#i wrote them off after last time fam

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 22

summary: Javier arrives home in a grumpy mood because somebody (you) decided to tease him before work, and now he’s going to get his revenge. Once that’s taken care of, it’s time to meet his family to celebrate Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) and pretend like you didn’t get fucked within an inch of your life earlier. 

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, age gap (about ten years), soft Javier Peña, grumpy Javier Peña, dom Javier Peña, alternating pov, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (f!receiving), vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, edging, light bondage (he uses his tie), dom/sub vibes, (1) pussy slap, spanking, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink (oh wow, are you told how good you’re doing), begging, spit mention, kitchen sex, I swear this chapter is really wholesome, domestic fluff, fluff, death of a parent/grief, emotional hurt/comfort, food as a metaphor for love, family fluff, family bonding, Javier and reader playing matchmakers, hanging out with Chucho and the fam, celebrating Día de los Muertos, Javier saying very romantic things)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 19.6k+ (in my defense, it’s a good time)

a/n: Hey, besties! Okay, so the general vibe of this chapter is good feels. Are there emotional moments that might make you tear up? Yes. But overall, we’re having a good time remembering Javier’s mom. A big thank you to @kilamonster, who helped me with the holiday info and double-checked what I wrote. Shoutout to @juletheghoul for making sure my Spanish made sense and always being by my side. And a huge thank you to @senorabond for betaing!

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

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The seasons had changed, and like a piece of twine, your and Javier’s lives had become so intertwined it was hard to see the individual threads—there was no you or him anymore; it was you both together always, a mated pair, making each other stronger and happier than ever.

Not only had your life melded with your boyfriend’s, his family, too, had taken you in, treating you like your last name was already Peña and happily including you in their get-togethers. Everyone was so warm and welcoming, introducing you to different aspects of their culture, which was important to you to know for your future children, Javi and you wanting them to be well aware and proud of their Mexican roots, both agreeing they’d be raised speaking English and Spanish. 

After the first tamalada (tamale-making party), the two of you made it a point to go to his tía María’s on Sundays for the weekly family gathering where everyone ate delicious food, drank too much beer and tequila, and hung out for hours. His tías ushered you into the kitchen as soon as you got there to cook with them, their daughters, and daughters-in-law, Javi always close by and getting roped into helping, too, since he followed you around like a big, beautiful, brown-eyed puppy dog. 

In the time that’s passed since first meeting your boyfriend’s extended family, there’d been a couple more tamaladas hosted with Javi happily included; the regular Sunday gatherings, of course; many birthdays; Día de la Independencia (Day of Independence or Mexican Independence Day) that ended up being a big party at Chucho’s where Javi’s primos (cousins) had gotten their hands on illegal bottle rockets and put on quite the firework show. 

Now you were celebrating another holiday with them. 

It was a Monday in November, Javi and you getting off work a couple of hours early, you arriving home before him while he was out running errands. You had changed into cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt to be comfortable while you cooked food for the evening, planning to get dressed closer to leaving. 

Your recipe journal was open on the kitchen counter, showing one you copied from your boyfriend’s mom’s recipe cards out at the ranch—a covered skillet was on the stove with chopped-up flank steak simmering in a tomatillo mixture, figuring out in your head when you should work on the next step that wouldn’t take too long, but also couldn’t be done too soon. 

The sound of the front door being unlocked out in the main room found your ears, hearing Javi coming inside, and shutting it behind him, followed by plastic rustling, assuming he was putting down what he bought on the couch. 

Frowning, you wondered why he hadn’t called out to you, which was usually the first thing he did after arriving home. 

“Javi?” you said loud enough for him to hear. 

Soft footsteps were getting closer, turning your head in the direction of the doorway to see him walking purposefully, strutting, your way with his face pinched in a grumpy expression, his gaze burning when it locked on yours, making you gulp. 

You were in trouble. 

And if you had to guess, it was because of what you’d done that morning. 

He’d discarded his grey suit jacket, half the buttons open on his white dress shirt, and his gold and charcoal tie undone, it resting around his neck on either side of his chest. 

“What’s wro—” Your sentence was cut off when his mouth crashed against yours, kissing you hard, his hands grabbing your waist to turn you toward him, glad you weren’t holding anything. 

His palms moved down to squeeze your ass, moaning when he shoved his tongue into your mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair's soft, thick strands. The way he was kissing you made arousal burn brightly in your belly, feeling it dripping into your panties. 

Your lips were fused together until your lungs ached with the need to breathe, him nibbling on your bottom lip, then your chin as you both panted. 

“What are you doing?” you asked through heavy breaths, gasping when he sucked on your pulse point. 

His head came up to look you in the eyes, his eyebrows dipping low, seeing his frowning lips were red and shiny from spit. 

“Finishing what you fucking started this morning,” he said in a deep rasp.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah— ” He glanced over to the stove. “—how long does that need to simmer for?” he asked, meeting your gaze once more. 

Checking your wristwatch, you answered, “Forty-fiveish minutes.” 

The wheels were turning behind his eyes, imagining him doing math in his head until finally, he nodded once. “That’s enough time.” 

Your eyes went wide. “Enough time for what? There are other things I have to do for the stew…”

“Fine, I’ll do it in thirty—pants off.” He crouched in front of you, pulling down your shorts to your ankles.   

“Javier,” you exclaimed. 

His head tilted up to look at you. “If you tell me to stop, I will.” 

“I don’t want you to stop—I’m just really caught off guard.” 

His eyebrow arched, still frowning. “You shouldn’t be with how fucking mean you were to me this morning, teasing me by wearing nothing but this fucking thong—” His fingers went into the waistband of it, tugging it down to join your cotton shorts. “—rubbing up on me, grabbing my dick, and then you got dressed and gave me one of those kisses that usually leads to more, and you just left me in the fucking kitchen hard as a rock.” 

“I was running late for work?” you tried. 

His eyes narrowed. “Bullshit—you just wanted to fuck with me.” 

A smile pulled up on your lips. “Yeah, I did, and look at how needy you are,” you replied, stroking your hand through his hair. 

He freed your feet, standing back up with a grunt. His hands squeezed the globes of your bare ass then one landed on a cheek in a loud smack that had your breath stuttering. “I’m not fucking needy,” he said. “You got me horny on purpose and made sure I didn’t have enough time to jack off—you were a bad fucking girl—” He slapped your other asscheek. “—and now I’m gonna fucking give it to you.” A hot spike of arousal slammed into you at his words, your breath hitching in your throat. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Well, now you’re gonna fucking get it—hold up your hands.” 

Doing as he said, you put your hands up in front of your chest, watching as he pulled the tie off from his neck, your eyes going wide at realizing what he was going to do. 

“You don’t get to touch me,” he told you. The silky material was buttery soft as it went around your wrists, Javi moving quickly, wrapping them up in some practiced way that when he pulled on the ends of the tie, it cinched your arms together before he was knotting it. He stuck a finger inside to ensure there was a little gap so you didn’t lose circulation, nodding to himself when satisfied. 

His gaze met yours, his eyes softening. “Is this okay?” he asked gently. 

There was a double meaning to his question, him really asking if you were okay with his demeanor and being tied up—it was a resounding yes to both. 

Smiling, you replied, “This is more than okay, babe. Be grumpy again. It’s sexy.”

Curiosity was why you decided to tease him that morning, wondering what would happen if you left him hanging. Honestly, you expected him to show up at your work unannounced to drag you into a supply closet, but he hadn’t; he didn’t even call you on your lunch break, which was very abnormal. 

