asked, I looked at him puzzled. We hadn't been here more than five minutes and he was ready to leave. 

“Are we going already? I asked, a pout on my lips. I didn’t want to go just yet. Bull smiled walking towards me. His arms wrapped me in a tight hug, as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. I rested my head on his chest looking up at him. Bull’s head dipped down, his lips finding mine. He kissed me softly, letting the touch linger before pulling away.  

“You’re so cute.” He hummed lowly in my ear, sending butterflies swirling in my stomach. 

“No we aren’t leaving. We’re going for a ride!” Bull beamed down at me, my brows knitted together as I pieced it all together in my head. 

“We’re riding Randy?” I asked. He nodded. My eyes widened. “I haven’t ridden a horse before! Also whose horse is this? Are we allowed?” The questions tumbled from my lips in quick succession. 

“Yes we are riding Randy. It’s fine the owner will never know. And who cares if we are allowed or not, it’s fun.” Bull moved away walking back over to the horse, patting Randy on his back. The horse snorted in response. Bull turned back and looked at me, “Plus I have seen how you ride, you’ll be fine.” He sent me a cheeky wink. My cheeks flushed pink, a giggle leaving my mouth. 

“You’re up first.” Bull said to me as I made my way over. Bull clasped his hands together for me to step into, he boosted me up onto the horse. I sat on Randy’s back, feeling unsteady since there was no saddle for me to sit in. 

“Can you ride bareback?” I asked, looking down at him. Bull grinned, sending me a wink.

“Not like that!” I swatted at him with my hand, but he dodged me easily.   

“Yeah. I used to ride bareback all the time, back at the farm.” He said as he hoisted himself up onto the horse, his large frame sitting in front of me. I wrapped my arms around his waist, leaning my head into his back. 

Bull clicked his tongue nudging Randy in the side. The horse snorted and started walking forward. 

“Where are you going to take me?” I asked from behind him, craning my neck up to see over his shoulder. But his torso being so much longer than mine made the task difficult. I opted to look out at the side view, since I couldn’t see a thing in front of me. 

“Well I saw this nice creek, looked good for a dip.” Bull said in his country drawl. I didn’t have time to react to his comment, before he kicked the horse in the side. 

“Heyah!” He yelled, Randy took off in a sprint. I yelped in surprise, holding on tightly to Bull. Randy cantered through the field leading us to a gate, we passed through it quickly. I was trying to admire the view but it all just blurred past due to the speed at which we were going. I held on for dear life, but felt safe with Bull handling the horse. 

We finally reached the small creek, willow trees swayed in the breeze, their long branches reaching down and touching the water. 

“Oh, Bull, this is stunning.” I said, casting my gaze around at the scenic view. He dismounted the horse easily, landing steady footed on the ground. Before I knew it, I was being plucked off of Randy. Bull’s strong hands taking under my arms and lifting me gently to the ground. He placed me on my feet in front of him. 

I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. I leant forward, kissing him gently. But Bull seemed to have other plans, his mouth taking mine hungrily. I moaned into his mouth as he kissed me deeper. His hand finding the buttons of my top, I pulled back laughing, swatting his hands away from me.

“Hey! We can’t do it here! What if we are caught?” I blushed thinking about being caught in that certain predicament with Bull. 

“Oh no ma’am, that wasn’t my intention.” Bull grinned a cheeky smile. 

“And then tell me good sir. What was your intention?” I asked prodding his chest with my finger. Bull grabbed my wrist, pulling me in closer. 

“I was just helping you get undressed. We are going for a dip after all.” He laughed heartily, the noise sending shivers up my spine. 

“Well, last one in is a rotten egg!” I squeal, charging down the grass towards the creek. Flinging my clothes off as I went. Bull wasn’t far behind, shedding his own attire just as quickly. 

“I’ll get you, Y/N!” Bull laughed as he chased behind me. 

“I would like to see you try!” I screamed as he scooped me up in one foul swoop. 

Bull ran into the warm water, with me still in his arms half naked. I snuggled in closer to his chest. Running my hands down his torso. 

“Can we stay like this forever?” I asked, kissing him softly on the lips. 

“Always!” Bull smiled down at me, his sweet eyes creasing at the sides. His lips pressed against mine. “I promise.”         

#YEEHAW #SADDLE UP PARTNER #IT AIN'T MY FIRST TIME AT THE RODEO #IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN #DO YOU? #IF YOU DO TELL ME #CAUSE IDK WHAT I AM SAYING #band of brothers #hbo war #bull randleman x reader #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #fanfic

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 15

summary: Chucho pulls out the photo albums and takes you down memory lane to show and tell you about Javier growing up.

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, Soft Javier Peña, Protective Javier Peña, unprotected P in V (wrap it up!), cockwarming, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, getting caught (kinda), emotions, death of a parent/grief, past relationship trauma (Javier), PTSD, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional hurt/comfort, Chucho roasting Javier, horseback riding, feelings, Javier saying incredibly romantic things, some Reader background)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 22.9k

a/n: Hello there! I know this one is long, but I was determined to finish the ranch arc, so think of it as two chapters just squished together. It is an emotional journey of Javier having to deal with his past, so buckle up (maybe keep tissues nearby), and I hope you enjoy (it’s Javi and Cielito, so there’s, of course, humor threaded throughout)! Thank you to @juletheghoul for looking this over and always being by my side. I love you.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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“I feel like a fucking teenager again,” Javier’s words were whispered into the warm summer air, his big hand holding yours tightly as he pulled you behind him, walking quietly around the side of his dad’s house to get to the front door.

“Sneaking girls back into the house after you fucked their brains out?” you asked just as quietly. “Must have been a frequent occurrence.”

“Not that frequent,” he answered, glancing at you over his shoulder with a smile—his hair was a mess, even after you used your fingers to try and fix it, his face still shiny with your slick, from when he bent you over some hay bales and ate you out.

That was the reason for the two of you being so covert—you both looked just fucked, and weren’t wanting to risk running into his father, trying to avoid the embarrassment of him finding out what the two of you had been up to in the hayloft.

God, the hayloft.

The sensation of Javi pressing his thumb into your ass while fucking you from behind had you ascending to another plane of existence, coming so hard you were pretty sure you lost consciousness for a few seconds.

“Sure, Javi,” you teased. “With the way you fuck, I’d be begging you to take me to the hayloft all the time,” you said with a wink.

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

He preened at that, making you snort, his attention turning forward again as you made it to the front of the house, unable to help softly humming a song under your breath as he led you up the porch steps. Letting go of your hand, he went to peek through the living room window, his head moving to try and get a good visual before he was returning to you.

“What are you humming?” he asked in a whisper, an eyebrow raised.

“Mission Impossible theme,” you whispered back. “You know that Tom Cruise movie where he’s a spy, and then when he’s doing spy shit, that catchy as fuck music plays? I thought it fit the situation.”

He snorted.

“Fucking Tom Cruise,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes, and it made you grin, his distaste for the actor always amusing you.

His focus went back to the situation at hand, seeing the shift on his face as he went into mission mode, his eyebrows pulling together.

It was adorable how serious he was being about the whole thing, just to make sure you weren’t put into an awkward spot with his dad.

“We gotta be quiet,” he said. “Pop’s not in the living room, thank fuck, so either kitchen or back of the house. We can slip right in unnoticed.”

“Okay,” you replied, nodding your head. “We’ve got this.”

He smiled, reaching to squeeze your arms with his hands.

“We do.” He nodded.

Following him to the front door, he slowly opened the screen, ensuring it didn’t squeal too loud, before looking through the door’s window to see that the coast was clear, having a better vantage point of the back hallway and dining room. You thanked the stars they kept the front door unlocked during the day, Javi turning the doorknob and carefully getting it opened. You moved past him as quickly and silently as possible to his bedroom nestled off the side of the entryway, hearing Javi gently close the doors, hot on your heels.

You’d just gotten his bedroom door open when an arm wrapped around your middle, and your feet left the ground as you were bodily moved into the room, hearing the sounds of footsteps nearby, Javi carefully closing the door behind you both to make sure it made no sound.

Muffled noises of the television coming to life in the living room had your heart pounding in your chest, eyes wide, now safely standing on your own again as Javi flicked on the light switch to illuminate the room.

“Did he see us?” you whispered, turning to face him.

“No.” He shook his head.

“Thank god,” you replied. “That was fucking close.”

He ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck, “Sorry,” he mumbled.

You pressed your palm to his cheek, his eyes meeting yours.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” you reassured with a warm smile. “Honestly, it makes me kinda horny being in here without your dad knowing.” That made his face light up. “What have you done to me? Letting you play with my ass, getting me to fuck in cars and haylofts, making me seriously consider letting you have your way with me right now. You’ve created a monster—a horny monster.”

He moved into your space, grabbing hold of your hips to pull you into him, his eyes on yours.

“Nothing monstrous about you, baby,” he rasped, smirking. “You’re sexy as hell—no me puedo controlar cuando estoy contigo; I can’t control myself when I’m with you.”

“Honestly, same. But we better learn some kind of control, or we’re gonna get caught,” you said, poking his chest.

“Never. Won’t let anything happen,” he promised, and from the way he was looking at you, you saw the truth in his words, your body feeling all warm and fuzzy. “I really wanna kiss you,” he continued. “Go take care of yourself in the bathroom, so I can wash my face.” Squeezing your ass to punctuate his sentence, making you giggle softly.

“Yes, Papí,” you teased, smiling.

He groaned, eyes closing for a moment.

“Gets me every fucking time,” he said, sounding pained.

“I know—now you know how I feel being called your good girl.”

He looked at you with darkened eyes.

“Goes straight to my dick,” he replied.

“Goes straight to my pussy.”

“Go clean up,” he said, lightly smacking your asscheek. “Wanna kiss you so fucking bad.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going.”

Stepping away from him, you made your way to the en suite, looking over at him before you went through the door, seeing him standing there, his eyes roving over your body appreciatively, the clear want in his gaze, and when they locked on your own they softened—the tender thoughts swirling around in his brain evident in those dark pools, making your chest go tight.

Sometimes it was too much, to have someone look at you with such apparent devotion, and you found yourself walking into the bathroom to escape the intensity, shutting the door behind you softly as you went about taking care of your needs. After washing your hands, you fixed your hair in the mirror, making sure you didn’t look like you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life, and once satisfied, you went back into the bedroom, finding Javi hadn’t moved.

“It’s all yours,” you whispered, pointing through the door.

Long strides had him closing the distance quickly, his body practically pressed against yours when he stopped. Your eyes were on each others, feeling the tension, the want to touch one another, and the two of you fighting it, your fists clenched tight at your sides.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Please, don’t leave.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He smiled, nodding his head before slipping into the bathroom, the door closing with a soft click.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your hands down your dress, glancing around the room.

It felt like a time capsule of a younger Javi—the Fleetwood Mac and Farrah Fawcett posters telling you he enjoyed live music, pretty girls, and having fun. From what you could see, the only noticeable changes were the books added to his bookshelf over the years, showing him aging and maturing, going from reading fantastical adventures of hobbits and wizards to biographies of social justice warriors, which wasn’t a bad thing, but it made you feel like at some point he stopped seeing the magic in the world, and things became black and white.

You frowned as you gravitated towards one of the bedside tables, knowing it was the side he slept on, with the book resting on the tabletop and a pair of reading glasses beside it, both situated near an antique lamp.

Picking up the glasses, you looked at them for a moment, unaware your boyfriend had any issues with his sight. But, now that you were thinking about it, he did get squinty when reading things sometimes.

You smiled at learning something new about him, setting them down, your hand moving to pull open the drawer. Your eyes scanned over the treasures, finding an opened pack of cigarettes, an ashtray, an almost empty pack of nicotine gum, a bottle of ibuprofen, and something that had your eyebrows furrowing, reaching your hand inside to pull it out.

The red-beaded rosary slipped through your fingers as you held it up, the shiny silver cross dangling in front of your eyes as you gazed at it.

Javi had never led you to believe that he was a practicing catholic, or even a casual catholic. To be honest, he didn’t seem religious at all, but you knew he grew up going to Sunday mass with his parents. Finding the rosary beads was a surprise, for sure. The thing that confused you was there being no sign of tarnish—no sign that these had been sitting in a drawer for years, collecting dust as something from a past life.

The silver was shiny and clean as if it’d been lovingly cared for.

You heard the bathroom door open behind you, Javi’s cowboy boots click-clacking across the hardwood floor as he made his way toward you.

Turning on your heel, you faced him, your eyebrows still scrunched together, seeing his eyes move from your face to the rosary in your hand, his mouth turning down in a frown.

“How did you walk into the house so quietly?” you whispered. “Your boots are loud.”

Confusion came over his features like he hadn’t been expecting that question.

“I walk carefully…” he said slowly. “You’re not asking about that?” He pointed at what you were holding.

“Oh, yes. I’m very intrigued by this,” you said, holding it up. “I didn’t think you were religious?”

“I’m not,” he said with a shake of his head. He sighed, perching his hands on his hips, putting his weight to one side as he looked at you with a hardened expression, his jaw clenching, anger simmering in his tone when he spoke again. “Kinda stop believing all that shit when you’ve seen the things I’ve seen, and know firsthand just how fucked up the world is.”

His response had you taken aback, making you frown, and an uneasy feeling taking up space in your stomach at almost not recognizing him as your Javi—not with the hard look on his face like he was remembering all the horrible things he’d witnessed.

Was Colombia when Javi’s outlook on the world changed?

From this reaction, you were thinking that might be correct; it took everything in you not to go to him and smother him in kisses until he forgot, and to bring him back to you, but you could tell there was more he wanted to say.

He looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“Those were my mom’s,” he softly said. “She, uh, gave them to me before she died.” He met your gaze again, seeing the open sadness in him. “Took them back with me to Colombia—the only thing I had of hers.” He had to take a deep breath. “She’d pray for me with them,” he continued. “Ask God to keep me safe while I was down there; bring me home to her, and when she was—” His eyes squeezed shut, clearing his throat to compose himself, his words coming out thicker when he spoke again, “When she was dying, she begged me to take them, that she didn’t need them anymore, and I needed protection: ‘Por protección y guía, Javiercito (For protection and guidance, Javier). Llévatelos por mí, por favor (Take them for me, please).’” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, meeting your eyes once more. “I think she hoped I’d pray for myself, but I couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t see the point of wasting my time praying to some invisible force that may or may not give a shit, and instead, I’d hold those”—He pointed at the rosary in your hand—“Talk to my mom, count the beads, and just talk—because I knew if she could listen, she would, and they made me feel like she was still here.”

They suddenly felt heavy in your hand, with all of their history and meaning—something precious, to be handled with care and not removed from their sacred space, and yet, here you were, disturbing their peace.

Your eyes had gotten misty, “I’m glad she gave them to you,” you said barely above a whisper. “That you had something of hers with you.”

You were frozen in place, unsure what to do next, the heaviness of it all keeping you still.

Do you put them away?

Do you hand them to Javi?

“Yeah,” he replied. “Me, too.”

He made the decision for you, moving closer to where you were standing, and carefully took the rosary from your hand, getting around you to put them away in the drawer, hearing as it quietly slid shut, the silence in the room deafening.

Guilt had your chest feeling tight over going through his things, having assumed that since earlier in the night, when he said nothing was off-limits in his room, he wouldn’t care. You didn’t mean to stumble upon something so personal, and you felt like shit that you’d intruded on his obvious grief.

“I’m so sorry, Javi,” you said gently. “Are you mad at me for snooping? I didn’t know it was your mom's. I wouldn’t have—”

“I’m not mad,” he interrupted, his hands grabbing onto your waist and turning you to face him, his back to the side of the bed. He looked so sad with his rounded eyes and furrowed brow, his mouth dipped down in a frown.

“Are you upset? You look upset. Javi, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset.” He let out a long sigh, choosing to look at his feet instead of you, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hips, taking his time to get his thoughts together.

“I’m happy,” he finally said. “I’m really fucking happy that we’re together—that I have you, but it fucking kills me that my mom will never get to meet you. Her last memory of me was this sad sack of shit workaholic, and she won’t know that I found happiness, that I found you.” His voice cracked on the last word, and it broke your heart. “I just really fucking wish she could’ve seen me like this, or at least passed with some kind of hope I’d be okay, instead of worried I’d work myself to fucking death.”

“Javi, baby”—you gently cupped his cheeks—“Look at me.”

His head came up, eyes shining with unshed tears, and it made your own burn.

“From all I’ve learned about your mom,” you said. “I think she would’ve always held out hope that when you finished your job, you’d find happiness.” A tear rolled down his cheek, Javi’s breath trembling. “Because she loved you so fucking much, she would have wanted what was best for you, even though she knew it would take time for you to get there.” Your thumbs stroked over his cheeks. “If you think what I’m saying isn’t true, look at your dad. He never lost hope. He’s so fucking hopeful he sees you married with kids in the future.” His eyes went a little wide. “A touchy subject,” you said quickly. “I know, but Javi, I would not be surprised if your dad has already started planning our wedding.” You smiled, and he chuckled, turning his head to kiss your palm.

“He probably has,” he said against your skin.

“So, what I’m trying to say is, I know it’s sad that I’ll never get to meet her, but she lives in your memory”—you tapped the side of his head—“and your dad’s, and I know she’d be so fucking happy and proud of the man you’ve become because you both have made her feel so alive to me, and present, that it’s almost like we’ve already met.”

