#17 Things That Will Not Fit in This Trunk

[thatsbelievable]

#17 Things That Will Not Fit in This Trunk #lists #President Chester A. Arthur #William Shakespeare #Eiffel Tower #Thomas Edison #Teddy Roosevelt #whales #unreality

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 12

Well, this story is complete. I finished it on Friday and will be fully uploaded in two weeks. With chapters 14/15 next week on the 31st and 16/17 on April 7th.

This has been one hell of a ride. I never thought I would ever do omegaverse. But this one just demanded to be written.

TAG LIST FOR THIS STORY IS CLOSED

Eddie takes Steve shopping and they go the Grammy's.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Steve loved shopping. It was his favorite thing in the world. He especially loved it when he went with Chrissy or Robin or sometimes even both. But he was finding out that shopping with Eddie was special.

“I’m going to rock your world, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured when they entered the shop.

It was all high end, naturally. But it was the type of stuff Steve would have bought for himself back in high school.

“Eddie...” he whined a little.

It was sweet, it really was. But he couldn’t wear the ‘uniform’ of a omega housewife. Not anymore.

“Just wait, darlin’,” Eddie whispered, “it’s gonna be good.”

Just then a man came over. He was short, barely 5’5”. He had warm brown skin and silver hair.

“Hello, loves,” he said, voice as warm as his skin tone. His accent was the vaguely British of someone who had lived in the United States for a long time.

“Hello,” Eddie greeted, kissing him on each cheek. “Steve, this is Raj. Raj, this is Steve Harrington, he’s a Starcourt omega.”

Raj clasped his hands together. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Steve.”

Eddie turned to Steve. “Raj is a professional stylist. He’s dressed me for many an event and he’s going to help you find your style.”

Steve smiled at him. Because of course Eddie was only trying to help and not make him feel inferior about liking a style that he couldn’t wear.

“Come on, love,” Raj said, “tell me what you like.”

And so Steve did just that.

They spent the afternoon trying on several different combinations and styles that Steve felt like he was a runway model to the crowd of one.

Eddie sat on a big, white, overstuffed armchair and made comments on everything Steve tried on.

Three hours later, Steve was walking out of the store in a navy blue striped polo and tight fitted jeans and several bags filled with clothes of a similar style.

Steve laughed when he exited the shop, twirling around with his bags. Just so happy.

Xander took the bags from Steve and put them in the trunk of the car to keep the bags from going flying.

Eddie pulled him in for a kiss.

“God, you are so gorgeous when you’re happy,” he murmured into Steve’s neck.

Steve hummed. “Well, it’s a good thing that the thing that makes me happiest is you, huh?”

Eddie looked up at him with a tender smile. “Back attcha, big boy.”

Steve wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

“Will I get to see you before the Grammy’s on Sunday?” he asked, softly.

Eddie sighed. “Unfortunately not. I have so many interviews and shit that I just won’t have time.”

“That’s okay. I still have other work I’ve got scheduled this week.”

Eddie kissed him deeply. “You have fun, babe and I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Bye.”

Eddie watched as the car pulled away from the curb. He had gotten to meet both Robin and Xander, the two people tasked with keeping Steve safe and he found that he loved them both.

And that fact settled one of the worries in his chest about Steve, knowing that his boy was being looked after properly when he wasn’t around.

****

“Troy’s coming,” Robin said, “I’m not asking, I’m telling you.”

Steve glared at her. “He’s creepy.”

“He’s really not,” she defended. “He’s very protective of the omegas in his care and I need a second pair of eyes on you tonight.”

“I don’t see why,” Steve said rolling his eyes. “I’ve done hundreds of events with only one handler in the past. What makes tonight so special?”

“The press.”

Steve huffed. “I literally when to an event for the press with Nancy, how is this any different?”

“Because these aren’t the civilized press, Steve,” Robin said menacingly. “These are the vultures. The bottom of the barrel. Sleazy, gasping, horrible people who will judge you, seek to tear you down, and humiliate you.”

Steve let out a long sigh. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” She kissed his cheek. “Eddie has his own security, but they’ve been coordinating with Troy and me all week. What’s your signal for needing to get out quick?”

“Moving my clutch from my left hand to my right,” he said.

She nodded. That was a good signal. Steve liked his right hand free to shake hands with people.

“What’s your signal if you need to get away from the alpha?” she asked next.

“I take out my earrings,” he dutifully replied.

Again, not something Steve would normally do, so she nodded.

“The code word to get both of you away from someone who is harassing one or both of you is ‘caveat’.”

“As in ‘one of the caveats for dating an escort is to be understanding when something work related comes up’?”

Robin grinned. “Perfect. All right, we’re good to go.”

Steve grabbed his black clutch and matching shawl. It was February in California, but it was still February.

He draped the shawl over his shoulders and walked out to the car.

Troy and Robin got into a white SUV with Troy at the wheel.

Steve slid into his car to find a waiting Eddie.

“Well this is a surprise,” he cooed, sliding up to press himself against his boyfriend’s side.

Eddie chuckled, lifting his arm to wrap around his shoulders. “Benefits of properly courting you, darlin’. Management is letting me know where you live. Ish.”

“Ish?” Steve asked, scenting along Eddie’s jaw.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “The windows were tinted so I don’t know exactly where we are, but I know enough.”

“Ah.”

Yeah, that made sense.

“You look so pretty, baby,” Eddie said, changing the topic. “You look good enough to eat.”

Steve chuckled. “So do you.”

And he did. He was wearing a black suit coat with black rhinestones embroidered into the lapels, with a white button up shirt that decidedly not, tucked into a pair of black slacks. On his neck were several necklaces and chains and his wrists were covered in bangles and more chains.

He had a single earring in his left ear which was an upside down cross.

Steve was enraptured.

“This is all for you, baby doll,” Eddie murmured into Steve’s ear. “I rarely dress up for these things, but I wanted to look good for you.” His hand reached around to cup Steve’s ass. “Especially with you looking like sex on legs in that short dress.”

Steve chuckled. “You keep this up and we’re going end up torturing poor Xander’s ears by having sex back here.”

Eddie’s eyes blew wide. “Shit Stevie, if we didn’t have to be there at a specific time, I would absolutely hold you to that.” And he pulled Steve even closer to him so that the omega could feel the reaction to his words.

Steve couldn’t stop himself from scenting Eddie again.

“Did I tell you that thing the attracted me to you second to you being the sweetest thing,” he murmured, “was your scent?”

Eddie licked his lips. “Right back ya. Together we smell of Christmas.”

Steve giggled. “A little bit, yeah.”

Xander caught Steve’s eye in the rearview mirror and raised his eyebrow causing the omega to blush, ducking his head shyly.

Xander knew something that Robin didn’t as she couldn’t be in the car with him for things like this.

Despite a Starcourt escorts’ reputation for being sex pots, sex wasn’t allowed in the back of the car. Mainly because of the driver, but also because what they did was meant to be higher than just make outs in the back of a car.

It wasn’t a rule, like not giving out their personal number was a rule, but it was a guideline that Steve had adhered to almost religiously. So for him to even suggest jumping Eddie was completely out of character for him.

Eddie raised Steve’s head gently with his forefinger. “You look so pretty when you blush, baby, but there is nothing going on here that you need to be ashamed of, okay?”

Steve nodded.

Just then the car rolled to a stop, signaling that they had arrived at the red carpet.

Behind them Troy and Robin stepped out with Eddie’s two security members. All of them dressed in black suits and ties with pristine white button up shirts.

All of them pulled out their sunglasses and slid them on. Troy walked up to the door and opened it.

Eddie slid out first, waving to the crowd. Then he turned around and helped Steve get out of the car. Steve waved, too, then slipped his hand around Eddie’s arm.

“The first interview is with Vanity Fair, Kayla Brosnahan,” Troy murmured to them. “She’s very fashion orientated so she’ll ask about your clothes first.”

Steve nodded. He glanced at Eddie, who nodded.

They walked up to the beautiful alpha reporter in a long, slinky, red dress.

“Kayla, Vanity Fair,” she said to the cameraman, “here with Eddie Munson, frontman of Corroded Coffin who is up for three awards tonight, and Starcourt escort, Steve Harrington.”

She turned to them. “Wow! You two look absolutely stunning together. Who designed your clothes tonight?”

Steve smiled. “Omega designer, Lola Martinez and the jewelry is by St Giovanni.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “Those are some pretty big names. And how about you, Eddie? Who are you wearing tonight?”

“Jimmy Pantera.”

Jimmy was a known alternative style fashion designer. Chains, leather, denim, studs; basically the metal and grunge scene. What Eddie as wearing would have been very conservative for his collection.

“Very nice,” Kayla said. “I can see it now. Wow.” She turned to Steve. “Have you had any clients cancel on you because you’re being courted?”

Eddie bristled and was about to lay into her when Steve touched his elbow.

Steve batted his eyelashes with a simpering pout. “Oh, Kayla, you know all client information is confidential.” Kayla opened her mouth to say something snide, but Steve beat her to it. “Plus, I don’t kiss and tell. Not like a certain omega who’s been warming your bed.”

Suddenly she was sputtering and back tracking. “Eddie, you’re up for three awards tonight, what are your hopes for tonight?”

“Corroded Coffin and I are very happy to have been nominated for Best Metal Album, Album of the Year, and Single of the Year for ‘Hell’s Lookin’ Better Than Heaven’, but we were disappointed we weren’t nominated for more. Best Metal Performance is a prime example. Even though we made more money then any other touring band last year, we weren’t even considered.”

Again Kayla was forced to back track and try to start over but they had chosen that moment to move on. Kayla turned to her camera and made a slicing motion across her throat to tell him to stop taping.

All the interviews kept in the same vein. They would be chatty, ask about what they were wearing or who they were most excited to see perform and then drop shit like:

“Are you going to make Steve stop escorting once finish your courtship?”

To which Eddie replied, “I’m not so fragile that I need constant validation that my dick is big enough. Stevie is his own person and if he wants to keep working, why would I stop him?”

Followed by back pedaling and Steve and Eddie moving on.

Next asshole:

“Steve, are you angling for a bond to get out of being an escort?”

Steve and Eddie just blinked at him like he was too stupid for words. They just walked off.

Once Troy just moved them past an interviewer calling their name.

Steve looked down and a little behind him. “What was wrong with that one?”

“He’s been sexually harassing omegas that come through,” Troy muttered back. “Making lewd comments, making passes at them, touching them without their consent.”

Steve nodded and Eddie put a protective hand on his lower back. They made it through the gauntlet and into the Radio Music Hall.

They sat down at the table that already had the rest of the band and their plus ones and settled into enjoy the show.

****

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369

​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

@val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten

@vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow

@yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian

@rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf @melodymeddler

@mogami13 @annabanannabeth @disrespectedgoatman @manda-panda-monium @maya-custodios-dionach

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #omega steve harrington

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 17

summary: It’s the day Javier is moving in with you, but can he keep it in his pants long enough to unpack and get settled in?

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, Soft Javier Peña, alternating POV, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, sex in the bed of a pickup truck, breeding kink, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, emotions, LOTS of banter, fluff, domestic fluff, death of a parent/grief, emotional hurt/comfort, Javier saying very romantic things, Javier modeling cute little swim trunks, stargazing, stargazing as foreplay, a deep dive into Javier’s wardrobe and things)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 17.4k+ (are any of us surprised?)

a/n: Hello there! I hope everyone enjoyed the last chapter! The song stuck in my head for this chapter is Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros. Shoutout to @theorganasolo for helping me out with reference pics of Javi’s wardrobe and @iamskyereads for giving me a rundown of what he wears. Thank you to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing.

I answer comments from my sideblog @wheresarizona-writes

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

The summer in southern Texas was almost unbearable with how high the temperatures got. Every home and business needed to have air conditioning, and you hoped and prayed it worked in your car; otherwise, you were driving down the streets with the windows down, getting hit with a hot, dry breeze that didn’t do much for your sweating skin. It made you feel bad for Javier and his family working outside on the ranch, making sure he wore sunscreen and having him promise you he’d stay hydrated throughout the day.

You frowned, knowing that he had to move in such sweltering conditions—imagining all of the boxes and furniture, him refusing your offers to come over after work and help, assuring that he had it all covered.

That morning he told you he would be late getting home—your shared home, and you both smiled, his key to the apartment lovingly fitted on his keyring between the one to his truck and his dad’s house. He would be packing his things when he got off and begin bringing them all over. Your plan after work was to clear out a dresser and make room for him in the closet. If he brought over furniture, you’d just have to figure out where to put it, wanting Javi to feel as comfortable and at home as possible.

With all he had to do, you figured it’d take him well into the night to load up the bed of his truck with stuff, assuming he’d need to make more than one trip. It was a bit of a surprise that while you were in the living room, you heard the front door being unlocked only two hours later than usual.

The door opened, watching Javi come inside, holding two black duffle bags with his keys still dangling in the lock.

“Cielito!” he called. Taking a step into the entryway, he continued, “I’m—” His voice trailed off when his head turned, and his attention landed on you, him pausing, those beautiful brown eyes of his rounding. “...what are you doing?” he asked slowly.

His confusion was warranted, seeing as your hands and feet were pressed into a lavender-colored foam mat on the floor near the large front window—your hips were lifted high up toward the sky, looking at him upside down through your legs, him clearly staring at your legging-covered ass.

You were focusing on your breaths, holding yourself in the position.

“Yoga,” you answered on an exhale.

“You do yoga…?”

Another inhale, slowly letting it out.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Started when we got together.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Why…?”

Breathe in, breathe out.

“To stay limber.”

“For what?”

This wasn’t the best pose to hold a conversation in, but his question had you smirking, replying, “When you bend me like a pretzel in bed.”

That had his eyes visibly darkening, seeing his throat bob.

“Fuck,” he gasped, the bags getting tossed onto the ground with a dull thud, him shoving the door shut with his keys still in it, a man clearly on a mission as he made his way over to you.

There was a reason you did yoga while Javier was away—the man had no self-control, and some of the positions would be far too tempting for him to stay away, which was why you were not surprised when he ended up behind you, his hands grabbing onto your hips.

“I love coming home to you,” he rasped. “In our apartment—this is the best housewarming gift.”

That was a little sweet.

A hand left you, landing hard on your ass in a loud smack that sounded throughout the room, making you shout, “Javier,” while trying to keep your balance.

He squeezed the plump flesh of your asscheeks, pressing his groin into you to feel his jean-clad bulge.

“Sorry, baby.”

“You fucking liar—stop distracting me. I’m trying to breathe through this pose.”

“You can keep breathing.” He rubbed his big hands over what he’d been squeezing. “What’s this one called?”

“Downward-facing dog.”

“Mmm.” He hummed. “I like it.”

“Of course you do.” Your arms were beginning to tremble. It was getting too hard to stay up. “There’s another you’ll like, you fuckin’ perv,” you said, getting down onto your hands and knees, feeling his eyes on you as you balanced your weight evenly.

“I’m not a pervert,” he said a little defensively. “Just admiring the woman I love’s body.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, your spine in a straight line. “You have zero ulterior motives.”

Inhaling, you tilt your pelvis, sticking your ass out, drawing your navel in to drop your belly down, gently lifting your head, relaxing your shoulders, and looking straight ahead in the cow pose.

“Fuck, baby,” Javi groaned. He dropped to his knees, shuffling to get behind you again, gripping your waist. “Yeah, I love this one.” He let you feel that he was already half-hard.

Exhaling, you moved into cat pose, tipping your hips forward, tucking your tailbone, rounding your spine, and dropping your head, seeing your boyfriend’s legs between your own.

“Come back,” Javi said, hearing his frown.

Inhaling, you moved back into cow pose, your ass pushing back into his crotch.

“That’s more like it.”

He was so ridiculous.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“Is there something you should be doing right now?”

His fingers played with the waistband of your pants.

“Fucking you..?” he sounded hopeful.

“Babe, focus—we can fool around later. Go get your stuff. I’ll help as soon as I finish.”

“But—“

“Javier, we’ll get frisky when you’re done moving.”

“Fine,” he sighed.

A hand came down on your ass in a loud resounding slap before he got up with a groan.

“Javier!” you growled, glaring at him behind you.

He had the audacity to be smirking under that perfectly trimmed mustache of his.

“Sorry, Cielito,” he said. “I love you.”

It was embarrassing how hearing those three little words had the annoyance disappearing, feeling yourself soften.

“I love you, too,” you replied. He smiled big. “Don’t think that’s gonna always work, mister.”

“Right…” He started making his way toward the door.

“It’s not!”

“Okay, baby,” he said over his shoulder. “Whatever you say.” He was pulling open the door and getting his keys out of the lock. “I’ll be back—love you.”

He was gone, the door softly shutting behind him before you could reply, huffing out a breath and focusing back on your yoga.

God, you loved him.

You had done a couple more poses by the time he returned with his arms full of garment bags and jackets—spotting denim, tan, laurel green, and olive green, the pile getting laid on the back of the couch.

He was staring.

“I like that one, too,” he commented, slowly walking toward the door.

Of course he did with you lying on your back, holding your feet that were up in the air, your legs spread, gently rocking side-to-side.

“I’m sure you do.”

“What’s it called?”

“Happy baby.”

“Makes me pretty fucking happy.”

“Go away!” you playfully shouted.

He chuckled, closing the door as he left.

You’d finished your exercise rolling up your mat and storing it away in a corner of your living room when you heard a struggle at the front door, walking over to pull it open and finding Javi holding a big box.

“Thanks, baby,” he said, moving it so he could look at you with a smile. “Did you finish?” he asked, coming inside and setting the box by his duffle bags.

“Yep,” you answered, shutting the door.

It only took a couple of steps to have him in your space, his hand cradling your jaw as he leaned in to kiss you tenderly.

“Hi, Hermosa (Beautiful),” he said when he broke it, a loving look in his eyes and a happy little smile on his lips, trying to pull you in for a hug, but you stopped him.

“Hi, Handsome,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him quickly. “I’m all sweaty and gross—we’ll shower when we’re done. Do you want help bringing in the rest of your stuff? How many more trips do you need to make to your dad’s?”

He frowned.

“This is everything…” he said slowly.

Your eyebrows knitted together.

“Like this trip?” You looked at the things he brought in—the pile of jackets and garment bags, the two duffle bags, the large box. “I feel like you definitely could’ve fit more in the bed of your truck. Were you just in a hurry to see me?” It wouldn’t have surprised you if that was the case, meeting his eyes again.

“No…” He scratched at the back of his head. “This is everything…”

“What do you mean this is everything? Don’t you have furniture or more stuff?”

“Cielito.” He looked pained. “This is all my shit.”

That had your eyes going wide.

“You’re joking,” you reply, not believing him. “Don’t you have stuff from Colombia? Or before Colombia?”

He sighed.

“In Colombia, the apartments were fully furnished, so all I had were my clothes and shit. Before, I, uh, lived with people? My parents, a dorm, Lorraine, then I was in the DEA academy, rented a room for a bit in someone’s house that had furniture while waiting to find out where I’d be sent.”

“You’ve never had your own place...” Your voice was quiet, remembering when he said he didn’t know anything about bedding, now realizing it was because he’d never had to buy any.

“I’ve never had my own place,” he confirmed, and it broke your heart.

Your hands moved to cup his cheeks.

“Javier,” you said in a serious tone, seeing his throat bob. “I need you to understand something.”

“Okay…” he whispered.

“This apartment is yours as much as it’s mine—it’s ours. You have a say in everything. Hell, if you hate my furniture, we can go buy new stuff. I want you to decorate how you want and buy knick-knacks; I want you to love living here and feel like it’s your home.”

His eyes had gone misty, a small smile on his lips, rubbing his hands along your sides.

“It already feels like home,” he said softly. “I already love living here.”

“You haven’t even moved in…”

“No.” He shook his head. “But I’ve been here almost every day since we started dating, and I’ve felt at home.”

Warmth spreads through your body, feeling happy.

“Good.” You smiled. “Because I want you here, and I’m over the fucking moon that you’re living with me. Please do what you want. Make this your space. Hey, we could even put that Farrah Fawcett poster at your dad’s in our bedroom if you wanted.”

He huffed out an amused breath.

“Always gonna give me shit about it, huh?”

Patting his cheek, you replied, “Of course, babe.”

“She can stay where she’s at”

“If that’s what you’d like.”

His eyes darted away.

“There’s one thing…”

“Okay?”

“You don’t have any pictures hanging on the walls or anywhere…”

You frowned, looking around and realizing he was right. On your walls hung seascape paintings and a clock. There was a photo album tucked away on your bookshelf where you put all of the photos your family sent, never having any want to display them and be reminded on a daily basis of your perfect parents or your perfect brother and his perfect family—out of sight and out of mind, was how you preferred to live.

“There aren’t any I’d want to put up…” you said carefully.

“I get that with how fucked your family is.” He sighed, squeezing your hips. “I’m just wondering if you’d be okay if I put up a couple of my mom and dad? And some of us, eventually?”

Based on all of the photos hanging on the walls at the ranch, it made sense that Javi would want some here, too, him wanting to see pictures of his mom, who’d passed away some years ago. It warmed your heart how much he loved his family.

“Of course, Javi,” you replied, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks. “I’d love having pictures of them decorating our walls. You know how much I love your parents.”

Even though you’d never met his mother, Javi, and his dad, Chucho, had told you so many stories about her, it felt like you knew her. She was a fantastic woman who’d raised such an incredible man, and you loved her dearly, right alongside Chucho, who’d welcomed you into their family with open arms and practically adopted you.

Meeting your gaze, Javi crookedly smiled. “They love you, too.”

“You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Pulling you closer, he slotted his lips against yours, kissing the breath right from your lungs.

“Thank you,” he said when he pulled back, and you knew he meant it.

“Nothing to thank me for. Now, let’s start unpacking.”

On the wall behind the front door was a row of coat hooks where your three coats were hung along with Javi’s black leather jacket. While he took the duffle bags to the bedroom, you tackled his pile of coats, having to move things around on the hooks to make space. You started with the blue denim, then the tan number you were delighted to find had unzippable sleeves that would turn it into a vest. The laurel green jacket was similar to the tan one but wasn’t convertible, and the olive green was made from a denim material.

The coat hooks were more than filled by the time you were done and had you wondering why a man needed so many jackets. Shaking your head fondly, you walked back over to the couch to pick up the garment bags that held his suits, your arms full as you made your way into the bedroom.

“We’re gonna need more hangers,” Javi said when you entered the room, finding him with the closet door slid open and a duffle bag open on the ground beside him.

He was in the process of hanging button-up shirts in a myriad of colors and designs. Walking closer, your eyes bulged when you looked in the bag to see it was full of them and a few plaid shirts—the red one you were familiar with, another that had thick black lines with thinner orange ones and squares of white, and the last that was white and dark red. The closet would be filled entirely with his shirts, suits, and your collection of dresses.

“We’re gonna need a bigger closet…” you said under your breath, thinking that when you eventually got a house, you’d probably need his and hers for all the clothes. Holding out the garment bags, you asked, “Can you hang these up?”

Turning, he answered, “Yeah,” taking them from you and hanging up all seven, pushing them all the way to the wall on the empty side of the closet, bending down to grab another shirt when he finished.

“So,” you started. “You don’t have a lot of shit, but you’re really into clothes.”

“What?” he asked, his eyebrows creased as he straightened, holding a pink button-up.

Pointing at the duffle bag, you said again, “You’re really into clothes.”

“They’re just my shirts…”

“In every goddamn color of the rainbow, there are patterned ones, too. Plus, your variety of jackets for every occasion and seven suits.

“There are six suits—one of the bags has my sports coat…”

“A jacket for every occasion!” He was frowning. “How many pairs of pants do you own?”

He thought for a second, mentally calculating.

“Eight,” he mumbled.

Your eyebrow arched.

“All tailored jeans?”

“No… one pair is… corduroy,” he sighed.

“You are really into clothes!” you accused, poking him in the chest.

“I just like to look good…”

“And you always do, babe.”

His arms moved, crossing them over his chest while still holding the shirt, cocking his hip.

“Why are you giving me shit about my shirts when your pretty fucking dresses take up almost half of the closet?”

“Um, because I was not aware of how many you had and that the entire time we’ve been dating, we could’ve been the couple that color coordinates their outfits.”

He visibly perked up, giving you a look.

“You’d, uh, be into that?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You nodded, smiling. “We’d be so cute with my dresses and your shirts.”

He grinned.

“We would.”

“Ugh, I love you,” you said, moving closer and leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you, too,” he murmured against your lips.

Moving back, you said, “I’ll take care of the other bag.”

“Okay.” He nodded.

The remaining duffle bag was at the foot of the bed, the thing a bit heavy as you hauled it over to his tall chest of drawers. It matched your dresser, made from oak with a white finish and dark bronze-toned hardware. His had five drawers; yours was shorter but wider, against the opposite wall with the bed, containing seven drawers and a mirror.

You let it fall to the ground, bending down and undoing the zipper, throwing back the flap to reveal his socks and underwear atop the rest of his clothes.