He huffed out a breath, a little smile on his lips. “Okay,” he said, his hand sliding along your jaw, cupping it. “But if it’s too much, tell me.” 

“Of course—I trust you.” 

“Good. I’ve got you, mi amor (my love).” 

Grabbing your waist, his lips found yours once more, kissing you while he walked you to the opposite side of the kitchen until your ass was pressing into the counter. Gripping your thighs, Javi grunted as he lifted you to sit on the countertop, taking up the space between your spread legs, breaking the kiss so he could work open the rest of his dress shirt, it falling to the floor when he shrugged it off. 

You leaned back, your shoulders and head resting against the wall cabinet, his attention coming back to you using one hand to lift your tied ones above you to hang them by the tie on a knob. Feeling the smooth wood under them, his other hand pushed one side of your t-shirt up your chest, pulling down the cup of your bra to free your breast. He pinched your nipple, his head dipping down to engulf it with the warmth of his mouth, making you gasp his name at the tingles shooting straight to your weeping cunt. 

Coming off your hard bud with a wet pop, he straightened, a serious expression on his face, meeting your gaze with his darkened pools.

“Keep your hands up like this,” he said. “Understand?” 

“Yes, Javi,” you answered, nodding your head. “Keep them up, and don’t touch you.” 

You could feel your heartbeat at the apex of your thighs, so turned on by the idea of being at his mercy. 

“My good girl,” he purred, rubbing his palms up your thighs, his words making you shiver.

He crouched down again, this time putting your legs over his broad shoulders, his big hands pulling your ass to the edge of the countertop, causing you to lean back further, the air biting cold on your wet nipple. 

You could see him there between your legs, his eyes on yours as he sucked two thick fingers between his lips, expecting it when he easily pushed them into your pussy, your mouth going slack at the slight stretch. His head moved forward, licking a broad stripe through your folds, the pleasure causing your back to arch, his fingers inside you sliding against your top wall to rub over that one spot only he could find, making your toes curl at how good it felt.

There wasn’t time for him to tease you or to draw things out, he was a man on a mission to get you off as quickly as possible with the time constraints, and he knew exactly how to play your body like a goddamn fiddle. 

His lips wrapped around the swollen berry of your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue side to side over it while his digits kept pressing into nirvana, again, and again, and again—the heat was building in your core, feeling the vibrations of his groans, moaning at the sensations that were getting you closer, and closer to your end. 

Sweat was beginning to bead on your forehead, your hands above your head struggling under the restraints, wishing you could pull his hair, the knot in your belly winding tighter. 

“Oh god, Javi,” you gasped. “I’m so fucking close—you’re gonna make me come.” 

Suddenly he was stopping, his mouth and hand leaving you, eliciting a pitiful whine from your throat. Your eyes widened as you looked down at him with his mustache and the bottom half of his face shiny with your slick. 

Pouting at him for ruining your orgasm, you panted, “Why’d you stop? I was almost there.” 

“What?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t like someone working you up, then stopping just to be mean?” 

You groaned. “Javi, I’m sorry! I didn’t do it to be mean. I just wanted to see what your reaction would be.” 

“Yeah? Well, I was a real asshole at work, and now you don’t get to come until I say you can,” he said, lightly smacking your clit, the shock of pleasure pulling a moan from your lips. 

He moved your legs off his shoulders so he could stand, and you wondered why you were so into this… Maybe it was relinquishing yourself entirely over to him and giving him all of the power in making you feel good, or him being a little mean which was very different—whatever it was, it had your pussy throbbing. 

He continued speaking, asking, “Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” you answered, frowning. “No coming until you say I can.” 

“Good girl,” he replied, his hands moving up and down your thighs while his gaze was on yours. His eyes went soft again. “I love you.” 

That made you smile, thinking it was sweet he was still so loving after you’d frustrated him so much. “I love you, too.” His lips quirked up a little. “I don’t know why, but this is really hot. When I decided to try out my experiment this morning, I kinda thought you might show up at my work to rail me in a storage room or something—definitely didn’t expect getting tied up and you being all dommy, which I’m really into, by the way.” 

Leaning in, his hands went beside you on the countertop, his head so close the tips of your noses were touching, smelling yourself on his face. “You wanted me to be so fucking horny that I’d fuck you at your work?” He nudged your nose with his, feeling the ghost of his breath on your lips. 

“Maybe,” you whispered.

He smirked. “My dirty fucking girl—I knew you were testing me.” His mouth was a hair's breadth away from yours, wanting him to kiss you. “You teased the fuck out of me, and I’ve had all fucking day to think about how I was gonna tease you back.” 

“Yeah? You gonna make me beg for you to let me come?” 

All his weight went to his right arm as he lifted his left hand to read the silver watch on his wrist, his eyes squinting. “We’ve got time for me to make you beg.” His gaze met yours again. “I’m gonna go hard,” he said, standing straight up while his hands went to the front of his pants where they were bulging, hearing the clank of him opening his belt and him pulling down his zipper. “And I’m not gonna give in the first time you beg.” 

Your cunt clenched hard around nothing. “Bring it on.” 

Javi snorted, spitting on his fingers and stroking them over his hard cock to get it slick. “We’ll see if you still feel that way when I don’t let you come a couple of times, baby.” He shuffled forward, notching himself at your entrance, and wasted no time pressing inside, sliding all the way to the root in one smooth thrust. 

Your mouths had fallen open, seeing his throat work as he swallowed hard, his cock stretching you open. It was truly fascinating that after the many, many times he’d been inside you, he still managed to steal your breath by how big he was on the first stroke. 

Your legs went around his middle, locking at the small of his back, feeling the splay of muscles move as he pulled out almost all the way and pushed back in hard, setting up a brutal pace that had your body jolting from the pounding he was giving you.

His hand snaked between your bodies to press his thumb to your sensitive little clit, the pleasure dancing in your center—his thick cock was easily moving in and out of you from how wet you were, rocketing you toward your release, unable to keep from moaning.

It was embarrassing how quickly he was working you up, his face screwed up like he was in pain, mouth open panting breaths, his forehead starting to glisten in sweat with a gorgeous flush moving up his chest and neck to paint his cheeks—he was breathtakingly beautiful as he fucked you, your fingers itching to touch his skin. 

“Can feel you fluttering,” he said through his teeth. “You close?” 

The heat in your belly was getting hotter, wanting to come so bad, but also not wanting to give in so easily, swallowing thickly. “Yes, I’m almost there,” you answered around heavy breaths. 

He came to a stop, pushed all the way inside you, his thumb moving off you, causing your teeth to clench, stifling your whimper from your orgasm dissipating. 

His skin shone with a sheen of sweat, his bangs wetly sticking to his forehead, eyes so dark barely any brown remained. 

His eyebrow rose, voice rough, “You gonna beg me to let you come?” 

“Nope,” you defiantly replied. 

“Right,” he said, not sounding like he believed you. 

He started moving again when you relaxed, his thumb back in place, circling your bundle of nerves a little harder, his thrusts at the same punishing pace as before. He leaned forward, the side of his face pressed against yours, as he said into your ear, “I think you wanna beg me to come.” The fire in your core was starting to rapidly build again. “‘Cause you know once you go, I can, and you want me to fill you up—you want me to stuff you full.” Your eyes had squeezed shut, trying to stave off your orgasm, his words adding fuel to the flames. “You want me to work it so deep it finally fucking takes.” 

Your brain short-circuited, it all too much. “Please let me come, Javi,” you whined.

Immediately he was stopping, and it made you whine his name louder. 