More tears rolled down his cheeks, Javi smiling softly.

“She would’ve loved you, Cielito,” he said, leaning in to kiss you tenderly. “Would’ve loved you so much—” The words were said into your lips, “She would’ve helped Pop plan our wedding.”

You giggled against his mouth, Javi kissing you harder, his fingers digging into the softness of your waist, pulling you into him.

“He’d definitely have it here,” you said between kisses.

“Probably”—kiss—“doesn’t matter to me” —kiss—”would marry you anywhere.”

You hummed in the back of your throat.

“Vegas?” you asked.

Kiss.

“Yes.”

Kiss.

“Bahamas?”

Kiss.

“Yes.”

Kiss.

“Truckstop?”

His mouth left yours to look you in the eyes, his cheeks wet, seeing the truth as he spoke.

“Fucking anywhere you want—I’d even marry you at the rest stop off interstate thirty-five if you wanted.”

You laughed.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” you said, playfully slapping his chest. “There are some important items we must cross off our relationship checklist before we figure out our wedding location.”

Glancing away, he ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

“Yeah.”

“So, we’ll put a pin in this conversation for when the time comes because it’s definitely a when and not an if. I know that for sure.”

He met your gaze again, smiling as he crushed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

Javier was tired.

Bone fucking tired.

He’d had to deal with a lot of shit tonight that he usually kept bottled up, or simply avoided, because it was all so fucking painful.

Since his mom’s passing, it’d always felt like there was a hole in his heart, this spot where the piece of her was ripped out. It was gaping at first, constantly aching, fueling his grief, and as the years went on, it became smaller and smaller until it was no longer noticeable, only making itself known when she came to mind.

Javier was a very flawed man, something he’d never deny, and he knew he was really fucking bad at coping with negative feelings, his first instinct being to either drink until he forgot, or find comfort in another person’s body to the point he was completely spent and unable to think.

It seemed he was falling into old habits, because as happy as Cielito’s words made him feel, his past was clawing at him from the inside, reopening old wounds and bringing them to the forefront of his brain—not only his mother’s death, but his time in Colombia, too, remembering the grief, the guilt, the anger, the pain, that hole in his chest agape and alive, Javier wanting to close it shut tight, so he didn’t have to feel anymore, desperately pressing his lips against Cielito’s to make himself forget.

A groan bubbled up in his throat as her fingers tangled in his hair, her nails scratching lovingly against his scalp, grounding him in her touch, each kiss soothing the hurt inside him and balming the pain.

Grabbing her hips, he moved her with him as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her into his lap and bunching her dress at her waist to have her straddle his thighs, kissing her like his life depended on it, and didn’t it? It sure as fuck felt like it, finding solace in her, losing himself in all of the sensations; his hands roaming all over her body—up the soft skin of her thighs and over her belly, along her back and sides, needing to touch her, and feel her solid and reassuring against him, delving his tongue between her lips, swallowing her moans as he mapped out every inch of her mouth.

All it took was the familiarity of her kiss and the comforting weight of her pressed against him, to have her overtaking his senses, eclipsing every thought in his mind until she was all that remained; feeling the hole shrink and the negative emotions dissipate, the ache in his chest turning into something warm, calm, peaceful—the happy contentedness relaxing him.

His dick was hardening in his jeans, his hands groping at her softness, grabbing handfuls of her ass before he was moving to palm her breast, feeling her nipple pebble under her bra as he nipped at her chin, trailing messy kisses along her jaw.

“Javi,” she gasped.

Sucking on her pulse point, she moaned, her fingers tightening in his hair to pull his head back.

“Javi,” she said again.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, he looked up at her, seeing her kiss-swollen lips and pupils blown wide, her breaths coming out hard, all of it making his throbbing cock twitch.

“Yeah, baby?” he husked.

“Loving the impromptu makeout session, but are you okay?”

He could see the concern etched on her features, Javier frowning as he sighed.

Of course, she’d know something was wrong with him, his heart clenching that she cared about him so fucking much.

“Yeah, fuck, I’m sorry. I just,” he sighed again, looking away, his hands moving to grab onto her hips, squeezing her flesh. “You make me feel better,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “There��s a lot in my head I don’t want to think about.”

She made him look at her again.

“You just want to forget,” she said gently. “I get that.” Her fingers slid through the hair above his ears, smoothing it out and looking at him so tenderly his heart picked up in speed. “I could tell earlier you were dealing with some bad memories,” she continued, “and all I wanted to do was kiss you until they disappeared because I understand sometimes it’s better to let someone else make it all go away.” She cupped his cheeks, Javier loving the warmth of her palms on his face. “And Javi,” she said, “I’m more than happy to help make you feel better—I know you’d do the same for me.” Leaning in, she pecked the tip of his nose. “What do you need from me?” she asked when she pulled back, and he could see that she genuinely wanted to make him feel better, the look causing his throat to feel tight.

He trailed his hand up her chest and along her neck to gently hold her jaw, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Of course, you can kiss me.” Her face softened, rubbing her thumbs over his skin. “Anything else, babe?”

There was one thing that came to mind, feeling his cock hard and heavy between his legs, straining against his zipper. He knew they couldn’t fuck, not with his dad in the other room and his bed being so fucking squeaky, but there was something he thought would feel good.

“Can I put it in?”

“What about your dad? We’re the worst at being quiet.”

“I just want to feel you, need to feel you—no moving.”

“Oh!” she said, smiling. “That actually sounds nice. I’m a little sore from the hayloft, so full-on sex will have to wait a bit while I recover from the absolute dicking down you gave me, but warming your dick would be fine—just be gentle when you stick it in, yeah?”

“You’re okay with it?” he asked.

“Definitely, but let me lay down? I think you’d be more comfortable.”

He pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her, feeling so thankful that she was there with him.

He caressed her cheek when he broke the kiss.

“How the fuck did I get so lucky?” he asked.

It was a question he’d asked himself every day since they met, wondering how in the fucking world he’d lucked out. All of the choices he’d made in his life, the good and the bad, all led him to her. Sometimes it felt like their paths were meant to cross, that some invisible force in the universe was drawing them together and, for once, allowing him to have something good.

“I feel pretty lucky, too,” she said. “You’re wonderful.” She kissed him softly, Javier chasing her lips when she moved away and out of his lap, to stand in front of him. His mouth went dry when he realized what she was doing, watching with rapt attention, her hands untying her dress, before she was opening it, revealing her soft skin beneath. His fingers itched to touch her, clenching his fists tight, the fabric falling to the floor, and leaving her clad in only her bra and panties. Getting back onto the bed, the springs squeaked as she laid down beside him, opening her legs for him. She tugged on his arm. “Come here.”

Standing up from the mattress, he stood at the edge, taking in her body all spread out and looking inviting, seeing the noticeable wet spot on her panties that had his cock twitching. He leaned forward, rubbing his broad palms up her inner thighs until he was at her center, pulling her underwear to the side and finding her glistening and puffy, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip, wanting to taste her again.

His eyes met hers, finding them half-lidded and dark. “Let me make sure you’re wet enough,” he rasped, sliding two fingers through her warm wetness. She gasped softly as he pressed a finger to her entrance, feeling her soaked. He pushed in, her eyes closing, lips parted in a quiet moan, her pussy practically sucking his digit in, finding she’d kept some of him inside.

Feeling his come so deep in her had his brain buzzing happily, his dick jerking in his pants.

“I think you’re good,” he said, pumping his finger languidly. “Want me inside?”

“Yes,” she breathed, pulling her lip between her teeth.

He wanted to make sure she didn’t have any discomfort, keeping her panties pulled away as he spread open the lips of her sex with his other hand, bending his head to spit on her clit, watching as it slowly dribbled down to her hole.

Sucking his finger clean, he groaned at the taste, never tiring of her on his tongue. He could spend hours with his face between her legs, and it wouldn’t be enough, always getting pussy drunk and not wanting to stop.

It only took seconds for him to work his pants open, almost impatient in how he wanted to feel her, pulling his hard cock out, wetting his fingers to get it nice and wet, his hand gliding easily from his saliva and precum as he pumped himself a few times.

Kneeling on the bed between her legs, he pulled her underwear to the side again, sliding his dick through her slit to gather the wetness before slowly pushing into her, watching his cock disappear, hearing her shaky sigh as he stretched her open.

He groaned as her warmth enveloped him, her tight walls pulling him deeper, welcoming him into her depths until he bottomed out. She pulled him down on top of her, ignoring the squeaks of the bedsprings when she kissed him hard, her hands moving to unbutton his shirt, fingers working quickly to get it open, Javier not breaking the kiss to shrug it off, tossing it somewhere behind him. She wrapped her arms around him to hug him close to her, feeling her so soft and warm beneath him, her cunt pulsing around him, tongue pressed into his mouth, sliding her fingers into his hair while the other rubbed his back.

Javier was in heaven.

It felt so fucking good to be inside her; he didn’t even want to move, was happy to stay like this for however long she’d let him, enjoying her mouth on his and her hands touching his body, the world falling away until it was just the two of them and nothing else mattered.

There were many words that came to mind to describe the woman beneath him—smart, funny, and caring, to name a few, but the one that always stood out to him was warm. She was like the sun, bright and radiating warmth, Javier feeling it deep in his soul, the comfort she brought him, evaporating all the negativity and sadness, replacing it with contentment and a strong feeling of being loved.

He still wasn’t used to someone choosing to love him—he wasn’t used to someone wanting to love him, either. It was almost overwhelming knowing there was someone who loved him despite his flaws, who looked at his brokenness and cherished each and every crack and without meaning to, filling some, repairing little pieces of himself with her love and compassion.

She made him a better man; she made him want to be a better man.

Here she was, gifting him with her warmth once more, letting him bask in it, feeling it with her body pressed so tight to his, fitting snugly inside her, and just from the way she was taking care of him, how she wanted to take care of him, warming parts of him she couldn’t even physically touch.

Her nails were lightly scratching against his scalp, making tingles shiver down his spine, losing himself in the feeling of all of her. Soft sounds and panted breaths filled the room as their tongues tangled, melting into each other, feeling her so wet and tight around him, his cock throbbing.

Every minute was working him up, all of the emotions making the pressure build inside him, winding him tighter. Needing to catch their breaths, his lips trailed along her jaw, and down her neck, sitting up enough to tug down the cup of her bra. He palmed her breast in his hand, tweaking the hard bud, the fluttering of her pussy making him swallow hard, and focus hard on not coming. His head dipped down, pulling her nipple into his mouth, making her moan a little louder, and clench up, Javier gasping at the sharp spike of heat in his belly.

He harshly tugged down the other bra cup, his lips engulfing her hardened peak, licking and sucking, his cock getting wetter from her waves of arousal coating him. Holding himself up on his elbows, his big hands squeezed her tits, laving, and nibbling, moving from one to the other, her fingers gripping his hair tight while she tried to keep quiet, the sounds shooting straight to his dick.

Hearing her soft mewls, feeling how wet she was, it was building him up, pushing him closer and closer to his breaking point, until she clenched up hard around him, Javier gasping again at almost coming, her hips squirming beneath him to try and chase some friction.

His head came up, knowing he sounded wrecked, “Fuck, baby,” he said. “Need me to make you come?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Okay—‘m not gonna last.”

She made him look at her, seeing her eyes glazed over.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked.

He smiled, “Yeah, Cielito. Feel fucking good.”

That made her grin, her eyes going darker.

“In that case,” she said in a sultry tone. “Please make me come, then fill me up, Papí.”

A groan rumbled from his chest, his cock jerking hard at her words. He moved to work his hand between their bodies, staying deep inside her, while his thumb easily slid over her clit, circling it the way he knew she liked, watching her mouth fall open and eyes close, softly moaning. She clenched around him again, Javier hissing, her thighs starting to shake as her pussy pulsed.

“I can feel you, baby,” he husked lowly. “Know you’re close.” She clenched again, and his eyes closed with a grunt. “You—” He swallowed hard, almost at the end of his rope. “You gonna be a good girl and come for me? Soak my dick, so I can fill you up? You want me to stuff you full, Cielito?”

It didn’t take much more to have her coming with a shuddering moan, her body seizing up below him and squeezing his dick like a vise, her release spilling around him. Feeling her get wetter and tighter, her pussy spasming, it had him falling with her, his cock thickening, his balls tightening up. He buried his face in her neck as he came undone, white-hot pleasure exploding in his system, moaning into her skin, spilling deep inside her and filling her to the point it was leaking out where they were joined.

He felt fucking incredible, his body going boneless on top of her, panting ragged breaths into her skin. His head was empty—zero thoughts. He moved his arms to hug her close, practically purring when her fingers found their way into his hair, stroking her nails along his scalp.

Fuck, it felt so good.

“How you feeling, babe?” she whispered after a minute.

It took him a second to respond.

“Amazing,” he finally slurred, the word muffled against her neck.

“Yeah? How are the thoughts?”

“Gone,” he answered, sighing happily. “Thank you.”

“Any time, Javi. I’m happy to help.”

Lifting his head, he looked her in the eyes, seeing her warm smile.

“Thank you,” he said again, kissing her.

“You’re welcome,” she murmured into his lips.

“Thank you for putting up with my bullshit.”

That had her lightly tugging his hair to make him look at her.

She’d narrowed her eyes, eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s not bullshit, Javier,” she whispered harshly. “You were dealt a really shitty hand in life. I don’t even know half of the stuff you went through in South America, but I see the look in your eyes when it’s brought up—I can tell it was fucking traumatizing. Add in all the other shit you’ve had to deal with, and it’s a lot—it’s a lot to go through alone. I know you keep it bottled up. I know you choose to cope in your own ways, and if there’s a way for me to help you feel better, I’m going to do it.” Her eyes softened. “It’s not bullshit to me—it’s you dealing with your pain, and Javi,” she pressed her hand to his cheek. “I just want to help you heal, and I’m here for you, no matter what.”

His eyes were burning, his throat going tight, having to swallow around the lump that’d formed.

“Thank you,” he choked out, leaning in to kiss her.

He held her so close, every press of his lips against hers making his brain chant, I love you, I love you, I love you… Hoping she could feel the words, imbuing in each kiss without saying it out loud that he’d never felt safer, he’d never felt more cared for or loved than when he was with her, and wherever she was, that was where he was meant to be because she was home—she felt like forever to him.

He was kissing you with such intensity, such passion, and there wasn’t even any tongue, just hard presses of his lips against yours like he wanted you to feel him, molding his mouth to yours, feeling the emotion and how much he needed the closeness. You returned the same energy, your fingers gripping his hair, wanting him to know that you cared just as much and that what you said was true; you’d always be there for him.

Knocking on the bedroom door had you both jumping in your skins, Javi’s mouth leaving yours so quickly like he’d been burned, your wide eyes matching his.

“You kids want some pie and ice cream?” Chucho asked on the other side of the door.

Your luck was bound to run out with the two of you having the tendency to get carried away and forget about everything around you, and now you were practically naked with Javi’s dick inside you, and his dad was asking if you both wanted dessert.

“The door’s locked,” Javi whispered.

That was a relief, but you were still mortified, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole—your cheeks heating and palms beginning to sweat.

Your mind was racing.

Had he heard you? Did he know what you’d been up to?

How would you look that sweet old man in the eyes, knowing Javi made you come while he’d been in the other room?

This was worse than if he’d found you guys sneaking in. At least then, he wouldn’t have heard anything. You covered your face with your hands, wanting to disappear, feeling annoyed when your stomach growled because now that you were thinking about food, you did have the post-sex munchies.

“Great,” you grumbled softly. “Tell him we’ll be out in a minute.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He sounded incredibly apologetic.

“Just tell him we need a minute,” you replied.

“Yeah, Pop!” Javi called. “Give us a minute.”

“Take your time, Mijo. I’ll see you in the kitchen.” There was the sound of retreating footsteps.

“Oh my god,” you said quietly, moving your hands to look at him. Javi’s lips were red and shiny from all the kissing, seeing the guilt on his face. “Do you think he heard us?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, letting out a long sigh. “With how fucking loud he keeps the TV up, I don’t think he heard anything—probably saw the bedroom light was on under the door or something.”

“Are you just saying that, or are you being honest?” you asked.

He grimaced, “Both…”

“This is so fucking embarrassing,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. You looked at him again, “Baby, can you pull out? I need to clean myself up.”

“Fuck, right,” he said, sighing again as he pushed his fingers through his hair, not meeting your eyes. He started moving, hissing out shit as he pulled his softened cock from between your legs, his face screwing up in pain from the oversensitivity. The bed squeaked from his movements to get up, him looking at you with big eyes, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m gonna get you a washcloth. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You sighed, “It’s okay, Javi—a washcloth would be wonderful. Thank you.”

He nodded, his steps loud as he headed towards the bathroom, stopping to grab his shirt off the floor and get it on, him disappearing into the other room, hearing the faucet turn on while you carefully got up. You could see through the crack in the door, him at the sink, turning your focus on getting your dress back on, bending down to pick it up, quickly putting it back on your body, using the dresser’s mirror across from the bed to make sure it looked okay, and ignoring the noticeable slickness between your legs.

The cloth was warm when he brought it to you, seeing that he’d already cleaned himself up and got his clothes back in order. His hair was a bit mussed, worry etched on his face as he watched you.

Using the towel, you got yourself clean, the room unnaturally quiet, trying to psych yourself up for the awkward interaction you’d be having soon. Javi put his hand out for the dirtied washcloth, and you shook your head.