“Any preference for where you want stuff?” you asked him. “I’m assuming socks and undies in the top drawer. Then do you want me to do your t-shirts or pants?”

“Socks and underwear in the top drawer,” he answered. “T-shirts, jeans, other pants, and bottoms.”

“You got it.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled, grabbing as many pairs of socks as possible and pulling open the top drawer to put them in.

You got the first drawer done, starting on the second. There were seven t-shirts—three were plain and white, one Fleetwood Mac shirt that was lovingly worn and you thought was originally black but had been washed so many times it’d caused the color and the white writing on the back with the tour dates to fade—this must’ve been a favorite of his. A navy blue one with DEA emblazoned on the front in yellow, the material thin from him wearing it a lot. Next was a maroon t-shirt that on the front had Texas Aggies on it and the Texas A&M University crest; the white printing cracked, the shirt fuzzing and pilling in spots.

There was a black shirt that you were confused by, holding it up as you read it, needing to know the story behind it.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

You were sitting on the carpet with your legs under you.

“I need to know what this is all about.”

You moved it in your hands, turning to hold it out for him to see what it said.

He shuffled in place to face you, his eyes squinting as he read the big lettering, seeing a smile curl up on his lips, Javi snorting.

“Steve got it for me.” He pointed at it. “He had the other one.”

“I’m having a tough time picturing Steve and you wearing matching ‘I’m with stupid’ shirts…” It had an arrow pointing to the left under the writing.

He scoffed.

“No.” He shook his head, amusement on his face. “Wouldn’t be caught fucking dead doing that. I wear that shit when I visit him, and we go out for a drink.”

“Oh my god, you’re an asshole to your best friend.”

“He deserves it.” Javi shrugged.

“I really want to meet him.”

“You will.” He nodded. “He wants to meet you. Connie, too. They won’t get off my ass about it, but—” Javi sighed, resting his hands on his hips while he frowned. “—I visited them a couple of months ago, and they’ve got the new baby. No matter how many times they say it’s okay for us to visit, I don’t want them to worry about us staying with them.”

“We could always stay somewhere else?”

An exasperated breath left him, smiling fondly.

“Connie wouldn’t let us,” he said. “She’d be fucking pissed if we tried. I was, uh, planning on going over there in December? And if you wanted to, instead of seeing your family, we could—”

“I’m in,” you cut him off.

Spending time in Florida sounded way better than going to your home state to visit your family, who didn’t much care for your career or choice of boyfriend and were always putting you down. Seeing the Murphys would be a lot more fun, and you were dying to meet Steve and Connie, having heard so many stories about them and their kids.

He smiled big.

“Then we’ll plan on it.” He nodded, going back to putting away his button-ups.

The t-shirt was folded and set with the others, leaving one more that was also black, unfolding it to see that it had the Jack Daniel’s logo on it.

“I didn’t realize you liked whiskey this much.”

Javi snorted over at the closet.

“I don’t,” he said, not turning around. “Another gift from Steve–-I threw away the Marlboro one.”

Your eyebrows dipped together.

“Were you a heavy smoker and drinker?” you asked.

He’d told you he quit smoking after leaving the DEA and that it was okay for him to have the occasional cigarette, but if Steve was buying him shirts with these brands, then that meant his friend associated him with these things.

“I, uh, smoked a lot—quitting was a bitch. I drank a lot, too, but I wouldn’t say I was an alcoholic.”

“Coming back to the States really changed you,” you mused. “We’ve had one post-sex smoke, and the only times I’ve seen you drink something harder than beer or wine was on our first date and when we went dancing last weekend.”

Looking over his shoulder, his eyes were round.

“I’m happier now,” the words came out thick. “I don’t need that shit anymore. I used to be so fucking miserable and stressed that I needed the vices to get me through it. I, uh, cut down on my drinking when we met. Being here with you, I’ve never been happier or better in my entire fucking life. I love you, Cielito, so fucking much.”

You were feeling a little teary-eyed.

“I love you, too, Javi.”

All the shirts were put away, and you started on his jeans.

Before Javi moved in, he had a drawer to keep clothes in, so as you filled the chest, you put those things away, too—a pair of jeans, an army green t-shirt, a red one in the same style, a few pairs of socks, some grey sweatpants, and one pair of white boxer-briefs.

Once the denim was in its rightful place, next up were the corduroy pants and sweatpants. Your eyes went wide when you pulled out some swimming trunks, holding them up and trying to picture Javi in them—they were salmon pink, and there was no way they’d reach even halfway down his thighs, thinking they were much better than what you imagined he’d wear to the beach.

“Well, I’m all out of hangers,” Javi sighed.

“We can get some later,” you replied distractedly, still staring at the shorts. “Take off your pants.”

“What…?”

Turning your head toward him, he had a confused look on his face.

“Take off your pants and put these on—I need a visual.”

“Right now…?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “You made me model my lingerie purchases last week when I brought them home. It’s your turn.”

A pink tint appeared on his cheeks, the man no-doubt remembering the lacy, deep purple crotchless teddy you’d gotten that barely covered your breasts and left your intimate parts out in the open.

His throat worked as he gulped. “Those were sexy…”

“These are sexy.” You held them up. “Pants off!”

He sighed, walking closer to you, his fingers deftly working to unbutton his shirt.

“Why are you taking off your shirt…?” you asked.

He’d gotten it completely undone, standing next to you, shrugging it off, and tossing it onto the bed behind you.

“You asked for a visual,” he said, his belt clanking as he undid it. Popping open the button of his jeans, hearing the teeth pull apart as he moved down the zipper, him continuing, “I’m gonna give you the whole fucking show.” His pants were lowered to his ankles, and it was not surprising at all to see his soft cock right there in front of your face. He’d freed his sock-covered feet, holding out his hand and taking the trunks, watching in interest as he pulled them on.

As you suspected, they didn’t make it halfway down his thighs.

He stood there with his hands on his hips, his weight to one side, your eyes drinking him in—the noticeable bulge in the front, moving up to the trail of hair below his belly button, his soft tummy, his pecs, those broad shoulders of his, seeing dark hickeys, and some faded littered across his chest, and along his neck, him smiling knowingly under his mustache down at you.

“Yeah,” he said. “You fucking like them.”

Sitting up, you moved to face him, rubbing your hands up his thighs, getting your fingers under the shorts, and looking up at him through your lashes.

“I do,” you purred. “Turn—”

He didn’t even let you finish, already turning in place so you could see his butt.

Javier’s ass wouldn’t be classified as voluptuous by any means, but you were pretty sure he’s been eating more since you got together because the man had developed a bit of a booty. There was more of it now, than when you first met, seeing the evidence with how the swimming trunks were a little tight as they hugged and accentuated it.

Damn, he looked good. Front, back, you loved it all.

Those cheeks begged to be touched, and you gave in, hands grabbing the plump flesh, hearing Javi chuckle.

“God, I love your butt,” you said, massaging him.

“I know you do.”

Letting go, you stared at it again, admiring and appreciating the roundness. It was practically a compulsion; not sure why you wanted to do it, feeling like his ass was a magnet pulling you in, and it had you leaning forward, sinking your teeth into the pillowy softness of his asscheek.

Javi jumped, yelping, “Fuck!” Detaching you from him, he spun around with his hands holding his ass, looking betrayed.

“Sorry!” you apologized quickly.

“Why is it always my ass?”

“There’s just something about it that makes me wanna bite it like an apple.”

He was frowning.

“My ass?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Your butt makes my brain go chomp,” you said, showing him your teeth and biting them together. “I thought you were into biting?”

His eyebrows creased together.

“What?”

Your eyebrow rose.

“You’re really gonna pretend like you’re not always biting me during sex? Javier, you bite me all the time.”

“That’s different.”

“Says the man who’s bitten my ass on multiple occasions for the hell of it. I see, so there’s a double standard, and we can only have one ass biter in this relationship.”

“You can bite me,” he said a little too quickly.

That was an interesting response.

“You didn’t seem to like me doing it…” you said slowly. “What am I missing?”

He sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead.

“You bit where Enrique got me, and it just surprised me.”

Enrique was a big asshole of a horse at his dad’s ranch who’d bit Javi’s ass the first time he took you there less than a month ago, his buttcheek still sporting a giant yellowish-green bruise.

Your eyes rounded.

“Oh, shit!” you exclaimed. “I forgot—I’m so sorry, babe.”

His hand dropped, meeting your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he reassured. “Thank fuck, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Grimacing, you replied, “Yeah. I’m still sorry.”

“I promise it’s okay, baby.”

“If you say so.” Your brain was thinking back on one of his comments that had you wondering something. “Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“Theoretically, let’s say we’re fucking, a face-to-face position, and you’re hitting it so good, just really railing my brains out, giving me that top-tier dick and I happened to bite your shoulder or neck, you would be…” you trailed off.

“Really fucking into it,” he answered right away.

That had you smiling.

“New kink unlocked! How fun. Can’t wait to do that one.”

He chuckled.

“I can’t wait, either. Will you hand me the tie box?” he asked, pointing toward the bag.

“Yeah,” you replied, twisting your upper body to reach behind you to grab what he asked for.

It was a black rectangular wooden box with glass on top and tall enough to hold his rolled-up ties and belts. Looking inside, there were twelve compartments, ten of them filled with ties, while another had a black belt, and the other had cufflinks, handing it over to him. He set it on top of his dresser while you put away the other two pairs of swimming trunks in the same style as the ones he was wearing, just in different colors—black and army green.

The duffle bag was now empty, Javi moving around you to bend down and pick it up, taking it to the closet for storage. The other one still had shirts that needed to be hung, and you both agreed to run to the store after you finished unpacking. Walking back over to you, he offered you his hands, which you gladly accepted for him to help you up from the floor.

You were standing in front of him, asking, “You gonna put your clothes back on?”

He smirked, his hands landing on your hips, rubbing circles into them with his thumbs.

“Why would I want to put anything else on when I’m almost naked?”

“That’s a good point,” you said, nodding. “You hate clothes and only wear them around the apartment, so I’m not constantly distracted by your dick.”

“You’re distracted by my dick even when I wear clothes…”

“Have you seen it?” you asked. “Like that’s a dick that needs to be immortalized—worshipped—Fuck, if he wasn’t dead, I’d have Michelangelo carve me a goddamn statue of you naked ‘cause you’re a fucking masterpiece.”

A laugh sputtered from his lips, his dimple appearing and his eyes crinkling at the edges as he started laughing.

Your brows furrowed.

“Why are you laughing?” you asked, playfully hitting his bare chest. “I’m being serious. I’d pay good money for a statue of you, and honestly, if Disney movies have taught me anything, it’s that it’s completely reasonable to have a statue of your boyfriend to thirst over.”

“Are you talking about the mermaid one?” he asked after calming down.

“Yeah.”

“They weren’t even together. She was just obsessed with him,” he pointed out.

“And he was obsessed with her. That’s beside the point.” You pouted. “I’m now very upset that I can’t have a beautiful marble statue of you naked.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he replied, kissing you softly. “Just ask, and I’ll be happy to get naked for you any time.”

“Promise?”

“Oh, yeah.” He moved to look you in the eyes, a smirk on his lips. “You could even take pictures if that makes you feel better.”

Gasping, you replied, “I can have nudes of you?”

One of his eyebrows rose.

“Yeah? You let me take pictures of you. I’d be a dick if I didn’t return the favor.”

“You’re the fucking best, and I love you.”

His face softened.

“I love you, too.”

Slanting his lips against yours, he kissed you tenderly, your hands moving up to thread your fingers in his hair.

A minute passed before you were separating, both smiling at each other.

“We should finish unpacking, so we can finally shower,” you said.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Grabbing his hand, you started leading him out of the bedroom.

“So, what’s in the box?” you asked.

“Shoes, books, shit from my bathroom, other shit.”

“A lot of shit,” you teased.

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

Arriving at the box, he pulled open the top that hadn’t been taped shut.

“Javi?”

He looked at you.

“Yes, Cielito?”

“Did you bring over your mom’s rosary?”

It had beautiful red beads, and a silver cross, his mother giving it to him before she died.

“I did.” He nodded. “I already put it in my bedside table.”

“Would you want to get a small jewelry box for it?”

He fondly smiled.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Then we’ll get one.” You nodded.

The box wasn’t all the way full, pulling out his shoes first—two pairs of Oxford’s in brown and black, some cowboy boots that you discovered he occasionally wore out and about, and most surprising, a pair of nice chocolate-colored leather flip flops. They were all put on the floor behind the front door with your own shoes, mentally adding a shoe rack to the list of things you needed to buy when you went to the store.

A black pouch had the things he used to trim his mustache, Javi taking that, a razor, and some other toiletries to put away in the bathroom. A case held a spare pair of Aviators, which went onto his dresser, along with his bottle of cologne and sunscreen. Another case, had his reading glasses that were put atop his bedside table. He’d brought his Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Hobbit, and some other books that had worn spines and were clearly his favorites, finding homes on the bookshelf in the living room. He’d pulled out some pictures from between the pages of Return of the King that included him at different ages with his mom, a couple of him and his dad, and Javi with both of his parents. The plan was to pick up picture frames to hang them all up, pointing at places around the living room they could go, making Javi smile.

It looked like only one item was left at the bottom of the box, your eyebrows pulling together when you reached in to pull it out.

The chestnut-colored teddy bear had seen better days, the white on its ears and paws discolored, stitches showing where it’d been sewn back together in spots, the toy lacking in stuffing to make it a bit floppy. It was a raggedy old thing from years of being cherished, and you loved it immediately.

“Who do we have here?” you asked him as you straightened, smiling.

Javi took the stuffed animal from you, gently.

“You probably think it’s really fucking weird I have this,” he said softly. “His name is Osito, and he’s as old as me.”

There was embarrassment flaming on his cheeks, not meeting your gaze.

When you’d gone to Chucho’s for the first time, he’d pulled out photo albums filled with pictures of Javi growing up, and now that you were thinking about it, you remember seeing this stuffed animal in many of them when he was little.

“Your favorite toy?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t get rid of it?”

“No.” He scratched at the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’ve always kept him at the ranch—didn’t want to travel with him. Figured since we’ll be living together for a long fucking time, I’d bring him. If that’s okay…?” he sounded unsure. “Fuck, this is weird. I’m a grown man who can’t get rid of a fucking teddy bear. I’ll take it back to my dad’s, and we can forget about this.”

He was spiraling, and you needed to make him feel better.

“Come with me,” you said, taking his empty hand and having him follow you through the living room and into the bedroom. At the closet, you stood in front of your half of it, letting go of Javi to slide open the wooden door. “Had I known about Osito,” you said, reaching up on the top shelf to move a bag aside, grabbing what you were looking for hidden in the back. “I would’ve introduced you to Pooh-bear sooner.”

Turning around, you showed him your own raggedy childhood stuffed animal—a Winnie the Pooh bear, the golden brown terry cloth of his body stained in some places and poorly done stitching in others to keep him together, his red shirt having faded a little over time.

Javi had a warm smile on his face.

“Favorite toy?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Can’t get rid of it?”

“Absolutely not,” you giggled, hugging the bear to your chest. “He was a gift from my grandparents—the ones I loved who’d take me on adventures during the summer.”

“Your mom’s parents, right?”

There have been many stories told about each of your childhoods, and Javi was well aware of the month you’d spend every summer growing up with your maternal grandparents, traveling. They’d whisk you away to beaches, national parks, and theme parks, taking you on adventures and giving you a break from your parents.

Your favorite memories during those years were with them.

“Yeah.” You grinned. “Got him on my first birthday, and he’s been with me ever since.” Holding him up, you pointed to his leg, which was clearly sewn back on with black thread, saying, “I learned how to sew patching him up—my mom would’ve just thrown him out and gotten me a new one, but he’s special. So, I did all of these.” There were quite a few places that had to be stitched, a variety of colored threads used. “In my teens, I did cosmetic surgery on him and gave him fillers.”

Javi snorted.

“You put more stuffing into him?”

“Yes. He needed it, and after my grandparents passed away when I was in high school, I wanted to make sure he’d last.” You cuddled the bear close, something you’ve done so many times you’ve lost count.

“Yeah.” Javi nodded. He showed you Osito, seeing the very nice repair work where there had been tears, “Mi mamá did all of these ‘cause she knew how much I loved him.”

“Can’t ever get rid of him. He’s too damn special.”

“He is. Can’t get rid of yours either.” He pointed at it.

“Nope. Where should we keep them?”

“Closet?”

“Good call. They’ll be safe and hidden, so we don’t have to worry about them watching us have sex.”

Javi made a face that had you giggling, stepping out of his way as he moved to get into the closet. He pushed things around on the top shelf until he’d made room to set down Osito, him turning to gingerly take Pooh-bear and putting him right beside his bear so they were pressed together.

“There,” he said. “Safe.” He closed the closet door. “And they can’t stare while we’re fucking.”

“Thank god!” you laughed.

He turned to face you with a mischievous expression, quickly stepping closer to press his practically bare body to your front, his hands grabbing your ass.

“Speaking of fucking,” he rasped, slowly walking you back toward the bed while you held onto his shoulders.

“I said we’d fool around after you’re done moving,” your tone was exasperated, the back of your legs hitting the mattress.

“Nothing else to move,” he replied, gripping your thighs to lift them around his waist as he pushed you back onto the bed, him landing on top of you. His mouth attacked your neck, kissing and sucking at your skin.

“Javi!” you giggled. “We’re not done!”

“We’re done.” He nipped at your pulse point.

“No, we’re not—” the last word turned into a moan with him sucking hard at a sensitive spot. Pushing at his shoulders, you said, “Stop trying to distract me.”

His head came up to look you in the eyes, and his mouth dipped down in a worried frown.

“Am I being too much?” he asked. ��I’ll lay off if you’re not in the mood…”

“What?” Your hands moved to stroke through the hair above his ears. “You’re fine, babe, and I’m definitely in the mood.” He smiled. “But I want to get you settled in before we retire to our chambers for the evening,” you said with a wag of your eyebrows.

Huffing out in amusement, he replied, “I’m settled in. I’m settled right where I want to be.” He leaned down, kissing a streak along your jaw.

As tempting as it was to give in with the arousal burning in your belly and feeling him half-hard at the apex of your thighs, things still needed to be done.

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” you giggled, tangling your fingers in his hair. “We have to go to the store to get hangers and all the other stuff we need so you can finish unpacking, then shower time.”

He playfully nipped at your chin, moving to meet your gaze.

“Store run, put the shirts away. Anything else?”

“Get rid of the box.”

“And then I can get you naked?”

“And then you can get me naked.” You nodded.

“Okay.” He groaned as he got up from the bed to stand beside it, pulling you with him.

“Thank you for being understanding,” you said, pressing close to kiss him, his arms wrapping around your back.

“Once we’re done with everything,” his words were muffled into your mouth, his hands going low to grip your backside. “I’m hauling your ass into our shower and fucking you against the wall.”

Smiling into his lips, you replied, “Good.”

“Then,” he continued, “I’m taking you to our bed and eating your pretty little pussy until you beg me to stop.

Your cunt clenched at the thought.

“Javi,” you moaned, kissing him harder, his tongue pushing between your lips to slide along your own, getting your fingers into his hair. The kiss was quick, pulling back, panting. “You’re in a mood,” you said, smiling.

“Yeah, ‘cause I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day.”

“You think about me every day,” you teased, smirking.

He crookedly smiled. “Well, yeah, but you said you love me—” He pressed a hand over his heart “—you love me. You asked me to move in, too, and Christ, I’m so fucking happy—I checked my keys too many times just to make sure I hadn’t dreamed it or some shit. Almost asked Pop to pinch me a couple of times, too—which, I annoyed the fuck out of him with how fucking out of it I was.” He let out a soft sigh. “It’s true. I think about you every day.” He nodded. “But today? I was thinking about the woman I love, who loves me, and that I now share a home with, and it fucking got me going that I was coming home to you—that I’ll come home to you every goddamn day for the rest of my life.” His eyes were locked on yours. “I’m in a mood for you because I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Your throat was feeling a little tight.

“Javier, I want to cry, but also suck your dick. You’re so fucking sweet. Like, I think there’s a chance I might melt into goo with how I feel right now.” He chuckled, your hands holding his face. “I’m so fucking in love with you it’s disgusting. Robyn, at work, made gagging noises multiple times today because I’d stare wistfully off into the distance daydreaming about you.” She had to snap her fingers in front of your face an embarrassing amount of times. “The feelings are more than mutual, and I am beyond happy to have you living here and knowing that you love me. Ugh, I love you!”

You kissed him again. This time, his hand slid along your jaw, his mouth slanting as he deepened it, making your toes curl. This was one of those all-encompassing kisses where he took up all of your senses to the point that the only thing going through your brain was him and how much you loved him.

He broke away when your lungs began to ache, both of you panting.

“I love you, Cielito,” he husked.

“I love you, too, Javi.”

He smacked your ass. “I’m gonna get dressed.”

“I’ll take care of the box,” you laughed, giving him a peck before padding out to the living room.

There wasn’t a need for you to change your outfit, comfortable with leaving the house in your yoga pants and t-shirt.

Arriving at the large cardboard box, you grabbed the edges, pausing when you realized something was still at the bottom. Confusion was on your face as you bent over to reach inside and grab the item—standing back up, you stared at the colorful VHS sleeve that advertised the brand of tape but no details on the front or back as to what was on the cassette, pulling it out and there being nothing written on the black plastic to give you any clues.

You wondered what could be on it, especially if your boyfriend brought it. Many possibilities were floating through your brain, the curiosity causing you to call out, “Javi?”

“Yes, baby?” His voice came from the other room.

“Did you bring a homemade porno with you?”

Could be something filmed or a recording of a dirty film he bought from someone.

“What?” His figure was immediately in the bedroom doorway with his pants on and hands stopped in their movements of buttoning up his shirt, leaving it gaping at his chest. “Did I bring a what?” he asked.

Holding up the tape, you repeated the question, “Did you bring a homemade porno with you?”

His eyes were squinting at it, looking just as confused as you felt, making his way over to you.

“I have no fucking idea what that is.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed—I don’t care if it’s porn. You’re well aware of my romance novels.”

He was next to you, taking the VHS from your offered hand, going through the motions of examining it just as you had.

“Cielito, I didn’t bring any porn or this.” There was worry in his eyes when he looked at you. “I’ve never seen this before—I didn’t pack it.”

“Well, how did it get with your stuff?” you asked. “It was under Osito…”

“He was the first thing I put in the box.”

“Where’d you get the box?”

“It was one I already had from Colombia, and I’d unpacked everything in it.”

“Did that come from Colombia, then?” you asked, pointing at it.

A look of fear came over him, seeing his face go pale and his eyes widen.

“I… I…” he stuttered. Swallowing hard, he tried again, “I don’t think so. I don’t even know what it’d be if it was.”

“Well, let’s put it in and see,” you said, shrugging. Reaching for it, he moved it away from you.

His voice went quiet and serious, “I need you to go into the bedroom while I check this out.”

“What? Javi, it’s fine. Just put it in.”

“No. I can’t risk you seeing shit you shouldn’t.” His eyes were pleading. “Please, baby, just go to the other room. I need to make sure it’s safe.”

His reaction had you worrying your lip between your teeth, wondering what horrible things he thought could be on the tape.

Nodding your head, you squeezed your arms around his middle in a quick hug before going into the bedroom, closing the door with a soft click.

He said he didn’t want you to see something you shouldn’t, but he didn’t say anything about hearing, immediately pressing your ear to the wooden door.

The television came on, some show playing on cable for only a second, when the voices disappeared, knowing he turned it to channel three for the VHS player. You heard the various clicks as he put in the tape and then silence.

He muted the TV.

Of course, he fucking muted the TV.

Sighing loudly, you decided to stay put in case there were signs of distress.

Javi’s voice was barely above a whisper, hearing him say, “Amá?”

The sound on the television suddenly came on, the familiar laugh of Chucho being heard.

“Cielito!” Javi excitedly shouted. “Baby, come here!”

You’d never left a room quicker, flinging the door open and sprinting into the adjoining living room to find Javi crouched in front of the glowing TV.

The screen wasn’t in view, but you could hear Chucho speaking Spanish with a woman whose voice you didn’t recognize, Javi waving you over.

“Cielito, baby, come here.” Turning, he pushed the coffee table behind him against the couch to make space for him to sit on the rug in front of the entertainment center, pulling you into his lap when you got within reach. His arm was around your middle, holding you close, his other hand pointing at the screen, his head close to yours as you both watched. His words came out thick with emotion, “Cielito, I want you to meet mi mamá.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off the television seeing his mom in the kitchen at the ranch, his dad recording her standing at the stove, adding red chile sauce to shredded pork in a big pot.

The video was grainy, the colors brighter than they should be, but there was his mom with her hair up in a tight bun, wearing her baby blue apron to keep her pink blouse clean, looking lovingly exasperated with his father’s antics. The date in the bottom corner said it was filmed on December 11, 1984, which means she was prepping to make tamales.