“No.” He kissed your cheek, his hand rubbing soothingly over your back. “Not yet, baby.” 

Your climax slipped away, the need to come starting to make you ache in your lower belly. You were breathing hard, your hands still over your head, wishing you could swat at his chest and settling with lightly knocking your head against his. “That was playing fucking dirty, and you know it,” you said, your body still coming down from the almost high. 

He moved to look you in the eyes. 

“Uh huh, says the woman who put on the thong l love and suddenly had to do a lot of bending over while I tried to get dressed for work. I’m the one playing dirty—pot calling the kettle, Cielito, and two can play your game.” He placed a loud smacking kiss on your cheek. “You good?” 

Your skin was wet with sweat, Javi’s too, and you weren’t entirely sure how much more of this you could take, knowing if you told him ‘yellow’ or your safeword, he’d let you come immediately. You didn’t think this warranted either of those words… yet. 

“I’m good.” You nodded. 

“Atta girl,” he said, kissing your forehead. “You’re doing so good for me, mi amor (my love).”

He went back to doing what he was before, his cock pounding into you while he thumbed your clit, once again finding yourself close to an orgasm in record time, the knot in your belly winding tighter and tighter. His free hand came up to squeeze your breast, his fingers tweaking your stiff nipple, and it was like he had a direct line to your cunt, making you clench around him, Javi groaning as gasping moans fell from your lips. 

The pressure was building inside you until he worked you up to your breaking point, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as you begged, “Please, Javi, I need to come—let me come. Please.” 

“Come for me, mi Cielito (my little heaven),” he panted in your ear. “You did so fucking good for me—come, mi amor (my love). Such a good fucking girl.”

That was all you needed to hear, pleasure exploding inside you, coming with a cry of his name—electricity radiated outward from your center, your body hot, tingling, and tensing up so tight it made his rhythm stutter, a guttural noise coming from Javi’s throat. 

He sounded wrecked. “‘M gonna come—fuck, I’m coming.” His face dropped to the crook of your neck, feeling his hot breaths, him thrusting faster, it sounding wet between your legs where you were joined. Finally, he pushed in to the hilt, bottoming out as he came with a strangled moan. His teeth bit into the meat of your shoulder, making you gasp at the sweet sting, feeling as he gushed inside you. 

Seconds passed as you caught your breaths, his head coming up to tenderly kiss you, all slow and languid—he lifted his hands above your head to free your own, and you immediately pushed your fingers into his sweaty hair, him humming appreciatively in the back of his throat, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close. 

Everything was forgotten, losing yourself in him, feeling him beneath your fingers, your lips, against your body; smelling his spicy cologne, and something that was uniquely him, something that was simply Javi, making you think of home and happiness. 

Panic slammed into you like a truck, suddenly remembering you’d been cooking before he interrupted, abruptly breaking the kiss. 

“The stew!” you shouted, pushing on his chest to make him move, Javi hissing as he pulled out, stepping out of your way. 

Hopping down from the counter, you ignored how his come was dripping down your inner thighs, rushing to the sink, quickly washing your hands, then moving to the stove, taking the lid off the skillet. A relieved breath left you as you used a large plastic spoon to stir the mixture, thankful it hadn’t burned and knowing you needed to work on the next step. 

“You’re a lying liar who lies, Javier Peña,” you said, turning down the burner to low to keep the food warm and walking over to your notebook to read the instructions. 

Arms wrapped around your middle, Javi kissing your hair, murmuring into it, “What did I lie about?”

“You said you could do it in thirty, and you used the whole forty-five—please, put your dick away and wash your hands. I need your help.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, kissing your head again, hearing him zipping up his pants and putting his belt on, finding himself beside you at the sink while he washed his hands. 

“Wash your face, too,” you told him, grabbing some paper towels from a roll on the counter, Javi cleaning his hands.

“If you begged sooner, I could’ve done it in thirty,” he said, splashing some water onto his face.

“Right, it’s my fault.” You rolled your eyes, handing him the towels he used to dry himself off, throwing them away in the trash can under the sink when he was done.

He turned toward you, resting his hip against the counter while his arms crossed over his naked chest, and damn were they looking good, seeing the muscle definition. There were dark and faded marks you sucked over his pecs and on the column of his throat, one a dark purple right where his left shoulder met his neck from biting him while you rode him in the bath a few nights ago. Your eyes lowered to look at his soft belly and the trail of hair leading down into his grey slacks, knowing what they were hiding. 

“I just fucked you,” he sounded amused, “and you’re undressing me with your eyes.” Your gaze met his, seeing him shaking his head with a fond smile. “It is your fault, Cielito, since you’re the one who started it this morning.” 

He had you there. 

“Fine, it’s my fault.” You frowned. “And, of course, I’m checking you out. You’re standing here looking sexy as fuck, and it’s like I can’t believe all this—“ You gestured at him. “—is mine. You love me. You’re going to marry me one day, and we’re going to have kids together, and as a bonus, you’re a goddamn sex god.” He snorted.

“I’m not a sex god.”

“Um, the absolutely ridiculous amount of orgasms you’ve given me begs to differ. You, sir—“ You poked the center of his chest. “—are a sex god, and I can’t be convinced otherwise.”

His large hand engulfed yours, bringing it up to kiss each of your knuckles and the center of your palm, his big brown eyes on yours. 

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he replied, pulling you toward him so you were chest to chest, his arm going around your back, his other hand cradling your jaw, seeing the devotion clear in his gaze. “And that you love me, want to marry me, and fuck, want to have my kids. Feel like I need to pinch myself to make sure this isn’t all a fucking dream half the time.” He smiled. “And as a bonus, you’re so fucking beautiful and sexy and the best lay I’ve ever had, so I guess that makes you a sex goddess.”

“I am definitely not a sex goddess.”

He frowned, his eyebrows dipping together. 

“Stop that shit. We don’t do that anymore—we’re kind to ourselves, and if you get to call me a sex god, I can call you a sex goddess ‘cause it’s a fucking fact.” 

You smiled. “Fine, I’ll be your sex goddess.” That had him grinning, his dimple appearing. “And I’ll be kinder to myself like the therapist said, but the struggle is real.” 

“I know, baby.” He leaned in to kiss you gently. “You’ve got me,” he said into your lips. “I’ll help you like you help me.” 

After Javi had that panic attack months ago, he brought up seeing a professional, and you were more than happy to help him find one who happened to be a couple of towns over. It was such a massive step for him, and you wanted to be supportive and encouraging in him getting help, so you suggested the two of you try couple’s therapy, too. Not because there were issues in your relationship, but as a way to communicate better, and also help you through your own shit. Frankly, coming from a dysfunctional family that gave you an inferiority complex and low self-esteem really needed to be addressed, and he’d agreed to do it with you. He had weekly individual sessions, and the two of you went every two weeks. Both of you were noticing a big difference in him—he didn’t get caught up in his head as much and talked things out with you if something was bothering him. There hadn’t been any more panic attacks, and it felt like he was really healing and working up the courage to tell you about his past. That was something that still scared him a bit, but the therapist had said he needed to tell you when he was ready. 

Pulling back, you looked him in the eyes. “I love you,” you told him. 

“I love you, too.” 

“We better finish cooking. Can you start heating the pinto beans on the stove? We just need them warmed up, and I already got out the saucepan,” you said, pointing toward the stove. “I need to go to the bathroom and clean myself up because it feels wrong cooking with your come coating my thighs, and I’m not digging the whole no underwear thing.” 

He cupped your cheeks, looking at you fondly. “Go take care of yourself, mi alma (my soul). I’ll get the beans going and start chopping up the garnish.”