“I can put it in the hamper,” you said. “Gotta go to the bathroom anyway.”

Heading for the smaller room, you heard him sigh.

After taking care of yourself, you found Javi sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

Frowning, you briskly walked over to him, smoothing his hair back when you stood in front of him, your chest tight with worry.

“Javi, what’s wrong?” you asked softly.

“I fucked up, and you’re mad at me,” he said into his hands.

Where was this coming from?

“I’m not mad at you…” you replied slowly. “And you didn’t fuck up.”

His hands fell away, looking upset.

“You’re not mad?” He had a look of disbelief on his face. “You should be fucking angry.”

Oh. Oh no. You had a feeling this insecurity was because if he’d been in the same situation with his ex—Lorraine—she would’ve been livid, and it suddenly felt like there was a stone in your belly, all knotted up because he was assuming you were going to lash out at him.

What the fuck did she do to him?

“Why would I be mad at you?” you asked softly. “I’m mortified, embarrassed, and feel so fucking anxious about facing your dad, but I’m not upset with you. You can’t help your emotions, and I offered to help make you feel better—I was a very willing participant.” You stroked your fingers through his thick brown strands. “Not mad at you—just embarrassed we got caught. So, don’t beat yourself up, babe, we’re golden, and now we get to go have awkward dessert with your dad, but hey, at least we’re doing it together,” you said, giving him a reassuring smile.

He smiled crookedly, making you take a step back as he stood up, his arms wrapping around you to hug you close.

“I’m glad you’re not mad,” he whispered against your hair.

Your face was pressed into his chest, hugging him back.

“To be honest, it’d take a lot to make me mad at you. Sure, little things bother me—”

That had him pulling back quickly to meet your eyes.

“What bothers you?” he asked.

“Oh, like not putting the toilet seat down, leaving your dirty clothes on the floor, not refilling the Brita water jug. Um.” You thought for a second. “I think that’s it.”

“Fuck, sorry,” he said.

You smiled, “Nothing to be sorry about. You were single for a long fucking time, and now you’re with a woman constantly who likes to keep things tidy and doesn’t like falling into the toilet in the middle of the night.”

“I’ll do better,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

“That’s all I can ask.” When you separated, you looked him in the eyes. “Now do me. What do I do that bothers you?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said too quickly. “You’re perfect.”

Your eyes narrowed, poking him in the chest, “And you’re a lying liar who lies. Spill, this is a safe space. I won’t be mad. We’re having an open dialogue.”

“Shit,” he said, looking away.

You could tell he was warring with himself, so you rubbed your hands over his arms.

“It’s seriously okay,” you said gently. “Just tell me.”

He met your eyes.

“You know how you ask me to lock up your apartment before bed?”

“Yes..?”

“It, uh, bothers me that you check when I’m done.”

It had never occurred to you how that would look, your fears of being a single woman and living alone making you somewhat paranoid about everything being locked up tight.

“Oh. Oh my god, that’s so rude of me! I just have to make sure the sticks—“

“The sticks are in the windows and sliding door,” he finished. “I know. I’ve watched you go through your nightly routine.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He smiled, “Nothing to be sorry about.”

“What else? Lay it on me.”

“Uh, when you ask me to get something from your junk drawer in the kitchen.”

“I won’t ask you to get things. Noted.”

“No, asking me to get things is fine. I want you to ask me for help, but, baby, you have three junk drawers in the kitchen, and whenever I look, what you want is never in the first one I fucking check.”

“Project this weekend is organizing the junk drawers. On it. You’re doing so good.” You grinned. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, speaking of asking for help—ask me for help.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to find your ass climbing on the kitchen counter to get something from the top shelf. I’m there, ask me. Let me help you—let me help with stuff around the apartment, too, like cleaning.”

“You're a guest.”

“I’m your boyfriend who spends more time at yours than here, and you should trust me to help you with your chores. I want to help. Please fucking teach me how to water your plants.”

“You want to water my plants?”

His big hands were rubbing along the skin of your upper arms.

“Yeah, baby. I should know how to tend to them.”

“That is the sweetest fucking thing anyone has ever said. You deserve the sloppiest blow job.”

He chuckled, kissing you quickly.

“You’re on a roll,” you said. “What else?”

“Nothing else. You’re fucking perfect.”

“I think we’ve just established I’m anything but.”

“Sure, doesn’t mean you’re not perfect to me.” The truth shining in his eyes had you suddenly feeling all gooey. “You ready to head out there?” he asked, squeezing your arms. “I don’t think he’ll be too bad—he likes you.”

“Well, I hope he still likes me and doesn’t think I’m some loose woman leading his precious only son astray.”

He snorted, smirking, “He doesn’t think that. It’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” you sighed.

Kissing you gently, he said, “It will be. I promise.”

You wanted to believe him, but nerves had your stomach in knots.

Chucho had his back to you both when you entered the kitchen, a wall cabinet open as he grabbed bowls, closing it to move and pull out forks from a nearby drawer. The oven was on, the pie missing from the counter, smelling the appley-goodness of it being warmed.

The timer went off, watching as the older man grabbed oven mitts from the countertop, pulling the apple pie out, and set it on top of the stove.

He finally noticed you two, a smile turning up on his lips.

“There you are,” he said, taking off the mitts. “Thought you got lost on your way to the kitchen.”

“Lo siento (I’m sorry), Pop. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“Nonsense,” his dad replied, waving away Javi’s apology. He smiled knowingly, his eyes bright. “I’m sorry for interrupting the intimate tour of your bedroom—” Javi groaned, making Chucho grin wider. “Thought you both might like some pie and ice cream after spending so much time touring the ranch,” he teased.

Oh god, he knew, and he looked fucking tickled by the whole thing.

All the blood rushed to your face, it getting hot and wanting to hide, so you shoved it into Javi’s arm, feeling so embarrassed.

“No la avergüences, por favor (Don’t embarrass her, please),” Javi said, his other hand coming to rest at the back of your head. “Sabes que es mi culpa (You know it’s my fault). Te puedes burlar de me, pero de ella no (You can make fun of me but not her).”

“Lo siento, I’m sorry, Mija,” Chucho said apologetically. “It’s all in good fun. Javi hasn’t snuck a girl into the house since he was in high school, thinking we couldn’t hear the footsteps on the floorboards or his bed squeaking—Mijo, those old springs are so loud, you can hear them out on the pasture.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Javi sighed.

“Sí, I am, but they are very loud,” he pointed out.

“I get it, Pop,” Javi said, sounding tired. “You clocked us at the front door.”

“Sure, the front door,” Chucho said, hearing him smiling. “This pie you made smells increíble, Mija.” He was changing the subject, and you’d never felt more thankful. “I don’t know if Javi has told you, but I love a bowl of ice cream after dinner.”

You finally moved your head to look at him, seeing the warm smile on his face.

“He hasn’t told me that,” you replied.

“Mi Antonia would always make sure there was something sweet for us to have. My favorite was her flan—haven’t found another that compares,” he said sadly. “When she’d make it, I’d get a stern talking to that I was to share and not allowed to eat the entire thing myself.” He chuckled. “When Javi was a little guy, he’d help his mamá make one for Día del Padre (Fathers’ day)—it’s what she always made me since he was born.” He had a fond expression on his face. “Now, I treat myself to a bowl of vanilla ice cream, it’s not the same, but I enjoy it. Sometimes,” he said conspiratorially, “I’ll do something different and get Neapolitan.”

You couldn’t help but giggle.

Chucho Peña was an adorable man, and from a simple conversation about his preferred dessert choices, he had you relaxing, making all of the embarrassment and mortification vanish.

“Neapolitan is fun!” you said. “I’m a pralines and cream girl.”

The older man grinned.

“Javi loves pralines and cream!” he said. “When he was muy pequeño (very little), we’d take him to the ice cream shop downtown, and all of the other niños (children) were getting the sweet bubble gum or cotton candy, always sugary stuff, and here was our little Javi wanting pralines and cream. One time, a boy in line behind us heard Javi’s order and told him it was an old man's ice cream—that it was the flavor his grandpa got, and Javi looked him right in the eyes and said, ‘Because your abuelo has taste, unlike you,’ and I laughed so hard, mi amor had to make sure I didn’t choke,” he said, laughing.

You’d joined him in the merriment, delighted by a tiny Javi who knew what he liked and wouldn’t let anyone say anything bad about it.

“I’m excited to have some of this pie, Mija,” Chucho said. “Did you want me to cut it, or would you prefer?”

“You go right ahead.”

“Do you both want some?” he asked, moving to grab a pie knife from a drawer.

“I’d love a piece,” you answered.

“Mijo?” The pie had cooled enough that Chucho was holding the tin, looking at his son before he was about to make a cut.

“Sí, por favor (Yes, please),” Javi replied.

His dad nodded, starting to make slices.

“Ice cream, also?” he asked.

“Sounds good to me,” you said.

“Mijo, will you get it out of the freezer?”

He was placing pie into each of the bowls.

“Yeah, Pop,” Javi replied, walking to the refrigerator and pulling out the quart, knowing exactly where the scoop was and taking it upon himself to serve up the ice cream.

Minutes later, the three of you were sitting at the dining room table, digging into your bowls, Chucho telling you repeatedly how good the pie was, making you so happy.

“Did you like the calves?” The older Peña asked you.

You nodded as you swallowed a bite. “I did,'' you answered, smiling at him. “I’m still trying to figure out a way to take Daphne and Velma home with me.”

“Daphne and Velma?” Chucho asked, looking confused.

“The calves in the barn,” Javi clarified, scraping his fork around the edge of his bowl to get the last remnants of his pie and ice cream. “She named them.”

They were baby cows that Javi had basically raised from birth, the two acting like big, excited puppies around him, and that you joked were his children.

“Daphne and Velma,” his dad said before forking more dessert into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. He smiled after swallowing. “Which is which?” he asked.

“The red one is Daphne,” you replied. “And the black one is Velma—like the Scooby-Doo characters.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “What’s Scooby-Doo?”

“El dibujo animado con el perro (The cartoon with the dog),” Javi said. “They solve mysteries.”

“Ah, sí. ¿El perro habla (The dog speaks)?”

“Mas o menos (Kind of),” Javi answered, setting his fork down in his empty bowl. “Perro marrón (brown dog) with four humans and a van.”

“The mystery machine,” you added.

“I think I know the one,” Chucho said. “I like the names.” He took another bite, speaking again when he swallowed, turning his attention to you. “But we usually don’t name the cattle… It’s not good to become attached,” he said, frowning. “They only stay until they can be sold.”

You were well aware that Daphne and Velma would one day leave the ranch, but they were so cute they needed names.

“Pop.” Chucho looked at his son, Javi starting to talk in rapid Spanish that you were having trouble making out. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to piece together what he was saying, knowing it had something to do with cows.

“No sé (I don’t know)…” His dad drew out the words. “¿Quien pagará por ellas (Who will pay for them?)” He started talking quickly, your brows in your hairline since you now had some idea what the discussion was about.

Javi had a serious look on his face next to you as he replied to his father’s questions, Chucho laughing at one of his answers, also hearing mentions of work, and his dad saying something that made him smile. You grabbed Javi’s arm to get his attention, his eyes meeting yours and immediately softening.

“What are you doing?” you asked. “You’re not buying, Daphne and Velma, right?”

How much did cows even cost?

“No,” he answered.

“Thank goodness.” You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Don’t need you buying cows because I named them.”

“Pop is gifting them to us,” he said with a grin.

“I’m sorry?”

“Can’t sell my bovine nietas (grandchildren),” Chucho chuckled.

You looked at the older man.

“What?” you asked.

“They’ll live here at the ranch,” he said, smiling. He pointed his fork at his son, “Javi said he’d pay for their upkeep.”

Your attention turned back to your boyfriend.

“You don’t need to do this,” you said quickly. “You don’t need to spend money—I know that they’re meant to be sold, and yeah, they’re adorable, and there’s a bond between the three of you, but I don’t want something I did to have the ranch losing income.” You worried your lip between your teeth.

“Cielito,” he said softly, reaching to grab your hand on the table beside him. “Don’t worry. I want to do this, and Pop can use them when they’re older to teach other calves how to graze.” He shrugged.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s no big deal, and we can visit our hijas (daughters) whenever.” He smiled, eyes sparkling.

“Our bovine children,” you said, smiling back.

“Our bovine children,” he replied with a nod, leaning over the corner of the table, you meeting him for a tender kiss.

After everyone’s bowls were empty and put into the sink, Chucho ushered the two of you into the living room, where you were met with a handful of photo albums sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Pop,” Javi groaned, standing just inside the room, one hand on his hip, the other pressed to his brow as his dad led you to sit on the couch next to him. “¡Esto es embarazoso (This is embarrassing)!”

“¡Deja de ser un aguafiestas (Stop being a buzzkill)!” Chucho replied. “I think she’d love to see your pictures. Right, Mija?” He glanced at you with a smile.

“Oh, I’d very much love to see pictures of Javi,” you answered with a grin.

“See?” Chucho said to Javi.

Your boyfriend let out a long, drawn-out sigh, both of his palms now on his hips, looking at you both with a grumpy expression.

“Fine,” he huffed.

He walked over to sit on your other side, Chucho seeming to look for a specific album and pulling it out. All the albums were big and could easily fit four photos per page, most of them full and thick—there had to be hundreds of pictures in the five albums. The one Chucho grabbed was old, the red leather cover showing wear around the edges, and bound with string.

“This was the one from when Antonia was pregnant to when he was born,” his dad said, opening to the first page and handing it over to you.

Setting it in your lap, your eyes scanned over the photos. They were all in black and white, showing Javi’s mother in her early twenties, making out the features he got from her—eyes, nose, chin—her hair went down past her shoulders in sophisticated waves, and you were sure it’d match the color of Javi’s.

Antonia and young Chucho looked so happy, turning the pages and seeing her belly start to grow under her pretty dresses.

“Javier was our miracle,” Chucho said softly as you looked at photos of her sitting on a picnic blanket, the baby bump really showing under her dress. “We had tried for years,” he continued, “and thought that it wasn’t God’s plan for us to be parents. Boy, were we surprised when she fell pregnant and so happy,” he chuckled. Their happiness was evident in the pictures, and it made you smile. “We were excited and nervous about being parents, but I think every new parent feels like that—hoping that you’ll do a good job and wanting your baby to be healthy and happy.” Chucho seemed to take pictures any chance he had, documenting the growth of her stomach, putting the nursery together in the small apartment they shared before moving to the ranch, and family get-togethers they attended.

That seemed to be a big thing—the family getting together and celebrating holidays, birthdays, or just wanting to hang out and see one another, Chucho pointing out who people were, seeing both sets of Javi’s grandparents, his tíos, tías, and cousins.

“As the pregnancy went on, it got harder for her.” Flipping through the pages, you saw, as her belly grew, the toll it was having on her—looking exhausted and not smiling as much. It had your face falling, suddenly feeling sad for what his mother had gone through. “Mi Antonia was the strongest woman I knew, and she’d wanted a baby for so long, she was determined to bring him into the world, and I did whatever I could to make her comfortable.” You could tell it was close to her due date; the majority of the pictures with her in bed, the tiredness showing on her face, her smiles forced. It was toward the back of the album, and it went from a photo of her about to pop to suddenly a picture of a tiny swaddled baby with a head full of dark hair lying in a hospital bassinet, time clearly passing between both photos. “The birth was the worst for her.” Sadness could be heard in Chucho’s voice. “Back in those days, fathers weren’t allowed in the delivery room, but I wasn’t going to let mi amor go through it alone.” You could hear him getting choked up, seeing out of the corner of your eye him removing his glasses to wipe at his eyes. “I forced my way in with her, held her hand through the hours of agony. Mi Antonia was strong and a fighter—fiery—she got through it and gifted us with a healthy baby boy. Javier was our blessing—our firstborn and our last, and I’m so thankful to mi vida for bringing him into this world.” He leaned behind you to clap a hand onto Javi’s back. “Thankful to have such a wonderful son.”

Javi sucked in a breath beside you, turning your head to see his eyes red-rimmed. Without a second thought, you laid the album down, twisting in your seat to pull him in for a hug, holding him close. His arms went around your middle, crushing you against him, hearing a sniffle in your ear as you rubbed your hand in circles on his back.

“Your mom was so amazing,” you whispered. “So fucking amazing, and I wish I could thank her for having you and loving you so goddamn much.”

His body shook against yours, feeling wetness on your skin, Chucho sniffling behind you.

“Lo siento, Mijo (I’m sorry, my son),” the elder Peña said. “You were expecting me to embarrass you, not make you cry—the embarrassing pictures are in the next album.”

Javi rested his forehead against your shoulder. “¿Por qué estás haciendo esto (Why are you doing this)?” he groaned.

“Es mi trabajo como tu padre (It’s my job as your father).” You could hear Chucho smiling. “I promise the pictures are cute—she’ll love them.”

Javi loosened his hold on you, sitting back in his seat with a frown on his wet face, using your thumbs to wipe away the tears.

“You feeling okay?” you asked him, his eyes meeting yours. “I don’t need to look at the pictures if you don’t want me to.”

He sighed loudly. “No, it’s okay,” he said.

You pressed your lips to his, kissing him softly.

After the kiss, your attention moved back to the album, turning to the next and final page, which had a clipping from the newspaper announcing his birth.