His eyes were watering, his throat closing up as he heard her speak with the voice he remembered so well, not how she sounded the last and final time he saw her. She looked so full of life here, and he felt like his heart would explode from how fucking happy he was—it may not be in person, but his Cielito was getting to meet his mom, or at least see her alive, and hear her speak.

“Mi amor,” Chucho said behind the camera. “¿Cómo hiciste la salsa de chile rojo (My love, how did you make the red chile sauce)?”

“Ya sabes cómo la hice (You know how I made it),” Antonia replied, looking toward him with a raised eyebrow and a smile.

“Sí, pero díselo a la cámara, por favor (Yes, but say it to the camera, please),” his dad chuckled. “Nuestros futuros nietos necesitan saber (Our future grandchildren need to know).”

A sweet little smile pulled up on her lips, her eyes brightening. “Bueno, para mis nietos, si (Well then, for my grandkids, yes). Pero sólo los nietos (But only for the grandkids). Es una receta secreta (It’s a secret recipe).”

Javier’s chest squeezed tight, his breath hitching in his throat, feeling like a fucking disappointment that there wouldn’t be any grandchildren to pass this on to.

Cielito loved him, that was a fact, but would she still love him after discovering all the dirty details of the things he’d done in South America? His biggest fear was she’d find out about everything��the good, the bad, the ugly, and be so horrified she ended things. This was why he was too chicken-shit to get it all off his chest. She may have been supportive when he revealed the other unsavory things from his past, but Colombia was different—people died, many people died, and the blood was on his hands. That asshole, Stechner, told him in that bar he should’ve been in jail for all he’d done, and the other man wasn’t wrong—Javier had been genuinely surprised to be given a cushy office instead of a cold, dank cell.

Fuck, he was so frightened this tape had anything to do with the DEA. He was ready to destroy it without even watching it, not wanting to risk his girlfriend getting a glimpse of what he’d seen and done.

It was inevitable that she’d find out because he planned to tell her at some point. He just hoped that she wouldn’t leave him or think too differently of him when the time came. Knowing the truth would solidify the fact that he wasn’t the good man she thought he was and that he definitely wasn’t someone worthy enough to father her children—he didn’t deserve kids and never would.

It felt like he’d been stabbed in the gut, letting the tears fall as the sadness weighed his body down, mourning something he’d never even gotten close to having. He pulled her closer, hugging both arms around her, happy he got to have her at least, and that was all he needed.

“Wait,” she said, turning her head to look at him. “This video is for your kids?” she asked.

His mom was on the screen giving step-by-step instructions on how to make the sauce while she made the tamale filling.

Wiping at his eyes, his voice was rough when he answered, “Yeah. Shit, I should’ve asked if you needed me to translate. She said she’d only tell the recipe to her grandkids because it’s a secret.”

“You’re okay.” She kissed his cheek. “I can make out some of the words they’re saying and got that she’s giving her top-secret tamale recipe to her nietos (grandchildren)—your children.”

“Yeah, Pop probably snuck this into the box for you to see her cook.”

He’d done his best to make sure his dad knew he wouldn’t be fathering a new generation of their bloodline, but Chucho was so fucking optimistic.

She frowned at him, asking, “Can you pause the video?”

He grabbed the controller beside him on the floor, hitting the button to freeze the screen. Moving in his lap, she straddled his thighs, their chests touching, her face close to his, looking him in the eyes while pushing her fingers in the hair at the back of his head.

“Javi?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt this beautiful home movie and seeing your mom, who is amazing, by the way.” He smiled. “I don’t think your dad put this in the box for me, as sweet as that’d be. He said it was for your children—” His heart started pounding. “—and with us using the ‘L’ word and moving in together, I think this was his way of subtly kicking you in the ass about how much he fucking wants grandkids.” Stroking her fingers through his hair, she continued, “You get this panicked look when kids are brought up that you’re giving me right now, and it makes me think you don’t want any, but you started crying when your mom was talking about your children getting her recipe, and I want to know, with being your partner and all, do you want kids?”

Blood was pounding in his ears, definitely feeling the obvious panic on his face because how did he explain he wanted kids, but if she knew about his past, she wouldn’t even fathom the possibility of having any with him? He’d fucked up his chances at becoming a father and wasn’t good enough to be one, anyway. Any children he brought into this world would be ashamed to have him as a dad.

“I… I… Uh…” he was stumbling. Taking a deep breath, he thought about how he could answer the question. “It, uh.” He stared at the tv to avoid her gaze. “It, uh, doesn’t matter if I wanted kids, I’d be a terrible father, and you wouldn’t want to have any with someone like me.”

“Javier, what the fuck are you talking about?” Her hand cupped his cheek, making him look at her. “Someone like you? You’re a wonderful man who's so full of love and cares so much. We have two non-human children that you dote on! You’d be a wonderful father, and you can’t tell me otherwise.”

“You don’t know everything about me…” he whispered.

“So? Doesn’t mean I’ll love you any less.”

“You might…”

She snorted.

“Highly doubt it, but you can tell me if it’ll ease your mind.”

He grimaced. “I… can’t. Not yet.” Sighing, he continued, “Let me just enjoy what we have before the other shoe drops.”

There was a prominent frown on her lips.

“That’s extremely ominous… A couple of questions.”

“Okay…?”

“Like, were you secretly some kind of serial killer?”

“What? No. Why do you keep asking if I’m a fucking serial killer?”

She’d asked on their first date, too.

“Because Javier, you keep saying extremely suspicious shit!” Her voice went low, trying to mimic his, “‘I’m worried you won’t like me after I tell you about myself.’ ‘Let me just enjoy what we have before the other shoe drops.’” She spoke normally, again, “Like, either you’re secretly a serial killer or a fucking vampire.” Gasping in shock, she pressed her hand to her mouth. “Javier,” she said his name in a serious tone, “All of the biting—is your deep dark secret that you’re a vampire? You can tell me; you don’t have to lie. We can keep it between us.”

His eyes narrowed, processing what she’d just said, so caught off guard he felt unbalanced.

“A vampire?” he asked. “The fuck? The creatures with fucking, uh, fangs that drink blood? Fucking Dracula?”

He’d read the book in college and thought it was okay. Supernatural shit wasn’t really his thing unless it was written by Stephen King—he enjoyed The Shining, both the book, and film.

“I’ve never seen you drink blood…” She had a suspicious look on her face. “But if you were an undead creature of the night, it would explain all of the brooding and self-loathing you do—you’re basically Angel from Buffy.”

He was so fucking confused—how did they get here?

“Brooding…? Self-loathing…?” he questioned. Javier wasn’t broody… Right? Shit, was he broody? He gets the self-loathing part, but brooding? And who the fuck was Angel? “I’m not a vampire… Or brooding,” he said defensively.

“Sure, Javi.”

“I’m not,” he grumbled. “Why would you think vampire?”

“It’s insane, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Yeah. It is. Just like how you keep fucking thinking that telling me about the shit that happened in Colombia will make me hate you. I love you. All of you, even the dark pieces you hide from me.” She poked him in the chest. “And if you think I don’t have an idea of what went down, I’ll have you know I followed the news about the cartels because we dealt with a lot of fucking overdoses in the city.” Javier swallowed thickly, knowing she worked in Dallas for years—of course, she saw firsthand what the drugs were doing. “I swear most of the hospital went to the bar to celebrate the day Pablo Escobar died.” Her face softened, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “I know you dealt with horrible fucking shit, and it’s going to be really hard to talk about, but I can promise I’ll still love you after you tell me. I don’t care about anything you did back then—the good far outweighs the bad. I also know you’d be a terrific father, especially with how concerned you are about your past. You’ve got some shit you need to work through, and it’s gonna take us some time, but I’m here. Javi?”

He felt… really fucking stupid and loved, tears threatening to spill, him choking out, “Yes, Cielito?”

“The two takeaways from this conversation should be, I love you, no matter what, and I would fucking love to have your babies, if that’s ever something you’d want.”

Shock settled over him, his eyes big and eyebrows in his hairline.

“Really?” he breathed.

It seemed too good to be true. Maybe he’d misheard.

She gave him a smile that could’ve outshone the sun with its radiance.

“Oh, yeah. We’d make the cutest kids, but we gotta get you outta that head of yours first.” She tapped her finger on the side of his skull. “I’d also like us to be married, too. We’ve got time, and we’ll get there. Just know I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re stuck with me.”

That warm fuzzy feeling was spreading through his veins, Javier so happy.

“You’re the one stuck with me.”

“A couple of dumbasses stuck together—I love us.”

He smiled.

“I love us, too.” His hands moved, cradling her face in his big palms, smiling. “Thank you,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, putting everything he had into the kiss, hoping she could feel his love, devotion, that he was the happiest man on the entire fucking planet.

Final kisses were placed to her lips, each cheek, her chin, and finally her nose, her mouth turned up in a dreamy smile.

“You’re a cutie,” she said, looking at him.

“I think you’re pretty fucking cute, too,” he replied with the same expression.

Her head got closer, her chin tilting up, “Chomp,” she said, softly biting the tip of his nose.

An amused breath left him.

“Are you a vampire?” he asked.

She pecked his mouth.

“Ha, no,” she answered. “I love the beach too fucking much. Let’s finish watching the movie.”

Before he knew it, she was comfortable sitting in his lap again with his arm around her, resting her head against his shoulder, him pressing the play button.

His mother’s voice filled the air, a comforting sound that felt like he’d been wrapped in a cozy blanket, hearing her veer off from the recipe into an anecdote, her holding up her hand and clenching her fist.

“She’s talking about how mi abuela (my grandmother) would squeeze the red chiles with her hands at the kitchen table—it was before blenders,” he translated.

“Oh god, her hands must’ve hurt from the spice.”

“Mamá says she never felt the burn, even with the chiles being so fucking spicy.”

“Your mom did not use the word ‘fucking.’”

He snorted. “No, she said incredibly spicy, but same thing.” He shrugged.

“How did your grandma get it into the sauce consistency?”

“Wooden pestle and some kind of strainer, according to Mom—made it really fucking velvety.”

“Again, your mother did not use ‘fucking.’”

“No, but she says her mom’s sauce was better than hers, which I know is a fucking lie.”

Her hand came up behind her to pat his cheek.

“You’re a real mama’s boy, and it’s adorable—so your mom used a blender?”

“Yes, blender, then through a strainer with the pestle to get it smooth.”

“Okay, got it.”

His mom had moved her pot off the hot burner to let it cool, explaining her process for the corn husks and how she made the tamale dough, masa.

“She says,” he said, “the secret to keeping the tamales moist and flavorful is not being afraid to add fat.”

“I feel like I should be jotting down notes. What does she use?”

He smiled, loving how invested she was in his mother’s cooking.

“She uses lard, which is what they use in Mexico.”

“Good to know.”

Antonia was talking about the consistency of the dough and how smooth it should be, offering solutions if it wasn’t coming out right.

“Wait,” Cielito said, “What did she say about the cup of water?”

“That you drop a small piece of the masa into it, and if it floats, it’s ready, but if it sinks, you need to add more fat.”

“That makes sense.”

He watched his mom get a corn husk that had been soaking in a bowl of water to show how to assemble a tamale.

She sighed, looking at the camera. “Extraño mi Javiercito (I miss my Javier),” she said sadly. “El es mi buena suerte—siempre la comida me sale más rica cuando él está aquí (He is my good luck—the food always turns out better when he’s here).”

Javier felt tears gather in his eyes, Cielito lacing their fingers together over her middle.

“You were her good luck,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I was.”

Was him being so far away from home why she got sick? Had she needed his luck? He let the questions leave his brain as quickly as they came, not wanting to dwell on things he couldn’t change.

“Sé que lo extrañas, mi media naranja (I know you miss him, my soulmate),” Chucho replied, sounding just as sad. “Lo extraño también (I miss him, too). Su cumpleaños es en dos días (His birthday is in two days). ¿Tienes un mensaje para él (Do you have a message for him)?”

“¿Pensé que esto era para los nietos (I thought this was for the grandchildren)?” Her eyebrow was raised.

“Lo es, pero sabes que Javiercito también lo verá (It is, but you know Javier will watch it, too).”

She straightened, excitement showing on her face. “¿Tal vez con su futura esposa (Maybe with his future wife)?” Javier sucked in a breath. “Espero que conozca a una muchacha buena que sepa cocinar (I hope he meets a nice girl who knows how to cook). Le enseñaré cómo hacer todas mis recetas (I’ll teach her how to make all of my recipes).”

“What did she say about your future wife?” Cielito asked.

A tear rolled down his cheek, his words coming out rougher, “That I’d watch this with her and how she hopes my wife is a nice girl who knows how to cook so Mamá can teach her all of her recipes.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, she woulda fucking loved you and been so happy I found you.” More tears fell, squeezing her to him in a hug while her head moved to kiss his jaw, him turning to meet her lips.

“Cálmate, amor (Calm down, love),” Chucho chuckled. “Él tiene que conocer a una muchacha primero (He has to meet a girl first).”

He looked at the screen, seeing his mom frowning. “Está tan ocupado con el trabajo (He’s so busy with work). Seré una anciana cuando la encuentre (I’ll be an old woman when he finds her).”

It felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart that she died before he found his Cielito, thinking of all the time he wasted working and being unhappy.

“¿Tienes un mensaje para él (Do you have a message for him)?” His dad asked again, sounding amused.

She nodded. “Sí. Mijo, por favor apúrate y encuentra a tu media naranja para que pueda tener nietos (Yes. My son, please hurry and find your soulmate so I can have grandchildren).” His dad laughed, Javier crying harder.

“Oh, babe, are you okay?” Cielito asked.

Her head was turned to look at him, Javier meeting her gaze.

“Yeah, she just wanted grandkids as bad as Pop,” he said through the tears, using a hand to wipe at them.

“I know, baby,” she soothed. “One day, she’ll get them, and they’ll be very aware of their Abuela Antonia, who loved them so much before they were even born.”

His heart squeezed tight at the thought, wiping his wet hand on his jeans and pressing it against her cheek.

“I’m so fucking happy I have you,” his voice was throaty, eyes on hers. “Thank you for loving me so goddamn much and wanting kids with me.” His bottom lip was wobbling, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t think anyone would want that with me—didn’t think I fucking deserved it with all the shit I’ve done. I… promise I’ll tell you one day, and I know—believe me, I fucking know, you’ve made it clear you’ll still love me, and I trust you. Trust you with my fucking life. I love you, Cielito, and I knew my mom would love you, too, but this video—” he pointed at the screen with his free hand. “—fucking proves it. She would’ve loved cooking with you and teaching you her recipes, and Christ, she would’ve been so happy I found such an incredible woman. I hate that she’s not here to see me like this.” His voice cracked. “I wish she could see me so fucking happy.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, holding her close while his shoulders shook, letting the emotions leave him to wet his cheeks, her hand a comfort on the back of his head.

“I’m happy to be here, Javi,” she said softly. “I love you, too, and would’ve loved meeting your mom. Seeing her cook and hearing her speak has been lovely. She’s really wonderful.”

“Mi Javiercito,” his mother addressed him, like she had a thousand times before, his head popping up to look at the television to find her staring into the camera with a loving smile. “Estoy muy orgulloso de ti y de todo lo que has hecho (I am so proud of you and all that you’ve done). Eres un hombre bueno con un corazón grande y harás cosas increíbles, lo sé (You’re a good man with a big heart and you’re going to do incredible things, I know it). Eres mi bendición, mi buena suerte, mi hijo que amo con todo mi corazón, y solo deseo que seas feliz y saludable (You are my blessing, my good luck, my son who I love with my whole heart, and I only want you to be happy and healthy).” She smiled mischievously. “Y que encuentres una mujer que te ame y te trate bien para que pueda tener nietos para mimar (And to find a woman who loves you and treats you right so I can have grandchildren to spoil).” His mom laughed, making him smile, missing that sound so much. “Te amo, Javiercito (I love you, Javier). Feliz cumpleaños y acuérdate que te extraño más todos los días y desearía poder ver tu sonrisa (Happy birthday and remember that I miss you more everyday and wish I could see your smile). Te amo, nene (I love you, baby boy).” She blew him a kiss.

“Yo también te amo, Amá (I love you, too, Mom),” Javier whispered, his mom now showing how to assemble the tamale on screen. Seeing her there and hearing her speak, it felt like she was here with him, so he told her what he wished he could. “Seré honesto contigo, mamá, no me siento como un hombre bueno (I will be honest with you, mom, I don’t feel like a good man). No sé si estarías orgulloso de las cosas que hice (I don’t know if you would be proud of the things I did).”

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, his words muffled, “Es difícil (It’s hard),” he continued. “Pero estoy aprendiendo a vivir con lo que he hecho y seguir adelante (But I’m learning to live with what I’ve done and move forward).”

A little smile turned up on his lips, when he looked up, saying, “Mi amor me está ayudando, y ella también piensa que yo soy un hombre bueno (My love is helping and she thinks I’m a good man, too). Amá, dijiste que querías que encontrara a una mujer que me amara y me tratara bien, y lo he hecho (Mom, you said you wanted me to find a woman who loves me and treats me right, and I have).”

A contented feeling came over him, the woman resting her head on his shoulder, watching the movie. He knew she could hear him, and he was thankful she gave him a sense of privacy while he spoke softly.

“Ella es perfecta—ella es cariñosa, dulce, comica y una cocinera increíble (She is perfect—she is loving, sweet, funny and an incredible cook). La hubieras amado, mamá (You would’ve loved her, mom). Habrías podido ver cuánto me ama (You would have been able to see how much she loves me).”

He pressed his hand over his heart as he said, “Mi novia me ama (my girlfriend loves me). Y yo también la amo, más de lo que hay estrellas en el cielo (And I love her, too, more than there are stars in the sky). La llamo mi Cielito, y ella realmente es el cielo (I call her my little heaven, and she really is heaven).”

His mother was on the screen, moving around the kitchen to make more tamales while she chatted with his dad.

“Nunca he sido más feliz, Amá (I have never been happier, mom).”

He sniffed, using his hand to get off some of the wetness on his face. His voice was thicker when he started speaking again, “Ella quiere tener hijos conmigo—tendrás a tus nietos y estoy emocionado (She wants to have kids with me—you will have your grandchildren and I’m excited). Es un sueño hecho realidad (It’s a dream come true). Nunca pensé que sucedería pero ella me ama, mamá (I never thought it would happen but she loves me, mom). Completamente (Completely). Lo bueno y lo malo, ella lo ama todo (The good and the bad, she loves it all). Te extraño mucho pero quiero que sepas que estoy feliz y saludable como usted quería (I miss you a lot, but know I am happy and healthy like you wanted). Te amo, Amá (I love you, mom).”

She looked at the camera, smiling brightly, and it felt like she’d heard all he said.

They made it a point to go out on a date at least once a week.

A thing Javier loved about Cielito was she never expected him to wine and dine her at the most expensive restaurant in town or take her to some party where she knew more people than he did—no, his Cielito just wanted to spend time with him and didn’t really give a shit where they went.

Dinner? The movies? A drive? A walk around downtown? All acceptable options, and they took turns deciding what they’d do.

The weekly dinner at his dad’s didn’t count as a date and was more them spending time as a family and bonding. It was revealed that the video of his mom making tamales had come from Chucho’s small collection of home movies he’d filmed over the years, him going through it after meeting Cielito for the first time to find ones they could watch for her to get to know Antonia, thinking that one was the perfect introduction—it had been, but a little warning would have been nice, instead of Javier feeling like he had his heart fucking ripped out.

It was the Saturday before he was supposed to start his new job with the Webb County Sheriff, taking Cielito to the ranch for dinner, the two of them spending a little bit of time out on the land seeing their bovine children—the two cows he’d practically raised from birth, Daphne and Velma. They’d sat on the grass, with Cielito in his lap and the girls lying beside them, watching the sunset. This week was his turn to plan a date, and she’d thought that was it, but Javier had a surprise for her.

They went back to his dad’s when it started getting dark, hanging out on his couch with him, watching an old video of one of Javier’s college swim meets, which Chucho had recorded, complete with commentary from both of his parents in attendance. He’d been thankful it was a match he won, Cielito very impressed with his skills and unsurprisingly handsy when they got out to his truck to leave.

She’d been confused when they left the driveway and went the opposite direction of the town with only the headlights to guide them down the road, him pulling off the pavement after a while and jumping out to open a gate, not worrying about closing it with no cattle out this far.

Javier was a romantic, and tonight he didn’t feel like being out in public, wanting to have a quiet night with the love of his life, just relaxing and enjoying each other's company someplace that wasn’t their apartment—which was how they ended up out in the middle of nowhere on his father’s land, the night air warm, lying atop the blankets and pillows he’d stashed before they left home in the bed of his truck. She was snuggled up against his side, her head cushioned on his chest, his arm around her back with his fingers drawing shapes on her dress-covered hip, his other hand holding hers over his belly, both staring up at the clear sky full of brightly shining stars.

“They’re just so big and bright,” she said in wonder, and it made him smile.

“It’s all the wide-open space—not much light pollution out here.”

The Milky Way was visible, seeing the star clusters, dust lanes, and nebulas glowing, along with the myriad of other glittering stars amongst the dark backdrop everywhere the eye could see. No other place he’d traveled to had this kind of view, and he could stare at it for hours, struck by the beauty and in awe of the expansiveness, always humbled by the fact that what he was looking at was billions of years old—his mother had seen these same stars, his mother’s mother, his ancestors, along with every other fucking person on the goddamn planet, have seen these same stars.

Time slowed down when he stared at the night sky, the dark and quiet, peaceful, the lights slowly drifting over him, feeling so tiny in comparison to the vastness—it was calming, a reality check that the universe was so fucking big, his everyday problems and worries were nothing—they didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

“It’s so fucking beautiful,” she said.

“It is. I can only think of one other thing that beats it.”

“You’re a liar. There’s nothing else prettier.”

“Yes, there is.”

“I’ll humor you. What in the world is better than all of this?” she asked, moving her head to look up at him, his own propped on a pillow, tilting his chin down to meet her gaze, smiling.

“You—” he said, her eyes widening.

“That’s actually very sweet—”

“—Naked,” he interrupted.

“Oh my god, Javier,” she replied in exasperation, rolling her eyes. “You’re so fucking ridiculous.”

He chuckled, leaning to kiss her head.

“It’s the truth. You know any constellations, baby?”

“A couple.” She untangled their hands, both looking back up at the sky as she pointed her finger. “Little Dipper.” Her hand moved to point out another familiar shape. “Big dipper. Which are both part of bigger ones—Ursa major and minor.”

He raised his finger. “See how those ones look kinda like a man with no head—the arms and legs?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Hercules.”

“He’s big.”

“Yeah. Then if we go back over to the little dipper.” He pointed in its direction. “Over there is the head, and it moves down for its body—that’s Draco.”

“Oooh, it’s a dragon.”

“Tilt your head that way.” His hand moved over her to point up. “You’re into that star shit, right?”

“Astrology, you Sag, and I dabble.”

“Uh-huh, what’s my sign?”

“Your sun is Sagittarius, moon Capricorn, and ascendant is, fuck, uh… I looked it up; oh, Scorpio!”

He scoffed.

“Right, you dabble…”

“Yes, and just so you know, our signs are very compatible, thank you very much—the stars agree we should be together.”

“I knew there was a reason I loved stars.” He kissed the top of her head again. “Well, let me show you one of the zodiacs. There’s the body.” His hand moved. “The horns. That’s Capricornus or Capricorn, which you said was my moon—whatever the fuck that means.”

“It describes your emotions and stuff below the surface—basically how you think of yourself.”

“And mine…?” He wasn’t sure how to phrase the question.

“Is right on the money. Serious, loving, loyal, and you kinda repress your emotions to stay rational. Makes sense you were so good at your job.”

He didn’t buy into astrology—seemed a little too far-fetched that the stars had anything to do with how a person was, but he had to admit, it got some things right, which was probably just a coincidence.

“I guess…”

“Wait, do you know where Sagittarius is? The archer? That’s you.”

“Uh,” his eyes moved to the area where the cluster of stars should be on the horizon, finally spotting them. “Over here.” He pointed. “There’s his body, then the bow.”

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“Are you an astronomy nerd?”

“Remember my dad saying I wanted to be an astronaut?” Chucho had mentioned it when she was looking at a picture of him as a kid watching the moon landing.

“Yeah?”

“I was obsessed with space and stars, and we’ve got such a great fucking view of them out here.” He held his hand out toward the sky.

“It is a great fucking view. Okay, keep talking dirty to me—this is amazing foreplay,” she said, cuddling closer to him.

“Yeah?” he chuckled, arousal simmering in his gut. Lowering his voice to that tone he knew drove her wild, he pointed to another constellation, asking, “See those three and the two that come down from it?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Look familiar, baby?”

“Scales.”

“Yeah—Libra,” he rasped. “These bright ones next to it are Scorpius or Scorpio, then there’s me, Sagittarius.” The archer situated beside the scorpion.

“Why is this so sexy?” she whispered.

“I’m not done, Cielito,” he husked, and a soft sound came from her throat, thrilling him.