Smiling, you replied, “You’re perfect, and I love you so fucking much.” 

He matched your look, his head coming closer to kiss you. “I love you, too,” he said against your lips. 

An hour and a half later, the two of you had finished with the food, showered, dressed, and were making your way to meet Javi’s family. 

The scenery was aflame with vibrant gold and pumpkin autumn leaves, the weather finally cooling down as it got closer to winter. It was balmy outside, the kind of day where you could wear your nice, new dress you’d gotten for the occasion and not worry about sweating from it being too hot or needing a jacket because it was too cold. The burgundy red A-line dress was embroidered with long green stemmed pink and white roses that were identical to the ones in Javier’s mother’s flower garden at the ranch, your boyfriend wearing a matching colored short-sleeved button-up sans the flowers, and his usual tight-ass dark wash jeans. 

You were sitting beside him on the bench seat in his truck as he drove. 

“Oh my god,” you started, turning your head toward your boyfriend, your fingers laced together on your thigh, “we were so busy, I forgot to tell you the hot gossip from work.” 

His aviators were on, glancing over to meet your eyes with a smile. “Cuéntame el chisme, mi amor (Tell me the gossip, my love).”

“Okay, so Friday night, Robyn went to the bar and met some guy that she spent the entire weekend with, and as of this morning, he was still at her apartment, and Javi, that’s not the kicker.”

“What’s the kicker?” 

“She genuinely likes this guy a lot. She actually blushed while she told me about him and was so giggly—she’s got it bad.” 

“That’s such a big fucking deal. She hasn’t dated since—”

“Her fiancé cheated on her six years ago! I know! This is huge, and I’m dying to meet him.”

“Maybe we can all go out for drinks?” 

“Maybe.” You chewed on your lip. “I’d worry about spooking her, though. Relationships have freaked her out since her ex, and I really think she’s scared to fall in love again—doesn’t want to risk having her heart broken.” He hummed in agreement, the blinker clicking as he turned onto another street. “Apparently, they didn’t leave her place at all, and he kept up with her in bed. I’ll save you the details, and just say it sounded so fucking exhausting and absolutely put our marathons to shame.” That made him frown. “Wait, have you heard of a Pop Rocks blow job?” 

He looked at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “What the fuck is that?” 

You giggled. “Something I learned about this morning. You know the Pop Rocks candy that pops and crackles in your mouth?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Okay, so, with a mouthful of those, you go down on a guy, and I guess it’s a fun sensation for the person with a dick.” 

There was a thoughtful expression on his face. “Sounds… sticky. I don’t know…” His attention went back to the road.

“I’d be more worried about choking on the excess saliva in my mouth—now, flavored lube I could get behind. Make your dick taste like strawberries.” 

He chuckled. “We can go to the city and find a sex shop to get some,” he said, turning his head to kiss your forehead. 

That had you thinking of the things you’d find in such a place, the truck's cab suddenly feeling hot even though the air conditioning was at full blast. 

“Wait, find a sex shop?” you asked. “Don’t lie to me. You know exactly where one is.” 

“If it’s still there… I haven’t been since college.” 

“There’s so much stuff we could buy…” you mused. 

He perked up in the driver’s seat. “Like what?” 

You snorted. “We’ll talk about it later, babe,” you said, unlacing your hand to pat his thigh. “We can’t get horny right now.” 

“You’re the one bringing up candy blowjobs…” he grumbled. 

“It was a genuine question since, you know, you’re more experienced…” 

A long sigh left him. “You just called me old.” 

His fortieth birthday was on the horizon, and the closer it got, the more sensitive he was about getting older. 

“No I did not, Javier. I said experienced. There was no mention of your age.” 

His jaw flexed. “It was implied.” 

“Javi, baby?”

“Yes, Cielito?” 

“Apparently, you need a reminder that I do not care about how old you are and that I find you and your experience very sexy. I mean, you literally just made me come so fucking hard, and I was immediately horny for you again—hell, if we didn’t have plans, I would’ve dragged you to the bedroom for round two.” 

His chest puffed up, crookedly smiling when he glanced over at you. 

“Yeah? Round two? How would that have gone?”

“Stop trying to make us horny!” you laughed. 

His face went grumpy. “Then quit talking about sex!” 

“Fine! A safe topic. You said you were an asshole at work today, and since it was my fault, I feel like I should bake your office apology muffins.”

He sighed again. “Yeah, that’s a good idea—we can make apology muffins.”

“Then we will.” 

“Thank you, baby,” he said, taking your hand in his and gently squeezing it. “Cielito?”

“Yes, my love?” you asked, leaning in to kiss his cheek, making him smile. 

“¿Quieres saber un secreto (Do you want to know a secret)?”

“Sí, siempre (Yes, always).”

His hand moved from yours to press against his heart, the other squeezing the steering wheel's leather so tight it creaked. 

“Eres el amor de mi vida y mi mejor amiga (You are the love of my life and my best friend). Te amo más de lo que puedo expresar con palabras y soy el hombre más afortunado del mundo porque me amas (I love you more than I can put into words, and am the luckiest man on earth because you love me). Eres mi mejor amiga y mi media naranja y no cambiaría nada (You are my best friend and my soulmate and I wouldn’t change anything).”

“Oh, Javi.” You couldn’t help it, smothering his cheek and jaw in kisses. “Te amo mucho (I love you so much).” Your voice was muffled against his skin, speaking between each kiss. “Mi amor, mi vida, mi media naranja, mi mejor amigo (My love, my life, my soulmate, my best friend). Quiero ser la madre de tus bebés (I want to be the mother of your babies).”

He chuckled, his head moving to kiss your lips. 

“Te amo y quiero que tengas a mis bebés—quiero pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I love you, and I want you to have my babies—I want to spend the rest of my life with you).” 

Pulling back, you were grinning. “Well, you’re in luck ‘cause you’re stuck with me until the end—we’re gonna be old as fuck and wrinkly, and I’ll still think you’re the hottest man alive.”

He laughed, focusing on the road. 

“Our kids are gonna be so fucking disgusted by us.”

“Isn’t that nice, though? Them being disgusted ‘cause we’re so sickeningly in love with each other, but we’ll be a great example of what they should look for in a relationship—like your parents. That’s the kind of love we want to have.”

He raised your hand to kiss the back, turning his head to look at you. 

“No need to want it,” he said. “We’ve already got it.”

And you couldn’t agree more.  

It wasn’t long before you arrived, both getting out of the truck and grabbing what you’d brought, finding it truly impressive the number of full plastic grocery bags Javi could strategically hold in one of his big hands and how many bouquets of brightly colored orange flowers were in his other arm—at the same time, you carried a picnic basket in one hand and a large red and white checkered picnic blanket in the other, pressed to your chest. 

The neatly cut grass cushioned your steps as you walked to your destination, a trek you’d become familiar with over the months you’d been together.

“Do you think we got enough flowers?” you asked, turning your head toward him. 

He met your eyes, smiling. “Pop picked up some, too, and he brought some of mi mamá’s (my mom’s) roses.” 

“Awesome.” Looking forward again, you spotted Chucho, saying, “Oh, good, he’s already here.” 

“Yeah, the church service would’ve gotten out a little while ago.” 

Approaching the older man, you found him on his knees with his back to you, a bucket of water next to him, and a scrub brush in his hand, scrubbing the wet grey stone in front of him. As Javi said, there were more flowers near his dad, along with a tote bag full of stuff and a small cooler next to a set-up brown and mustard-striped folding camping chair.