Mr. and Mrs. Jesús Peña have announced the birth of a son, Javier Jesús Peña López, at 4:19 AM on Dec. 13 in Laredo Mercy Hospital.

Carefully closing the album, Chucho took it and handed you the next, it starting with Javi as a newborn. It must have been days after the birth because Antonia looked much better, smiling happily as she held her baby son at home.

Like with the pregnancy, his dad documented how he grew each month and all of the family gatherings, everyone visibly ecstatic by the new addition and wanting to hold him, Javi so clearly loved.

You saw him slowly get bigger and start to move, first crawling, then walking; photos of him in his high chair, playing with toys, bathtimes, and being held by his parents, always a smile on his little face that got toothier as time went on.

Your favorites were the ones of Antonia and him, seeing the love on her face—you saw it on Chucho’s, too, but Javi’s mother always looked at him with such happy adoration like she almost wanted to pinch herself that he was real.

You knew Javi had grown up helping his mom in the kitchen, and from the photos, she began cooking with him practically from birth, starting with him wrapped to her front.

Looking at a picture where he had to be almost a year old, you smiled, seeing Antonia with her hair up in a tight bun, using what you thought was a colorful wrap to have him sitting comfortably on her back, his chubby little legs at her sides, Javi chewing happily on a long carrot, while his mother chopped vegetables on the counter, smiling over her shoulder at the camera.

“She never wanted to put him down,” Chucho said, glancing over to see him smiling. “I’d tell her I would watch him while she cooked, but she’d always insist.” His voice went a little higher when he spoke again, “‘No, mi amor, déjamelo que me trae suerte,’ ‘No, my love, leave him. He brings me luck.’” He chuckled. “I’d always tell her she didn’t need luck, which would make her laugh, her saying, ‘Si, siempre la comida me sale más rica.’”

“The food always turns out better,” Javi said the words softly beside you, turning your head toward him. He had a look on his face like he was remembering fond memories, his lips turned up and eyes crinkling at the edges. He met your gaze, “She’d, uh.” You saw him swallow. “She’d always tell me that when I was in the kitchen with her; ’Eres mi buena suerte, Javiercito—siempre la comida me sale más rica cuando estás aquí.’ ‘You’re my good luck, Javier—the food always turns out better when you’re here.’”

“And she was right,” you said, smiling, reaching to stroke his cheek. “You’re definitely good luck—haven’t burnt a single thing since you started helping me cook.”

He kissed your palm, keeping his eyes on you.

“You don’t need my luck,” he said.

“I always need you, Javi.”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss you.

Going through the pictures again, you quickly got to his first birthday with the traditional baby destroying a small cake, frosting gripped tight in his tiny fists, and smeared all over his face.

There were more parties, holidays, and food, and Javi was always on his feet and running around laughing with his cousins or playing with his parents.

His second birthday had him tearing open presents and more fascinated with the wrapping paper than his gifts, Javi having the time of his life playing in it.

There was a sudden influx of pictures where two-year-old Javi only wore his diaper, many of him mid-stripping out of whatever he was wearing.

“This is so fucking embarrassing,” he breathed.

“His streaking phase,” Chucho chuckled. “We’d dress him, look away for a second, and next thing we knew, he was taking off his clothes. It went on for so long, we thought he was going to grow up to be one of those nudists.”

“He basically did…” you said under your breath. Glancing over at your boyfriend, you smiled. “So, I see this is how you’ve always been—just hate clothes.”

His dad laughed, Javi’s cheeks pinking up.

“They’re so… tight,” he replied, sighing.

“Mhmm, gonna have to find you a nudist colony, babe,” you said, turning back to the album.

He was three when they moved to the ranch, and he got his first pony. The photo was black and white, but you were told she was copper-colored and her name was Caballito.

There were pictures of little Javi with little calves, holding a bucket almost the same size as him helping his dad work.

His first time at the beach, wearing a little hat and splashing excitedly in the ocean, clearly loving the water.

You finally saw him dressed in full cowboy attire when he was five—the hat, jeans, boots, flannel, standing on one of the metal fences that surrounded a paddock, and more pictures of him riding his horse that had grown just like him.

Another album was opened; turning the pages and seeing him age, always smiling and laughing, looking to be a very happy child.

There was one where his dark hair was trimmed into a bowl cut, and he was wearing two shoes, clearly, on the wrong feet, his expressive eyes looking up at the camera confused.

Chucho chuckled, pointing at it. “I remember this one. Antonia had said, ‘Javiercito, tus zapatos están puesto los pies equivocados,’ telling him his shoes were on the wrong feet, and he looked up at her frowning, saying in his little voice, ‘Ellos son los únicos pies que tengo,’ ‘They’re the only feet I have.’” He laughed, you joining him.

“Javi really says the darndest things,” you giggled. “I see he’s always been sassy.”

“Oh, yes. Fiery like su mama (his mom),” he chuckled. “Never knew what was going to come out of his mouth.”

School portraits made their way into the album, finding out that Javi enjoyed playing soccer and swimming at the local pool, one with him at the pool’s edge with a bright dimpled smile, his wet hair sticking to his forehead.

Looking over at Javi, you grinned.

“You were so adorable—you’re still adorable, but look at what a fucking cutie you were!” you said, pointing at a picture. You moved your hand to rub his thigh. “You still doing okay?”

He had a small smile on his face.

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding. “Just fucking hating that you’re going to see me as an awkward teenager.”

“I’ll still think you’re adorable.”

“I was all knees and elbows.”

“A cutie that was all knees and elbows,” you corrected.

That made his smile get a little bigger.

“I hope you’ll think so.”

Flipping through more pages, he was getting older and lankier the taller he got.

You stopped on a photo that was clearly from 1969. He would’ve been ten, little Javi sitting crisscross in front of the family’s old black and white console television, him staring intently as man took his first steps on the moon.

“He’d begged us to let him stay up to watch,” Chucho said fondly. “It wasn’t too late, so we let him. He said he wanted to be an astronaut after that, and for a time, he was obsessed with airplanes and rockets.”

Continuing to flip through pages, you finally got to the end, and it was time for the next photo album.

“I’m amazed there aren’t more with all of the pictures you take,” you said to Chucho.

“Oh, I have a few boxes full of loose ones,” he replied. “Antonia and I only put our favorites in the albums. Otherwise, we would’ve had enough to fill a library,” he chuckled.

“I don’t doubt that,” you giggled. “I love how much you’ve captured Javi growing up and getting to see so many happy moments. It’s just very lovely.”

“Thank you, Mija. Children grow up so fast. It’s nice having something to look back on—love seeing his smiles,” he said.

“It’s a good smile.” You looked at Javi. “I love seeing his smiles, too.” That had him giving you a quick kiss.

Through the photographs, you saw that your boyfriend loved water—a happy baby taking baths, playing in the ocean, and swimming in pools. It shouldn’t have shocked you so much to learn that Javier Peña was a swimmer—a competitive swimmer, with the speedos and everything.

He was, in fact, all knees and elbows in his teens and still adorable.

You saw his first swim meets and starting to win medals in middle school, his parents always standing with him as he held them up, both looking so proud of their son.

Him going into high school and joining the swim team, and also playing soccer.

The photos were now in color, seeing him in his swimming gear, standing at the top of a podium with a gold medal, looking excited.

“How in all of the time we’ve been together have you never told me that you were a swimmer?” you asked Javi. “And a good one.” You pointed at the picture.

He had a sheepish smile on his face, “You know I like to swim.”

He’d mentioned liking swimming, but that was in reference to going to the beach, which you had in common, liking to swim in the ocean.

“Yes, you like to swim, but Javier, you were winning gold medals—you more than like it.”

“Oh, Javi was an amazing swimmer,” Chucho added, your attention turning to him. He looked so proud. “It got him a full ride into college—probably could’ve done it professionally, maybe even made it to the Olympics.”

This was news to you, trying to keep the shock off your face. You looked back at your boyfriend.

“I cannot believe you are downplaying this,” you said.

“It was high school,” he said, shrugging.

“And college—possibly the Olympics.”

He grimaced, “Shit happens. It’s not that big of a deal. I can take you to the pool sometime to swim with me, or fuck, we could go to the beach—do a weekend there.”

You could tell he was uncomfortable, trying to get you to move off the subject, and it had you wondering why. Dropping it because you didn’t want him feeling like that, you smiled as you said, “A weekend beach trip sounds amazing.”

Javi visibly relaxed, smiling back at you. “We’ll plan something,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

There were more swimming competitions, soccer games, holidays, family get-togethers, him at the ranch with his parents, and getting his driver’s license.

His first truck was old and probably more rust than metal, making you smirk when you saw the picture of him with it, pointing to the photo and nudging him with your shoulder, “The truck from your teens. Sure you put on some mileage,” you teased, wagging your eyebrows, knowing that his truck was one of the places he’d fuck in.

His cheeks flushed, seeing him swallow hard.

“Yeah. Drove it into the ground,” he replied thickly.

You couldn’t get over all the pictures of him standing at the top of podiums, always followed by a shot of him and his parents looking incredibly proud.

Chucho and Antonia had visibly aged along with Javi, both in their late 30s to early 40s in these pictures, their faces featuring more laugh lines, but their smiles were just as bright as at the start of her pregnancy—both looking over the moon about their son.

Your fingers touched the photo of the three of them, seeing the love, feeling the love.

“I can see how proud you two are of him—I’ve seen it in all of the pictures, and I love how you are always there, just so active in his life. God, look at you both.”

“We’ve always been proud of Javi,” Chucho said. “He’s always been a good kid, even if some of his choices have been… questionable. He’s always had good intentions, and we’re really proud of who he’s become.”

Javi’s hand gripped onto your thigh, it probably being a lot to hear his dad say that, so you leaned towards him to press your body into his.

“I’m sure your parents are really proud of you, too, Mija,” Chucho continued.

His words felt like a gut punch, having to take a deep breath.

“Not… really…” you said slowly.

“What?” Chucho and Javi asked at the same time.

“Well, I come from a family of doctors,” you replied, looking between them. “A line of them on my dad’s side, and it was expected that as his child, I do the same. So, when I told them I wanted to be a nurse, it didn’t go over well.” You shrugged.

“Why wouldn’t they want you to become a nurse?” Chucho asked, looking confused. “You help people!”

“In their minds, it’s not good enough—which is fucked up, I know. They want us to have the fancy title and degree, the prestige, and all that bullshit to continue the family legacy.” You couldn’t keep the anger out of your tone, your family’s views on your career a sore spot you hated ruminating on. You glanced between both men, “They had money set aside for me to go to medical school, my younger brother, too, and they refused to pay for my nursing degree but paid everything for him to go to an ivy league school. So, yeah.” You slowly let out a breath, looking away from them. “They are not proud of me, one bit. I am a disgrace to the family name as far as they’re concerned.”

“What the fuck,” Javi seethed.

“¡Que gente tan presumida (What pretentious people)!” Chucho said. “No offense, Mija.” He patted your leg.

You snorted, meeting his eyes. “None taken—presumida means pretentious?” you asked.

“Sí,” he replied.

“Then yes—they’re very pretentious.”

The sincerity was clear as he spoke again, “And they’re wrong. Very wrong. They should be proud of you. They’re your parents and raised you to be this amazing person. I don’t understand how they can’t be.” It felt hard to swallow with the lump in your throat.

“I sure as fuck don’t understand,” Javi added, sounding mad. You rubbed his thigh, turning to look at him and seeing his face pinched in anger.

“It’s okay, babe,” you said softly.

He shook his head, “It’s not,” he said. “You’re fucking incredible and doing good work—they should be proud of you no matter what fucking degree you do or don’t have.”

You sighed, “In a perfect world, they would be, yet, it is not a perfect world, and honestly, I’m so over it—this is why I only visit them once a year,” you awkwardly laughed.

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, looking you in the eyes, his tone going softer, “No offense, Cielito, but fuck them. I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re the most amazing woman on the entire fucking planet, and they don’t deserve you.” Your eyes were getting watery, trying to hold back the tears. “Fuck. Them. I will tell you every goddamn day how proud I am of you because you’re perfect to me.”

He crashed his mouth against yours, kissing you so passionately you didn’t even care his dad was next to you on the couch, Javi making sure you felt the truth of his words with his lips pressed to yours.

You couldn’t recall the last time someone told you they were proud of you, especially your parents.

Once you’d set your sights on nursing in high school, they’d done everything possible to get you to change your mind, even going so far as to belittle you and withhold your college fund. You’d paid for school with scholarships and working at a little diner near campus, living as frugally as possible to graduate with zero debt.

Your experience was a stark contrast to your brother’s, but he’d practically been put upon a pedestal from the moment he was born. Though you were the oldest, he was their first son; he’d continue the family name and wanted to follow in your father’s footsteps.

Your parents were proud of him, that you knew for sure because they made sure you were well aware.

And now you couldn’t recall the last time someone told you they were proud of you, and hearing Javi say it had you struggling to hold the tears at bay.

You loved the work you did, you loved your job, and never once had you regretted deciding to do it for a living.

Your lungs were beginning to ache for oxygen, hearing Chucho sigh wistfully on your other side, “Awe, young love,” he said.

Breaking the kiss, you couldn’t help your giggle as you rested your forehead against Javi’s, him groaning out Pop.

“Lo siento, Mijo,” his dad said, patting Javi on the back. “You just remind me of when I was with tu mamá and how I was always stealing kisses—could never get enough. ‘¿Un beso, por favor (One kiss, please)?’ I’d ask, and she’d laugh, always replying, ‘Nunca es solo uno,’ ‘It’s never just one,’ and it wasn’t,” he chuckled.

You gave Javi a quick kiss.

“Sorry, babe,” you said, his eyes opening to meet yours. “You take after your dad—one is never enough.”

He frowned, “It’s not,” he replied. “Need more.” He kissed you again, making you laugh into it.

When you finally separated, Chucho patted your leg again, “Mija?” he said to get your attention, turning your head to look at him. “I know we’ve only just met tonight, but I can tell you”—He put his hand to his chest—“con todo mi corazón (with my whole heart) that I’m very proud of you.” Your breath caught in your throat, feeling the telltale sign tears were imminent. “You treat people with kindness and care, and I can tell from how you look at my son how much you like him,” he said with a knowing smile. “I agree with Javi, you are amazing, and if your own papá won’t be proud of you, you’ve got me now.”

“Can I hug you?” you asked softly.

“Of course,” he answered.

Leaning into him, Chucho wrapped his arms around your shoulders and hugged you tight.

When did your dad hug you last?

And why did his hugs never feel this nice?

It only lasted seconds, and you cherished every one of them, wiping away your unshed tears with your fingers.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Any time, Mija,” he replied, squeezing your shoulder.

Javi had been in your life for only two weeks, yet it felt like you’d known him forever; something about him feeling so familiar, so comforting, like your very soul recognized his and immediately welcomed him to fill the space in your heart—It feeling so right to keep him there, knowing deep down that it was where he was meant to be.

And now there was his dad, this sweet older man who, in one night, felt more like a father to you than your own had since the day you were born.

These two men had known you for such little time and had shown you more care than your actual family, and you were so thankful to have them both.

Warmth was radiating in your chest, feeling so happy, so loved, you couldn’t think about it too much, or you’d start crying, so you focused back on the photo album sitting in your lap.

“Well, enough about me,” you said, wiping at your eyes. “Let’s get back to the pictures.”

Javi’s hand stroked your thigh as you turned the page to find his senior portrait, his hair over the tips of his ears, wearing a black suit, a big beaming grin on his face.

That was another thing you loved as you’d gone through the pictures, seeing that from a baby, he was always smiling, and moving into his teens looked to be a goofball—always laughing with his friends and cousins, making silly faces at the camera, and just having fun.

You’d even lost count of how many times you spotted that dimple of his.

His shoulders got broader, but he was still all lanky and growing into himself.

There were photos of him dressed up for dances, wearing his letterman jacket, working with his dad on the ranch, and more swim meets.

“I noticed there aren’t any more pictures of him playing soccer,” you said, turning another page to see him folding tamales at a table with his tía María, Chucho’s older sister, his mom in the background at the stove.

“Oh,” Chucho chuckled. “He hated running, and I’m sorry, Mijo,” he said, leaning forward to look at Javi. “He wasn’t very good.”

A laugh slipped from your mouth, quickly composing yourself.

Your boyfriend sighed loudly next to you, “I still fucking hate running.”

“I’m surprised he’s still in such great shape,” Chucho said, “with how much he hates exercise.”

“He definitely gets his cardio,” you mumbled.

“What was that, Mija?”

“That everybody hates cardio,” you answered quickly.

Javi snorted.

“Anyways,” you said, flipping through more pages and looking at all the photos until you stopped on one. “Oh! You went to prom with Anna! From the farmers market!”

She looked almost the same.

“Anna’s bakery has great pan dulce,” Chucho said.

You paused, suddenly putting a lot of things together—her familiarity with Javi, them going to prom together, her mentioning the lookout, him saying he got caught fucking at the lookout.

Gasping, you looked at your boyfriend. “With Anna?” you whispered.

Confusion came over his face.

“With Anna, what?”

“The lookout.”

His eyes widened, clearing his throat as he looked away, mumbling, “Yeah.”

You found this hilarious and couldn’t believe you hadn’t put two and two together sooner.

There were a lot of pictures of Javi smiling with friends, and finally, his graduation pictures in his cap and gown, his parents as always looking so happy.