Javier was thankful the stars were glowing so brightly he could make out the patterns, thinking he should be able to spot almost twenty with where they were and the time of year, showing her more constellations scattered all over the night sky above them.

He spoke in a deep timbre, making it through five more when her hand found its way to the front of his jeans, gulping as she started rubbing over his dick.

Blood rushed to his groin, continuing to talk, him hardening quickly under her touch. It was becoming difficult to think—his eyes moving from the stars to her body next to him. She’d gotten this new sundress in a similar pattern to the button-up he was wearing—it was a sexy backless number that showed ample cleavage and had shoulder straps he could untie, which meant a couple of tugs, and her tits would be free. His eyes were locked on her chest, imagining it bare, her straddling his hips, the skirt of her dress bunched up while she bounced on his hard—

“Are there no more?” she asked, turning her head, trying to look as innocent as possible with her hand on his cock.

He’d apparently stopped talking, getting so caught up in his thoughts. His dick was hard and throbbing under her hand, pressing against his zipper.

His tongue wet his bottom lip, meeting her gaze as he answered, “There’s more…”

“Show me.”

“I can’t with your hand on my dick…”

Her lips turned up in a smirk.

“Too hard to think?” she teased, squeezing him.

“I’ll fucking show you how hard I am,” he growled, quickly turning toward her. The gasp of surprise she made turned into a moan when his mouth found hers in a searing kiss. His large hand curved around her jaw, his tongue teasing her bottom lip as he kissed her slow and passionately, the tension rising to have him licking into her mouth, wanting to taste her.

He loved her softness—her lips, her skin, her body, all of her was so fucking soft, and he couldn’t get enough of it, would never get enough of it, wanting to touch her all over, feel her body give to his contrasting hardness.

Rolling her onto her back, he was half on top of her, propping himself up on one arm while the other hand eagerly pulled free the knot on her shoulder, tugging down the fabric to free her breast. He palmed the familiar weight of it, tweaking her pebbled nipple between his rough, gun-calloused fingers, her moaning from the sensations. He nipped at her bottom lip, smiling at her breathy noises, tilting his head to bite her chin before kissing under her jaw to her neck, sucking hard on her pulse point.

“Javi,” she gasped, threading her fingers into his hair.

He knew how much she loved her tits played with, his big hand holding the bare one while he leaned down to latch his lips around her stiff peak, giving it the worship it deserved—licking, sucking, nibbling.

“Oh, god,” you moaned, his attention sending sparks of pleasure to your core, rubbing your thighs together to ease the ache. “Feels so good, Javi. Fuck, touch me.”

He came off your breast with a wet pop, his fingers pinching the hard nipple.

“You want my fingers?” A spike of arousal shot through you at the thought. “Want me to touch your pussy? I bet you’re fucking soaked.” His hand trailed down your belly, going lower to your thigh to grab the hem of your dress, pulling it up to uncover your panties. He cupped over your lace-covered cunt. “Mmm, you’re so wet for me, Hermosa.”

“Want them, Javi.” You bit your lip.

“Yeah?” he asked, his thumb making slow, firm circles over your covered clit that had your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing getting shallower. “Need me to make you come before I stretch open this tight little pussy on my cock?”

You clenched at his words. “God, yes.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said, pushing his hot palm into your underwear, your hips bucking at the contact.

The stars above were so bright, they offered some illumination to see the smirk on Javi’s face, him leaning forward to slide his nose down the bridge of your own, nudging it when he got to the tip.

“My needy girl,” he purred, pushing two fingers through your slit, gathering your slick to work your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you gasp at how good it felt.

Your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, working them open while his mouth moved back onto yours in a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue, the strokes of his digits igniting the fire in your belly, feeling it growing hot in your center. There was heat spreading just under your skin, rubbing your hands over his bare chest, moaning loudly when he pressed one thick finger inside you, then another. You needed something to hold onto, settling for Javi’s hair and gripping it tight while he started pumping his fingers, his thumb lazily circling over your perky little clit.

Everything was forgotten—the stars, being in the bed of his truck—none of it mattered. The only thing on your brain was Javier and how he was coaxing you closer to Nirvana with his talented hand and lips on yours, feeling like you were burning from the inside out.

The muscles in your belly were tightening, his tongue tangling with your own, rocking your hips against him. The end was in sight, feeling the familiar build, your brain going fuzzy when Javi crooked his fingers, zeroing in on that one spot only he knew how to find.

The fire inside you was growing thicker and hotter, his thumb pressing harder, rolling your engorged bud to spur you on.

His mouth came off you, pressing his forehead to your sweaty one.

“You gonna come for me, Cielito?” he husked. “Gonna come all over my hand? Gonna be my good girl and let me have it?”

“Yes,” you moaned.

“I know. You’re always so fucking good to me. Hear how wet you are?” The sounds were lewd between your legs, bordering on obscene, hearing the wet suck of your pussy taking his fingers. “Gonna get you wetter,” he said, pushing his fingers into that heavenly spot over and over again while his thumb worked your sensitive clit.

Your noises were getting louder, so close you could taste it.

“Come on, baby,” he rasped. “Give it to me—come for me.��

Your breathing choked out, your body curling in on itself as you fell over the edge, clenching hard around his fingers as you came, pleasure spreading through your veins.

“There it fucking is,” he said. “My good fucking girl.”

His fingers kept working to extend your high, the waves rolling through you, riding them out.

He smothered your face in kisses while you came down—your cheeks, chin, forehead, nose, closed eyelids, lips, getting everywhere he could reach while murmuring how good you did, how beautiful you are, how much he loved you, how he loved seeing you come, making you feel all warm and fuzzy.

Your cunt stopped spasming, and his hand left you, opening your eyes to be greeted with the sight of him licking his fingers clean, him moaning at the taste as he got it all.

He finished, his hand rubbing your arm and side while he met your gaze, saying, “You taste so fucking good. I wanna eat your pussy when we get home.”

There was a lazy smile on your lips, your body feeling amazing.

“I’ll be full of your come.”

He groaned, eyes closing for a second before meeting yours again, his fingers digging into your hip.

“Then I’ll clean you up.”

Your eyebrow arched.

“With your tongue?”

He smiled crookedly.

“Oh, yeah.”

Giggling, you playfully hit his chest. “You’re nasty, but I love you.”

“I love you, too.” His hand smoothed up your tummy to between your breasts. “I wanna be inside you. How do you want it?”

“What a gentleman,” you replied, patting his cheek. “I’m riding you.”

“Are you?” he asked, amused.

“Yep. On your back, soldier.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled, giving you a quick kiss before settling on his back with his head on a pillow. You heard the sounds of him working open his belt and his zipper being undone while you shimmied off your underwear.

When you finally shuffled in place to turn toward him, he was a sight to behold—his head propped up by pillows, watching you with his shirt hanging open, showing his chest and soft belly, spotting some dark and some faded love-bites over the expanse of his golden skin, his big hand stroking his hard cock, seeing the tip darkened and shiny from precum.

Licking your suddenly dry lips, you almost couldn’t believe this was your boyfriend.

Javier Peña was yours. He loved you, was going to marry you one day, be the father of your children, the person you grow old with, and above all else, he was the love of your life. There would be no other. There could never be another. He’d intertwined himself so deeply within you it felt like your souls were one—there was no you without him. He was your everything, and you were his, and you loved him so much it sometimes felt overwhelming.

“What are you thinking about, Cielito?” Javi asked, taking you from your thoughts.

“How much I love you, and that I can’t believe you're my boyfriend,” you answered truthfully.

He smiled.

“Believe it, baby,” he said. “I’m all yours—all of me belongs to you, and that won’t ever fucking change.”

“I’m all yours, too. Forever.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Please, sit on my dick.”

“And you called me needy?” you asked. Sitting up on your knees, you bunched your dress at your waist with one hand, the other pressing to his chest for balance while lifting your leg to straddle his hips.

“Yeah, and I am, too—want you so fucking bad.”

You could tell from the look on his face and how his hand came off his cock to spit on his fingers, using it to slick up his shaft, holding it in position for you.

“Hey, Javi?”

Lowering down, the tip of him nudged your entrance, his eyes landing on yours.

“Yes, baby?”

“Is this seat taken?”

Amusement showed on his face for only a second, it quickly pinching in pleasure as you sank down onto him with no warning, his eyes fluttering closed, mouth falling open—your head fell back as his thick cock stretched you open, filling you inch by glorious inch, taking your breath away when you finally bottomed out with how full you felt.

“Fuck, I love how you feel inside me,” you said, looking down at him.

He blinked open his eyes, his hands now on your hips, keeping you still. “I love being inside you.” His words came out rough, seeing his throat work as he swallowed.

“I know you do. You gonna let me move?”

“Yeah.” He nodded his head. “Want you to use me, Cielito,” he rasped. “Treat me like your fuck toy and get yourself off—wanna feel you soak my dick.”

He’d lessened his grip, allowing you to roll your hips, his cock pressing into all the right spots along your sensitive walls.

“You want me to use you?” you asked, lifting your hips agonizingly slow until just the tip remained.

“Yes,” he replied, his tone a little desperate. “Please.”

“As you wish,” you said, dropping back down, the sensation pulling a moan from your lips.

He wanted you to use him, so you did, bouncing on top of him, his fingers digging into your hips again but allowing you to move at a punishing pace that had you panting. He was groaning under you, reaching up to untie your other shoulder strap to let the top of your dress fall. Javier was staring, clearly mesmerized by your breasts swaying with your movements, his hands moving to palm them, teasing your stiff nipples, the sparks of pleasure ramping you up.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He looked and sounded wrecked.

“You’re very handsome yourself,” you said through breaths, smiling down at him.

“Fuck, I love you—take what you want.”

“I love you, too.”

Heat was building at the base of your spine, his cock spearing up inside you, feeling so good with how far it delved into your depths, thinking there was a chance he was rearranging your guts.

The truck’s shocks were squeaking with every rise and fall of your body, rough sounds coming from both of your mouths, disturbing the peacefulness of the summer night. Leaning forward, you held yourself up with an arm beside his head, kissing him while fucking yourself on his cock. His hands grabbed your ass, helping you move when your thighs began to burn, the knot in your belly tightening and tightening with every rise and fall of your hips, your tongues sliding together in practiced movements.

You’re getting closer, needing something more…

“Touch me,” you said into his lips.

He broke the kiss, his glazed-over eyes looking into yours.

“Need me to get you there?” he husked.

“Yes.”

That was all the answer he needed, his hand gripping hard onto your hip to keep you steady, his other going to the apex of your thighs, thumbing your engorged little clit, and then he was thrusting up into you, hard.

Your mouth fell open, head landing in the crook of his neck, hearing him grunting with how hard he was fucking you. Moans stuttered from your lips, all thoughts leaving your head with your insides burning up until euphoria erupted in your center, sinking your teeth in his shoulder as you came.

A strangled moan came from him, his cock twitching inside you, your cunt clenching up so tight his pace faltered to a stop, pulling you down on top of him.

“There we go,” he groaned. “My good girl.”

The praise sent a tingle down your spine.

His breaths were coming out hard, a sheen of sweat on his skin. He hugged you close, rubbing his hands up and down your spine while your orgasm worked through your system.

Your brain was a pleasurable haze, your limbs trembling.

“Feel good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you croaked out.

His lap was soaked where they were connected, knowing his jeans would have wet spots from her come, and he didn’t give a single fuck—it didn’t matter, not when he was buried to the hilt inside the woman he loved.

He wouldn’t last much longer, not with her velvety walls hugging his cock all nice and snug, lulling him to his end with her warmth and wetness, almost making him blow his load when she bit him.

He’d staved off his orgasm as best he could. Every muscle in his body pulled taut, making him tense, and now he was ready to go. She squeaked in surprise when he rolled them, getting her on her back, his hips nestled in the cradle of her thighs, still inside her tight heat.

A pillow was under her head, him pulling her legs high on his ribs, crashing his mouth to hers, needing to kiss her as he started moving, strong even strokes, working himself in and out of her sopping cunt.

He loved how her legs shook against his sides, knowing it was from coming hard, her pussy slick and slippery, the wet friction making his head spin.

There was one thing, though, that kept his stamina from wavering, fuel to keep him going—a thought that had been plaguing him for almost two weeks since the idea was planted in his brain. It had him fucking into her with abandon, her fingers digging into his shoulders, hearing her gasp out moans of his name, pretty sure she was drooling with how he was railing into her.

All he could fucking think about was coming inside her, filling her up, over and over again, and needing to work it as deep as possible to fill every nook and cranny and keep her full of him.

He was now intimately aware of what this intrusive need was that’d been sitting in the deep recesses of his mind—the moment Cielito said she wanted to have his children, everything became apparent when he pictured her carrying his baby, something inside him coming alive, the instinct telling him he needed to fuck one into her.

It was fucking jarring, but the thought made him strain in his jeans.

He never imagined he’d have kids and did his fucking best to keep them from happening.

Before Cielito, he could count on three fingers how many times he’d come inside someone without a rubber, and fun fact, none of them were with Lorraine, who was adamant about condoms, which made her pregnancy claim extra surprising—telling him one must of broke.

It’d been rubbers since high school, and he sure as fuck wasn’t fucking without protection in Colombia during the height of the AIDS epidemic.

The only reason he’d even fathomed the idea of fucking Cielito raw was he trusted her—they had two dates that spanned many hours where they really got to know each other, and when she told him she was clean and on birth control, he had no reason to doubt it—staying at her place confirmed she was religious about taking her medication.

Which led him to now, where thinking there was even the tiniest chance of his seed taking root had his eyes rolling back.

The air was filled with the sounds of them fucking—slapping skin, muffled moans and groans, and the squeak of his truck rocking.

One arm kept his weight off of her, his other hand holding her breast while he desperately kissed her, his strokes becoming uneven the closer he got to his finish, her moaning into his mouth, her hands squeezing his ass inside his jeans.

She loved knowing the things that riled him up in bed, but this was one he needed to keep to himself for the time being. She’d made a point that he needed to work through the shit from his past, and he agreed about them being married when they started a family. He absolutely didn’t want her feeling any kind of pressure from his new discovery, so he wouldn’t tell her for now, but he had a feeling she was going to be really fucking into it when they were ready.

The thought of her begging him to put a baby in her had him reaching his breaking point, coming hard with a ragged cry of her name muffled against her lips. He pushed into her as deep as possible, his come gushing into her inner depths, feeling it coat her insides. Hissing, he rolled his hips, working the hot flood into every crevice, his hand snaking between their bodies to rub her wet swollen clit, feeling she was close with how her cunt was beginning to convulse.

It didn’t take much to have her clenching around him again, gasping his name as she climaxed.

He was worn out, collapsing on her and pressing his face into her neck, her familiar scent making his warm body even warmer, a smile curling on his lips while catching his breath.

“Is this okay?” His slurred words were muffled into her skin.

“Yeah,” she croaked.

Her fingers found their way into his sweat-soaked hair, playing with it and scratching lovingly against his scalp, making him hum happily in the back of his throat.

Javier loved sex. This was a fact, and he loved making his partner feel really fucking good.

Most men would say their favorite part of fucking was coming, but Javier? His was the post-sex glow, cuddling close and coming down with the other person. It was really fucking intimate—bringing pleasure to each other and then basking together in an incredibly vulnerable state.

With Cielito, it was even better because he was so comfortable with her. He could fully relax and let his body melt into hers, enjoying himself with her.

“I don’t know how it’s possible,” she started, her voice a little throaty. “But somehow, sex has gotten better.”

His heart started racing, popping his head up with a furrowed brow to look at her.

“What?” he asked.

She had a confused look.

“I don’t know…?” she answered. “It’s definitely been post ‘I love yous,’ it’s almost more passionate, maybe? We’ve been doing a lot more face-to-face positions, and you’re always on top when you come, and my god, you’re just hitting it so right. I’m not saying you weren’t before!” she quickly added. “Sex before was great, too! Sex, in general, is amazing with you, but there’s something different, and I’m really digging it.”

He frowned. “So, it’s not as good when I fuck you from behind?”

Her eyes went wide.

“That is not what I said at all! I love backshots. Love. With a capital ‘L.’ The night of our second date, while on the phone, I literally asked you to fuck me face down ass up, and you’re really fucking good at it, so it’s staying in rotation.”

He felt himself preen a little at her words, chuckling, “Okay.”

He gave her a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek, making her giggle.

“Basically,” she started, stroking her fingers through his hair. “Five out of five stars will absolutely be fucking again.”

His eyes squinted, meeting hers.

“Did you just rate my fucking performance?” he asked, pinching her hip.

“Hey!” she laughed. “I did some of the work, so it’s our performance.”

He nodded in agreement, replying, “Yeah, I’d rate it five stars then.”

“‘Cause you liked me bouncing on your dick?”

“That and the biting—you almost fucking got me.”

He was really fucking enjoying the biting; it had him coming quick.

“Damn.” She grinned, pulling him down for a kiss. He smiled into it, her fingers working their way into his hair. “You need a haircut,” she murmured against his lips.

It was true. It’d been a while since he’d gotten one, and it was starting to get a little shaggy.

Pulling back, he met her eyes.

“I know,” he sighed. “I’ve been putting it off ‘cause I don’t like my new barber.”

And it was his only option. His old barber and only other option in town happened to be Lorraine’s uncle, who told him he wasn’t welcome when he moved back to Laredo.

“Well, why don’t I cut your hair?” she asked.

“Do you know how…?”

“No, Javier, I’m just going to wing it with these beautiful luscious locks,” she said sarcastically, pulling on some of his hair. “Yes, I know how to cut hair,” she spoke normally. “In college, I lived very frugally and learned how to cut my own to save money—I can also do men’s, had some friends who’d use my styling services for the cheap.”

“How much?”

“How much what?” she asked, confused.

“How much for a haircut?”

“Free… You’re my boyfriend…” she said the words slowly.

That wouldn’t do.

“I’ll take you out to lunch—your choice, and give you a foot rub.” He nodded, settling on the deal.

“That’s really not necessary. I’m happy to do it because I love you.” She stroked his cheek.

“I was already planning on spending the twenty dollars, so I’ll take you out instead, and I know your feet are sore—you got those new fucking shoes that aren’t as good as your old ones.”

“Because I wore out my old pair, and Laredo has very few choices for shoe shopping!”

“We’ll just go to San Antonio next weekend, then.” He shrugged.

“To buy shoes?”

Why was she so surprised?

“Yeah?”

Her eyes went round.

“You’d really drive me all the way to the city so I can get better shoes?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you so much,” she said, pulling him down for another kiss.

“I love you, too,” he said into her lips.

And that was a fact.

The cold hard truth.

Cielito was it for him.

He was going to marry her one day and hoped they’d buy a big house to fill with kids; he was living the fucking dream and had never been happier.

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

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

[ckret2]

I'd love to know more about Bartholomew, and how they befriended him! although it is very funny that something that wild happened entirely offscreen XD

I thought this would be short, but apparently I had more to say about Barty than I thought! So here:

Bartholomew was acquired from a crane game filled with haunted dolls that was set up at Gravity Falls' mall. I do not know why that crane game was there. It's just the kind of thing that happens in Gravity Falls. Each haunted doll is possessed by the evil ghost of a creepy Victorian child. Dipper & Mabel didn't discover this until the next night.

In life, Bartholomew was a 14-year-old necromancer who bound his spirit to a doll so he could live forever—which is why he happens to know so much about poppets and can teach the twins how they work. He's hoping they'll bind Bill to a poppet, he'll die, and he'll remain attached to the poppet, so Bartholomew will have a new haunted doll pal.

(He was not friends with the other dolls in the crane game machine. You know how it turns out wild wolves in normal packs are really friendly and cooperative with each other, and vicious alpha wolf dominance fights only happen when wolves are forced together in captivity and are stressed and defensive? Yeah. That crane game was cramped. Nobody made friends in there.)

He's spent over a century as your typical feared creepy haunted doll, shuffling between locked trunks and antique malls and dusty attics and paranormal investigators' houses that mysteriously burn down and thrift shops. His prior crimes could fuel a horror movie series fit to rival any Chucky or Annabelle you could think of.

His original ambition—as it always is when he's in a house with a boy age 12 to 17—is to murder the kid (and anyone who tries to stop him) and take over his life. We are unclear on how an immobile porcelain doll intends to pose as a living human child. I'm not sure he's ever thought through that part of the plan. He thought killing Dipper would've made a particularly sweet deal since he would've gotten a free sister out of it.

It turns out he does all this because he's desperately lonely and unloved after over a century as a creepy haunted doll, and he just wants a family and friends his own age again. Mabel quelled his murderous urges by saying he can have a bed and live in their room and be their friend as long as he doesn't kill anyone. Usually when kids find out he's alive, they run crying to the adults about the scary living doll begging to get rid of it, and the adults either don't believe them or join in trying to get rid of him. Running into a couple of kids that are totally chill with a haunted doll as long as he doesn't commit murder is a new experience for him. This is the most positive socialization he's had since he died. He's turned around real fast.

So far, Mabel and Dipper haven't told anyone else about Bartholomew. Not on purpose, they just kind of dealt with it on their own at like 3 a.m. and then never thought to bring him up to the adults. Even Bill hasn't noticed him yet. Probably in late August the kids'll end up in a conversation with the grunkles like "wait, did we really forget to mention the haunted doll we've been living with all summer??" Typically he only speaks in front of children. There's a chance Candy and Grenda have been told about him, but due to the Bill situation they haven't been over to meet Barty yet.

He was not in Gravity Falls last year and doesn't really get who Bill Cipher is. What he knows is that Bill is a cute girl who's allegedly a guy who's allegedly some kind of demon from space who can single-handedly destroy Earth. He's read War of the Worlds, he knows all about destroyers from space; but he didn't realize Martians have demons too. He just kind of accepts this all as true, but doesn't really fear Bill (except when he thinks Bill might be in a mood to smash delicate porcelain dolls).

Dipper and Mabel often catch him posed like he was doing something right before other people came in. Sometimes they come home and Barty is posed like he's been petting Waddles. They don't know if this means he's actually let Waddles see him move.

Have you ever watched The Boy? He looks and moves kind of like The Boy, although he's closer to the size of a baby doll and a bit less realistic. Creepy formally-dressed porcelain doll, only moves when nobody's in the room and/or looking at it.

His haunted doll powers include creepily turning off all the lights, writing messages on foggy windows/mirrors, causing disembodied knocking/rattling, slowly dragging the bedsheet off a sleeping child in the middle of the night, teleporting when no one's looking, slipping strange whispers into TV/radio/cassette audio, causing furniture to rearrange in strange ways during the night, and—if he gets really mad or distressed—he can briefly act as a poltergeist and make things levitate and fly around.

As a ghost possessing a doll, he's able to see other ghosts. This makes him—along with Bill, disembodied-Dipper, [redacted], [redacted], and sometimes [redacted]—one of the few members of the cast that can see the mindscape.

He secretly doesn't mind that Mabel calls him Barty Mew-Mew and is increasingly beginning to think he'd kind of like being a catboy. Mabel will be ecstatic when she finds out.

#anonymous #ask #about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

[eruden-writes]

The Unexpected Human Problem - Part 1 - (Yautja x Human)

Part 1 | Part 2| Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31

Summary: The night her abductors die, Rayelle finds herself running for her life. She doesn't know where she is, what is following her, where to go. All she knows is she's not on Earth any longer and the thing chasing her has the capacity to kill.

Tai'qdei never anticipated finding a human when he took the job of tracking and subduing a small contingent of smugglers. It was only when the human attacked and fled fled, Tai'qdei - hopped up on the euphoria of a successful hunt - gave chase, instinct burning at his center.

Will sense return to Tai'qdei before he catches Rayelle? Or will Rayelle be subjected to the yautja's natural inclinations?

And what happens afterwards?

----

Author's Note: I gave in after watching Prey 2022. lol

I'll be uploading this to Ao3 and Wattpad, as well.

CHAPTER CONTENT WARNINGS: Cultural differences lead to non-consensual touching and stripping. Forced tranquilizer usage, but not for sexual assault purposes.

---

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Rayelle’s chest heaved as she careened through the alien landscape, two moons dolefully watching overhead. Behind her, the raucous crashing and thumping stomps of something large breaking branches behind her. As she raced through the trees and half-tripped over unseen things in the underbrush, her brain worked tirelessly to make sense of the world around her.

The trees weren’t a solid trunk of bark and wood nor the leaves flat and green. Instead, the trees - in orange and red and magenta hues - were like huge braided vines, smooth and slippery looking, with drooping branches and spheres that were presumably fruits or leaves. Rayelle wasn’t sure which. The flora around her shared the same deep purple hue of the globules on the trees, which implied leaves to her. Here and there, she spotted a nocturnal bloom. Usually glowing with some sort of phosphorescence.  

If the flora wasn’t disorienting enough, the sounds of the world were worse. Around Rayelle, the sounds of life bubbled up around her, mostly in the distance. Buzzes and chitters and sounds that almost sounded familiar, but weren’t. Oh, they very much weren’t. Shadowy silhouettes scurried or flew away from her, but she couldn’t stop to make sense of them. Too many legs, too many eyes, too much of an odd shape that didn’t fit her mental encyclopedia of animals.