“Hey, Pop!” you greeted with a smile. 

His straw cowboy hat was on, looking over his shoulder with a grin. “Hola, mis hijos (Hello, my children).”

Quickly, you were setting down the things you held near Chucho’s stuff. “Do you need help with that?” you asked. 

“Yeah, Pop, let us help,” Javi added as you took the bouquets from him to set on the ground with the rest, having to do it a few times to empty his arm, the grocery bags getting put with everything else. 

“No, no,” his dad, replied, waving away your offers with his free hand. “Me gusta hacer esto yo mismo (I like to do this myself). Lo he hecho todos los años desde que ella ha estado aquí y seguiré haciéndolo hasta que me una a ella—casi he terminado (I’ve done it every year since she’s been here and I will continue to do so until I join her—I’m almost done).”

The engraved inscription on the gravestone was something you’d memorized over the half dozen times you’d visited here. 

Antonia López Peña 

November 17, 1937 - January 31, 1991

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

A couple of days after watching the home movie of his mom making tamales, Javi brought you to the cemetery for the first time to introduce you to her. He admitted that before then, he wasn’t able to bring himself to visit her in all of the time he’d been back and that the last time he was there was the day she was buried—it was too hard for him. 

With you joining him, he’d finally been able to go, taking beautiful white lilies to put upon her grave and giving Javi space while he talked to his mom through his tears, telling her about how happy and in love he was. He had turned to grab your hand and got you to stand next to him, while he introduced you to her, and it was your turn to speak with wet eyes, thanking her for bringing your media naranja (soulmate) into the world and raising such an incredible man, promising to love him and treat him right for the rest of your lives. 

After that, you’d been back a handful of times with either Javi or him and his dad, having family picnics or bringing her flowers. 

“If you’re sure, Chucho,” you replied. “Don’t think I forgot about you saying your knees were aching Saturday at the tamalada.” 

The family had gotten together to make tamales for the holiday. 

The older man chuckled. “I love you, too—you worry about me too much, Mija. I promise I’m okay. This is worth the pain, but the two of you will do all the decorating while I sit in my chair.” 

You smiled. “To oversee us?” 

He grinned. “Sí, tiene que ser perfecto (Yes, it has to be perfect).” 

“Yes, it does,” you agreed. 

“We’ll take care of it, Pop,” Javi said. 

“¿Cómo estuvo su día (How was your day)?” Chucho questioned you both, going back to cleaning. 

Your eyes went wide thinking about what had happened earlier in the kitchen, glancing over at Javi, who met your gaze with a smirk, clearly thinking the same as you. 

“Pretty fucking frustrating,” he said, staring you down, and it made you playfully punch his arm, mouthing, ‘You asshole,’ while he looked beyond amused. 

“His work,” you added, attempting the save and glaring at your boyfriend, who snorted, clearly trying to keep from laughing. “He had a really frustrating day at work, you know how it is, but we both got off early to get all the stuff done.”

“We did get off early,” Javi said, your mouth falling open that he’d say that in front of his dad. 

Pinching his side, you continued, “Needed to in order to get the stew ready in time.”

Suddenly, Javi was on you, keeping you against him while his fingers tickled you, squealing his name as you struggled to break away from him, annoyed that he was getting the spots on your sides he knew were super sensitive. 

You were laughing and writhing in his hold, batting at his chest. 

“Stop!” you giggled. “This is so rude.” 

Following your order, he hugged you to him, slotting his lips against yours in a kiss he was smiling into.  

“Dios mío (My god),” Chucho said in exasperation, a groan escaping him as he stood back up. “Son peores que nosotros, mi amor (They’re worse than us, my love). No los puedo llevar a ningún lado  (I can’t take them anywhere),” he chuckled. “Esto debe ser nuestro castigo por cómo actuamos cuando éramos adolescentes (This must be our punishment for how we acted as teenagers). Ahora entiendo por qué tu hermano mayor siempre estaba molesto con nosotros (Now i understand why your older brother was always annoyed with us).”

Javi’s tongue slipped between your lips, your fingers clawing at his shirt. 

“¡Por favor (Come on)!” Chucho exclaimed. “Nada de eso aquí (None of that here). Se que te hemos educado mejor que esto, Javier (I know we raised you better than that, Javier).”

The two of you practically jumped apart at being scolded, Javi’s cheeks pinking up, his reddened lips turned down in a frown, and glistening under the sun’s rays. 

“Lo siento, Pop (I’m sorry, Pop),” he said, scratching at the back of his neck while turning his head toward his dad. “I forgot myself.” 

“You’re always forgetting yourself around her.” Chucho sighed wistfully. “To be young and in love again.” He smiled. “Your mother always had me forgetting myself, too, but let’s not do that here with all the niños (kids) running around, okay?” 

It was then you registered the other people in the cemetery—a bunch of different families with children running around, some decorating graves, others eating food or sipping on drinks, seeing members of Javi’s family amongst them.

Javi grimaced. “Yes, Pop. Sorry,” he sighed. 

You felt bad, adding, “We understand and won’t let it happen again. We’re sorry.”

The older man walked close to you both, clapping his hands onto each of your shoulders, looking between you. 

“It’s okay,” Chucho said. “I’m just happy you’re here with me tonight—means a lot.” 

“Like we’d miss it, Pop,” Javi replied.

His dad frowned. “You missed last year, Mijo, and you’d been in South America for so long. You haven’t celebrated Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) since the first time you left Laredo—I know it’s hard for you to come here.” 

Your boyfriend’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. 

“It’s… easier coming here, now,” he said, looking at you. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

A small smile appeared on Chucho’s face, his hand squeezing your boyfriend’s shoulder. “I’m glad to hear that, Javi. I know tu mamá (your mom) would be happy you’re here. Do you remember how we’d decorate tus bisabuelos (your great grandparents) graves when we’d go visit your mom’s family in Mexico?” 

“Kinda?” he answered. “All the cempasúchil (marigolds), some pictures, candles, and we always brought their favorite food to eat, and mi mamá (my mom) and you would have the mezcal bisabuelo (great grandpa) liked.” 

“Sí (Yes),” Chucho replied, nodding. “It will be the same with your mother’s; I just add a little extra.” His attention turned to you with a big smile. “And she’ll love that you made her favorite foods! Thank you for doing it, Mija.” His face went solemn. “After mi Antonia passed, my sisters took over decorating our parents' graves, so I could focus on my wife’s, and since I’m not a cook like her or you,” his hand squeezed your shoulder, “I’d bring food from her favorite restaurant to eat with her. I’m happy we’ll have the things she loved making herself tonight—feels really special.”

“I was happy to do it, Chucho—for you and Antonia. I just hope it all turned out well.” 

He smiled. “It did. I have no doubt. Now, I’m going to sit down, and it has nothing to do with my knees.” 

You laughed. “I’m surrounded by a bunch of lying liars who lie! Go sit down—” You shooed him away. “—we’ll take care of everything. Just tell us if we’re doing something wrong.” 

The older man chuckled as he went back over to where all the stuff and his camping chair were, making a pained sound as he bent down to get into the tote bag to pull out a small handheld radio. Since he was already bending, he popped open the top of the cooler to grab a cold bottle of beer before taking his seat. His drink was put into the built-in cup holder while he turned on the little device hearing static, then quick snippets of songs or people speaking, until it landed on the channel he was looking for, music from his wife’s favorite Spanish station filling the air. 

Javi took a step toward you, his head getting closer, knowing he was coming in for a kiss, and you dodged it, him pulling back with a look of betrayal on his face.