The summer after high school, he spent his time at the swimming pool practicing, working on the ranch, and hanging out with his family.

It got to him starting college, more photos like the one of him and his mom he had in his bedroom of them standing in front of the Texas A&M sign, but with both of his parents, the beginnings of a mustache on his cute face.

You had not been prepared for college Javi, unable to stop the gasp that fell from your lips at the first collegiate swim meet picture—him standing with a bronze medal around his neck, his body filled out more with all of the lean muscle, and wearing the maroon speedo that hid nothing. The picture was old, but you were pretty sure you even saw abs.

Oh, he absolutely had to fight off all of the girls; there was no way he didn’t. You would’ve been all over him. Even though he was very good-looking then, you preferred him how he was now, loving that he was softer but still so strong.

There weren’t as many pictures as before with him being away from home. The majority were of him swimming or when Javi would return to the ranch for the holidays, his mustache grown in and having fun with his family. It looked like his parents did their best to attend all of his competitions that took place in Texas, Chucho telling you they were more than happy to make the drives to see him swim, and it made you smile at how much they cared.

His teammates snapped pictures during their training sessions, finding candids of Javi laughing and smiling through the pages.

On his school breaks, he’d work with his dad, seeing photos of him on a fully grown Caballito, her copper-colored hair practically glowing in the Texas sun. There was a cute picture of him and his mom in the kitchen, her laughing as he pulled something off of a high shelf for her.

His shoulders seemed to get broader, his mustache fuller, and his lips were always curled up.

He looked like he was having a great time in school, so focused on swimming and his academics, the letters showing he made honor roll put into the album, term after term, and winning more gold medals.

It got to his senior year seeing more competitions and holidays he spent at home with his parents.

Turning the page, you physically jolted, seeing a picture of Javi and a young Lorraine standing in the living room you were sitting in, him smiling boyishly and looking so happy, while her lips were closed, barely a smile on her perfectly done up face, the annoyance clear in her eyes that she wanted to be anywhere else.

“He brought her home on spring break,” Chucho said. Glancing at him, he was frowning. “She refused to eat the dinner Antonia had made—not a single bite. It really hurt mi amor.”

Anger was swirling in your belly at Lorraine’s audacity.

“Lorraine,” you spat out her name, “has zero fucking taste, and I would literally murder to be able to taste your wife’s food. Like, I’d happily go to prison for just one bite. Ugh, she makes me so mad.”

Javi’s arm went around you.

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

You looked at him. “It’s not,” you said. “I would never fathom refusing food someone made for me, and your mom’s at that?! There’s a chance if we run into that dumb woman, I might actually fight her.”

Chucho chuckled beside you. “Me caí de lo mas bien tu novia, Mijo (I really like your girlfriend, my son). Cásate con ella, por favor (Marry her, please).”

“Sí, Pop,” Javi said.

“Quiero nietos (I want grandchildren),” Chucho added. “Nietos humanos (Human grandchildren).”

“Esperar sentado,” Javi said through his teeth.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

He sighed. “Literally? ‘Wait sitting,’ but it’s used like ‘Don’t hold your breath.’”

“Oh, okay.” You didn’t know why a wave of sadness washed over you. “Another way of saying, ‘Don’t get your hopes up.’”

“Yeah.”

Focusing back on the photos, the next was Javi with a gold medal around his neck, grinning with his arm over Lorraine’s shoulders, a small smile on her face.

You knew it was towards the end of the swimming season, there being many competitions both at his university and away at others.

His next medal was bronze, his smile much more subdued than the previous.

Another bronze, his smile not even reaching his eyes that weren’t as bright as usual, his girlfriend next to him looking mad.

There were more candids with his teammates, finding Lorraine popping up in some of them and Javi not smiling as much, his friends looking uncomfortable.

The following competition, your eyebrows furrowed, seeing his body glistening from clearly being in the water, but there was nothing around his neck, his teeth not showing as he barely smiled between his parents, who still looked proud of their son.

You didn’t come across any more photos of him with his teammates, the next showing that he was at an event to try and get a spot on the national team. Antonia and Chucho were there; it took place a couple of hours away from Laredo in San Antonio.

There was a photo of him and his mom before the competition, and something didn’t look right, your eyes taking in his face.

His smile was so small, his eyes dimmed, almost appearing nervous—which would make sense since this was the event that would determine if he’d go pro, but it was odd not seeing the same confidence from previous pictures and how unhappy he looked, it all making you frown.

He didn’t make the team.

His swimming career was over.

The photos of him afterward, the smile was forced, and you could see the defeat, the sadness, Lorraine looking irritated, and it had your stomach falling through the floor.

It was abrupt that the following photos were of his graduation, knowing at least a couple of months had passed, and it had your frown deepening that he hadn’t seen his parents in that time. There were pictures of the group of students in their caps and gowns, heads so tiny you couldn’t make out where Javi was, and one of him walking on the stage, it taken so far away you could barely tell it was him.

On the next page, you paused, sucking in a breath.

In all of the photos, you’d grown used to seeing this bright, happy boy, always smiling and laughing, clearly loving life.

In this photo, he was standing in his maroon cap and gown, Lorraine next to him dressed the same, his arm over her shoulder while she gave a polite smile, and Javi looked tired.

Not just tired, he looked depressed, defeated, hopeless; the happiness in his eyes faded away, his mouth set in a tight-lipped smile.

In the next picture, his parents were with them, looking visibly uncomfortable.

It could have been school, stress from his senior year, and not making the swim team catching up to him, but deep down, you knew the reason for how he looked, and your heart was beginning to shatter.

How hadn’t he seen the person Lorraine was from the beginning?

How had he missed the red flags?

You were looking at pictures and could spot them, so glaringly obvious; his parents were well aware, too.

The album came to a sudden stop, the remaining pages left blank; the reasoning went unspoken because you all knew what happened right after graduation and how things had turned out with Lorraine—him trying to end things and her claiming to be pregnant in order to keep him, her father forcing Javi to marry her, and him bolting the first chance he got when he found out there was no pregnancy.

Chucho carefully took the photo album from you and shut it, feeling like he was closing the last chapter of Javi’s life where there was happiness, him handing you the final one without a word, it not even half full.

Your hands were trembling, your guts churning because you didn’t know what you were about to see, and you were dreading what you’d find, having to take a second and inhale a deep breath.

It was like pulling off a bandaid, quickly opening it, your hand moving to your mouth as you gasped.

It was his DEA new recruit portrait taken after he completed basic training.

You barely recognized him.

It was his face, making out the shape of his jaw and nose and his familiar mustache, your brain telling you it was Javi, but his eyes were so tired, no more brightness shining in the dark pools, his mouth in a straight line, looking so drastically different from the happy boy you saw growing up that he could’ve been an entirely different person.

From the date on the photo, at least two years had passed since his college graduation, and it looked as though he hadn’t seen his parents in that time.

Tears were forming in your eyes, trying to hold back the sob that was threatening to spill.

Earlier, you wondered when his world changed, when things became black and white for him, and he stopped seeing the magic in life. You assumed it was Colombia, and now you had an answer—it was before. He was broken before he even went—before he witnessed the horrors and went through unimaginable hell. You watched him dim, his brightness fade, Javi pushing down his happiness, hiding it away in order to survive.

From the following picture, you knew time had passed, him standing in a city that looked South American, assuming it was Colombia, aviators covering his eyes, his mouth frowning.

In the next photo, a man stood with him, smiling while Javi looked grumpy.

“Who’s he?” you asked.

“That’s Steve…” Javi said slowly. “Pop, where’d you get this photo?”

“Steve’s lovely wife, Connie sent them,” the older man answered. “She’d send them every year so we could see how you were doing.”

The next page showed what looked to be a Thanksgiving celebration, if the turkey was anything to go by, Javi sitting on a couch with a beer, frowning as he glared at the camera.

The photos covered holidays, birthdays, and candid shots you assumed Connie took.

They spanned years, watching Javi aging, hardening, lines getting prominent in his brow, and always looking so angry. By the twentieth photo of no smile in sight, you let the tears fall, the sob finally breaking free.

It was too much.

This wasn’t your Javi in these pictures—he was no longer recognizable, and your heart felt like it was splitting into a thousand pieces seeing him so miserable.

Your boyfriend was turning your head, sounding concerned, when he asked, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

The tears were coming unbidden, now crying hard, wracking sobs shaking your body.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. Javi pulled you into his chest, your face pressed to his shirt as his hand rested comfortingly on your head, the other rubbing circles on your back. “You were so sad.” Your words were muffled. “So mad—so unhappy. I’m sorry for crying—I just want you happy. Please tell me you’re okay now. Are you happy again?”

His stomach plummeted, guilt squeezing his heart so tight it was almost hard to breathe.

He was thankful his dad took the album; Javier moved her into his lap to hug her against him, her body shaking as she sobbed.

Pressing kisses into her hair, he reassured her, “I’m happy, Cielito. I’m so fucking happy—you make me happy. I’m okay, baby. Everything’s okay. Please don’t cry.”

I’m not worth it, was left unsaid.

He wasn’t worth crying over, not after seeing what he’d put his family through—what Cielito was going through now.

It had never once crossed his mind how his choices had affected those who loved him, and her reaction had him feeling like shit. She’d only looked at pictures, fucking pictures, and she was so upset; he couldn’t fathom what it was like for his parents. They lived it and saw in real-time him change for the fucking worst.

Chucho had a solemn look on his face. “Voy a traer le un poco de agua (I’m going to bring her some water),” he said, squeezing Javier’s shoulder. He nodded at his dad, silently thanking him, as the other man got up and made his way to the kitchen.

Wetness was beginning to seep into the flannel of his shirt from her tears, holding her tighter against him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes starting to burn. “I promise, Cielito, I’m happy—the happiest I’ve been in my entire life. You make me the happiest man.” His words were getting thicker. “Thank you,” he choked out, his throat closing up and having to swallow hard.

Her head came up, face all wet and puffy, to look him in the eyes, and he still thought she was so beautiful.

“You promise you’re happy?” she asked, sounding stuffed up.

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “So fucking happy.”

Wiggling her arm from between their bodies to hold up her hand, she stuck out her pinky.

“Pinky promise me you’re happy,” she said seriously.

It made him smile, chuckling softly.

“A pinky promise?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“A pinky promise.” She nodded. “Nothing more sacred—breaking one results in unimaginable consequences.”

He wrapped his pinky around her smaller one, locking them tight together.

“I pinky promise that I’m happy,” he said softly.

Her eyes were big, her lips tipping up in a smile.

“I’m so fucking glad you are.”

Unlatching his finger, he gently grabbed her hand to bring it to his mouth, kissing each of her knuckles.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I just need help understanding why you dated her?”

Sighing, he looked away, lacing their fingers together to hold her hand, marveling at how much smaller hers was in his palm, her skin so soft compared to his rough gun-calloused fingers.

“I was young,” he said after a second. “I was young and really fucking dumb. I was busy with swimming and school.” Meeting her eyes again, he continued, “Swimming took up most of my free time—it was a lifestyle, eating a certain way, always practicing. I, uh, wanted to do it professionally. Since I was a kid, I dreamed of going to the Olympics. Anyways, I didn’t go out much, and if I wanted to get laid, I knew girls who were down for a good time and nothing more.”

She snorted, “Fucking knew you were fighting off the ladies.”

“Not… really,” he replied. “Girls like football players, not swimmers.”

“Well, I’d choose you over a football player any day,” she said, leaning in to peck him on the tip of his nose.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “Anyways, I wasn’t popular. I wasn’t popular in high school, either. No one cares about swimming—this is Texas; everyone only fucking cares about football. Senior year, during spring break, I went to Corpus Christi with my teammates, us wanting to relax and have some fun before the championships and trials—senior year is when you break or make it. Lorraine happened to be at a bar we were in one night and offered to buy me a drink. I was so fucking surprised. She was popular. Everyone knew who she was because her boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, got drafted into the NFL.” He squeezed her hand, looking away. “I liked the attention,” he said quietly. “I liked that someone popular like her had taken an interest in me. Figured it’d be a one-night thing, her just wanting to fuck around, but she asked me to be her boyfriend, and again, I was young and dumb, thinking with my dick—sex on the regular and with the mayor’s daughter? I was in. I ignored that she was so fucking shallow and catty. I ignored how she looked at and treated my parents. I ignored that she started controlling what I could and couldn’t do, making me miss practices and not letting me hang out with my friends—it had to be all about her twenty-four-fucking-seven. It had to be the Lorraine show, her always putting up a fight when I had a competition or practice.” He sighed. “It was my first relationship. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing—assumed that I’d eventually fall in love with her, and after school, we’d be happy, that she’d be better and nicer, but I was so fucking exhausted.” He felt tired talking about it. “My plans to go pro were shot, school ended, and things didn’t get any better, they got fucking worse, and you know how it fucking ended.”

“You ignored the red flags because being with her made you feel like you were somebody?”

He sighed.

“Yeah. The dumbest fucking mistake I’ve ever made.”

“She… ruined your life.”

“I know,” he whispered.

He saw the sadness on her face, “She… ruined you.”

It felt like he’d been stabbed in the gut because it was true he’d let Lorraine fuck him up so badly it completely ruined him, and to this day, she was still trying to mess him up—like interrupting his date to try and make him look bad.

Since the day he took off and left her at the altar, Javier had been trapped in a cycle of guilt, always making himself smaller around her, walking on eggshells in her presence like it had been all his fault and wanting her forgiveness for the bad decision he’d made all those years ago.

Sitting here with Cielito, looking at the pictures, thinking about all that had happened, there were no more reasons for him to feel guilty—whatever he deserved for leaving her, he’d more than paid, he’d atoned, and he wasn’t going to feel bad anymore.

Anger was threading through his belly, thinking about all the shit she’d put him through, how she had ruined his fucking life with zero remorse. He thought about Danny’s wedding, her being happy while he was struggling, and then the moment she saw him on a date, happy, her trying to ruin it for him like it was her life’s mission to make sure Javier was miserable.

What did he do to make this woman hate him so much?

In his opinion, he’d been a good boyfriend—treated her the same way his father treated his mother because that’s how he’d been taught.

He never cheated—didn’t once cross his mind.

His only sin was leaving her at the altar after she’d lied.

Javier wasn’t the only one affected by Lorraine’s scorn; that was obvious to him now, she’d hurt his parents, his family, and years later, here she was, hurting the love of his life.

He no longer felt guilt; it was gone, fizzled away by the burning rage over all of the injustice of what she’d done and, to this day, continued to do.

Never again would he feel sorry for her.

Never again would she hurt the ones he loved.

Never again would he waste a single thought on her.

Never again.

“I wouldn’t change a single thing,” he said.

Cielito’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What? Javi, your dreams—”

“Were just dreams of a kid,” he interrupted, unlacing their fingers to caress her cheek. “It wasn’t meant to be. All of the shit that’s happened to me, all of it, the good and mostly bad, I wouldn’t change a single fucking thing because it all led me to you.” Tears were brimming in her eyes, her lip beginning to tremble. “I’d do it all again,” he said truthfully. “I’d go through all of the pain and misery, fuck, I’d walk barefoot through hell if I knew you were waiting for me. You’re worth it—you’ll always be fucking worth it, mi Cielito—you’re my little heaven, and the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Oh, Javi,” she gasped, wrapping her arms around him to hug him hard as she crushed her mouth against his, kissing him fervently. He held her around the back, his other hand cradling her face, moaning when she sucked on his tongue.

All he said was true—everything he’d been through was worth getting to sit here kissing the woman who held his heart.

God, he loved her so much.

It was getting harder, each and every day, to keep how he felt to himself and not say that four-letter word out loud. It popped into his head every time he looked at her or thought of her, having to mentally swat it away to avoid slipping up.

Javier was scared since he’d been burned in his last relationship.

What he didn’t mention to Cielito was things weren’t always bad with Lorraine; they started out pretty good, which he now recognizes was her manipulating him, only turning sour after a couple of weeks when he was far too gone on her to get out.

He had zero doubts the same would play out with Cielito, especially with how she reacted tonight, showing that she truly cared about him. It made his chest squeeze at how upset she’d been over his unhappiness, how she needed to make sure he was okay now and happy again.

Lorraine hadn’t given a shit about him, but Cielito? He could see it in her eyes, and how she looked at him, the words she said, her touches, all of it made him feel pretty fucking sure she loved him.

So, he wanted to take his time, do things differently, and allow them a chance to really get to know each other, which made him want to laugh since their track record showed they had a severe lack of self-control. He just didn’t want to rush things, and fuck all of this up, because he knew what they had was real, and he needed to be positive that she was as sure of how she felt for him as he was with her. Deep down, Javier knew that she was it; his future plans had her by his side—marriage, house, dog—she was who he wanted those things with, but the tendrils of doubt sprouting in his brain fuelled his insecurity over being damaged goods—she’d said it herself, he was ruined, and it was hard to believe someone would want to be with him.

He didn’t know what he’d do if he revealed how he felt, bared his soul, and gave her that final piece of himself, only to have it all come crumbling down because he fucked up—it’d destroy him to lose her.

Her tongue was sliding along his, tasting the apple pie and ice cream from earlier.

His dad loudly cleared his throat, “I’m still here,” he said, amused.

They separated from each other, breathing a little harder.

“Sorry, Chucho,” Cielito said, pushing her face into his neck to hide it.