And still there was the ever present pounding footfalls and crashing behind her. No matter how she zigged and zagged or tried to lose her pursuer, they always sounded just a few steps away from snatching her up. 

Every time she thought they were close, that she was about to feel the large clawed hands wrap around her and yank her back, flashes of blood splattered through her brain. 

Bright red splashes, the squish of meat rending, the crunch of broken bones and cartilage, agonized screams and sobbing. All while she was cowering in that damned cage. Then, from the flickering darkness of the broken spaceship lights, a tall and broad figure appeared. Dripping in blood, dressed in black armor.

Chaos ensued, after they broke open the cage and snapped her chains. In the flickering lights, she threw something at the thing - her water dish, probably - and hurtled from her prison. Everything was a blur from there. She just ran, barreling her way down halls and ignoring the carnage until she found an exit and burst into cool, oddly heavy, night air. 

It had taken her a few seconds to realize she was somewhere completely alien. But the creaking of the spaceship as that armored thing followed her startled her into another flee. 

They were still pursuing her, through foreign terrain and mud and underbrush. Unless it wasn’t so unfamiliar to them. That thought made Rayelle’s stomach drop. 

No matter how painfully her lungs ached and her muscles cried, Rayelle could not stop running. Survival instincts drove her forward, pumping her full of adrenaline as she wildly looked for somewhere safe to hide.

Before such a thing could grace her awareness, her worst horrors became fact. 

A clawed hand snatched at the back of her shirt. A scream rent from her lips as her arms and legs flailed, making contact multiple times to something hard and fleshy but not creating any effect. Her back slammed into the cold damp ground, the air escaping her sore lungs, as a warm body dropped atop her. 

A single hand clamped around her wrists, pinning her easily to the ground. 

She threw herself forward and twisted in the creature’s grip. Her back arching, her feet trying to gain purchase on the ground to slide herself away. She might as well have been doing nothing. It barely made her captor struggle to keep her still.

The thing’s free hand went to her chest, their claws easily slicing the thin fabric. Rayelle jerked as she felt the cool air on her chest. Her desperation renewed as she violently struggled against the alien, needing to escape this situation. 

Her heart stumbled as a vibration reverberated from the figure above her. A growl?

For the first time since being caught, she turned her eyes tot he figure’s face. She stared, wide-eyed, into the mask of whoever - whatever - had caught her. An evil little voice reminded her they had killed her abductors earlier, too. Not a small feat.Even though she couldn’t see any copious amounts of blood, the iron tang still clung to the figure. It made Rayelle’s stomach churn. 

She almost forgot what the thing was currently doing - her brain filled with the blood-drenched memories - before she felt her shirt shift. It pushed away the sides of her torn top, baring her fully to the air. A whimper died in her throat as the alien’s clawed hands trailed down her front. The pinpricks of those dangerous fingertips traced firmly from her clavicle to her stomach, almost hard enough to scratch her.

It made her skin prickle in a confusing way. She gasped in a sharp breath, her back involuntarily arching under the touch.

The thing seemed to be appraising her. Which was nothing new. Rayelle had seen hundreds of aliens since being stolen from her home. Whatever the aliens were looking for, it seemed she couldn’t provide. 

And she hoped that would still be the case now. They were assessing her. That was it! Maybe they looked for injuries. 

But the longer the thing’s palm stayed on her, the more that hope dwindled. It stroked over her breasts and her eyes wrenched shut, still trying to convince herself it meant nothing. All the while, she tried to ignore how her body responded to the touches. Gooseflesh crawled over her skin and her nipples hardened and her stomach churned with a confusing warmth. 

A large clawed thumb ran over a puckering nipple and Rayelle choked back another whimper. Disgust fizzled in her stomach as she felt a growing heat, a telltale dampness start between her thighs. Traitorous body, Rayelle thought as she instinctively pressed her legs tightly together. But the creature caught the gesture, nudging their knee between her thighs. 

The hand moved lower, until it traced along the elastic waistband of Rayelle’s underwear. Her eyes snapped open, her upper body attempting to jerk forward, to break free as fresh terror bloomed in her head. But she barely moved. Its hold on her wrists was too strong.

Her sudden action caught the thing’s attention, their head cocking slightly. Its clawed finger slowed, its point catching on the fabric. There was a brief second when Rayelle knew  what was coming. Before she could even shake her head or issue dissent, the sound of tearing fabric shrieked through the air. It had yanked her underwear off with ease. 

A jolt shot through her body, suddenly aware of the strange planet’s ambient temperature and this thing’s too-close presence. Bare and vulnerable, a tremble arched through Rayelle. Her eyes wrenched shut as the thing - the alien, the creature - raised its hand to its mask. There was a hiss and it shifted, likely taking off the covering. 

She braced herself. For touches and unwanted penetrations or teeth and tongue and rending flesh. She didn’t know what to expect, other than the worst. Which was a toss up between being devoured or violated. 

Then it spoke. It was a series of clicks and guttural gnarls, reminiscent of the snarls and croaks of crocodiles to Rayelle. With effort, she swallowed, before forcing her eyes to open. 

She wished she hadn’t done that. 

The thing, the alien, was nothing she could have imagined, even as her brain scrambled to make sense of their features. Their skin ranged in color from a light yellow to burnt orange, textured like thick leather or tortoise flesh and speckled. Long tendrils - black near the head and fading to red at the tips - fell from the ridged structure on its head, which flared and rose into small ranges of horn-esque growths. 

It partly reminded Rayelle of a dinosaur, until she saw its mouth. 

Oh, the worst was its mouth! Four pincers - mandibles, maybe - with sharp curved ends guarded a smaller, lipless maw. A mouth filled with sharp teeth, ready to bite into flesh.

A whimper tore from her throat, her body instinctively pressing away from the strange creature, further into the gunk beneath her. Rayelle suddenly felt dizzy, the alien world around her spinning. Fear, shock, her breaking point. She wasn’t sure what was happening. 

Once more, her eyes closed and the alien clicked at her. But the sounds echoed through her head, sickeningly.

It nudged its knee against her sex again. Rayelle wildly wondered if it could feel the preparatory slick, the heat, and misunderstood. It took her brain another second to realize a warm bulge pressed against her thigh. What her brain understood as an erection pulsed against her leg and Rayelle gave another pitiful, choked sob. Tears burned at her eyes, forcing their way through her eyelashes until droplets dribbled down her cheeks. 

She had cried so much in the beginning, when she was first taken. When had she last cried? Days ago? Weeks? There was no way for her to tell. 

She had thought she’d simply run out of tears, having to deal with life in a cage until the next horrific living situation met her. Being poked and prodded, watching strange creatures come and go. Being fed tasteless slop and offered tangy tasting water. Most had stared. Some had touched her curiously, with touches ranges from gentle to harsh. 

None had seemed interested in fucking, which had been a relief. 

But it turned out the tears were just welling up inside her. And here, with Rayelle partially stripped and vulnerable, under this massive beast of an alien, was when they chose to come flooding out.

Another round of clicky growls issued, heavy on the gnarl. She didn’t answer. Didn’t think to answer. Her heart just pounded and the hot wet streams slid over her dirty cheeks. Rayelle choked as she felt the creature shift again. 

Thankfully, it was getting off of her. It still kept a firm hold of her wrists, pulling her up with it as it stood. Rayelle continued to whimper, unable to stop the flow of tears as she trembled. So enveloped by distress, she didn’t notice how the alien remained slightly bent, so as not to haul her feet off the ground when it got to its feet. With its other hand, it once again affixed the mask to its face, before hauling Rayelle bodily over its shoulder. 

Bent over the thing’s shoulder, strong arms locked against her lower back and behind her knees, shook Rayelle out of her misery. Desperation once again gripped her chest. Her shaking fingers balled up, slamming against the creature’s back as it began to move. 

Through her tears, she pounded at the creature’s armored back with her fists as her feet wildly kicked at its front, and she sobbed, “No!”

It was no use, though. Just riding along on its shoulder, Rayelle could sense how solid the creature was. They were solid muscle. The armor added another protective layer. Any hint of somewhere weak to strike would be fortified. Not that she could’ve caused any damage, in the state she was in. 

But she continued to flail, her begging cries becoming screams. A small part of her hoped that, maybe, if she made too much of a fuss, they’d just leave her. Too much of a hassle. Let her die on this alien planet. 

It was better than the alternative. 

A brief window of hope opened as the creature stopped. She felt its shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. Maybe it had worked. Maybe it was going to drop her and stride off into the night. It moved its arm away from her knees. 

Her heart sunk as she watched the creature’s free arm shift, the hand going to about where a belt would be. There was clicking, a beep, the hydraulic hiss of something opening. Something metal glinted in the moonlight.

Rayelle didn’t know what it was, what it would do to her. It was a cylinder of clear liquid with something metal on the end. Intuition told her it was like a syringe, a shot, a tranquilizer. She savagely squirmed and tried to shove away from the thing again, but the arm around her middle held tight. 

“No! Don’t!” The shriek came out involuntarily as she felt cold metal press against her thigh. A sharp pain sliced into her skin, aching and hot. She could feel the liquid invade her vein, cold and harsh. Her shriek became a wordless scream and, for a few seconds, she hysterically jerked and pulled and fought. 

Suddenly, the world started to melt around her. Her movements became sloppy, uncoordinated, before falling slack. Her screams dwindled into slurred yells, then drooling complaints, before she fell silent. She thought she felt the world shift under her. A barely coherent thought believed she was moving, it was moving again. 

Rayelle wondered what was going to happen now and if would she ever wake again, as darkness consumed her.

—-

After dressing the human in a shift left by a previous mate and depositing them into the brig,0 Tai'dqei tromped his way back to the cockpit. He wanted to suit out and shower first, but he needed to figure out what to do about this new development. Setting a new destination - the drop-off for his bounty - into the navi system, Tai’dqei sat back in his chair. 

Finding a human among the targets hadn’t been expected. He supposed he should have been more careful, given his targets traded in an assortment of things. Though Tai’dqei hadn’t heard of them pushing trafficking.

But if opportunities arose, that gang was sure to swipe it. It was a small solace that their heads and spines were now in his cargo hold, waiting to be cleaned and presented as trophies to his employer.

Tai’dqei’s mandibles tightened against his mouth and a small frustration rumble vibrated through his chest. Still, this caused concerns.

Where had the human come from? Earth? One of the colonies? Tai’dqei doubted they’d been born in captivity. There were a number of aliens that abducted humans - among other species - for the novelty of it. That had resulted in generations of humans, unaware of Earth and necessitating a rehabilitator. 

They had been well-fed, from Tai’qdei’s assessment. His hand flexed, remembering the feel of them beneath their palm. Soft and warm, no bones on display through the skin. Their flesh felt weak, easily pierced. 

Though he wasn’t sure what someone attracted to humans looked for in one. This one had large round pecs, too soft to obtain much muscle. There was a cinch in their middle, though they still had plenty of softness there, before they widened again at their hips. 

After touching them, Tai’qdei supposed he could see the appeal. He hadn’t seen many humans in his life, but most weren’t quite as cushiony as this one appeared. And their scent as he touched her had grown increasingly… curious.

Tai’dqei’s fingers curled into a fist as a sudden thought struck him. Had this been a blackhole job? The damned Thrittens had been advertising ‘time travel’ via blackholes recently and a couple had been on the bounty’s payroll. Wanton time hopping had caused an uptick in temporal crimes.

Tai’qdei couldn’t drop the human off just anywhere before. A human born in captivity was in need of rehabilitation. They would be taken advantage of or trafficked easily on a station. 

A human from the other side of the universe - even simply the solar system - could have completely different tech-translators than what was needed. An Earth-bred human was even more underprivileged. They usually only had tech-translators for their planets’ languages, not space travel. 

A human displaced from their own time? Unaware of technological advances and without something to translate alien language? Not even aware of historical developments?

Tai’qdei wasn’t even sure if there was a rehabilitator - or anywhere - equipped to deal with that. He had yet to hear of such an occurrence. 

All of that aside, there was another annoying thought biting at his mind for attention. 

He’d taken their scared fleeing as a mating initiation. In his trade, it wasn’t rare to find someone who wished to show their appreciation in carnal fashions. Not to mention, humans were some of the most pliable and enjoyable sex partners, if rumors were to be believed. And there were plenty rumors swirling around humans. 

Tai’dqei wasn’t one to pass up recognition, either. Yet, he hadn’t even taken time to consider why they’d been there. 

Removing his mask, Tai’qdei let out a growly sigh. A minor ache throbbed at the side of his face, a reminder to what caused his own mistake.

As soon as the human slammed that metal bowl against the side of his head and fled, he’d misinterpreted. His body had shot out of the spaceship, instinct driving his muscles and lurid excitement in his thoughts. 

A violent action followed by a chase were some yautja customs. Grab their attention, make them chase you - hunt you - so they could claim their prize. 

That was not necessarily the same for everyone, let alone other segments of his own species. Tai’qdei knew that. The high of a hunt accomplished - knowing the human had seen it and believing they had to be impressed by his skill and power - had blinded his logic, though. 

He wasn’t even sure if the human knew what he was. Even though they displayed such horror at Tai’qdei’s face, that didn’t translate to much. Many who knew what yautja were capable of feared them. Which they should. 

Irritation coursing through his veins, Tai’qdei shoved himself from the chair. He stalked to his training room, grabbing a spear as his tangled thoughts fought for attention. 

As he went through his forms, he tried to disseminate the problem. The first step was figuring out where the human came from. But wherever the human came from, they didn’t know how to communicate with Tai’qdei. No translator, no learning, nothing. And he couldn’t communicate back, since he relied on a Straux nano worm to translate.

It wasn’t rare for some of the more isolated colonies and outposts to not know or have translating mechanisms concerning yautja language. They often had out-of-date models with only the most prevalent languages. 

Which meant Tai’qdei needed a form of communication. From there, he could determine what the best course of action would be for the human. Options branched out in his head, but before he could explore too many, he slammed the butt of his spear to the floor. Closing his eyes, Tai’qdei took a deep breath. 

There was only one other he trusted enough to buy a translator from and to put it in the human’s head. The option made dread and anticipation swell up in his insides.

Tai’qdei made a low clicking growl, his eyes squinting open. Meeting with Ah’ke with mating instincts unsatiated was going to cause complications. He really shouldn’t wait, though. He didn’t know if the human could withstand the life support of his ship, didn’t know if they’d had any modifications done to them. The sooner he got this over with, the better. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

He sent a communication to Ah’ke, before placing his spear back on the rack and heading to the showers. Hopefully, cold water would cool the mating fire in his loins. Tai’qdei doubted it, but he could hope. 

#yautja #yautja oc #predator x human #monster fucker #exophilia #monster lover #alien x human #Rayelle #Tai'qdei #After researching yautja I have come to the conclusion #anything goes if you can explain it away #the canon is all over the place! #Did anyone catch the Straux mention? #lol #that's my original alien race - inspired by yautja ironically - from The Crew's Problem #:D

[unnounblr]

Weird thoughts about Dragon Ball FighterZ's story

So, it might be that I watched too much of the team four star lets play of the story mode and how much they talk about fetishes, but one thing that stands out to me is the Link System, and how it connects, possibly, to Dr. Gero's plans.

The Link System was, supposedly, made by Gero, to link a soul to a body, to control that body, including the bodies of his androids. In the game, it's treated mostly as an excuse for the player to feel involved, and to explain why only one character is controlled at a time. At the start of the game, the player's soul has complete control over Goku, its only by science from Bulma that Goku regains his own personality and will, leaving the player in control in gameplay.

All in all, if Gero had ever gotten the link system to work when he was alive, which apparently he couldn't, it would have solved a lot of the problems he had of his creations being willful and rebelling against him.

And, we already know that Gero eventually put his own brain in an android body, so him previously attempting to make an android and linking his soul to it, but then resorting to the brain transfer when that didn't work. Makes a kind of sense, to me anyway.

It even makes the details of Androids 16 and 21, blatant attempts to recreate his seemingly lost family members (although the story of FighterZ is weird with 21, at some points implying Gero's wife Vomi was turned into 21 like 17 and 18 but also that 21 is a bioandroid like Cell created 10 years ago) make a bit of sense, if he could link his son's soul to 16, his wife to 21, and himself to 20, they could all be a family again and live together forever.

What makes things. Weirder. Is where Cell fits in. Like, for starters, the timeline makes no damned sense, because Cell wasn't completed in the future timeline until Age 786, and the events of FighterZ take place during Super in Age 779. Although, when Cell emerged, those were in timelines with very different pasts than the "main" timeline. For starters, Cell didn't emerge in a timeline after Cell happened. And while Buu was always on Earth, the Buu Saga hadn't happened, and the indications of the Super Manga and other material is that Future Babidi didn't try to go after Buu in that timeline until after Trunks already killed Cell.

Cell was an abandoned project worked on by Gero's computer after he gave up, and while in the Cell Saga Trunks and Krillin destroy the computer and the larval Cell. If Gero had other labs and computers working on projects, it makes a kind of sense those would adapt to changing circumstances.

But what's weird about Cell, is that, if we factor in the Link System. Was Gero intending Cell to be his new body? Before he gave up and let his computer work on it?

And, worse, Evil 21 has a special transformation when she absorbs Cell, like how Cell absorbs 17 and 18. So, like.

Was Gero's endgame to put his soul in Cell, and then get vored by his wife?

#Youtube #dragon ball #dragon ball fighterz #Fighterz #Team four star #Dr gero #Gero #Vomi #Android 20 #Android 21 #Tw vore #Cursed #Shitpost #shitposting #Dbfz #dragon ball z #dbz #Dragon ball super #dragonball #vore mention

[the-hinky-panda]

The Tremont Tempest: Chapter 5

Warnings: Descriptions of a sexual assault. 

Jonas Bronck Park

17 months ago

Mike has no idea what he’s looking for but what else is new? He’s been chasing leads, losing witnesses left and right to either pay offs or hits, and still healing from the wounds of his undercover failure. The blood loss had been significant but fixed relatively easily with a transfusion. The stab wounds missed major arteries and organs, leaving only muscle damage, which he’s still doing to physical therapy to regain his fitness. Speaking of fitness, his legs are burning at the moment as he treks off trail in one of the many wooded parks in the Bronx. One of his contacts told him he should head out here, have a look around…

He looks at the compass on his phone, the longitude latitude numbers as he wanders through the woods. He comes to a stop on a ridge in the middle of the woods, standing at the exact coordinates. It’s the early morning, three thirty to be exact. He checks his notes from the informant. 

“Look for the broken tree.” 

He turns the flashlight on on his phone and shines it around the area. About five feet in front of him, it lands on a tree that had been blown over, the trunk snapped and jagged. He goes over to it and continues to shine his flashlight around the area. Down from the tree in a small flat area, he sees something hanging on a tree branch. He climbs down the embankment and as he gets closer, he sees multiple things. Scraps of clothing, probably sixty or seventy pieces of cloth. No. Not just cloth. 

Underwear. 

He crosses himself. “Dios mio.”  

He takes pictures of the tree, tries to get as many up close pictures of the underwear that he can. A fucking rape tree. As if he needed another reason for wanting BX9 out of the Bronx for good. Anger carries him out of the park and back to his apartment. He’s trying to figure out who he can report the tree to that won’t bury this evidence. Who hasn’t Oscar Papa paid off in the NYPD? There was a detective over the Bronx SVU, what was his name? Pluto? Fido? It was a dog’s name, Mike remembers that. He was one that was making noise over there, pointing fingers at inept and crooked cops. He might be a good one. 

He gets back to his apartment, unlocks the four out of the five deadbolts on his door, picks up the paper, and then clears his home. He needs to look up the name of that detective, see if he can meet with him, talk to him, feel him out to see if there is a bite to his bark.  He googles Bronx detective whistleblower and immediately the name Terry Bruno pops up. Bruno, that’s it. Next, he goes through his contacts until he finds the number for Bronx SVU and calls. Two rings and an automated message comes on: Thank you for calling the Bronx SVU. At this time, we are experiencing an influx of phone calls and wait times may vary from sixty to ninety minutes. If this is an emergency, please hang up and dial 911. If this is not an emergency, please remain on the line until an available officer can speak with you. 

Sixty to ninety minutes? What the hell is happening down there? As soon as the thought crosses his mind, the answer is immediately provided by the newspaper headline: Detective Terry Bruno files lawsuit against Bronx SVU for wrongful termination. Mike’s eyes zero in on the ax that slices through his only lifeline, termination. Bruno isn’t even a detective there anymore. The SVU is going to be scrambling trying to cover their tracks right now. Piles of evidence is most likely being dumped into the incinerator which is why no one is answering the phone. 

“Fuck.” 

He ends the call and fights the urge to throw it against the wall. He rubs his hands over his face, his fingers slipping down to the new tattoo on the side of his neck. He had just gotten it last week. It had been Gabby’s birthday and he wanted to do something to memorialize her because no one else in the neighborhood was going to do anything for some stripper in a sticky floored bar. He had the tattoo placed there, the point on his neck where her head always inevitably fell, even after death when he held her on the blood-slicked kitchen floor. Now, he presses the pads of his fingers into the still sore skin. 

What is he doing wrong? What does he need to do differently? Or is he just destined to fail no matter what? 

***

Bronx River High School

Later that day

You had just finished a tenth grade class where students were doing peer edits of their final essays on symbolism found in “The Tempest.” You had helped guide discussions, modeled how to properly and kindly critique others' work. The students had been responsive, some even grateful, for the chance to fine tune their writing before submitting a final version at the end of the week. You were saying your goodbyes to the students when Dr. Caban stepped into your room. One of your new students, a young man named Albert, stops by Dr. Caban and gives him a wary look. 

“Albert, have you met our principal, Dr. Caban yet?” 

He shakes his head. “No, teach.” 

Dr. Caban extends his hand. “Albert, very nice to meet you. Welcome to Bronx River High.” 

Albert cautiously takes the offered hand. “Thanks.” 

“Albert’s writing about the symbolism of Prospero’s books in Shakespeare’s ‘The Tempest,’” you add. “He makes some very solid points and explains them well. He’s quite a strong writer.” 

Caban smiles kindly. “You’ll have to share your final revision with me, Albert. She doesn’t praise student’s writing very often. In fact,” he winks, “ you should hear what she says about the writing in my emails.” 

Albert nods. “Alright, okay. I’ll, uh, I’ll send you my final essay.” 

Albert leaves and Caban motions to him. “Bright boy.” 

“He is, very much so. He just came to New York from El Salvador. His attendance is still shaky but he could just be becoming used to the routine here. I’m keeping an eye on him. He has a lot of potential.” 

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, if you have a minute.” 

If it were anyone else, that phrase would make you nervous. But you’ve known and worked with Dr. Caban since the start of your teaching career. He’s seen you from the first day in the classroom, through your cancer treatments, your divorce, and your rise to the English department head. “Of course. What do you need?” 

“More teachers like you,” he responds kindly. “Actually, more administrators like you. Our Dean of Students is taking an admin position over in Brooklyn Heights next year. I would like to see you fill the role.” 

You’re stunned. You had gotten your administrative certificate just as a fallback, a just in case kind of career plan. You never intended to leave the classroom. But you know Dr. Caban wouldn’t ask you to make this move if he didn’t think you would do well in it. “I, uh, I don’t know what to say.” 

“The pay would be more, the benefits would be better. But I want you there because the students love you. They’ll listen to a dean that they feel will hear them.” 

“But I love to teach.” 

“I know, and you’re excellent at it. But when opportunities to move forward, to move up, are presented to you, you should take them.” He gives you a wide smile. “Besides, when have I ever steered you wrong?” 

He had a point. “Alright, I’ll think about it.” 

“That’s all I’m asking.” 

Something feels off about the exchange. Dr. Caban had always encouraged you to follow your gut whenever it came to teaching a concept or interacting with a student. His response now seems pushy, maybe even…no, you’re just not comfortable with the idea of being in a more administrative position. You remind yourself of the idea that you teach to your students: growth only occurs when you’re uncomfortable. 

***

You feel like a teenager again as you get up the next morning and get ready for work. For once, the clearing of your apartment last night resulted in no findings. No notes, no bottles of wine. All that Mike found was a blanket on the couch that you forgot to fold and a couple dirty dishes in the sink that you were too tired to clean. You and Mike had enjoyed the food from the Havana Cafe and the bottle of wine while sitting on your couch. 

You fix your hair, twisting the riotous curls into a dignified style to keep your hair from getting in your face while remembering how Mike’s hands felt sliding through the curls last night. The broad span of his palms as they held your cheeks, the pads of his fingers pressing into your scalp. It seems like a shame to slide lipstick on, wanting to preserve the feel of Mike’s lips on yours. You’d never been kissed like you had been last night. 

Mike kissed like he did everything else, with complete focus, conviction, and passion. It had been so long since someone had not only kissed you, but kissed you like they wanted you. All of you. It had been overwhelming and heady. There was an undercurrent of excitement that ran through your body, the kind that you hadn’t felt for such a long time. You wanted to feel it again. But before things progressed past the kissing, his phone had rung and he had been called back to the precinct. He had said he was going to try to make it into the school this afternoon but you don’t know how far into the night he had to work. So you ready yourself for your day with slightly trembling hands and a silly grin on your face. 