“No,” you said, pushing on his chest. “I’m not getting in trouble again.” His eyes rounded, looking sad, and it made your heart hurt. You groaned. “Not the eyes! You know I’m weak against the eyes!”

Chucho was laughing. “He gets them from his mamá! Javi o mi Antonia me miraban con esos ojos grandes y marrones, y yo nunca podía decirles que no (Javi or my Antonia would look at me with those big, brown eyes and I could never say no).”

“Son peligrosos (They’re dangerous),” you replied. Speaking to Javi, you said, “Sé que puedes esperar un beso (I know you can wait a kiss).”

His lips were turned down in a deep frown. “Sé que puedes esperar por un beso (I know you can wait for a kiss),” he corrected. “Y no (And no)—” He shook his head. “—no puedo (No, I can’t).” You wouldn’t have been surprised if he stomped his foot, which had you holding back a smile. “Necesito un beso ahora mismo y estoy molesto porque no me vas a dar uno. (I need a kiss right now, and I’m upset because you won’t give me one).” He grabbed your hands, holding them over his heart. “Me estás volviendo loco (You’re driving me crazy). Solo un beso (Only one kiss). Bésame, por favor (Kiss me, please). ” 

“¿Siempre es así, tan malcriado (Is he always like this, so…)?” Chucho amusedly asked.

“What does the last word mean?” you asked.

“Spoiled,” Javi answered, the man pouting. 

You laughed. “Yes, he’s muy malcriado (very spoiled) and gets super dramatic when I won’t kiss him—acts like it’s the end of the world.” 

Your boyfriend loudly sighed, muttering, “I just want one kiss.”

Your eyebrow rose. “Uh huh, just one? You don’t have the self-control for just one.” 

His face pinched in annoyance. “Yes, I fucking do.” 

“Okay, prove it. One kiss—” You held up a single finger. “One PG-rated, won’t-have-your-dad-yelling-at-us-again kiss, and that’s it until we finish decorating.” 

“Fine.” 

“Deal. Lay it on me, babe.” As always, the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, grabbing a fistful of the cotton just below them to tug him toward you to crush your mouth against his in a somewhat chaste kiss. You felt his lips tip up after a few seconds, his arms wrapping around you to hold your body flush against his, pressing his mouth harder to yours like he couldn’t get enough of you. 

When you felt like it had lasted long enough, you broke away, him chasing your lips with a dreamy smile, and his eyes closed like a lovesick fool. 

“God, you’re cute,” you said, pushing his bangs off his forehead. Leaning forward, you kissed the tip of his nose, his eyelids blinking open when you finished, moving his head forward enough to nuzzle your nose with his. “Feel better?” you asked, unable to keep from smiling. 

He separated from you to meet your gaze. “Yeah.” His hands moved down to your hips, giving them a squeeze. “We better hurry up and decorate before I need another.” He ended the sentence with a wink. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggled. “Okay—” You stepped away from him toward the bags. “What do we start with?” 

“Pictures,” Chucho answered. “They’re in that bag.” He pointed at the tote. 

Bending at the waist, you dug into where he indicated, finding two photos, bordered in ornate golden frames, that you carefully took out, one then the other, Javi ending up beside you as you straightened, holding them in each of your hands. 

The first you’d seen before hanging on the wall in Chucho’s living room of him and Antonia at twenty-something years old with Javi as a smiling toddler in her arms standing beneath the ‘Peña Ranch’ sign at the driveway entrance. This was the first picture you’d seen of your boyfriend’s beautiful mother, easily spotting the similarities between him and her—same eyes, nose, and chin. 

At the ranch house, you’d marveled at every photo hanging on the wall, and sitting upon tables, or stuck in albums, yet this second picture of Antonia was new to you. It was in color, and she was much older than in the other, slivers of silver hair amongst the same colored brown as Javi’s, standing in front of her cowboy-hatless husband. She wore a lovely cornflower blue dress, his arms around her middle, kissing the side of her head with her eyes closed, smiling delightedly in a way you just knew she was giggling at his antics. The thing that made your eyes get misty and the corners of your lips lift was how clearly in love they were, something that had never changed through the decades of photos you’d seen of them, knowing without a doubt it was a glimpse into your own future. 

“That was taken on our 35th anniversary, not too long before she passed,” Chucho’s voice was even and soothing. “I keep it on the table beside my bed to see her smiling face first thing every morning.” Javi hugged you from the side, kissing your hair, feeling your eyes burn with unshed tears. “Don’t cry, Mija. This is a happy day where the ones we’ve lost come back to us for the night, and we celebrate them—there’s nothing to be sad about.” 

You sniffed. “I’m not sad,” you replied, voice a little wobbly. “I promise they’re happy tears at the love you shared and how I can see us like this.” You finished the sentence by raising the photo. 

“Oh, yes.” He smiled softly. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to see so much of us in the two of you.” He pointed at you both. “How relieved I am that Javi finally found his media naranja (soulmate).” His eyes were starting to shine, having to take off his glasses to wipe at them. “These are also happy tears,” he chuckled. “Mi amor (my love) would feel the same as me, and she’ll love having you here with us.” 

“I’m happy to be here—do you have a preference for where you want these to go?”

“Against the headstone is fine. Javi can get the candles you brought.”

Speaking of your boyfriend, he cleared his throat, his voice rough with emotion when he said, “Sure thing, Pop.” 

Turning your head, you kissed his cheek, Javi’s head moving so your lips met, accepting the tender kiss, knowing he needed the comfort, his arm tightening around you. After some seconds, you pulled away with a smile. 

“That was a bonus kiss because I love you.” 

He smiled big. “I love you, too, Cielito.” 

“Good. Now get the candles. Let’s get to decorating.” 

“Yes, mi alma (my soul).” 

With that, you made the short walk to gently lay the two photos against the middle of the grey stone, your boyfriend joining you to place down a Virgin Mary votive candle beside them and three smaller red-waxed candles—one by the larger candle, the remaining two on the opposite side, Javi lighting them with a lighter from his pocket. Antonia’s resting place featured two flower vases dug into the ground in the middle, where you put bouquets of her roses, adding splashes of red, white, pink, and purple. 

Finally, it was time for the bright orange marigolds, Chucho coming prepared with scissors to cut off the blooms, which Javi decided to do while you laid them out on the ground. 

“We call those flor de muerto (flower of the dead),” Javi’s dad said as you placed the golden hues in neat rows a little wider than the headstone, the smell of them hanging in the air. “Their aroma attracts the souls of the dead, so they know where to go.” 

“They smell so good,” you replied. “And back at the house, the display you have in the entryway, that’s called an ofrenda (offering), right?” 

“Sí,” Chucho answered. “It’s an altar that most people put up for the holiday—I keep mine all year.” 

The long, thin, weathered oak table had a thick, woven runner on it in rainbow-colored, stripes, sitting below the framed pictures of his wife, along with other family members who had long been gone—parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. Javi had told you who each person was, some photos in black and white, most in color, and you hadn’t known the table’s significance until you’d gone over for the tamalada Saturday, finding it decorated with bunches of cempasúchil (marigolds) in vases, brightly colored tissue paper cut into elaborate designs called papel picado (cut paper) hanging on the wall behind it, and an old clay pitcher adorned with hand-painted flowers. A plate contained pan de muerto (bread of the dead) shaped like a bun with crossbones on top and dusted in sugar and Antonia’s favorite pan dulce (sweet bread), a concha, that got its name from how it resembled a seashell. Skulls made from sugar were atop the tabletop, along with a bowl of oranges, apples, and mandarins, a bottle of tequila, and a variety of differently sized candles. 