“Don’t apologize,” his dad replied, waving away her words as he approached them with a glass of water. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Mija. I brought you some water.”

She sat up, looking at his dad with a little smile as she accepted the cup with thanks, Chucho taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

She downed the glass quickly, leaning forward to set it on the coffee table.

“Well, I’m sorry that looking at pictures was not as fun as I thought it’d be,” Chucho said.

“I loved looking at them!” she replied. Javier enjoyed how she leaned her head against his shoulder, getting comfortable in his lap while talking to his dad. “I loved seeing Javi growing up and all the pictures of his mom. The end, though, was a real doozy.”

He hugged her closer to him.

“Yes,” Chucho said, frowning. “I know what you mean—the smiles.”

“The smiles,” she said sadly, nodding.

“You want to know something, Mija?” his dad asked, looking at her with sparkling eyes.

“What?”

“They came back,” Chucho said, smiling and reaching to pat her leg that was dangling off the couch with how she was seated sideways in Javier’s lap. “Around the time he met you. Coincidence? I think not,” he chuckled.

She giggled.

“I’m happy I could help,” she replied, leaning up to kiss Javer’s chin.

He couldn’t help himself, moving to press his lips to her forehead, “You feeling better?” he asked.

She looked at him, “Yeah.”

“Still want to go for a ride on Sombra?”

Her eyes widened, sitting up.

“Yes!” she answered, nodding her head.

It made him smile, his hands pulling her face in to kiss him, breaking it after a moment to look at her, “Let’s go.” He turned his head towards his dad. “We’re gonna go for a ride, then come back to say bye.”

“You two have fun,” Chucho replied. “Don’t get caught up touring the land,” he teased.

“¡Dios mío, Pop (Oh my god, Pop)!” he groaned.

His dad laughed.

The sun was beginning to lower on the horizon, the temperature cooling as Javi took you to the horse barn, the large sliding door already open. You watched in interest when he took you into the tack room, seeing the equipment needed to ride a horse and the different saddles in varying shades of brown leather neatly organized on racks jutting out from the wooden walls, Javi gathering a chocolate-colored one, and carrying it easily to Sombra’s stall.

You opened the door for him, bringing an apple with you that the horse happily took when you presented it in the flat of your palm. Sombra made that happy low-pitched sound through her nose, nickering as she swallowed her treat and making you smile.

Javi had set down the saddle, grabbing a soft pad hanging on the door and putting it up on the horse’s back.

“This is so she doesn’t get overheated,” he said.

Sombra was as cool as a cucumber, not bothered at all by what he was doing, standing still while you petted her nose.

Your eyes went wide, watching as Javi picked up the saddle from the ground with a soft groan, the sleeves of his red flannel shirt pushed up, letting you see the muscles in his forearms work as he smoothly lifted it up on top of the horse’s glossy black back. He wiggled it a bit, his face screwed up in concentration while he got it how he wanted, walking around to the other side to pull through the straps and start cinching them tight to ensure it stayed on.

He came towards you, grabbing one last strap that went around her front called the breast collar, Javi scratching her ear as he got it buckled in.

His voice took on that soft tone he used with the animals, petting her neck, “¿Te gusta la atencion (Do you like the attention)?” he asked her. She snorted in response, him smiling and beginning to walk around her to make sure everything was nice and snug.

He walked over to grab her bridle hanging on the wall, you moving out of the way so he could work. You were fascinated with him standing beside her head and putting an arm up and between her ears to grab the leather.

“Why do you do it like that? Your arm’s at such a weird angle.”

He smiled at you, “So, I have control of her head.” Demonstrating, he moved his arm gently from left to right, her head moving with it.

“Is she, uh, comfortable?” you asked as he got part of it into her mouth and started getting the thin leather straps up onto her head, carefully moving her ears forward to get over them.

“The bit—what goes in her mouth just sits on gums. She’s not uncomfortable.” He was standing in front of her face, making you smile when he made sure her long bangs were neatly placed along her nose and out from under the bridle, smoothing them out. “Muy bonita (very pretty),” he murmured. Making adjustments to the leather, he spoke, focused on what he was doing, “She’s one of the better horses—doesn’t put up a fight to get it in.”

“She seems very well-behaved.”

“Oh, she’s wonderful. Isn’t that right, Cariño (Sweetheart)?” he said in that sweet tone that made you feel like you were going to melt, him scratching her ears affectionately and hearing her nicker happily.

He went about getting everything tightened, and once satisfied, he gathered the reins, clicking his tongue, “Vamos, Sombra (Let’s go, Sombra),” he said, leading her out of the stall, with you walking beside him.

“So, we get on outside?” you asked, feeling a little nervous.

“Yeah,” he said, looking over at you. His hand went to the small of your back. “It’ll be okay. You’re not gonna fall.”

“I’d die from embarrassment.”

“It’s not gonna happen.”

“Okay.”

Once out in the open, in front of the barn, Sombra stopped walking, Javi having you stand next to her in front of him, him bending his knees and holding his interlaced hands down.

“What am I doing?” you asked, looking down at him.

He smiled.

“Grab onto the saddle horn, step, and I’ll boost you up—throw your other leg over the horse.”

“You’re going to lift me up..?” The uncertainty was apparent in your voice.

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t you say something about a mounting block? The thing to step on and get up, couldn’t I use that?” you bargained.

He sighed, raising an eyebrow. “We don’t need the block. Step,” he ordered, nodding at his hands. “I’ve got you, Cielito.”

“What if I’d prefer the block?”

His eyebrows dipped together. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

You pressed your hands to your face.

“I don’t think I’m coordinated enough,” you mumbled.

“It’s easy.”

“It’s a lot of steps.”

“It’s three steps.”

“Three too many.”

“If you don’t do it like this, I’m gonna pick you up and throw you on top.”

Your hands fell away.

“You wouldn’t.”

He smirked.

“I would, and you fucking know it. Grab, step, other leg over the saddle. Let’s go, baby.”

The idea of Javi picking you and tossing you on top of a horse was more humiliating than the possibility of losing your balance and falling on your ass, thus giving you the courage to stretch your arms up to grab onto the jutting horn and step your foot onto his waiting hands, thankful you were wearing flats. You squealed at suddenly finding yourself leaving the ground, Javi grunting as he lifted you.

“Throw your leg over,” he said through his teeth, your hands having a death grip on the hard leather, doing as he ordered, his hands moving to your ass to push you into the seat.

“See,” he said, breathing a little harder once you were comfortably seated. You looked down at him, his hair falling messily over his forehead, hands on his hips, grinning. “Easy.”

You sighed. “Sure, easy, Mr. Bossy Pants.”

His head tilted down. “These aren’t my bossy pants; you’re thinking of my slacks.”

“Okay, smartass. Are you coming up?”

He laughed, meeting your eyes.

“Not yet,” he said with a shake of his head. “Gotta lead you through the gate.”

“Okay.”

The leather was smooth on your bare thighs, feeling a bit weird to have your feet dangling, gripping tightly onto the saddle with being so high up. Sombra was so tall, and it had nerves flittering in your belly about falling off.

With the reins in hand, Javi got Sombra moving, your eyes taking in the scenery as he led you along the side of the barn and through a gate, seeing the land stretch for miles, all yellow grass and small hills rolling along the mostly flat land, trees scattered few and far between.

Once the gate was closed, he was handing you the leather reins, his hands grabbing onto the horn, your head looking down the side of the horse to watch him put his foot in the stirrup, the muscles in his forearms tensing as he jumped up with a grunt, easily getting his other leg over, and pushing you as far forward as possible to settle in behind you.

His body was pressed close into yours, feeling him so solid at your back, his arm moving around your middle like a band of iron to keep you firmly against him. His head was beside yours, turning to press his lips close to your ear, “This okay?” he whispered, unable to stop yourself from shivering.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“Still worried you’re gonna fall?”

“No.”

“Good.” He kissed the skin of your neck. “Let me know if you want me to slow down, okay?”

“Okay.”

He took the reins from you, lightly pulling on them to get Sombra’s attention. The line of his legs were pressed to the backs of your own, feeling as his calves squeezed the horse’s ribs, clicking his tongue, “¡Vamos, Sombra (Let’s go, Sombra)!”

She started walking, your hips moving back and forth from the motions, your upper body almost swaying from side to side, Javi giving you time to get used to it before squeezing his legs harder to get her to move faster.

You tensed up with how she was making you bounce.

“Relax, baby,” Javi said into your ear. “Let your hips move with her.”

You were very aware of Javi pressed along the line of your body, relaxing like he said and letting yourself go with the flow of the horse’s movements and him behind you—trying to ignore how he was flush against your ass and the way every time your hips moved forward, his were pushing into yours. Your skin had heated from the contact, not surprised by the inkling of want simmering in your tummy, welcoming the wind on your hot face as Sombra moved swiftly over the land.

The ride had smoothed out, feeling like you were on a rocking horse, your center pulling forward and back, unable to keep from smiling at how comfortable you were, knowing you were safe with him keeping you close, looking out at the landscape in front of you, the golden grass shimmering in the sun, and spotting cattle in the distance.

“That’s better,” he said. “Love having you with me.” His hand at your middle moved up to squeeze your breast, gasping as he kissed your shoulder. “Love having you so close. Do you like this?” he asked with his lips to your ear.

“You feeling me up while horseback riding?” you asked loud enough for him to hear over the breeze.

You felt his chest shake, his warm chuckle making your spine tingle, him squeezing your flesh again.

“I know you like that.” The way his voice went deeper had the words shooting straight to your cunt. “I bet you’re already wet”—he ghosted his fingers down your body, getting under your dress to palm your pussy—”I bet you’d let me touch you,” he purred.

Your heart was hammering in your chest because he wasn’t wrong; you’d absolutely let him finger you, but the rational part of your brain was telling you that coming and falling off a horse would be such an embarrassing way to die—you could picture the newspaper headline, ‘Orgasm Leads to Rider’s Death.’

“I cannot believe you are seducing me on a horse!” you exclaimed. “Hand above the waist, mister. You are driving a moving vehicle.”

“She’s a horse, not a car…” he said slowly in amusement, his arm holding your middle again.

“And yet, she’s still considered a mode of transportation just of the non-motorized variety, and driving impaired could lead to lethal consequences.”

He snorted. “Hand will stay above the waist—don’t want your pussy causing a horse accident.”

“I’ve heard pussy is the number one cause of all fatal horse accidents.”

He laughed. “You’re a fucking liar.”

“Hey, I’m not willing to risk finding out if it’s true or not.”

“Fine, baby,” he said, kissing your neck. “Ready to go faster?”

“Let’s see how much horsepower this baby has,” you replied, playfully patting Sombra’s neck.

He huffed out an amused breath.

“If you want me to slow down, tell me.”

“Sounds good!”

Your hands were back to holding onto the saddle horn between your thighs, Javi’s legs pressing harder into the horse’s sides, hearing him click his tongue. She started going, not a full gallop, but still fast enough to have you laughing while Javi kept you from bouncing out of the seat.

Wind was whipping past you, able to feel the powerful movements of Sombra below you, all of it exhilarating. Javi tightened his arm around you, keeping you secure against him.

“Put your arms out,” he said.

“What?”

“Put your arms out—I’ve got you.”

It was nerve-wracking, having to work up the courage before finally stretching out your arms.

With the wind rushing by, Sombra practically floating over the ground, moving so smoothly it felt like you were flying.

It had you breathless, in awe, laughing happily at how incredible it was.

You could hear her hooves hitting the ground and the air moving past your ears, your eyes beginning to water, practically able to imagine you were some kind of bird gliding over the land, hovering above the terrain.

“Are you having fun?” Javi asked.

“Yeah!” you laughed. “This is so fucking amazing!”

“Grab onto the saddle. We’re gonna slow down.”

Doing as he said, you saw he was taking you up a hill, a large oak tree at the top, the limbs twisting out from the trunk. Sombra slowed down the closer you got until Javi had her stopping, him easily hopping off and tying her to the tree.

“What are we doing?” you asked.

“You’ll see,” he said, moving to stand beside you. “Bring your leg over so both are on this side.” He patted the saddle.

It took some maneuvering, getting your leg up and over, squeaking in surprise when Javi grabbed you by the waist and pulled you off, setting you gently on the ground.

“You okay?” he asked.

Smiling, you replied, “I’m wonderful.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, grabbing your hand. “Come on.”

Following him, he led you to the other side of the tree, him sitting down at the base of it with a groan, resting his back on the trunk.

“Sit,” he said, patting the space between his open legs.

It made you giggle, him practically pulling you down and getting you where he wanted with your back pressed to his front, leaning your head against his shoulder to look up at him. Your fingers touched his jaw, moving his face to meet your eyes.

“You just wanted to sit under a tree?” you asked.

He kissed you softly, looking at you when he pulled back, his hand coming up to stroke along your cheek.

“No,” he shook his head. “I wanted you to see that,” he said, pointing in front of you both.

Looking forward, the land stretched as far as your eyes could see, lumpy with small hills, the sky awash in blues, purples, and pinks, while the horizon was a bright orangish-yellow glow, like a lake of liquid fire pooled in the distance.

He brought you here to watch the sunset, and it was breathtakingly beautiful.

“It’s so fucking pretty,” you said in awe.

“Yeah,” he answered softly. “You are.”

You turned to look at him, his eyes already on your face, looking at you with such a sweet expression it had your heart skipping a beat that he’d rather stare at you than the picturesque view.

“I know,” you said.

He looked a little surprised.

“That you’re beautiful?”

“No.” You shook your head, and he frowned, about to speak, but you stopped him with a press of your finger to his lips. “We’ll deal with my self-esteem later. I know how you feel.” You saw him swallow hard, his eyes looking a little panicked. “Don’t stress,” you continued. “I just need you to know that I’m very aware—those big brown eyes of yours hide nothing.” You caressed his cheek, him leaning into it. “Your last relationship fucked you up, and I’m now up to speed on just how bad it was, and completely understand that you need time. That’s fine with me, and I’ll wait however long you need because I feel the exact same way, fighting for my life every goddamn day, not saying it out loud since I think it’s important that you say it first. So, Javi, I know how you feel, and I feel the same, take your time, and when you’re ready, know I’ll say it back without any hesitation.”

His eyes had softened, getting misty.

“I really fucking like you, Cielito.”

“I really fucking like you, too, Javi.”

“Thank you for understanding.” He cupped your jaw, leaning in to kiss you hard, feeling it in the press of his lips; I love you.

He was happy.

So fucking happy.

Knowing she felt the same way, that she understood what he was going through, and giving him the reassurance that it was okay that he takes his time had a giant invisible weight lifting off his chest and making him feel like he could breathe easier.

She never stopped surprising him, somehow always knowing what he needed to hear, feeling like she truly understood him—she just got him, she cared about him, she loved him.

Since his early twenties, it had felt like he’d had to deal with one bad thing after another, never catching a single fucking break with the amount of shit he had to go through, feeling as though he was at odds with the world—that it was out to get him and he was meant to live some miserable existence of just surviving, and doing his best to make it to the next day.

He didn’t feel like that anymore.

No, his life had changed for the better—there was hope, happiness, calm; he no longer felt like he was swimming against the current, trying to keep his head above water, but for once felt relaxed, going with the flow and letting the waves soothe him as he embarked on this new part of his life, where the only thing working against him was his own thoughts and insecurities.

His own enemy was himself, and that was fixable; with time and reassurance, he’d get where he needed to be, and it just felt so fucking nice to know there was an end in sight, a light at the end of the tunnel, hope.

He had hope.

He had something to live for.

He had someone to live for.

And she felt the same.

He smiled on their ride back to the barn and while holding her hand as they walked to the house; it didn’t leave his face as he changed out of his cowboy boots for his regular boots by the backdoor or when his dad called them into the living room, his cheeks beginning to hurt, unable to keep himself from wrapping his arms around her middle from behind, placing smiling kisses on her shoulders and neck as she giggled, them awkwardly shuffle-walking towards the front of the house.

“¡Dios mío, Mijo (Oh my god, my son)!” his dad said as they entered the room. “¡Deja que respire (Let her breathe)!”

He pressed a loud smacking kiss to her cheek that had her laughing.

“Lo siento, Pop,” he said, not feeling sorry at all. He finally looked at his dad sitting on the couch, a lone photo album on the coffee table, along with a Polaroid camera and a sweating bottle of beer on a corkboard coaster. “Me gusta mucho (I like her a lot).” He kissed her cheek again. “No me puedo controlar (I can’t control myself).”

Chucho nodded as he spoke, “Sí, sí claro, te gusta, la quieres (Yes, yes, of course, you like her, you love her).” His dad laughed. “Ya me di cuenta (I’ve noticed)—Eres obvio (You’re obvious).” His attention turned to Cielito, “Mija, how did you like the ride?”

“I loved it!” she answered. “Was a little scared, but it was so much fun once we got going!”

His dad smiled brightly. “Yes, I love riding—so freeing. I’m sure my son would love to take you out again. His primo (cousin), Aarón, would probably let you borrow Dulce. She’s a sweetheart—very easygoing.”

“I met her!” she replied. “She was lovely. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to ride alone.”

Javier was imagining teaching her how to ride on her own, knowing how bright her smile would be when she got the hang of it—he should take her riding again.

His father said what he was thinking, “Well, Javi will have to take you out more—get you used to it.”

“I think I’d like that.” She turned her head to kiss Javier’s chin, him moving to get her lips.