You make your way into the office, opening your door and are immediately greeted by half the Manhattan squad of SVU. Captain Benson is back and introduces a new face, Sargent Tutuola. Your cousin Terry saunters in, takes one look at you, and grins. Doctor Caban is the last person to join you all in your office and he shuts the door for privacy. Of course it’s your cousin who outs you in front of everyone that’s gathered for the debriefing. 

“Well, who is he?” Terry asks. 

You shuffle papers on your desk. “Mind your own damn business, Ter.” 

“He, who?” Dr. Caban asks. 

You shake your head. “Nothing. Detective Bruno is my cousin and likes to instigate things.” 

“I mean if you’re seeing someone,” Terry continues, “we should probably know who it is. For the investigation’s sake.” He ends the sentence with a shit-eating grin. 

“I plead the fifth, thank you.” 

Benson speaks up. “I do think we should know if you’re dating someone. It’ll give us someone else to talk to, maybe they’ve noticed something you haven’t.” 

You sit down behind your desk and hold Benson’s eye for a beat longer than necessary. “We’ve already discussed this.” 

She nods once in understanding but the downturn of her mouth tells you what she thinks of the situation. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything else about it. “Alright, this is what we have so far. All the notes and the wine bottle didn’t have fingerprints on them. The paper is cardstock that is found throughout this school and many others in the state. We do have the video of the woman from the convenience store.” 

Caban pushes his glasses up his nose. “There was a woman at a convenience store?” 

Benson nods. “ Yes, the bodega owner has the person who bought the wine on video but he didn’t recognize her from the neighborhood. Velasco and Muncy are trying to identify her as we speak. Fin, you and Bruno went out to Long Island to talk to Charles Murrary yesterday afternoon. Anything come from that?” 

“I could have saved you a trip out to Long Island,” you say. “Charlie and I still talk from time to time. He’s a little too busy and quite happy with his wife and four kids to care about me.” 

Terry shoots you a pointed look and grimace but neither one of you says anything. You know his feelings about Charlie and how things shook out after your cancer diagnosis. You can only imagine how that interview went yesterday. Maybe you should shoot Charlie a text to see how badly Terry questioned him and see if you need to smooth any ruffled feathers. 

“So here’s what I’d like to do next,” Benson adds. “Dr. Caban and I will go over a list of teachers and staff to see if any of them stand out as possible suspects. Bruno and Fin can brainstorm with you to come up with any other people that you may have noticed hanging around you lately. Someone from the neighborhood, parents, store clerks.” 

You nod. “Okay, sounds good.” 

Caban gives you a light touch on your shoulder and a smile before following Benson out of your office. He closes the door behind them and Terry immediately leans forward in his chair. 

“Who’s the new guy?” 

Before you can shoot off a retort, Fin interjects. “I don’t want to get in the middle of family issues here, but I’m with Bruno. It might be helpful to know who the new boyfriend is.” 

You drop the pen that you had been fidgeting with onto the desk. “Fine but I don’t even know how serious this thing is yet.” 

“Fine,” Terry agrees, “I’ll hold off on the background and credit check. Who is he?” 

“It’s Mike.” 

“Duarte?” Terry prompts. 

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

“Well shit,” Fin sits back in his chair. “Liv isn’t going to like that.” 

“Liv and I have already had a conversation about how Mike isn’t the stalker. He’s had multiple opportunities to take advantage of me and hasn’t done one thing that raises a concern.” 

Terry sighs. “To be fair, you did marry Charlie.” 

Fin shrugs. “What happened with you and Charlie? Cuz over here got real quiet when I asked him why the two of you divorced.” 

You’re surprised that Terry didn’t blast Charlie when Fin asked about him. Terry’s opinion of your first husband always had been less than stellar. “Charlie and I just…wanted different things.” 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Terry mutters. 

“Look,” Fin starts, “I know this is tough. Having all of us here, digging into your life, your past, it’s invasive. But having someone stalk you is dangerously invasive. The more information, even the embarrassing things, can help us.” 

“On a professional level,” Terry says, “anything you say in here stays between us. We might see something in the information that you don’t. And trust me, we’ve heard worse than what happened with you and Charlie.” 

You pick up the pen again and click it a few times. “Alright, fine. Charlie and I met in college. We were both education majors. We got married two days after graduation, he went to work at an elementary school, and I came here to teach. Two years later, I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Between the hysterectomy and chemo treatment, I obviously couldn’t have any children of my own. Charlie always wanted children but I couldn’t give them to him. So we divorced.” 

Fin motions for you to continue. “That’s it?” 

“That’s it. He met his current wife at the elementary school. She’s a kindergarten teacher and was able to give him his…legacy.”

“Duarte’s looking pretty good now, isn’t he?” Terry quips. 

“No shit,” Fin agrees. 

“So that’s why I don’t think it’s Charlie,” you state. “Charlie has exactly what he’s always wanted. There’s no reason whatsoever for him to stalk me.” 

Terry stands. “Well, maybe Benson and Caban can come up with some names for us to track down. But until then-” 

“I’ll keep in touch,” you promise. 

***

Mike looks down at his phone and smiles as he takes another sip of bourbon. 

Teenagers and Shakespeare do not mix well. God love them for doing their best though.

He had been tied up with leads, strategizing, and paperwork all afternoon that he never made into the school today. He had been afraid after last night  you would take his disappearance personally. God, he didn’t want to leave last night. Everything had been perfect for once. Nothing had been found in the apartment, the food was excellent, it was the first time he had felt like he could breath. And then you stole it away from him when you kissed him. 

He had texted you about the day getting away from him and you had messaged back that you were facing similar circumstances. The principal that was supposed to show up for the Shakespeare play this evening had to cancel due to a sick baby at home so the duty of attending fell to you. So he opted to have a drink at the Bronx Beer Hall while exchanging text messages with you. 

What play is it? 

Taming of the Shrew. There’s a pause.  At least I think that’s what this is. 

Any plays you’ll need to attend on Saturday night? 

Nope, no theater productions are being held on Saturday. What do you have in mind? 

I was just thinking I could go for some Italian. 

Oh really? I was thinking of trying some more Cuban. 

He smiles. I guess the kids aren’t the only lousy acts this evening. 

I suppose not. I don’t know if you’re ready for Bella Luna yet. 

Why not? 

My Aunt runs it. Terry’s mom, Carla. She’ll throw you in the meat locker in the back and interrogate you.

Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s done that. 

What?! 

Long story. Sounds better with a good bottle of wine. I’ll be back in school tomorrow and we can settle on where to go on Saturday. 

Ok. The lights just came up. Oh dear God, it’s only intermission. I may pull the fire alarm. 

That’s premeditation now. Better find another way. 

“Well, you look happy.” 

Mike looks up from his phone and sees Benson standing next to his chair. “Captain. To what do I owe this visit?” 

She orders a glass of wine as she takes the barstool next to him. “A friendly warning.” 

All good naturedness bleeds out of him. “Alright then.” 

“Dr. Caban is convinced that you are the stalker.” 

That doesn’t surprise him. “Dr. Caban was against me coming into the school in the first place. He’s been looking for a reason to get me kicked out. Let me guess,” he drains his glasses and motions for a second one, “you agree with him.” 

“Actually, I don’t.” She laughs humorlessly. “I talked to a lot of teachers and students today and they all spoke very highly of you. Those kids in that school love Mr. Mike.” 

He smiles at the nickname the students have come to refer to him. “Alright, so the staff and kids vouched for me. I already know that Caban is gunning for me. What’s the warning?” 

She fiddles with the stem of the wineglass. “The way that Caban was gunning for you, wanting me to focus on you and only you, it was odd.” 

Mike leans back on the barstool. “You think he’s the stalker?” 

“Him or maybe his son. I have Velasco looking at Caban’s family, see if he has a sister. Muncy is reaching out to some gang contacts to see if the son has been approached by BX9 or if he’s involved, it’s just a solitary fixation.” 

Mike stares down in the amber liquid and sighs. “If the Cabans are involved in this, it’s going to break her heart. Caban was her mentor when she was student teaching. She equates everything she learned about teaching to him.” 

“Betrayal never comes from enemies.” 

That is certainly true. “Amen.” 

“Where is she tonight?” 

He picks up his phone and turns it over. There are no new texts from you but it could be that the second act has started. “She’s at the Shakespeare play at the school. It should end in another hour.” 

Benson pulls out her phone. “I can have Fin or Bruno make sure she gets home safely.” 

“I can finish this off and go see her home, that’s fine.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” It’s an excellent excuse to surprise you at the school, to see you again. 

She finishes her glass of wine and reaches for her purse. “Are you sure I can’t drop you at the school?” 

“Nah,” he waves her off and finishes his drink. “I’ll walk. It’s not that far. And the play should be letting out by the time I make it there.” 

“Okay, well, let me know if you change your mind.”

He throws some money down the bar to pay for both of their drinks. “Is this your way of apologizing to me?” 

Benson opens her mouth but closes it as she rethinks her answer. “It’s not so much an apology as it is…an understanding. You’re right. The Bronx is a completely different animal compared to Manhattan. But talking to those students today, you guys are making a difference in those kids' lives. It may not be the way I would deal with the problem, but at least the problem is being dealt with.” 

“Well, if that’s the closest I get to an apology tonight,” he grabs his phone and stands up from the barstool, “then I will sleep soundly.” 

Benson laughs and shakes her head. “Just know that I wish Terry’s cousin the best of luck with you.” 

He laughs as well. “Well, thank goodness she’s used to dealing with people with behavioral issues.”

He sees Benson to the towncar and waves her off for the night before heading down to the school. It’s early spring, the night is unusually warm, a positive reminder that warmer days are on the horizon. But he’s worried about what Benson told him about Caban. If Caban really were the stalker, it truly would devastate you. He had also looked into Caban’s son’s record and the boy was an upstanding citizen and student. He really hoped that Benson was wrong on this one. He passes by the bodega where the wine had been bought and catches sight of Roberto behind the counter. Checking his watch, he sees he still has some time to kill so he goes inside. 

“Hey, Cap!” 

“Hey, Roberto.” He doesn’t really need anything but knowing the news that he may need to break to you prompts him to do something he hasn’t done for six months. “Can I get a pack of reds?” 

“Sure,” Roberto reaches around and grabs the pack of cigarettes. “I thought you gave these things up a while ago.” 

Mike shrugs. “Old habits, I suppose.” 

Roberto shrugs and starts to ring him up when the door opens and two teens in hoodies walk in. They both look at Mike and Roberto before moving towards the back of the store. Mike turns to Roberto who just nods and Mike sees one hand press the emergency call button under the counter and the other hand wraps around the handle of a baseball bat. Mike draws his weapon but keeps it at his side as Roberto comes from behind the counter. 

“They might be letting their friends in from the back,” Mike says. 

Roberto motions to the sidewalk in front of the store. “Let’s get out there at least.” 

As soon as Mike reaches for the handle of the front door, it swings open as three more teens rush them. He manages to get off one shot but the flash of a machete comes down on his right hand and forces him to drop his gun. Roberto is swinging the bat as best he can in the confined space but Mike feels a blade cut into his arm, his shoulder, his back. He hits the ground as Roberto keeps swinging, trying to hold the teens at bay but Mike can see the blood dripping off Roberto as well. 

He can hear the sirens in the distance and prays they reach them in time. 

***

You were so happy to hear the last line of the play and see the lights come up in the auditorium. The kids made a very valiant attempt at tackling Shakespeare and you gave them props for that. But you were tired and ready to crawl into bed and sleep for at least a few hours before getting up and coming back tomorrow. You go back to your office to pick up your coat and purse when someone knocks on your door, causing you to jump. 

“Oh,” you laugh, “Dr. Caban, you startled me.” 

“Sorry about that,” he smiles easily at you. “I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment.” 

“I’m very tired-” 

“I understand. This won’t take long.” 

“Okay,” you sigh and set your purse down on your desk. “What’s up?” 

He closes the door behind him. “I really enjoyed the play tonight. Taming of the Shrew. It was always one of my favorites of Shakespeare.” 

Your skin starts to prickle, your palms sweaty. “Really? I was always a fan of Midsummer Night’s Dream.” 

“You always do enjoy the more fantastical stories of literature, don’t you?” 

“I suppose.” 

Caban stops just a couple feet away from you. “What do you see in him? That Duarte guy?” 

Something is terribly, terribly off at the moment, and you swallow down the bile that has risen to your throat. “I don’t understand-” 

“Yes, you do.” He lays his hand over yours. “I can, I have offered you so much more than he ever could. I gave you your career, your skills, your positions. I put you in this office, next to me. You deserve everything that I’ve given you and more. And I can give it to you. If you let me.” 

“Dr. Caban-” You try to slip your hand from his but his grip tightens to the point of pain. 

“Just stop!” He closes his eyes and releases a breath through his nose. “Stop.” 

“Please,” your eyes dart to the closed door. “Please, just let me go.” 

He shakes his head. “I’ve watched you go every night for the last twelve years. I can’t do it anymore. Not after those clandestine lines from the Bard himself.” 

“Please, just let me go.” You feel tears starting to form in your eyes, the buzz of adrenaline bursting through your veins. But Caban had an iron grip on both your arms now. You were wedged against the curve of the desk, your back against the hardwood with Caban pressing closer against the front of your body. He lays his cheek against yours, his lips against your ear as a tear slips from your eye. 

“‘Tis a wonder,’” he whispers the last line of the play, “‘by your leave, she will be tamed so.’” 

“I don’t…please, I don’t want this.” 

“Oh, my fiery Kate, you don’t mean that.” 

You’re shaking with fear, looking for any escape route when you hear voices in the outer office. Caban stiffens with surprise and you take the only chance at escaping this situation and yell for help. Caban’s hand cracks across your cheek with enough force you see stars momentarily and leaves you dazed. You manage to scream again which earns a second strike across your face but you’re able to hear the splintering of the door to your office as someone kicks it in. 

“Hands where we can see them!” 

There’s a scuffle around you before Caban is pulled away and you fall back against the desk. Before you can regain your balance, someone has your arms and is pushing you towards your office chair. You hear your name being repeated and recognize the voice speaking it. 

“Terry…” 

“Yeah, it’s me,” he says, his fingers skating over your face where Caban’s hand had struck you. “Are you okay?” 

You nod numbly. “Yeah, I think so.” 

“Did he-” 

“No,” tears start to fall in earnest. “No, he didn’t.” 

“Okay. Okay,” he looks behind him before refocusing on you. “We’re going to have to head over to the hospital.” 

You take in a couple deep breaths. “I’m okay, I promise.” 

Fin is standing at the door of your office. “Caban’s in handcuffs. I’ll wait for Velasco. Get her over to the hospital.” 

You start to assure them both that you’re okay, just dazed and out of sorts when you catch the look in Terry’s eyes. “What else has happened?” 

Terry sighs. “Mike was jumped along with a bodega owner tonight by BX9.” 

#mike duarte x you #mike duarte x reader #mike duarte #captain mike durate #mike duarte fic #law and order: SVU fic #SVU fic

[cellythefloshie]

10, 14, & 17 for fic asks!

- @comphy-and-cozy

✍️ more fic writer asks!

10. what is the longest amount of time you've let a draft rest before you finished it?

I think it's a year (Happy Birthday for the Road Wife series), though there may be more. I have so many documents it's easy for me to keep track of when I created something haha.

14. where do you get your inspiration?

Everywhere? It'll just hit me while listening to music/watching tv/working/just walking around. Then I have to rush to get it down before I lose the idea haha 90% of my WIPs are just fully planned one-shots that I just thought of randomly.

17. talk about your writing and editing process

This is very detailed, so I will be putting it under the read more.

It never used to be much of a process, but the longer I spend my time here, the more I refine it. It started with the idea, and I try to get that into a document as soon as I can so it doesn't elude me. This often resembles a synopsis of a book ad will include the main characters and the general plotline.

This is what my summary for Just Me & You:

During the summer, and both of them would be back in Calgary for a mutual friend's wedding, both are on the bridal party and both in relationships themselves. Forced to get along the best they can - Adam is forced to watch Charlie with her cocky trust-fund baby boyfriend - and he doesn't like Adam either and makes it clear when Adam and Charlie start falling into old routines of their inside jokes and too-close-to-just-be-friends behavior.

Wesley - Charlie’s Boyfriend - FC: Ben Barnes

Groom: Dillon Heatherington

Bride: Daphne - A childhood friend of Charlie and Adam - introduced her to Dillon when they were both playing for Swift Current - FC: Sophie Turner

Then, it goes into the chapter planning process. Which is very detailed. I determine the events of each chapter and outline everything right down to the dialogue with bullet points. Again, Just Me & You Chapter 2 for example:

And then I write out the scene:

-when she’s fitted in her dress Charlotte sneaks out onto the porch for some air

-her thoughts are in turmoil as she tries to cope with the conversation she had with Wesley

-she’s out on the porch when Danica pushes out the from door, the screen door slamming behind her as she moves for the rental

-she’s visibility upset and Charlotte moves to call out to her but Adam is moving out the door behind her with her bags in her hand

-Charlotte watches as he puts her bag in the trunk and moves to the driver's side to speak with her through the window 

-she can’t hear what is said but soon Adam is walking back to the porch and Danica is leaving down the driveway

-“hey,” Charlotte greets him, voice soft, “is everything okay?”

-“yeah, everything’s good, better now actually,”

-“Oh?” Charlotte can’t help but be curious, “when will she be back?”

-“she won’t be,” Adam hums and leans against the railing of the porch

-he’s looking over her shamelessly at the sight of her in her dress

-“I’m sorry,” Charlotte hums, trying to sound sincere, “I am, Adam really.”

-“The only thing you have to be sorry for Charlie, is looking as good as you do in that dress.”

-Adam then leaves her on the porch and she’s left in shock

Choking back a sob, Charlotte left the den behind her. She moved swiftly through the summer home, her head down to keep anyone from seeing the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. She didn’t run back to the living room that had become the bridesmaid’s workshop for the afternoon, and she didn’t run up to the bedroom. Instead, she moved for the front door and out onto the porch where she was met with the comforts of the warm summer breeze, and the faint floral smell that cloaked the air. It was a scent of comfort, one from her childhood laced with the memories of times that were so much simpler, and in an instant, it brought her peace. 

It was a peace that was interrupted by harsh words spoken out on the front lawn. Charlotte couldn’t quite hear them, but the tone had he looked up from the white wood beneath her bare feet and out over the land. Not too far from the porch, her eyes fell on Adam, who stood half-dressed in his tux that he would be wearing tomorrow. Something had interrupted his fitting, leaving his button-down splayed open, his chest on full display, and his belt loose around his hips. The subject of his tone, she didn’t know. They were on the other end of the phone call, his phone pressed firm to his ear as he paced back and forth in the grass. 

Maybe it was wrong for her to stay there, lingering, trying to listen to the frustrated words that spilled from his lips - but curiosity was a cruel thing and she needed a good distraction and so she indulged herself in the broken conversation. 

“-I told you not to call me anymore.”

She watched as Adam took a heavy breath, his hands coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“-That's just it Danica-”

Charlotte stepped a little closer to the edge of the porch, her elbows coming to rest against the rails as she quickly became all too invested in the conversation at hand. Her own relationship wasn’t perfect, and it was the very reason she too had gone out to the porch, but for a moment she could forget about that and indulge herself in Adam’s own drama - and selfishly, she couldn’t help but wonder if he really was single. 

“-no, no, don’t fly out here. We’re done, we’ve been done. It’s time for you to move on.”

Then, as quickly as she had stumbled on him, the conversation was over and Adam was slipping his phone back into his pocket and moving back towards the house. It had only taken him a few strides for him to notice her standing there, and it left Charlotte’s skin red hot - she had been eavesdropping, she didn’t want him to know that. Yet, she made no attempt at making excuses. Instead, she showed her concern. 

“Hey,” she swallowed hard, “is everything okay?

“Yeah, everything’s better now, actually.” Adam’s voice was soft as he took the porch steps in two casual strides. 

“Oh?” Charlotte hummed out and was met with only silence and for a moment she was sure Adam was going to go straight back inside, but instead she leaned up against one of the tall pillars of the porch, and crossed his arms firmly over his chest. Charlotte didn’t dare look at him as he stood there, knowing that her eyes were still under threat of tears she didn’t want him to see - but it didn’t stop Adam from staring. She could feel his gaze as it moved over the angles of her body, taking in the sight of her gown as it hung off the body he had once had the pleasure of getting to know better than almost everyone. It was a feeling that sent a shiver up the length of her spine. It was one not caused by the breeze but she played it off as such as she brought a hand up to run a hand over her arms which were now prickled with goosebumps. 

“You got everything sorted out, then?” She managed to speak again, her head cocking to the side casually as she finally let herself look up at Adam. 

“How much of it did you hear?” Adam half groaned, but his smile grew as he looked down at her. 

“Oh, I ah- It’s time for you to move on,” she admitted slowly her tone teasing as she mimicked the firm tone he had used. It earned a low laugh, his head shaking and sending his sandy brown hair into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I am Adam, really. I came out to get some air and I just kind of walked into it.”

Adam’s smile didn’t waiver as he stepped in close, his hand brushing over the curve of her back as he leaned in just enough to mutter against the shell of her ear, “The only thing you have to be sorry for Charlie, is looking as good as you do in that dress.”

Whether it was the heat of his words against her flesh, or the words themselves, Charlotte was left at a loss for words as Adam straightened up. She could meet his eyes as he pulled away, her dark gaze lost on the lawn in front of her as his words seemed to echo in his mind. She wanted to bite at him, to tell him that he shouldn’t say such a thing, but even if she could manage anything more than an uneven breath Adam didn’t give her the opportunity to. With his words, he had disappeared through the screen door leaving nothing more than the hollow sound of its closing in his wake. The sound was quick to fade, only to be replaced by the pounding of her pulse in her ears. Charlotte’s mind was quickly lost on how even after Adam was gone the touch of his hand against her back lingered and she near trembled at how his words had rocked her straight through to her core with a shock she did not know if she was going to be able to recover from. 

Finally, I throw it into a Tumblr post and use Prowriting Aid and Grammary to edit. They aren't perfect, but it's hard to find a good/reliable beta.

#celly answers

[theyoungbuck]

So originally I wanted to post some art and doodles, but I’m still working on those, making some refs.

But while making those refs and doing a little review of all the info about my TFP ocs that I’ve written down I came across one specific note.

So my TFP ocs are all hoomans, I know, boring, but one - I can’t draw robots, two - i can’t draw robots. And I don’t have the mental capacity or the patience to even attempt drawing robots. But what if they were robots, what if they were cybertronians? Of course, the first (or second) question that comes to mind is - what would be their alt forms? Well...

For Aiden I wanted to pick something big and bulky, but not too huge and absolutely thicc. Like much bigger than Bee or even Jackie, but not quite and big and juicy like Breaks. Not a twink but not exacly a hunk either. I went with the  2022 Rezvani Hercules 6x6. An absolute unit as a car, but in her robot form I think she’d lose some of that thiqqness because of the trunk, and she could have a build more similar to her current human one. Plus I think the 6 wheels could look really neat on the robot form. Pretty simple and straight forward, right? 

Now, for Rose I kinda wanted to do the opposite of Aiden’s alt form. Obviously, they’re supposed to be complete opposites. Something sleek, elegant, but also with some pizzazz and glam. And also something that says “i’m a raging homosexual” without actually having to say it. And then it came to me - a pink Cadillac Eldorado 1959. Boom, it makes a statement without saying a damn thing. A hot, fancy, rich bitch car that Barbie would drive around in. That’s absolutely perfect for Rose. Obviously she’d be much smaller and more lean than Aiden, which for her short 5′2 ass makes it even more fitting. 

Now that I’m thinking about it - if Rose and Aiden were cybertronian they’d just be Breaks and KO but lesbian. And tbh I don’t even mind it, shit, those 4 would probably get along pretty well (if they were on the same side). Gay/Lesbian solidarity in it’s finest. Breaks and Aiden beating the shit out of each other for gits and shiggles, while KO and Rose gossip like two middle-aged wine moms.

And now Carla, the muscle mommy, the boss bitch, the big bad milf. Obviously I wanted to give her an absolute beast of an alt form, considering she’s an absolute beast of a woman standing at 6′5 feet tall (or 198 cm, if you’re a normal person). My first thought was - a military aircraft carrier. But that seemed like just a bit of an overkill. An awesome one, but still. What about a huge military transport plane? Like a Boeing C-17 Globemaster III or an Airbus A400M? Fitting, but I think the show already established that planes and all things flying are Fowler’s thing. 

But then I remembered a very important piece of information about Carla. What’s her favorite vehicle? A tank. A fucking tank. And it had to be a huge tank. And I found her. Landkreuzer P. 1500 Monster. Now, this tank technically does’t exist, it���s only a design by I think we know who, I don’t have to say it, but look at this fucking thing. It has a fucking crane on it. It’s perfect.