The fiery blooms had been placed down to the first bouquet of roses, a pile of stems on the ground by Javi’s feet as he started to run out of flowers to cut. 

“You said the marigolds attract the souls of the dead,” you started, continuing your work, “do the other items have special meanings?”

“They do,” he replied. “The ofrenda (offering) honors our loved ones and has what they need to come here. We use pictures and their things to help them cross over and draw them home. The papel picado (cut paper) has holes for them to travel through so they can visit. Agua (water) to quench their thirst after such a long journey. The candles help guide them, and we put out the food as an offering for them to enjoy.” 

“I love that,” you said, putting down the last of the marigolds. “I also love how colorful everything is—it makes it feel so lively.” 

“Because it’s a celebration of their lives—a happy occasion.” 

“I can tell.” Dusting off the front of your dress, you got up to stand, Javi already putting the cut stems into an empty plastic bag to dispose of. “Is it time for food?” you asked. 

“Yes,” Chucho answered, nodding with a smile. 

Room was made beside his chair, where Javi spread out the picnic blanket, the basket put atop it. Delightfully, he sat down with his long legs crisscrossed, you sitting the same next to him with your dress fanning out around you. Two of the plastic bags held disposable bowls, plates, cups, and cutlery that your boyfriend got out as you emptied the basket—three large mason jars of stew, a dish piled with warm tamales under foil, a thermos, a bag of pan de muerto (bread of the dead) Javi picked up from Anna’s bakery, and a Tupperware container holding garnish (crumbled bacon, chopped onion, cilantro, lime wedges). 

It wasn’t entirely true that Javier hadn’t celebrated Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) since the first time he’d left Laredo. 

The apartments the government set up for him in Colombia were fully furnished and decorated, and he never bothered adding any personal touches. 

Until his mom died. 

Before returning to work after her funeral, he’d gone through one of his father’s many photo albums dedicated to her and taken two of the pictures—he had her rosary, and he needed more reminders as to what he lost while he’d been away and all of the time he’d never get back with the woman who meant the world to him. 

It was the guilt of how much he missed, wishing he had visited instead of exiling himself away in the southern hemisphere in shame. 

He needed the sacrifices he made to mean something, he needed to finish the job, and with her death, he was determined to do whatever it took to get it done—anything. Desperation had him doing the fucked up shit that got him fired and sent home, and maybe it was self-flagellation that made him go back, wanting a second chance to do things right, make up for his mistakes, and do something his mom would be proud of. 

So, when he got back to South America after she passed, two framed photos found their place on a small table in his living room—one of him and her when he started college standing in front of the Texas A&M sign, the second of his mom and dad on their horses, Sombra and Caramelo. He’d gotten a colorful table runner with a similar Mexican serape-striped design, and he wasn’t religious, but a votive candle found its way with the pictures to honor her. Then at the end of October, a small vase of cempasúchil (marigolds) appeared, papel picado (cut paper) going on the wall, a glass of water on the tabletop next to a plate with a single roscón de bocadillo o guayaba (guava paste stuffed sweet bread) he thought she would’ve enjoyed. And, for some reason, it seemed like a good time to make his mom’s pozole; the recipe scribbled on the back of an old paystub and stuck to his fridge by a magnet of a bear wearing a top hat and playing a trumpet that he was pretty sure was already there when he moved in. 

A bowl of the soup went on the table with everything else in some kind of hope that his meager ofrenda (offering) would help her find her way back to him. Talking to her rosary a lot during that time, he recounted all of his favorite memories of her while listening to a record she loved and eating his pozole. He did his best to celebrate the life she lived without letting his grief get the better of him and wasn’t embarrassed to admit the first few years, he cried himself to sleep.

His tiny altar was kept up year-round, always setting it up when he got new accommodations and doing the same thing every Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) while away. 

When he came home, one of the pictures was taped to the mirror in his bedroom, and the other was kept in his wallet, unable to put them back in the album from which they came because he’d grown attached to them—they brought him peace, and he needed them close. The one of him and his mom was now framed and hanging on the living room wall at the apartment he shared with Cielito, surrounded by more photos of his parents. 

It broke his heart that the only picture of her family she put up was one of her grandparents; no one else from her side deserved to be up with the people they loved and who loved them. Thankfully, she had his family now, who he sometimes felt loved her more than him with how often they invited her to do things with them. He didn’t need more proof than when they’d go to his dad’s for her to cook one of his mom’s recipes, and Javier would be left at the house while the two of them went grocery shopping in his father’s precious Mustang—that he always let her drive.

It wasn’t fair, but with how much fun they had together, it made him happy. 

She fit in so well with them all, Javier realized it wasn’t blood that made you a family; it was the people you chose to love, and they’d chosen her, like how she chose them. 

The previous year, Pop had decorated the ofrenda (offering), and though Javier hadn’t gone to celebrate at the cemetery, he’d spent hours drinking alone and going through the many photo albums at the house—remembering the stories his parents had told him about each and every picture with a sad smile on his face and tears in his eyes. 

Things were different now; that lingering sadness that plagued him since her death was gone and replaced with comforting contentment at celebrating her with his father and the love of his life. 

He wanted Cielito to see what the holiday was all about and what it meant to him and his family, overjoyed at how eager she was to participate and help. The first time it was brought up, his dad had happily explained the tradition, and without missing a beat, she was asking what she could do, offering to make one of his mamá’s favorite dishes for them to have tonight—she didn’t even bat an eye at them spending their Monday evening amongst the living and peacefully dead. 

His heart felt like it’d explode from how fucking happy he was that she cared so much about him holding onto his heritage and family’s traditions—he could cry because she wanted their kids to grow up like he did; celebrating the same things, having loving, supportive parents, and raised bilingual. 

He couldn’t imagine Lorraine even wanting to acknowledge their child being half-Mexican and was pretty fucking sure she wouldn’t have wanted them to speak Spanish—knew for a fact she wouldn’t have come with him to celebrate Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). 

And here was Cielito, the woman he was going to marry, pouring carne en su jugo (meat in its juices) she made into a bowl because his dad told her it was his mother’s favorite dish during the colder months. 

Javier was so in love with her it was taking a whole hell of a lot of self-control he really didn’t fucking have not to ask his dad for his mom’s ring right this second; four words were in the question that had started blaring in his head whenever he looked, talked, touched, or thought of her, and he was truly getting worried it was going to come out on accident—he bit his tongue so fucking hard to stop himself from asking it when she said she’d make the food for tonight, it bled. 

She didn’t have to tell him to put the toppings on the stew, having already opened the Tupperware and gladly accepting the first bowl he started garnishing. 

“¿Jugo de limón, Pop (Lime juice, Pop)?” he asked. 

“Sí (Yes). Más limón, por favor (Extra lime, please).”

“Está bien (Okay),” he replied, squeezing one slice of lime, then two, and tossing the rinds into a plastic bag he’d designated for trash. “Aquí tienes (Here you go).” 

“Gracias, Mijo (Thank you, my son).” His dad took the offered paper bowl and plastic spoon Javier had grabbed for him. “A tu mamá le encantaba preparar esto cuando hacía frío (Your mom loved to make this when it was cold),” Chucho said, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling deeply. “En invierno, era su comida favorita (In winter, it was her favorite food).” 