Chucho chuckled. “Before you leave,” the older man said, “May I get a picture?” He leaned forward to pick up the camera.

“Oh my god,” Cielito replied excitedly. “I’m album-worthy?”

His dad laughed, “Mija, you are absolutely album-worthy! May I?”

“I am so okay with it,” she said, looking at Javier and meeting his eyes. “Is it okay with you, babe?”

“Of course, baby.” He kissed the side of her head. “Gotta get you in the album.”

She grinned, his dad practically jumping up from the couch.

“Gracias,” Chucho said, lifting the camera to his face. “Say cheese!”

Javier wanted to groan, their attention on his father, resting his head on her shoulder, and hugging her to him, her laughing as she said, “Cheese!”

The flash went off, hearing the whine as the camera spat out the picture, his dad pulling it out and shaking it a few times before setting it down on the coffee table.

“Uno más, por favor (One more, please),” Chucho said, getting the Polaroid camera into place again. “On the count of three. One, Two—” Javier moved, turning her upper body in his arms and cupping her jaw as he pressed his lips to hers, swallowing her surprised sound. “Three!” The blinding flash illuminated them for a second, followed by the whirring; Javier was too focused on kissing her to care how the photo turned out.

Chucho was laughing, “¡Tres segundos (Three seconds)!” Javier could hear the camera being set down on the table, his mouth moving against hers. “No pudiste esperar tres segundos (You couldn’t wait three seconds).” His dad had calmed down to chuckling. “Eres peor que yo y volví loca a tu mamá (You’re worse than me, and I drove your mom crazy). I see now why you’ve been slacking at work—” He switched to English so Cielito would understand. “—you’re too busy thinking about kissing her!”

Cielito laughed into his mouth, Javier breaking the kiss to groan.

He glared at his dad, the other man looking at the two pictures with a smile, “Are you done embarrassing me?” he asked.

Chucho met his eyes with an amused expression. “No sé (I don’t know),” he answered, shrugging. “You make it so easy.”

He sighed, “I kissed her.”

“For the thousandth time today?” his dad asked. “Surprised your lips haven’t fallen off.”

“Pop,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, Cielito giggling.

“I’m just giving you a hard time, Mijo.” His tone changed to something more serious when he spoke again, “Javi?” He saw the sincere look on Chucho’s face when he looked at him. “I like seeing you like this,” he continued. “I like seeing you happy. We went through the pictures together. You saw what happened, my smiling boy disappearing.” His dad was tearing up, and it had Javier’s throat getting tight. “You’ve come back to me—I got you back. Tu mamá would be so happy if she saw you like this. You know what she’d say?” Javier shook his head. “She’d say, ‘Ahí está mi niño feliz (There’s my happy boy)—mi Javiercito por fin está en casa (My Javier is finally home).’”

Javier’s breath got stuck in his throat, willing the tears away. Looking away, he cleared his throat, Cielito rubbing her hand over his chest, welcoming the comfort.

“I’m, uh, glad you’d both be happy.”

“We’re thrilled, Mijo,” Chucho replied. “The pictures turned out great.”

He saw his dad move, watching as the older man grabbed the photo album and opened it to the first page, which was blank, Javier just now realizing it wasn’t one from earlier.

“Is that new?” he asked.

“Sí,” Chucho replied. He carefully pulled the plastic back and placed the two pictures side by side. “New photo album for the start of a happy chapter in your life.” He’d gotten them situated and the plastic back into place. “¡Perfecto!”

Picking up the album, his dad brought it over to them, standing beside Cielito as he held it open.

The first photo had Javier holding her from behind, his head resting on her shoulder, their ears touching, and both smiling brightly at the camera. The second had her body twisted in his arms, his hand on her back, the other caressing her jaw as they kissed, seeing them both smiling as they did, reminding him of the old-timey photos of men about to go off to war kissing their loves one last time.

That smile was back on his face again, able to see how in love they both were, how fucking happy they were. They looked so good together, so right, so perfect, fitting together so easily. His veins were thrumming with fuzzy warmth, something he was becoming all too familiar with.

“They’re good pictures, Pop,” he said.

“I love them,” Chucho replied.

“I love them, too,” Cielito added.

“We gotta take more pictures together, baby—start our own album,” he said, kissing her crown.

He liked the idea of having something for them to look back on.

“We should!” She looked at him, smiling.

“I have many albums of Antonia and me,” his dad said. “They're nice to have.”

The other man moved, closing the photo album and setting it on the table. He picked up the camera, walking back over to them, holding it out to Javier.

“Un regalo (A gift),” Chucho said.

“No, Pop,” he replied, gently pushing it away. “Nos diste las vacas (You gave us the cows). No necesitamos tu cámara también (We don’t need your camera, too).”

“Lo insisto (I insist),” his dad replied, trying to give it to him again. “Tu mamá querría que lo tuvieras (Your mom would want you to have it).”

Javier’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s playing fucking dirty, and you know it.”

Chucho grinned, “Of course, but she would want you to have it—make your own memories, put together your own albums.”

Javier sighed.

“Fine,” he said, taking the offered camera. “But don’t be fucking surprised with what you get for your birthday.”

“My only wish for my birthday is more pie made by tu novia.”

She giggled.

“When’s your birthday?” she asked.

“July 9th,” his dad and he said simultaneously.

“Right around the corner!” she said, grinning. “We should do something to celebrate! I could make dinner, or we could go out, and I’ll of course make you any pie you want, Chucho!”

The older man looked elated.

“I would love that very much!” his dad said.

“It’s a date!”

Chucho’s face softened, “It was wonderful meeting you, Mija.”

“Hug before we go?” she asked.

“Of course,” he replied, opening his arms. She stepped into them, his dad giving her a big hug before pulling back and holding her by the shoulders. “Thank you for making my son so happy. I can see how much you both like each other.” He winked. “Don’t be strangers, and come by anytime. You’re more than welcome.”

“It was so nice meeting you, too,” she said. “We’ll have dinner every week, and you let me know what pie you want for your birthday.”

“I’d love peach.”

“Then peach, you will have.”

“I can’t wait.” He patted her shoulders gently, her moving away from him, his dad’s eyes meeting his. “Hug, Mijo?” he asked, holding out his arms.

“Yeah, Pop,” he answered, hugging his dad while also holding the camera.

Chucho whispered in his ear, “Tu mamá lo aprobaría (Your mom would approve). Por favor cásate con esta chica (Please, marry this girl). Ella es perfecta para ti (She’s perfect for you).”

They broke apart.

“Sí, Pop (Yes, Pop),” he replied. “Es lo que quiero (It’s what I want).”

His dad was smiling, clapping his hands onto his arms. “Que bueno, Mijo (That’s good, my son). Porque yo también lo quiero (Because I want it, too).”

Javier chuckled.

“Okay, we’re going now.” He held the camera with one hand, pressing the other to Cielito’s back as they started walking to the front door.

“I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning,” his dad said. “Hopefully, you’ll be able to get some work done, and not be thinking about kissing tu media naranja (your other half),” he teased.

Cielito giggled.

“Pop,” he groaned.

“I’m joking,” Chucho laughed. “You’re such a aguafiestas (buzzkill)!”

The front door was opened, goodbyes were said, and Javier walked Cielito to his truck, opening her door and helping her in, smiling when she slid into the middle seat.

“Baby, can you hold this?” he asked, holding out the camera.

“Of course,” she answered, taking it and setting it in her lap.

He remembered something.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Need to run back inside.”

“Okay.”

He shut the door, turning on his heel back to the house.

The sky was dark when you left, stars shining brightly high above.

Whatever Javi forgot, it didn’t take long to grab, him coming back out quickly, hearing his muffled shout of ‘Bye’ to his dad as he closed the front door.

Before you knew it, the two of you were driving down the road back to town, the truck’s headlights illuminating your journey.

Your head was resting on his shoulder, your hand in his atop your thigh, the weight of the camera nestled in your lap while the radio softly played.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“We’re absolutely going to take dirty pictures, aren’t we?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“God, I really fucking like you.”

“I really fucking like you, too.”

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

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

Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @lola766 @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin  @themarcusmoreno @woomen23 @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @thevoiceinyourheadx @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @kulicny @enjoyourlattebitch @athalien @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @star017 @javier-penas-wife

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña/reader #javier peña fanfiction #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

[xopinkroses]

Big brain Nero head cannon time!

I loved the "Can I spend my life with you?" fic and it got me thinking... Nero would be so soft around little kids! 🤧 Chaotic but soft! Like playful and fully engaged with whatever they are doing and 1000% down to play with dolls or putting on makeup or a full on nerf war or a foam sword fight or even just chasing the kid around, cackling like a gremlin while the kid screams and giggles! 😭

It would be so precious to watch and my heart can't handle how cute it is!!!

Playtime (Nero x Reader & Their Child)♥

(Dad Nero has my heart💖💖😭 Both baby and Reader are gender neutral for maximum self insertion haha~ I based this on my younger family members and how I mess around with them! (◠‿◠✿) Thank you for the request!! xo)

Summary; Nero playing with your toddler! Word Count; 575 Warnings; None! :)

MASTERLIST🌸

From the second your child was born, Nero’s ‘dad mode’ was unlocked and he hasn't looked back since. Dad jokes, tea parties and telling stories with dramatic voices to make an actor jealous– Nero gladly let go of any pride he had before in order to see his baby smile. That gummy smile and the tiny, cooing giggles when he would make faces and animatedly speak to the tiny baby in his arms… It just made everything worth it. 

“I’m gonna get youuu∼!” 

“No you won’t–!”

You watch on as the two most important people in your life cause absolute chaos in your living  room, couch cushions and toys strewn over the floor and the sound of delighted squealing and giggling warming your heart. Nero is pretending to chase after your toddler, dramatically parkouring over furniture, pretending to be some kind of monster… or maybe a dinosaur? You can’t really be sure, the game changes every few minutes and you’ve given up trying to keep up with the switch ups. He always makes sure to be just unable to reach your child, who squeals and yells for the monster to go away as they run a few feet away– but you know Nero is as eagle eyed as ever, subtly herding them away from potential dangers without pausing the game.

Nero takes playtime very seriously. Sometimes you have to ask yourself whether you have one baby or two– because father and child are on the exact same wavelength when it comes to playing. This is a game of life or death!

“I’m gonna steal all your hugs– give them to meeee∼!” Nero rushes towards your child, hands outstretched in a tickling motion. They scream and run behind the couch, peeking over it with sparkling eyes.

“Nuh-uh! None for youuuu–!” They declare, giggling and waiting for their daddy’s next move. “Monsters don’t get hugs!”

Nero gasps in offence, “What do you mean monsters don’t get hugs?”

“No hugs for monsters!” The child doubles down, grinning as Nero puts a hand to his chest and puts on an indignant expression.

“But what if I’m a nice monster?” Nero challenges, creeping closer to the couch.

“Nope, nuh-uh– no hugs for you!” They see Nero’s approach and starts mirroring his actions so that the two of them are circling the couch. 

“Is that so?” Nero grins mischievously.

They giggle, “Mm-hmm! My hugs, you can’t have them!” 

You already know what's coming before it even happens, having seen this scenario play out many times before. Nero nods sadly, looking thoughtful. “Hmm, okay… I guess I’ll just have to go without then….” 

And then he lunges– vaulting over the couch and capturing the toddler in his arms, lifting them into the air like a trophy. They squeal and kick their arms and legs out in an attempt to ‘free themself’, their cheeks flushed and white hair a mess. 

“Gotcha–!” He tosses them into the air before hugging them tightly to his chest. His arms are strong and protective around your child, and they lean into his embrace despite still screaming out in defeat at having been caught by the monster. “All your hugs are mine!”

That's when you decide to make your presence known, wrapping your arms around the two of them and nuzzling your cheek against the soft white hair of your baby’s head. A sneak attack to win you the game!

“-- And now both of your hugs are mine!”

~ 🖤

#devil may cry x reader #dmc fanfiction #dmc x reader #nero x reader #nero imagines #dmc nero

[crescencestudio]

Devlog #32 | 06.27.23

Hi everyone!

I'm here! With an Update! This is an exciting one because I am Finally releasing a Full! Game! <3 I will obviously still be talking about Alaris, but I am vibrating with excitement because I can't wait to release intertwine to you all! THE RELEASE DATE APPROACHES

Writing

Because we entered crunch mode for intertwine, this month was mostly focused on continuing to fill out Druk's route and my dissertation.

I didn't make as much progress on Druk's route as I would've liked (I was hoping to FINISH it, but Otojam crunch wrecked my ass). But I do have most of the route finished! At this point, I only have the final chapter to go, so we are Very Close! Druk's route is shaping up to be a really fun one. I like to sprinkle humor into all the routes, but because of Druk's character, there are a lot of funny (at least to me) cast interactions. I hope people enjoy it as much as I do because I have a big fat crush on him now!

Regarding editing, we are just about rounding out the last of Fenir's developmental edits (courtesy of local superhero dev Wudgeous of Herotome) and Kayn's line edits (courtesy of local royalty IF writer Vi of Next in Line). With Fenir's script coming up on the last of the developmental edits, that is basically two routes that are going to be ready for beta-testing after the updated demo, which is very exciting! I am extremely happy with how Fenir's route has turned out after some developmental revisions, and I hope you all like the sweet little (grumpy) baby's route!

Art

Again, most (all) of my attention was on intertwine art assets this month. I was focused on the rest of the GUI, sprite expression, and CGs so that the game will be ready for release at the end of this month!

I'm really happy with how intertwine has come out visually considering the two month time crunch! Many of the playtesters mentioned how they liked the GUI and overall aesthetic of the game, which---for my pea-sized brain that has no object permanence when it comes to compliments---meant the world to me!

Review of intertwine Screenshots (left to right, starting at the top row): Main Menu Screen, Options/Preferences Screen, In-Game Dialogue Preview, Exhibit Preview

For Alaris, I did still get some new backgrounds from Vui, and while they are beautiful, I can no longer share them since they venture into spoiler territory. Sorry folks!

I have a sneak peek of a little Something Something.

Adorable emotes for a certain Something Something! That's all I will leave you with for now <3

Additional Notes

I spent A LOT of this month coding. I re-entered programming hell to get intertwine up and running. There were a lot of features that I coded for the first time, like a texting interface, some animations, and one Special, Very Game-Centric Feature That I Can't Disclose Due to Extreme Spoilers. It was really rewarding to see it all come together, and I am pretty happy with the end result ^^

You don't even know the hell I went through to customize this texting feature

We also have a lovely voice actor for Van, which we revealed on Twitter. Max has been an amazing talent to work with, and I am in love with the way he brought Van to life!!

Finally, I spontaneously ended up working with Orpheo Fenn and Kija of Faefield Productions for a custom intertwine soundtrack. I've been wanting to work with them for a while, so I'm so happy we were able to collab!

No market research this month, except for the fact that I played Tears of the Kingdom a little bit in my free time ^^ I am so in love with Link. Also, I didn't see the appeal to Sidon in the first game, but for some reason in this game, It Clicked. Like I Get It.

That's all from me for this month. Look forward to an intertwine release in the coming days! I'm excited to get back into Alaris full-swing this upcoming month. I didn't think I'd feel this way after feeling oversaturated with them for a hot minute, but I miss my Alaris gang <3 See you all next month, and stay safe!

#alaris #devlog

[lilacmilkshakesx]

i’m bored so thoughts on episode 5 of pjo !

spoilers possibly (?)

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omg the hug was actually insane like and the way percy relaxed when annabeth hugged him omgsjgdhd

was screaming for him to hug her back, like why r u js standing there 😣

grover has to be tired of them like genuinely

”it doesn’t have to be a thing, you know. that you hugged me.” it’s embarrassing how i cackled at that

their heads peeking up behind the barrier on the side of the road, they’re so cute

ares twitter beef is realest ever

annabeth saying she never watched a movie (did chuckle, icl) and percy basically offering for them to go to see one, oh em gee

”why would hephaestus make an amusement park?” “maybe he finds them amusing?” annabeth, the comedian u are 🫶🏻

annabeth getting distracted by the gears, i luv her

i must be stupid bc i will be so serious, i was lowk lost w the grover and ares interrogation stuff 😭 like its not that i didn’t like it bc aryan is such a good actor and edge is a good fit for ares, but the dots were not connecting in my head to how we got from point a to b

props to grover tho, he was sherlock holmes fr

[“What is Love” starts playing] i screamed.

the ride had me scared w them 😭

the entire scene before the golden throne, i sobbed. annabeth calling him ‘seaweed brain’ for the first time, them fighting back and forth

”you’re better at this than me. you just are. and you know it.” sick.

annabeth promising to save his mother and him asking for her to come back for him and HER SAYING HE DIDNT EVEN NEED TO ASK IM SO ILL I CANT ANYMORE OH MY GOSH

leah and walker r such good actors omg

”it’s okay. it’s okay.” percy reassuring himself and annabeth, the amount of emotion put into it, u would think its final season and he’s at his last breath and tbh, wouldn’t have it any other way ! anyways percabeth soulmatism and best at making me sob !

lowk had me fooled bc i thought in the silence, it would pan back to percy js like not being affected for some reason but then it pans back and he’s fully gold, i was bamboozled

annabeth’s speech omg

even the gods know athena was sick for allowing echidna and the chimera to go after annabeth

”he isn’t that way. he’s better than that.” oh so i’m in a ball on the floor

lowk thought she was abt to solve that thing, mechanic annabeth realness

after that whole tunnel of love thing, i can say these writers r sick and i was ripping my hair out whilst sobbing ☺️

oh em gee does grover know who stole the bolt ?!?! 😧

cannot wait for next week omgg, this show has not disappointed me yet and every new episode becomes my fav

also.. if this is what tlt season is like.. tlo is gonna leave me in shambles

side note: what is it w this show and flights of stairs metaphors or whatever ?? #foreshadowing..?? /j

#percy jackson #pjo #percabeth #annabeth chase #grover underwood #leah sava jeffries #walker scobell #aryan simhadri

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

me impatiently (patiently, ily, take ur time) awaiting the next installment of sugar daddy joel, as the choke hole that man has on me is astronomical.

i do hope things are slowing down by you, friend! take care of yourself! (see what i did there? ;) )

I love you so much, boo😘

Speaking of our favorite sugar daddy, we're down to mere hours now. I'm gonna update first thing October 1st around 8AM.