Also while doing my tank research I found out that there’s actually a tank called "Megatron" Challenger 2, and I just feel like a complete person with that bit of information.

#Aiden Albarn #Rose Harlow #Carla Martinez #my oc #tfp oc #transformers #Transformers Prime #transformers oc #info dump?? #i guess #just some random thoughts before i go back to drawing

[sebastianswallows]

Dangerous and Delightful — Chapter 17 — Cruelty

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is a purveyor of forbidden artefacts, a dark arts researcher, and a curse-breaker for hire. Ominis, desperate to save him from himself, hires Reader in secret to persuade him, by any means necessary, to leave his illegal activities behind.

— WARNINGS: Angst, smut, dark!Sebastian, bondage, noncon, body worship, cunnilingus

— WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

— TAGLIST: @bloofinntoona @sarcasticpluviophile @estrotica

Sebastian had never been more livid than when he left the Clokes that day. More than livid, he felt mortified — like a sensitive old aunt having tea spilt on her shawl, only in his case, it was his pride that took the burn.

At first, he’d thought the Clokes quite crass to start inquiring about his host that way, prying into what they were doing together without bothering to hide it beneath pleasantries. They didn’t even feign any real interest, more of a greed to know the goings on in the village.

The first shock came to Sebastian when he learned there was no other man living in that house — no brother, no cousin, no distant relation, and certainly no lover (that much was true even now). But surely they’d heard of Melancthon…

“There is no one in the village by that name,” said younger Mrs Cloke haughtily, as if she’d won a prize by knowing something Sebastian didn’t.

Well, he certainly knew it now…

As he also knew that his host was discretely famous for being skilled with curses. It was a habit she’d gotten into in her youth, much to the suffering of some in the village. She’d grown out of it, so they told, but the information suck in Sebastian’s mind like a pebble, and the first thing he did once he got home — after letting his nerves cool by the dead fireplace — was to go to his trunk and find that necklace again.

It never occurred to him why its signature felt so familiar, even when he first analysed it. Cold and cloying, slow, penetrating, patient… All qualities his lovely host had. All the facts fit together now, which convinced him more and more, to his horror, that the Clokes were telling the truth.

So, she’d cursed the necklace herself to get him to come to her, and like a fool, he took the bait… She’d probably dosed him with Amortentia that evening as well, which was why he’d been so hot for her the night that followed.

All along, Sebastian thought she was disinterested in him, but it was just her way to trap him. Why, he couldn’t yet guess, but it had to be a fairly good reason to merit all that effort. And what easy pray he’d been, to fall so willingly… She never even invited him to stay with her, it had been his request.

Now he knew how those unicorns felt when caught in the traps set by the Clokes — a factor Sebastian would rather put out of his mind, as his conscience was heavy enough already. Well, he certainly wouldn’t meet the same fate, that much was certain. No skinning and unhorning him.

He spent his evening planning his revenge. Planning several, actually. The fact that she had a talent for the dark arts made it easier, made him feel less guilty as it brought them on somewhat more equal footing… But he couldn’t consider it for long — not punishing her through any conventional curses, at least. Instead, his thoughts kept circling the things she’d done to him those past few nights.

He felt like such a fool, such a fool… He still desired her. In spite of what she was and what she’d done, his need of her only grew the longer they were together.

So he decided that would be the most ideal punishment.

She hadn’t even expected to see him that night, he could tell from the surprise in her eyes — but she’d anticipated something, and he could tell that from the fear… That wide open, lost and languid look she cast his way, the mewling voice, the pleas. But Sebastian would make sure they would all be for nothing. He wouldn’t fall under her spell again.

He had half a mind to give her a dose of her own medicine, to go to the kitchen and dig up that pink bottle from wherever she’d hidden it — how could he not realise what it was when he first saw it sitting there? — and force her to submit to him… But forcing her the old-fashioned way promised to be more satisfying.

“Easy, now… Don’t struggle too hard, you’ll hurt yourself,” he grinned.

He was holding her wrists down with one hand while with he other he cast a binding spell on her. A thick white rope wrapped itself around her arms all the way up, then tightened like a sentient vine around the headboard. Around her legs, down at her ankles, he conjured a similar binding. He’d already stuffed her mouth with one of her frilly handkerchiefs and tied her mouth up with a scarf.

Sebastian kneeled above her, cherishing his victory like he was back at Hogwarts at the duelling club. It was a giddy, bubbly sort of joy that brought a heat throughout his body. He used Diffindo on her nightgown, slashing it right off her frame to a chorus of scared and outraged shouts — all muffled, of course, and delightful to hear.

“I haven’t quite seen your breasts before,” he said, pausing when her ruined clothes revealed them. “How nice to be finally introduced…”

With a cheeky grin, he leaned back down and cupped them each before his mouth reached them. He kissed the top of the first, sucking in its taste, breathing the scent of her body where it was still mixed with traces of perfume, and then bit into the flesh with relish. She jumped and mumbled something, but her bonds did now allow her to put up much of a fight. His lips travelled a bit lower, where her tip was puckered, and he laved it with his tongue in an attempt to soothe it. Slowly, he pulled it deep into his mouth, warming it, moaning at the feeling of this sensitive part of her so deep inside his body… Then, he moved to the other one.

Like a starved man, Sebastian feasted on her body, peppering her breasts with kisses, tasting each side of them, from the smooth tops to the warm bottoms and the peaks that pebbled as they rested on his tongue.

Then his kisses travelled lower, down her ribs that heaved with her scared breaths, her tense stomach, her hips, pulling the scraps of her nightgown along... His nails were cut too short to hurt, but he pressed them into her skin anyway, scratching down her body just as she’d done with him, albeit less bloodily.

His breath came in quick warm puffs over her mound as he hovered over her and looked down, taking in the sight of her most secret place with dazed and hazy eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, uncaring if she heard or not. “You were wicked to keep this from me… A wicked little witch, teasing me with it all the time. I felt it when you sat on me, you know that, don’t you?”

She gazed down at him with eyes that tried to look angry, but betrayed her terror.

Without looking down, Sebastian felt around the mattress blindly for his wand. Once he found it, he put his hand back to her hip with it between his fingers, holding her down to the bed.

“Now, I’m not one for taking advantage of a defeated opponent,” he purred. “No honour in that, is there? But… the way I see it, you’re not my opponent, are you?”

She frowned, looking at him dubiously and confused — and for good reason.

“You were never my opponent, isn’t that right?”

He expected her to nod. She didn’t.

“You were just playing games with me… Innocent, childish games. Well, if you weren’t my opponent, then there’s no way for me to take advantage of you now, in your vulnerable state,” continued Sebastian, pulling his gaze back down to her womanhood. “These are just more innocent, childish games I wish to play with you.”

He raised his wand, and lifted himself slightly off of her, and with a wordless hex he cast a whipping spell. It was a brief and burning impact, and it made her jump and scream into the gag, hips trying to lean away from the sensation. The feeling hardly lasted for more than a second, and looking down worriedly she couldn’t even see a mark on herself, but it felt like she should.

Sebastian chuckled and raised himself up on his knees, sitting with half of his weight on her scrambling legs, while the rest of it he lay on the hand that held her hip down. His thumb stretched down to her upper thigh, keeping her slightly apart before he cast it once again.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked through a sharp smile of gritted teeth, quoting back to her her question from the night before.

With another quick flick of the wrist, he hexed her again. She felt it right where her hip met her torso, and buried a scream into her upper arm.

“I’m certainly enjoying myself now,” said Sebastian, although it didn’t really sound like it.

He shoved the thumb deeper between her thighs and pulled, spreading her legs slightly. It was as much as they could be parted, with him sitting on her knees.

The next cast of the hex caught her right on the soft part of her womanhood, where her folds just barely parted to reveal her nub. She didn’t scream this time, she held it in, but exhaled sharply and a weak whimper slipped out.

Below, her traitorous hole began to seep. Her eyes went wide at that, more in humiliation than anything else. Sebastian noticed it, noticed too how she’d stopped squirming, but it was only as an afterthought that he gazed down again, and when he did, he chuckled at the sight.

“Oh, would you look at that… Do you like it?” he cooed, rubbing his thumb up and down her slit, teasing more of her wetness out. “Is that why you did those cruel things to me? Hmm?”

Bracing one arm down on the bed beside her, Sebastian leaned down to kiss and whisper at her throat.

“Is that how you express affection, darling? Through teeth and claws, like a little wildcat?”

His thumb went higher and bumped against her bared clit. She couldn’t help her hips from jumping and Sebastian grinned at the small victory. His touch settled there, flicking the nub up and down until it hardened. He rubbed it faster and faster, and her attempt to tighten her legs hardly made a difference. Her button was sicking out past her folds now, eager to be petted.

Sebastian groaned at feeling her struggle beneath him and dipped his head down to suckle on her breasts again. He took one in his mouth and pulled at it noisily, wetly, letting her hear what his tongue was doing aside from simply feeling it. His other hand dropped the wand and went to play with her other nipple, pulling it away from her body with a roughness that contrasted the softness of his mouth. She keened at the sensation and arched her back, mumbling wordless pleas coloured by fear.

And all the while, his fingers stroked her, travelling the column of her clit, up and down its pudgy shaft — much like he stroked himself at night, when he was thinking about her. Losing concentration, his hand at her breast began a similar motion, fingers threading her tip between then, tighter and tighter with each stroke.

Her folds started to get warmer, he could feel it, and each time his fingers brushed against them they came up all the wetter until it was hard to keep a grip on her nub. Her thighs brushed up against his wrist, but it didn’t budge him, and soon her body seemed to lose all strength, and all it could manage was to shiver.

Sebastian moaned with her breast in his mouth, and from around her gag she moaned as well, hints of words just barely formed in the warbled sounds. She was begging him for something, that much was sure, but it wouldn’t matter for what. Sebastian kept stroking her, lapping at her tip, spittle sliding down the side of her breast and wetting her, while between her thighs she soaked herself.

When her breathing started picking up, he felt it, her flesh dancing around his lips, puckering as if a chill ran down her body. He smirked and kept suckling on her, stronger, more meanly. His fingers strummed her swollen nub a little faster, keeping to a merciless tending of her most sensitive point until something in her caught, and her moans froze, and her body snapped like a bow on the bed. She whined loudly, as if wounded. Her thighs caught his wrist and her muscles tensed impossibly strong for just a moment, but then the rush of pleasure washed away from her and she was back down on the bed again, as sapless as a fallen leaf and shaking just as badly.

“Mmmm good, was it?” chuckled Sebastian hoarsely. His lips were swollen from his pleasuring of her, and his wrist began to ache. “You’ve soiled my whole hand, you naughty little thing…”

But he didn’t sound upset. He kissed a path up her chest toward her neck, doing it far more lovingly than before, while he wiped her juices off his hand onto her own messy mound and up toward her tummy.

When he reached her muffled mouth with his lips and looked up at her, he realised she wasn’t really there anymore — she seemed dazed, swooning, face sweaty and blushing and with hints of tears at the corners of her closed eyes.

Sebastian grinned smugly and embraced her, burying his face into her neck to breathe her in, the sweetness of her distress, her pleasure, and all the scents of her body laid bare.

His loins were painfully hard and straining, but once he took care of that, he was sure tonight would be the best night’s sleep he’s ever had. Now, he only needed to wake her up again…

#Sebastian Sallow #hl #Sebastian Sallow imagine #Sebastian Sallow x reader #Sebastian Sallow x MC #Sebastian Sallow fanfiction #sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics #fanfic;danger and delight #Sebastian Sallow smut

[helium-rambles]

My Favorite Perfumes

Ahh, thank you!! Excuse to ramble!

First off @moth-time YES! They are SO much nicer than alcohol, in my opinion. They make some oil perfumes that are still sprays, but I go for the ones that are roll on or just dabbed onto the skin. Sprays have a tendency to stick to clothes and thus last longer and have more projection, over something just on the skin that will evaporate from your body heat.

I shop indie perfumes as it's easier to find oil based ones (and it's usually significantly cheaper!)

Of all the indie perfumes houses I've tried, so far my favorite is Cherry-ka's Trunk on Etsy. They make fragrances inspired by fandoms and horror tropes and the wild west and overall are just really cool. I found them by looking up a fandom thing on etsy and was confused as to why a fragrance showed up. Eventually curiosity got the better of me and I tried some, and have been in love ever since.

I've now sampled 55 of their scents. Of those, I have destashed 17 of them to my roommate, am currently sampling 7, and the rest I liked enough to finish up the sample and some I'll full-size (or have already full-sized). Also worth noting that they're gender-inclusive! All their scents are for people of any gender! (Some indie perfumers tend to label feminine or masculine or unisex perfumes, which is apparently an indicator for people who are into mainstream perfumes to get an idea of a scent profile. But as someone who doesn't have the baseline knowledge of what that means, I feel a little off-put on trying some of those scents.)

My absolute favorite from Cherry-ka's Trunk (and of every fragrance I've ever tried) is Flying which has notes of fir, mint, and florals. This is also the one that taught me about resting oils. When I first got it, it pretty much just smelled like mint to me. I liked it (in fact, I will wear almost anything with mint in it) but it was pretty plain mint. Then as I used up the sample, the other notes became more pronounced. When you first apply it, it's still mostly mint, but the florals add some sweetness to it, and as the scent dries down, there is the astringent woody quality of the fir.

I didn't even notice the change as I used up the sample, but once I finished the sample, I found myself missing it so I bought a full-size. When I finally got it in the mail I was disappointed to sniff it and only get mint. Why did I want to full-size this again? I put it at the back of my perfumes and forgot about it for a month, only to try it again and be like WOW! I LOVE THIS! I waited until I used up my 5ml to purchase another, and I regretted waiting it, because I had to wait another month for it to become as beautiful as it gets. Next time, I'm ordering as soon as my bottle starts running low!

Other ones I've full sized from them are...

Pronounced (metal, green tea, paint, musk ) This smells strongly of metal to begin with! If you do not like the scent of metal, I don't recommend this. The metal fades away into a beautiful musk. I'm addicting to their musk. It's not an overy dirty musk, nor the laundry detergent musk. I don't know what type of musk it is, but I know I'm the most attractive person alive while wearing it. Oddly enough, I've found this is a summer scent for me.

Two Queens (lavender, coffee, musk, aftershave) Honestly, I got this for the coffee note, but don't smell any coffee in this. I do get a very herbal lavender, that reminds my of motel linen (fitting because of the inspiration for this perfume) and it dries down into that amazing musk. This musk is a little brighter(?) than Pronounced but still very good. I huff this scent until my nose wears out.

Conman (chamomile, blueberry, muguet) This blueberry.....I usually find blueberries too tart and sour, but this smells the way I want blueberries to taste. It's sweet, but not sugary. It's nicely supported by the herbiness of the chamomile. Kinda like a dried grass smell. I'm also very tickled by the name of this. I'm unfamiliar with the character it's based on, but I wear this when I want my own conman confidence.

And I will cut my rambles there for now! I'm not sure if this answers the question of what sorts are my favorites, cuz the only real pattern I've noticed in my collection is that I like mint and (some) musks. And I like metal and leather scents for summer. Thanks again for the excuse to ramble!

#perfume rambles #cherry-ka's trunk #i feel like i will go into more depth on some of these later #like i need to wax poetics about the craftsmanship in pronounced #trying the bolding some words thing that i've seen some blogs do for longer posts #not sure i'll keep it #but i can try

[badstargateimagines]

Heyo! I was just scrolling through your posts again and regarding a beach episode, I gotta know how you headcanon what they would wear in this episode! Ik Daniel ends up getting pretty ripped by the end of the series but in the beginning he’s kinda squishy (my mom used that word to describe him in regards to his general vibes in fights LOL) and I feel like he could look very smol and soft in a beach episode 🥺 or maybe I’m a simp lol

Hope your day off went well and no pressure to do this request! :)

- geekygumiho

Ahhh yes the beach episode post I remember it like it was made in a drunken haze at a frat house! But yes I usually refer to my blog as season 3.5 of Stargate so Daniel would still be in is squishy era kind of.

As we all know, beach episodes, historically speaking, are gratuitous, toe-curling, tooth-rotting fan service. My dream beach episode is kind of like that but like I gotta be realistic here: most of them would rather be on base. Here r the fits I think they’d be wearing for @geekygumiho

Jack: A middle aged man in the 90s? He’s wearing the Steven Page Special: cargo shorts, Birkenstocks with socks and an open Hawaiian shirt. He also is definitely sporting Oakley sunglasses and an Air Force ball cap. I think he’s mostly there because he was promised he could fish but is enjoying the vibes anyway. Very much chilling with a corona on the beach watching Sam everyone having fun

Teal’c: okayokayokay so this is tricky because he has a gaping hole in his torso with a little worm in it and as much as I want this to be fan service I can’t fully abandon canon and potentially have just random ass tourists see The Worm Pouch. Instead he will be wearing a tight-fitting black tank top, Star Wars swim trunks from Walmart, and a cowboy hat. He also wears Birkenstocks but with no socks because it was ✨the 90s✨ and we all know that the ugliest, sturdiest, and most comfortable piece of German footwear engineering took America by storm at that time.

Sam: I feel like Sam in probably a two-piece girly but spends most her time on the beach in a Stevie Nicks style cover-up. If Edge of 17 comes on the radio BACK UP because she needs twirling room. The beach is 100% where she lets loose and will not stop ogling Jack as subtlety as she can. She’s also learning how to surf from Janet and Janet was the one who convinced her to wear a bikini.

Daniel: this man did not want to go to the beach. He did not own beach clothes. He’s there because everyone was calling him a killjoy. He had to go to Target last minute to pick up his beach clothes. He wears the only pair of board shorts he could find in his size that just happen to have a Hawaiian shirt print on them and he also wears his floppy hat so he doesn’t get sunburned. Adding to that, whenever he’s on the beach he is re-applying sunblock and occasionally will keep his plaid shirt on but unbuttoned so his arms don’t get burned.

Janet: she’s the reason they all went and she is surfing or absolutely crushing her competition in beach volleyball. She’s also mad into sun protection but still wears a bikini. If she feels so inclined she’ll use a silk kimono as a cover up but mostly she’s there because she knows she’s the absolute hottest thing under the sun.

#bad stargate asks #bad stargate beach episode #Daniel doesn’t want to be there at all #he spends most his time reading while everyone tell him to lighten up #in my soul jonas is also there and is wearing board shorts and flip flops and a bright blue bucket hat w goldfish on it #he’s off making new friends

[sinunamor]

Code: Keekers

(probably not as funny as I thought but oh well 😅)

Okay okay serious note. No pressure and if you decide to do this take all the time you need. Could I request some soft Arthur and Matt? And/or that omegaverse au you came with?

I know we have never talked but I love your art and your interpretations of these relationships (Specifically Arthur's and Al's). I just hope you're doing well my dude.

HEY YOU ACTUALLY DID THE uh fucken uhh the fuckEN THING

Now I'll post both 1 art and 1 part of the omegaverse fic I've been working on for a hot bit now:

here we have the fambly and the preview of the fic. see, ive been messing around with OV dynamics cos i really really d i s l i k e the standard...expectations? i guess you can say, on how an OV fic is typically presented? so bear with me. this is very experimental. you'll do me a grand favor of acting as my test audience! yay or nay if it even makes sense : D

all things related to this project will be tagged "epigraphes"!

***

Projected Title: Èpigraphes

Projected ao3 Rating: M

Ship: FRUK

CW: OV, omegaverse

They had to abandon the paved, stone-cut wilderness for whispery fields and emerald hills. Whatever was left behind could not fit into 5 traveling trunks, every tight corner used for a few quilts, a kettle, a pot to boil potatoes, winter furs, a case of bottled oils, pigments, and graphite, a tea set, and the pups' clothes and shoes.

Clothes and shoes which will surely be outgrown next month.

Francis cleanly tore a tiny sliver of skin from the side of his thumb with his front teeth.

Arthur had not allowed for one possession, no matter how saturated it was in happy memory, to leave with them if it could not fit into a trunk. The only exception being Francis' wooden easel. It was a nuisance, however, to carry around crowded train stations and onboard ferries, but Francis could not bear to part with his treasured thing and so carried his extra burden without complaint. Oftentimes he wondered if he was merely lugging glorified kindling, from the way his omega was sending resentful glances as it clunked its way with them. Surely after 17 years, Arthur must have thought of many creative ways to be rid of it by now.

Francis began gnawing the other side of his thumb when he felt cool, calm fingers wrap around his wrist, guiding his hand down towards his lap. Without much of a tired smile, nor a huff of disapproval, Arthur wove his fingers around Francis', anchoring him center on his lap. The omega's other hand continued to be occupied, rhythmically patting the back of their napping pup’s back.

"Ha-how could there be a house out here, when there's nothing around for miles!" 

Both parents looked at their overdramatic, secondborn omega pup seated across. Their reddish, wind kissed cheek pressed heavily near the horse-pulled cab window's edge. Sights of a patch of virgin forest and herds of grazing sheep were of no interest to this little pup of 6 summers.

"We only left the fishing village not too long ago," the eldest, keener alpha pup responded, not sparing anyone a glance as they read from a tattered copy of a favorite book. "And we did pass 3 houses, I know. I counted them."

Alfred groaned in mental agony, sliding down on their seat towards the floor while puffing their cheeks in an indignant pout. "When are we gonna arrive to our house?"

"Alfred, on your seat this instant," Arthur hissed, pulling away from Francis and reaching down halfway only to quickly realize he'd smother the other little omega loosely swaddled on his lap and disturb their sleep. He frowned. "We'll go over a nasty dip on the road and then we'll all be sorry." He went back to tending to his heavily napping pup.

Alfred's defiant frown matched that of their omega father's, which was more of a response to his tone than anything else. They obeyed however, deciding then to pester Arthur instead.

"I'm booored."

Arthur sighed heavily. He could not blame Alfred for being so fastidious. Traveling here has proved challenging for all at various points and Alfred had been holding themselves well enough until now.

He smoothed down brown wavy locks of his napping pup before answering.

"Darlingheart we are nearly there," Arthur patted the pup's back once more. "Soon enough you'll know the place where I grew up. I'll show you how far our property goes. We'll have access to a fresh stream, an-and woods and rolling hills–" 

Mathieu, the alpha pup, stared blankly at the words on the page, their ears focused on the strange lightheartedness in Arthur's voice.

"--and when day is clear enough, we'll have a pretty view of the sea," Arthur nodded. "You'll grow to love it here as I did when I was a pup."

Alfred's attention was captured just enough from them to keep quiet and silently mull over Arthur's words. The cab rolled over uneven terrain, jostling the family inside. Alfred scrambled to sit upright and tucked their back into the corner of the cab.

"S'not like back home," they mumbled thoughtfully, tiny finger plucking at a threadbare patch of the once plush interior.

Francis could only feel heavy disappointment from his family. It was in Alfred's sad little blue eyes and in the way Mathieu pulled their book higher in front of them to pretend to read.

"It won't be,'' Arthur answered truthfully, his strong brow contorting slightly as he gazed upon his pup, neck and heads moving about with the sudden unsteady terrain "But we will take home with us." His hand found Francis' again and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Wherever we are. Together.

#i always appreciate taking your time to write out asks/comments!! and im glad you get a kick out of my nonsense too! #hws england #hws france #hws face family #hws america #hws canada #hws australia #epigraphes

[bizarrequazar]

GJ and ZZH Updates — August 14-20

<<< previous week || all posts || following week >>>

This is part of a weekly series collecting updates from and relating to Gong Jun and Zhang Zhehan.

This post is not wholly comprehensive and is intended as an overview, links provided lead to further details. Dates are in accordance with China Standard Time, the organization is chronological. My own biases on some things are reflected here. Anything I include that is not concretely known is indicated as such, and you’re welcome to do your own research and draw your own conclusions as you see fit. Please let me know if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or additions. :)

[Glossary of names and terms]  [Masterlist of my posts about the situation with Zhang Zhehan]  

08-14 → Safeguard released a commercial featuring Gong Jun at midnight, later posted to their Weibo (1129 kadian) along with three photo ads.

→ #ZhangZhehanIsInnocent, #TheRealZhangZhehan, #JusticeforZhangZhehan, and #AlwayswithZhangZhehan trended on Twitter throughout the day.

→ Several of Xie Yihua’s Weibo accounts were banned.

→ Kangshifu posted three photo ads featuring Gong Jun.

→ Flora posted a series of infographics created to aid people who are new to the situation with Zhang Zhehan.

→ Go Fighting! episode 7 aired. Gong Jun did not appear in this one as he was busy with filming. [full episode]

08-15 → Safeguard posted a behind the scenes video of the previous day’s ads. 

→ Colgate posted a gif teasing the commercial featuring Gong Jun they released a few hours later.

08-16 → Safeguard posted four more photo ads featuring Gong Jun.