T-minus 9ish hours, babes.

In the mean time, let me take care of you (i see what you did and raise you double), with one last sneak peek before the update!!

“You…” You narrowed your eyes at him. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Afraid not, ma’am.”

It was sitting on the tip of your tongue, but your foggy brain just couldn’t quite grasp it. Nima snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “I got it. He’s that guy.” You lifted an eyebrow at her words and she nodded frantically. “Yeah, he’s that actor! You play in that one show with, like, the zombies or whatever, right?”

“Not at all.” He laughed with a shake of his head. “I ain’t no actor.”

“Well then, I’m out of guesses.” Nima grumbled. She tilted her head, looking him up and down once more, “You seem nice enough. Got a pretty face. You rich? You wanna be a sugar daddy? She’s in the market.”

#feel free to ask me about anything!! #asks #reader insert #sugar daddy!joel miller #sugar daddy!joel miller x reader #take care of you

[chipmunkweirdo]

Time to let you see a sneak peek of some dialogue that may or may not make it into the Geeks In Love story.

SIMON: How do you rack up 80 dollars worth of library fines!?

ALVIN 2.0: I read a lot of books…and forget to return them.

SIMON: 80 dollars!? 80 DOLLARS!?

ALVIN 2.0: Uhhh….that’s the downside of having a library card.

JEANETTE: We’ll pay you back. We promise.

SIMON: (groans)

ALVIN 2.0: But the thing is, I’ve never felt anything like this….this intensity for someone before. It doesn’t feel like my other crushes.

THEODORE: How does it feel?

ALVIN 2.0: Well, it’s…..oh god.

THEODORE: What?

ALVIN 2.0: I feel about Jeanette the way I feel about…physics. OH CRAP! I REALLY DO LOVE HER, THEO! What am I gonna DOOOO!?

JEANETTE: Do you think Alvin…LIKES me?

ELEANOR: Well, when he was acting all weird around you at Space Camp, I thought he did. He chose Brittany though, so maybe he didn’t actually like you and Theo and I were reading too much into it.

JEANETTE: He didn’t choose Brittany. He told me the publicity dates were just for show. They don’t mean anything. It’s just to humor the marketing team.

ELEANOR: Oh this is BAD. You get why this is bad, right?

JEANETTE: Does Brittany think….

ELEANOR: YES! 100% OFFICIAL!

JEANETTE: Gee willikers. This is a dilly of a pickle.

SIMON: If you aren’t in love with Brittany, why do you keep agreeing to kiss her? Surely that can’t ALL be for the fans.

ALVIN 2.0: She’s a pretty girl who actually wants to kiss me. You do the math.

SIMON: You really are despicable.

ALVIN 2.0: I’m giving her the fantasy she wants. What’s the harm in that? She knows it’s not real. We’re actors. (Sprays his breath) Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to practice my smoochy face.

SIMON: ….and now I’m disgusted.

BRITTANY: Your feelings for Jeanette aren’t real. Like Simon said, you only fell in love with her helping you. You don’t love her romantically. You love her as someone to share your emotions with. I could share emotions with you too. We could share them together. Please, don’t throw this all away and date my sister! She belongs with Simon!

ALVIN 2.0: But….but I love her! It’s not fake! It’s not transference or misplaced affection…it’s genuine love! I want Jeanette Miller to be my Mystic Mate!

BRITTANY: Well, unfortunately, you don’t get to choose.

ALVIN 2.0: Who says?

BRITTANY: Uh, Karma’s daughter named Destiny.

ALVIN 2.0: Screw Destiny. I want Jeanette!!!!

BRITTANY: You can’t date my sister. She doesn’t even like you back!

ALVIN 2.0: She might, but she’s hiding it from you. We have great chemistry! I just have to talk to her.

ELEANOR: Alvin, buddy, give it up. You can’t make a love triangle. This isn’t that kind of TV show.

ALVIN 2.0: Too late. I’ve made up my mind. I’ve spent a lot of time trusting my brain. Now, I gotta trust my heart.

ALVIN: I hate her. (Talking about Brittany)

JEANETTE: (sadly) Really?

ALVIN: No. I just hate how much I love bein’ her friend….you know….when she acts like THAT!

JEANETTE: You are a very confusing individual.

ALVIN: That’s what you like about me, right?

JEANETTE: Among other things.

ALVIN: What else do ya like about me?

JEANETTE: (giggles) Watch that ego, Alvin.

ALVIN: Sorry sorry. I’m just curious!

#alvin and the chipmunks #fanfiction #geeks in love #alvinette #alternative universe #romance #confusion #love triangle #alvin seville #jeanette miller #simon seville #brittany miller #eleanor miller #theodore seville #alvinnn!!! and the chipmunks #aatc #dialogue #conversation #destiny #subverting expectations #nerdAlvinAU #the chipettes #the world needs more Alvinette content

[lovecolibri]

SaL anon here friend, hoping your in the mood for some incoherent Friday rambling because that's where I'm at right now and have been for days. First off, i think we should both thank and curse the new intern 911 hired, who apparently switched out the promo team's decaf for some Columbian dark roast. Seriously after spending the first half of the season practically catatonic between episodes suddenly we can't catch a break for even 24 hours before the next unhinged thing comes out. Next, let's

thank Mr. Ryan Guzman for looking at his character's scene notes, apparently rolling his eyes, and deciding to take matters into his own hands. Look, I'm not trying to say the rest of the 118 doesn't look devastated, but Eddie looks like he's about to start bawling on the floor and that's the real reason he grabbed Chim. I'll come back to this but his moments sure don't hit like pure platonic concern, there is some real desperation there. Also not to bring up KR rambling but lady if you were so surprised by Ryan's performance and didn't want it to come across like THAT, aren't you in charge? Couldn't you make the call and say "I need you to give me less"?? Anyway, the parallels between this and Eddie's shooting are ridiculous, so I also gave to think if this isn't going somewhere what the fuck is the point?? Why go through all this trouble to make it so obvious and heartfelt and hurt so much if it just goes back to business as usual?? That more than anything would piss me off. Yes, let Buck learn a thing or two about his own worth (we've only been waiting SEASONS for it), but also can we stop pretending putting these two specific characters in these life and death scenarios where they have to watch the other dying and their whole world looks like it's coming apart doesn't mean anything?? Finally (for now) here's what I'd like to see next episode. We know Buck is going to see the people he loves but not in the way he knows he knows them. So I'd love to be what prompts him to wake is seeing Chris. But not just any version of him. This Chris is an orphan, his mom died and there wasn't anyone to save his Dad from getting shot. He lives with his grandparents (pre Ramon reckoning), he had to go to them since there was no other parent in Eddie's life to take care of him. So this bright, brave kid is now sad and scared of the world, and Buck knows its wrong. I'll leave you with this mess of thoughts 😭.

Hello friend! We had people over this evening so I'm trying to get this done before I get to bed because I really do need to clear out my inbox (RIP to everyone who came to be salty with me and KR's interviews because we immediately got sneak peeks and poker stills and DO MORE, and my brain went offline).

Seriously, I don't know who started slipping the promo team cocaine but damn. Let us REST for a second! Between them and the fandom coming out in FORCE to wreck us or be horny on main, it's A Lot and I need sleep!

Ryan is out here giving us The Most and KR acting *shocked pikachu* about it just shows how much she sleeps on Ryan as an actor and Eddie as a character.I rewatched 6x10 and like, I know he's got a lot next episode but for a premier maybe we could have checked in with him and Chris since we checked in with literally everyone else at their homes? I'm trying not to be too negative because after s5 and 6a, this is THEE most excited I've been in awhile and I really do think the show is at least trying to course correct after....whatever TF 6a was and the weirdness of s5.

And the stuff with Eddie, it's like, you're right they COULD tell him to do less! They could say "this is what we're looking for" or at least "this is what we're NOT looking for" but clearly his actions were signed off on and made it to air knowing full well what people would see when they watched it. And what you see is a man desperately broken by the possibility of losing his partner. Which is GREAT if the show is working on a s7 Buddie reveal plan (I'm with @outrunningthedark I don't think they want to overshadow the Madney moment coming up which is fine), but it's....disappointing when there is so much good stuff going on right now and all KR wants to talk about is how much fun they had forcing Eddie "they're not really my type" Diaz to casually date randos because that's something he's ever been interested in doing. He really seems like a guy that enjoys wasting his limited free time meeting lots of new people only interested in getting into his pants instead of taking care of his partner who literally died for several minutes, and doing things with his son. Sure Jan. FFS, read the room! Or read the character profile before you start throwing storylines at the wall to see what sticks (lookin' at you sperm donor plot that is apparently giving Nothing). Yeah, yeah, managing expectations with a showrunner like her is good, but it's also a lot of whiplash right now between what we're seeing on our screens and what she's trying to TELL us we're seeing on our screens. I'm just so sick of them giving what should be THEE moment for Buddie only to follow it up by shoving some woman between them like "oh, nothing to see here!" Give me a break. And then what are they going to do for the actual reveal? How are they going to raise the stakes AGAIN? How are they going to be like, "yeah this is the 5th time one of us has almost died, but THIS time it's allowed to be an "Oh" moment for us because TPTB finally signed off on it!" 🙄🙄🙄 On the bright side, the Buddie of it all has kept the show trending off an on for almost two weeks and will certainly continue through next week so at least whoever is paying attention to that stuff and saw how dead everything was after the finale has some comparison to work with!

ANYWAY

Sad an lonely Chris would be HEARTBREAKING and my heart couldn't take it! 😭😭😭 That boy deserves ONLY good things! I will say I am a little...not mad but I am certainly side-eyeing this coma storyline seeming to be about how Buck's work as a firefighter is what changed everyone's lives because like, YES him being at the 118 changed everything for everyone, but also this is the guy who panic-sued the department to get back to work because he felt worthless if he wasn't doing his job. Which we then found out stemmed from childhood trauma and neglect, but right now, for where he's at, he's not questioning his choice of job so he doesn't need a push like Eddie to come back to where he belongs. And he's already wrapped up in a storyline that SHOULD be about him giving up parts and pieces of himself to make other's happy at cost to his own happiness (though right now we don't know WHAT it's suppose to be about since he's not going to struggle with walking away per Oliver and he's not learning anything so what's the point?). So how is better for him to be facing a life where Daniel lived and he's loved and happy (which is what they've been making it sound like) but everyone at the 118 is a mess without him, proving that it's better for everyone ELSE if he sacrifices everything and doesn't get the happy life he always dreamed of? Like I'm not trying to be negative and I'm still REALLY excited about the episode (as you can see from my unhinged posting this week) and I just KNOW everyone's performances are going to slay us, and this storyline might go differently than I'm expecting and be something really great! But I'm just...getting my side-eyes out because if KR has proved anything it's that she can't plan a fucking arc for shit, and she lacks a basic understanding of the trauma and driving forces behind the characters.

Final note because I didn't want to end on that one, I think everyone in the firefam deserves an Emmy for what they're going to give us and I am READY for their reactions to rip my heart out and stomp on it. It is TIME Buck wakes up with his REAL family around his bed and knows how very much he is loved for just being Buck and how hard they fought to bring him back to them, because he's their family and they CHOOSE him. Buck is always the one being left, but he's going to wake up and hear how everyone he loves begged him to stay with them. It's going to be *delicious*

#my sweet nonnie friends #sleeping at last anon #911 #911 spoilers #evan buckely #buddie #firefam #i can be side-eyeing something from a fandom perspective #but still take my goggles off enough to enjoy watching it play out when it airs #i reserve the right to be salty about it later #but in the moment i will not be immune to anyone being in tears

[magicianapprenticelyra]

WIP(s) Update #I

A/N: Hello everybody! As promised, this post is a little peek into what I’ve been working on as of late.

It’ll be divided into two parts: drafts I’ve been intermittently working on from 2022 and earlier (some may be all the way back from 2020 as well, YIKES), and then more recent works that have popped up within the last five to six months.

More under the cut because this got . . . very long.

Old(er) Works/WIP(s) [from 2022 and before]:

Fics I owe/want to give people [three to five in total]

Expansion of AUs Written / Noted

Modern

possible modern AU of Bảo being a gamer as a teenager like some Youtubers, but he’s small-time indie kinda guy

Reversal [within my cast of OCs] (i.e. Apprentice!Bảo and Auntie!Liên)

Celestial Sanctum

Actor AU(?) [at least Lucio’s part]

Apprenticember—DAY(s) II & III (Part II)

Main 6 LI route stories with Apprentice and/or Librarian Lyra

Maybe??? Even??? Librarian Lyra Route???

Expansion on time spent with the various in-laws for both Apprentice / Librarian Lyra and her LI(s)

All Apprentice!Lyras interacting with one another [The Observation Room]

May be a series, or it may be a set of one-shots that interconnect somehow

Finish Devil!Lyra’s Ascension [lucio x apprentice]

OC Backstories

Lyra [slight reboot/rewriting of her past, present and future within the world of The Arcana

Lyra’s extended family

Rồngkarst (village)/Leysương (country) aesthetics [parts of Fantasyland Vietnam]

specific details and whatnot

Sekani/Walt/James/Bảo/Neha

Walterine’s Parents

How Walt is related to Sekani

James’s Parents [two] and Siblings [five of them]

The Banbha [James’s tribe in The South]

The Olde Deer God

Connections / Interactions with the Heart of the Forest

Tarot [Major and/or Minor] Card Associations

Annnnnnnnd just THIS chunk is written out in about 60 or so one sentence ideas in a notebook of mine that I’ll need to break down or combine in order to make any coherence.

[Oof]

WIP(s) [from Jan 2023 to now]:

Ceci and Thomas

Details how they’re connected to Lyra and her family

May or may not tie in with The Observation Room shenanigans

Also Ceci and Thomas’s siren / mermaid / undine(?) background / lineage

More stories about the fan kids

Tarot [Major and/or Minor] Card Associations

Familiars

Whether or not they’re aware of the canon / in-game events that their family and loved ones have gone through.

Whether or not they’re aware of THOMAS’s background as not being entirely human

Pictures of Crochet!Nook [thanks go to @fire-fira for this bit. I’m still overjoyed this could happen]

In Conclusion:

This writer’s brain is very full of ideas and I wish I had more time in the day to work on all of these.

If you made it this far, thank you so, so much for your time and patience to read all of this.

Have a good rest of your day / night!

#The Arcana #fan apprentice #magicianapprenticelyra #blog update #the scribe speaks #ask to tag #The Observation Room #OCs #OC x OC #OC x OC x OC #The Mind: Hải #The Heart: Noor #The Singer: Thomas #The Fighter: Shiloh #The Forthright: Iris #The Lioness: Avery #The Seeker: Junior

[thatoneao3author]

interstellar ian au - sneak peek

“Those were some good ideas.” Mickey agreed, looking up at him. “You’re aware of my love for the curls, but that dark green color looked really good on you.” 

That look Mickey gave him, something admiring and adoring- 

The butterflies in Ian’s stomach were having a fucking field day.

“Yeah.” he agreed, breathlessly and mindlessly, “I thought so too.” 

And there it was again. The eye contact, held for a moment too long. 

Ian was perfectly aware of how Mickey looked, how attractive he was, but his brain momentarily hyper focused on the little details. 

The dimples that made Ian wanna smile right back at him, regardless of whatever else was going on.

The blue eyes that he kept getting trapped in. 

His slightly crooked teeth that were somehow perfect in their own way. 

Fuck. 

The actor looked away, turning towards the shelf next to him and hurriedly scanning over the books there. The panic took a beat or two to fade as he picked up a hardcover book at random. 

A queer romance novel. 

What a coincidence, his brain mused.

another little sneak peek/snippet of my upcoming multichaptered fic, bright as the stars. aka, the Interstellar Ian/Kid’s show au. This one is from chapter five, when Ian and Mickey have agreed to be friends for the sake of getting to know each other but, y’know, they’re gay

If you’re interested in more info about this au, check out some of the other posts on this blog and under the tag ‘Interstellar Ian AU’. remember to reblog with any thoughts you have <3

(if this post gets like, fifty notes, i’ll post another snippet? also i may not answer them because spoilers but feel free to ask any questions about this upcoming fic in my ask box)

#Interstellar Ian AU #actor!ian gallagher #mickey is the electrician who works on his set #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavich #gallavich fic #gallavich au #shameless #Shameless US #shameless fanfiction #shameless fic #they are so in love already and im so excited about it #sneak peek!