→ QuelleVous posted a series of exposés about Chen Liying (former business partner of Zhang Mama’s, the owner of the tea shop, and co-owner of the brand):  -  Chen Liying was following the fake girlfriend’s Weibo account (run by Sophie), but unfollowed it within hours of QuelleVous pointing it out.  -  Zhang Zhehan previously turned down Chen Liying’s pitch for her to handle his IP. (Unsubstantiated at this time.)  -  Chen Liying rudely turned away long-time fans of Zhang Zhehan’s after 813 but cozied up to new fans. (This is not new information but bears repeating.) Flora followed this up with a translation of a fan’s testimony.  -  Chen Liying is the one who ordered for funeral wreaths to be sent to the tea shop, an event Zhang Zhehan mentioned in his interview with Li Xuezheng. (Unsubstantiated at this time.)  -  Chen Liying never liked any of Li Xuezheng’s posts and told fans he held a problematic political stance.  -  QuelleVous also reiterated the fact that Chen Liying has no familial connection to Zhang Zhehan, despite what she likes to insinuate.

→ Honor posted several photo ads. Fan Observations: Huge disclaimer that this is probably a meaningless coincidence. It was pointed out that the model has a buzzcut, is wearing a butterfly very similar to the one Zhang Zhehan wore on Happy Camp in March 2021, and in one photo is holding white roses. 

→ The Instagram posted another boxing video.

08-17 → Another exposé about Chen Liying: A tube of tea with a logo associated with Zhang Zhehan that was given out by tea shop was never officially approved by him, nor was their use of his signature. (Unsubstantiated at this time.)

→ Gong Jun’s studio reposted the Safeguard commercial.

→ Safeguard posted three more photo ads featuring Gong Jun. (1129 kadian)

→ Louis Vuitton posted two photos of Gong Jun modeling their products.

→ Gong Jun posted four photos of himself from the same photoshoot. Caption: “Shallowly show off what you wear: Feel the delicate texture of @Louis Vuitton Soft Trunk handbags, unleash my personality at will, full of fashion!” Fan Observation: Tenth 浅, eighth only counting Weibo.

→ Safeguard posted a douyin featuring Gong Jun.

→ Fox Spirit Matchmaker and Rising with the Wind were ranked by Weibo as the top two most anticipated upcoming dramas.

08-18 → Another exposé about Chen Liying: She was the one who spread misinformation that Zhang Mama is bad at business and owes people money, an excuse used to explain why Zhang Mama has no financial connections to the brand and why she ended her financial connections to the tea shop. 

→ Almost a dozen more Weibo accounts of recently-exposed fake Zhang Zhehan fans were muted.

→ #WordofHonor trended on Twitter, likely due in part to the day’s #TheRealZhangZhehan theme being A-Xu.

→ Colgate posted a photo ad featuring Gong Jun.

→ Ms. Shen (Zhang Sanjian supporter pretending to be a legal professional) used a hotsearch about another actor to post slander against Gong Jun. The actor’s fans told her to stop and called her a poisonous jellyfish.

→ BEAST posted a photo ad featuring Gong Jun for their Mid-Autumn Festival product line. (1129 kadian) Caption: “The idle pool reflects the shadow of osmanthus, and the bright moon illuminates the nostalgia. BEAST 2022 Mid-Autumn Festival, meet ‘Osmanthus Oolong’ again. Wake up another kind of nostalgia in memory.”

→ Kangshifu posted three illustrated ads featuring Gong Jun.

→ The photographer for the Louis Vuitton photos commented that they were photographed in 41°C heat and praised Gong Jun’s professionalism.

→ The Instagram posted a photo of four men from behind doing the nakama pose. Fan Observations:  -  Supposedly Zhang Sanjian is the one in blue, but even at a glance it’s hilariously obvious that none of them match Zhang Zhehan’s stature. As well, none of the people in the photo have a body type that matches the most recent (very beefy) Zhang Sanjian video.  -  The proper nakama pose from One Piece uses the left hand, as Zhang Zhehan used in an old photo of himself with Xiaoyu and Susu. When he did it with Gong Jun at the concert they used their right hands, which is what Gong Jun has continued to use and which is what this photo used. Either they legitimately got it wrong, or they’re specifically trying to annoy CPFs.

→ LockNLock posted several photos and gifs featuring Gong Jun to their WeChat. 

08-19 → Hsu Fu Chi posted an illustated ad featuring Gong Jun for Chinese Doctor’s Day.

→ BEAST posted a short commercial featuring Gong Jun for their Mid-Autumn Festival product line. (1129 kadian)

→ Another exposé about Chen Liying: The Weibo account for the Shenzhen tea shop location was registered on 21-08-15, the same day CAPA issued their boycott.

→ VogueFilm announced that Gong Jun will be co-starring alongside actress Zhao Liying in their upcoming short film “Hello, Hello” wherein he will be playing an AI personality. This reached #7 on Weibo’s hotsearch.

Mu Lingye (aka log lawyer, Zhang Sanjian supporter) tried to start a fan war by making posts about this in which she badmouthed Gong Jun while praising the actress. The actress’s fans told her to stop and praised Gong Jun in retaliation.

→ The Instagram posted a selfie of “Zhang Zhehan” and the gym bros. Addition 11-20: Side-by-side comparisons with photos of the real Zhang Zhehan.

→ Peng Lihu’s accounts were unmuted.

08-20 → QuelleVous made a post saying that reporter Bai Ying has colluded with the Epoch Times, a far-right anti-CCP news outlet run by the Falun Gong cult, to publish articles slandering Zhang Zhehan. The Epoch Times has published 67 articles that mention Zhang Zhehan by name since 813 compared to only three prior to it.

→ A Twitter space was held going over the timeline of Word of Honor’s filming. [written notes], the [recording] is set to expire after 24 hours so listen asap if you want to.

→ The Instagram posted a photo and video of a man who does not look like Zhang Zhehan supposedly going on a bike trip to Tibet. Another photo posted shortly after on Weibo was apparently of Xiaoyu on the same trip; it does not look like Xiaoyu. Fan Observations:  -  Tibet is in the middle of a lockdown.  -  They’re using (brand new) mountain bikes for roads—Zhang Zhehan has proven in the past that he definitely knows the difference. The bikes also have straight handlebars which are bad for climbing hills, so they wouldn’t work well for riding up mountains regardless.  -  It was also pointed out the the equipment in the photos is so new that the water bottles hadn’t even had their tags removed.

Additional Reading: → Flora’s daily fan news thread

<<< previous week || all posts || following week >>>

This post was last edited 2022-10-20.

#Zhang Zhehan #Gong Jun #Word of Honor #woh cast #lld timeline

[unremarkablehouse]

Fireworks of the People

Rating: NC-17 | WC 2972 | S7 Fluff/Smut | AO3

Although Yellow Springs, Ohio wouldn’t have been Mulder’s first choice for a Fourth of July getaway, they’ve been to worse places and this time it wasn’t even his fault. Skinner had requested their help in a murder investigation involving a UFO cult leader and the mysterious deaths of some of their followers which had the local ME stumped. The case was surprisingly straightforward, Scully was able to identify a rare poison applied sub-dermally to the victims during contact with the Cult Leader. Mulder elicited a confession from the Cult Leader after stumbling onto his stash of poison and hit list in an obscured room. Neither of them had been shot, abducted, poisoned, or covered in goo, so a pretty good case in Mulder’s books. Still, the look of disappointment when Scully found out that the first flight home wasn’t until after the holiday tugged at Mulder’s heart. Her tight business façade dropped momentarily and he could see that she had been hoping to make whatever Fourth of July plans; but now she was stuck in Yellow Springs with him. The small town’s patriotic decorations ensured there was no way to forget that Independence Day  was happening, acting like salt on fresh wounds, a stinging reminder that they were stuck here for the holiday. Scully was quiet through dinner, not uncommon since their personal relationship was currently ‘on hiatus’, but the immutable cloud of despair that hovered over her while she picked at her salad was too much for Mulder to take. “You know Scully, we could always drive back to D.C. It’s a 10hr drive so we might get in a bit late but at least you could still make some of the holiday.” “It’s fine, Mulder. I still have a final autopsy to do anyway so that will keep me busy most of tomorrow. We’ll just fly out Wednesday morning.” “I’m sorry we’re stuck here-” “It’s not your fault… Charlie is in town, and Bill is visiting with his family too. So Mom has organized this big thing. I haven’t had a chance to see everyone in a while and I was really looking forward to it. Plus, it’s not like we can even go see the fireworks tomorrow, did you know this town does them the Saturday before!” Mulder couldn’t help but swoon over Scully’s petulant pout and felt the need to offer her a show of solidarity with feigned outrage. “What!?! No fireworks on the Fourth of July! That’s just un-American.” “That’s what I’m saying…” Feeling better having vented to Mulder, Scully gave a resigned smile, the tension between them starting to melt. With her mood improved Scully stole some of Mulder’s fries, a long established sign of a truce he mused. Chatting about the case Scully suggested that he get started on the field report while she’s working on the autopsy tomorrow. Mulder nodded in agreement, but they both knew he wasn’t going to touch their paperwork until the last possible minute. Little did she realize Mulder had started to formulate a plan to turn her holiday around.

By noon the next day Mulder received a call from Scully, bored and contemplating eating a questionable sandwich from the morgue’s vending machine. Mulder was attempting to fit a portable hibachi grill into the trunk of the rental, the interruption of his cell phone chirping caused him to pause, trying to get balanced while answering. “Mulder-” “Mulder it’s me, feel like bringing me sustenance?” “I’d love to Scully, but the town is shut down for the holiday. I just had to drop in at the Sheriff’s to make sure my statement was squared away. I guess in this town crime does take a vacation. What time will you be finished?” “Not until 3. I’m waiting on labs to get finished and then I have to finalize the report.” At that moment the top of the mini hibachi grill broke free of his hold, making a loud clanging sound, while Mulder attempted to catch it, cell phone pressed against his ear and shoulder in an awkward balancing act. … “shiiit—” “Mulder, what was that?” “Ahh… I’m just packing and knocked something over. Scully, I’ve gotta go, I’ll see you out the front at 3.” The dejected sound in Scully’s voice doubled Mulder’s resolve to surprise her, giving him a bit more pep to get everything ready in time by the afternoon. The parking lot of the morgue was deserted when Mulder arrived, a lone figure leaning against the door could be seen, obscured by the shadows of the awning. Mulder took a moment to watch Scully stretching herself and enjoying the afternoon sun. As a sign of protest of having to work during a public holiday, Scully had donned jeans and a fitted light blue top instead of her standard business attire. Mulder couldn’t help but smile when he realized they were inadvertently wearing matching outfits, his jeans and blue t-shirt felt appropriate for the day as well. With a wary smile she finally acknowledged his arrival and strolled over to her seat in the car, failing to notice or mention the grocery bags and supplies in the backseat. Slouched in her chair, leaning against the passenger window, Mulder didn’t attempt to make small talk, using her fatigue to help prolong his surprise. The drive to the lookout was uneventful, Scully falling asleep minutes into the ride prevented her from noticing that they had driven at least 20 minutes past the hotel and were making the ascent to reach their destination. Mulder quietly cursed as the road turned bumpy a few miles from the spot. “Mulder, where are we going?” Scully’s disoriented and groggy voice broke the silence and he knew the gig would soon be up. “An early dinner, Scully.” “But everything’s closed?” Scully’s spidey senses started to tingle as she became keenly aware of her surroundings, warily observing that they were driving into a wooded area. “I swear to God Mulder, if you’re dragging me out to hunt Bigfoot instead of dinner-” “Relax, we’re here.” Mulder said, pulling up to a clearing that had an outlook of the town. From the back seat of the car, Mulder pulled out the bedspread from the hotel and 3 pillows, instructing Scully to help him set up. “I don’t think the hotel will be thrilled we’re using their bedding as a picnic blanket” Scully said while repositioning the blanket. “Hotel bedding is expected to get a little dirty!” Mulder handed her a tupperware container from one of the grocery bags he’d been carrying and instructed her to eat. Wary at first, Scully’s eyes lit up when she opened the large container and discovered that it was full of fried chicken. Mulder took a break from setting up to watch Scully eagerly inspect each of the tupperware containers, her look of excitement as she opened each one reminded him of a kid opening presents on Christmas morning and he was determined to do things like this more often. “There’s so much food here! Macaroni salad, fried chicken, fresh corn, watermelon. Mulder, where did you get all this?” “Don’t fill up on the sides,” Mulder said while awkwardly carrying the mini hibachi grill to a level surface not far from their picnic spot. Walking over in time to watch Mulder light the grill, Scully couldn’t help but giggle when Mulder jumped back in shock at the large flame. “So, I don’t think we have to worry about the grill heating up,” Mulder said with a sheepish shrug. Scully gently rubbed his arm reassuringly, before it dawned on her that he had somehow gotten his hands on a functional grill. “Wait, where did you get the grill!?” “I confiscated it from the crime scene.” Scully made a face, “Mulder!” “What? It's not like it was used in the crime and I’ll return it later, but right now we need a way to cook our burgers and hot dogs.” Mulder proudly held up a large cooler, triggering Scully to laugh incredulously. “Did you steal a transport cooler from the morgue!? There were probably human organs or God knows what in that!” Mulder just shrugged while taking out hamburger patties and placing them on the grill, “I rinsed it out first..” Going back to the cooler Mulder handed Scully a beer that had been stored in there, and took one out for himself. “I’m not returning this bad boy either, I’m taking our left-overs home in it!” Scully stood close to Mulder while he grilled, feeding him forkfuls of macaroni salad. This might not have been the way she had pictured her Fourth of July, but the charm of the look out and Mulder’s surprise picnic definitely had made her day. “Bad news Scully, I didn’t think to confiscate tongs, or a spatula so let’s hope my plastic fork works.” They both held their breathe while Mulder carefully attempted to flip their patties over with two plastic forks, earning him a cheer from Scully when he succeeded.   “Alright Partner, get the buns ready, we’re almost done here!” Scully placed the buns on their plates and presented them to Mulder, ready to assemble their food. “Mulder, I can’t believe you put all this together. It’s incredible, but you’ve got to tell me how you did it.” “A magician never tells” Mulder said, handing her a plate with a burger and a hot dog. Sitting together closely on their picnic blanket bedspread, plates on lap, Scully noticed that the tension which had plagued them since their unresolved fight had dissipated. “Mulder, did you do all of this as a peace offering?” Mulder contemplated her words for a moment before replying. “Honestly, no. I am sorry I turned off the alarm that morning, but it was set for 5am, I didn’t do it on purpose and I wasn’t trying to ‘control you’, as you so eloquently said. You always take off before I wake up, so I’m willing to admit that on some level I probably wanted you to stay and at least have breakfast with me.” “Next time you want me to stay longer, use your words and ask me to stay.” Mulder nodded in agreement and was rewarded by Scully feeding him a piece of watermelon.   “I guess having breakfast with you wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, I could make more of an effort to be flexible.” Mulder’s eyebrows shot up at the word ‘flexible’, his cheeky smirk at the double entendre was silenced by a rogue piece of watermelon being shoved in his mouth by a laughing Scully. “Wait, if this wasn’t a romantic gesture, then why did you do all this?” “Regardless of whether we’re fighting or not, you’re my best friend and I hate seeing you upset. I just wanted to do something nice for you.” “Good answer”, Scully reached up to Mulder’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Before things could heat up, Mulder broke off their kiss, and suddenly ran towards the car- leaving a confused Scully behind. For a moment she was concerned that Mulder was about to take off on her, as he had done many times in the past. Before she could question him, Mulder had jogged back to her with his hands behind his back and a huge grin. “One more trick up my sleeve! I know you were bummed about missing out on fireworks…” Mulder proudly presented her with a brightly packaged sparkler, placing the stick in her hand and stepping back as he lit a long fuse. Scully looked at the odd sparkler skeptically, not used to seeing ones with fuses, she moved it away from her body at just the right moment- the sparkler coming to life in an explosive fury. Her scream of delight made Mulder chuckle as different color sparks went everywhere. This was not your standard sparkler. Once it finally burned out, she handed the sparkler to Mulder who doused it with some bottled water and put it on the ground next to the blanket. Wanting to know more about how Mulder put this all together in such short notice, Scully decided to try another interrogation tactic. She took his plate away, ignoring his grumbles as she placed it next to him on the blanket. The complaining stopped as Scully climbed over his body, straddling his legs and placing her arms around his neck. Instinctively Mulder placed his hands on her hips and gave a big smile gazing into her eyes.   “Hi..” Scully said, giving him her best megawatt smile and watching him melt; she had him. Scully closed the distance between them, staring into his eyes, close enough to kiss him, leaving a fraction of an inch between their faces. “Okay Mulder, now you’ve got to tell me how you did all this.” His smitten face betrayed how powerless he was to resist her. “Scully, you should work for the CIA, I’d confess anything to you right now.” She gave him a light peck on the lips and encouraged him to continue. “I knew you were upset about missing your family BBQ today so while you were slicing and dicing, I went on a scavenger hunt. As a thank you for filling out all the case paperwork for the sheriff, his wife packed up the sides and dessert for me. In exchange for helping set up their barbecue, their neighbor donated plates, buns, burgers, and hot dogs. They weren’t too thrilled that I wouldn’t eat with them, but I wanted to wait for you. I found out about this spot from one of the locals, hoarded condiment packets from the diner, and you know where I got the blanket and grill- ”   Before he could finish talking Scully planted a kiss on his lips which he enthusiastically returned. Abruptly Scully pulled back from their kiss, “wait, there’s dessert?” Mulder chuckled, “Yup, some Texas sheet cake and pie.” Mulder was amused by how excited she got over their dessert prospects, earning him another kiss, deeper and more passionate. Without any conscious thought, Mulder’s hands had automatically found their way up Scully’s T-shirt and to her breasts. His firm fondling being met with encouraging moans. Scully’s enthusiastic hips grinded rhythmically into his erection, their mouths never breaking contact. As their hands and bodies explored each other the rest of the world disappeared, and what started as just making out had quickly progressed into some fairly heavy petting. The frenzied look in Scully’s eyes as she pushed Mulder’s shoulders to the ground brought him back to reality. While the clearing was secluded, it was still a public area and he definitely should not have brought Scully to orgasm with his hands down her jeans a few moments ago. It also occurred to him that he should probably stop Scully from unzipping his pants as well. As Mulder's hands tried to slow Scully down from working on his fly, he was having trouble forming the words ‘indecent exposure’, only getting out a grunt as she put her mouth around his cock. When Scully broke to remove her jeans, his breathing slowed and he was able to sit up on his elbows and voice his concerns. “Scully, anyone could come by, we should stop.”Scully was not particularly put off by that thought, giving Mulder a grin as she moved to straddle his cock, menacingly gliding the head up and down her wet slit. “Don’t worry, the whole town is basically shut down.” Whether it was her reasonable risk assessment, or the fact that she had paused with the tip of his cock at her entrance, Mulder showed his consent by thrusting hard up into her. Their foreheads joined together tenderly as they both took a moment to adjust to the feel of him inside her. Their eye contact talked volumes as they intensely gazed at each other, so attuned to each other’s bodies, their breathing synchronized. Scully bit down on her bottom lip, a silent signal indicating that she was ready to continue, pushing his shoulders back down so she could ride him more comfortably. Their hips and thrusts joined together at an even pace, both trying to keep their moans of pleasure relatively quietly given the outdoor setting. Somehow the fact that they were both still mostly clothed added to the lewdness of what they were doing and Mulder felt himself approaching the precipice. Moving his hand from her hips to her clit, he methodically rubbed in hard circles, increasing the force of his thrusts as his hips collided with hers. Her body responded quickly with the familiar spasms of her impending orgasm bringing him over the edge at the same time. Scully collapsed against his chest exhausted and satiated, enjoying the tactile comforts of having Mulder surround her. Before they could fully come down from their lovemaking a large bang erupted out of nowhere. Instincts kicking in, Scully promptly dismounted and had her jeans on in record time, while Mulder lazily tucked himself back into his pants and zipped them up. Another bang rang out, causing Scully to freeze, while Mulder gave a chuckle motioning for her to look out onto the horizon. Scully marveled at the emergence of fireworks being set off from the town below, taking her seat next to Mulder.   “But how?” “Fireworks of the people, Scully. The neighborhoods here do their own fireworks on the fourth.” Mulder wrapped an arm around Scully, giving her access to snuggle into his side and watch the cacophony of different fireworks taking place below. “Mulder, this whole night has been truly amazing.” “I know it’s not your family, but I just wanted to do something nice for you.” “You know you’re my family too, thank you.” Mulder placed a kiss on the crown of her head and squeezed her tighter, preferring to look at Scully instead of the fireworks.

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

Note: X files bingo prompt: "Surprise"

X-Files Free-For-All Prompt List: #47

MSR: 4th of July... Mulder and Scully spend the day together... they are watching the fireworks and sharing a kiss... a cute little story 

Tagging: @xfilesfanficexchange @xfilesbingo @today-in-fic

#the x files #msr fic #msr #happy independence day

[hunnybadgerv]

wait ignore that i put the last prompt in the submission box accidentally rip. "a storm" + "an old oak tree" for cousland and nathaniel?

Summary: Nathaniel is struggling with conflicting feelings about the warden-commander, the woman who destroyed his family and killed his father.

a/n: Prompt for Nathaniel and Yvaine Cousland: “a storm” + “an old oak tree” sent by @potatowitch for the DADWC. Which also happens to fit July Writing Prompts #17: Nostalgia.

Nostalgia

Nathaniel often found himself sneaking off to the woodlands near Vigil’s Keep once relieved from his watch. He’d spent most of his time among these trees and wild things growing up. It was one of the places he felt most like himself, where he could find peace and quiet.

His feet carried him through the lush summer grasses as the sun ducked behind rolling clouds. He ignored the signs of approaching weather, it did little to intimidate or deter him. The rain began with the soft patter against leaves, occasionally a cold drop would fall against his head or face. In no time however, the drizzle picked up in pace and speed, drenching him in the process. He tucked himself under the thick branch of a tree to try and avoid some of the worst of it.

Glancing up into the deep gray sky, he squinted searching for flashes of lightning. A wet thud landed next to him against the trunk and he looked over.

“Maker’s sake. Were you following me?”

“What are you talking about?” the warden-commander asked.

Nathaniel just shook his head, suddenly hoping for lightning to strike him down. Even in the rain or perhaps because of it the soft floral notes of her tickled his nose. He rubbed at it with the back of his gloved hand. Even her breathing irritated him, or so he told himself. Another reminder of his inability to kill her, of quite how horribly he failed at this task.

Yvaine’s laughter earned a grumble.

Soon, his curiousity got the better of him though. “What’s so funny?” he turned to where she had been but didn’t find her.

“I’ve been looking for this tree all afternoon.” She peeked out from behind the other side of the tree and grinned at him.

“Why?” he asked, leaning against the trunk as if he were only asking because there was nothing else to entertain him while he waited out the weather.

He watched her smile widen a hair, crinkling at the corner of her eyes that somehow even twinkled in the low light. It should be impossible for her eyes to be quick that green in light this low.

“Come here. I’ll show you.” Again she disappeared from his view, which forced him to move toward her.

“What?” he said gruffly, trying to demonstrate indifference.

She looked up at him like she could see past it, see to the conflicting thoughts swirling through his head. “Do you remember that ball in Denerim you had to escort me to?”

He rolled his eyes. Of course he remembered. She’d been exquisite, looked almost delicate in that white and gold gown with the blue and gray sash. Her fiery red hair framed her fair face. He remembered the shy looks she gave him when he took her hand at the bottom of the stairs. The way her cheeks flamed when he took her into his arms for that first dance.

Nathaniel blinked slowly, trying to shake the memories from his head, trying to conjure up his rage. His mind proved unruly. There was another time he could recall her cheeks similarly inflamed, that time though the blush had rushed farther down her body. He bit the inside of his cheek sharply and looked at her again.

“I think so,” he replied, his mouth tight around the words.

She was still smiling at him. He wished she would stop doing that. “About a month after that, we were here for a short time. You brought me out here.”

He remembered. “Did I?”

She laughed softly.

He grimaced.

“You did. To this very tree.”

He said nothing, but the memory tickled at the edges of his brain unbidden.

“You told me it was your favorite one because it was so strong you could always climb to the top, even then.”

He heard her step closer, and just watched her.

“You showed me the things you’d carved in the trunk over the years.”

Her fingers moved over the bark of the tree.

“And the spot where you were going to carve something new,” her voice was soft, like her skin and as lush as her lips under his.

Nathaniel tightened his jaw again. When she inched closer he could not escape the distinct scent of Crystal Grace on her. It was maddening, reminding him of then and of the other day. It was too much.

He grabbed her face with both hand and bowed to crush his lips against hers. He tipped along the scale from love to hate and back again. He growled low when she embraced him and her lips parted for his tongue. This was not what he’d planned. This was not how he was supposed to react to her—to the woman who killed his father, to the girl he kissed years ago in the moonlight, to the woman he wanted in his bed more than in the grave.

@dadrunkwriting

#Badger Scribbles #dadrunkwriting #Nathaniel Howe #Yvaine Cousland #Dragon Age Fanfiction #Howe/Cousland #DADWC