“I remember.” He finished garnishing another bowl, setting it in front of him on the blanket, and taking the next from his amor (love). “She always made caldo de pollo during the hottest month in summer.” He turned his head toward Cielito. “Caldo is a soup with whole pieces of chicken—drumsticks, thighs, breasts, and vegetables, but not like that Campbell’s Chunky Chicken Noodle shit. It has potato halves, whole leaves of cabbage, thick slices of carrot, celery, uh—“

“Those beans,” Chucho added, pointing his spoon at him. “Garbanzo beans, corn, cilantro, and onion—I liked to add hot sauce to mine.”

“So, good fuckin’ chicken soup?” she asked with a grin. 

Javier matched her look, nodding his head. “Good fuckin’ chicken soup.”

His dad took a bite of his food, humming appreciatively. “It’s good, Mija,” he said after swallowing. “I told you there was nothing to worry about.” She visibly relaxed. “Javi, remember when you were away at college, the first year, I think, and you got that cold?” 

Looking at his dad, he nodded his head. “Yeah, it was freshman year,” he answered, holding another bowl. Glancing at her beside him, he asked, “Baby, do you want everything on yours?”

“Yes, please,” she replied. 

Carefully, he leaned over to kiss her shoulder. “You got it, mi amor (my love).” Going back to putting the toppings on her soup, he continued talking. “During freshman year, I got a cold. Keep in mind this was the first time I’d been away from home for an extended period of time, and I made the biggest fucking mistake of telling mi mamá I ate some canned chicken noodle soup—” 

Chucho interrupted, laughing, “The condensed kind! Sin vegetales (Without vegetables). Mi Antonia was beside herself—made caldo and had me drive her the five hours to deliver it the next day!” 

Javier had a fond smile on his face at remembering the frantic knocking on his dorm room door and being shocked to find his mom and dad on the other side, her barging in and fretting over him. “Yeah—” He discarded the used lime rind into the trash bag and set Cielito’s bowl down in front of him, taking the last one from her. “—she even brought bibaporrú, that’s the vapor rub stuff, you know, Vick’s? Bibaporrú and caldo were her cures whenever we got sick.” A memory came to him. “When I was little and had to stay home ‘cause I wasn’t feeling good, she’d put the vapor rub on me, have me eat the soup, and then I’d lay on the couch with my head in her lap. She’d play with my hair and softly sing until I fell asleep, and I’d always wake up in my bed.” He’d finished putting the garnish on his bowl, setting it down with the other two in front of him. 

Arms wrapped around him from the side, Cielito squeezing him tightly against her body. 

“Your mom loved you so much,” she said, kissing his cheek. 

He rubbed her arm locked over his chest, his head moving to kiss her, saying into her lips, “I know.” He told himself he wouldn’t cry tonight, trying to ignore the tightness in his throat and pulling away, his eyes on hers. “Eat your soup, baby—you worked so hard on it.” 

“Okay.” She let go of him to grab her bowl, Javier handing her a spoon. 

He picked up one of the soups and leaned forward, reaching as far as he could to set it on top of the marigolds for his mom before picking up his own and digging in. 

The flavors hit his tongue, and he groaned happily, the broth rich and flavorful from the steak simmering in its own juices and the tomatillo mix for so long with a little bit of spice from the serrano peppers. It was delicious and so similar to what his mom used to make, taking him back to days growing up when it was so cold she wouldn’t let him leave the house without a sweater and beanie to keep his ears warm—on the walk home from the bus stop, he couldn’t wait to have the carne en su jugo to heat himself up, knowing, without a doubt, it’d be waiting for him and his dad, along with a bowl of freshly cut fruit. 

“It’s so fucking good,” he said once he swallowed his spoonful, quickly taking another. 

“You like it?” she asked. 

“Mhmm.” He nodded with his mouth full, saying when he could, “Love it. You made it perfectly, Cielito—such a good job.” 

His dad’s bowl was almost empty, and he leaned over his armrest to open the cooler to pass them both cold beers. Javier set his soup down to twist off the cap, it cool and refreshing when he took a long pull. The glass bottle went into the space between his crossed legs, Cielito setting hers atop the blanket as she ate her food. 

There wasn’t much talking with their mouths occupied, finishing his stew in record time, throwing away the bowl and spoon, along with his father’s trash. 

“Tamales, Pop?” he asked, pulling off the shiny foil covering them. 

“I’d love a couple—¿hiciste chocolate caliente (did you make hot chocolate)?”

“Sí (Yes),” he answered, putting two warm red chile pork tamales onto a paper plate and passing them to Chucho. “¿Quieres una taza (Do you want a cup)? Es la receta de mi mamá (It’s my mom’s recipe).” 

When he was younger, and they’d go to the graveyard in Mexico to celebrate, his mother always brought hot chocolate to keep them warm when the sun set, and the temperature dropped. Her recipe was similar to traditional hot chocolate you’d make on the stove with milk, unsweetened cocoa powder, and granulated sugar—hers just also included some cinnamon, vanilla, and a pinch of chili powder. 

“No, no,” he waved away the question with his free hand. “Esperaré a que se enfríe (I’ll wait for it to get colder).” 

“Está bien (Okay).” He made another plate with one tamale he set next to the full bowl of stew over the golden petals, then served himself three. “I didn’t even need her recipe card,” he said. “It’s one I memorized a long time ago—liked to make it when it got cold in Colombia.” 

“Did you make a lot of her recipes while you were down there?” Cielito asked, her bowl finally finished and ending up on the ground in front of her.

He’d unwrapped the corn husk from one of his tamales, putting his disposable dish beside him on the blanket to ensure he served her.

“How many?” he asked Cielito, holding an empty paper plate. 

“Um, two,” she answered. He piled them on, then handed it to her.

“Thank you, babe.” She came in for a kiss that he happily reciprocated, all short and sweet. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” he said when they broke apart with a smile, picking up his tamales again. “Your question: No.” 

“Ate out a lot?”

“Yeah, or Connie fed me.” He held a tamale, taking a bite, his eyes closing at how good it was—they tasted like home and when things were simpler, but he was happy he got to eat them now, with the person who owned his heart. 

Almost half of their freezer was filled with tamales, and he was very pleased about it.

Swallowing, his head turned toward her, meeting her eyes as he continued, “With my mom, she’d give me the ingredients and instructions, and we’d cook. I never learned how to tell if fruits or vegetables were good at the grocery store ‘cause she always gave them to me—which wasn’t her fault. I don’t think it ever crossed her mind, and I never thought to ask.” He shrugged. An amused breath left his nose, a smile curling up on his lips. “She also never told me measurements either. The hot chocolate, I can wing, but when I was gone and wanted pozole? I had to call her for the recipe from her card.”

“No radishes, right?” She smiled. 

He chuckled. “Yeah, no radishes. I didn’t make many of her recipes because I had no fucking clue how to get most of the ingredients and didn’t want to ask anyone for help.” 

“‘Cause you, my love, are very stubborn—” She bounced her shoulder gently against his. “—and if I hadn’t helped you find a good tomato, you would’ve forced yourself to eat a lousy BLT.” 

He frowned, sighing, “Yeah…” 

“You know what, though?” 

“What?” 

“You’re an expert produce picker now and make her recipes all the time, and I know she’d be happy you do.” Her face came close, pecking him on the lips. 

“She’s right, Mijo,” his dad interjected. “Tu mamá (your mom) would love you making her food.”

It warmed his heart to hear them say that, his eyes beginning to burn, so he distracted himself by taking a big mouthful of his tamale, everyone else doing the same. 

Music from the little radio was playing, hearing children's screams as they played, and people talking and laughing in the distance. 

His dad finished eating. “Barriga llena, corazón contento (Full belly, happy heart),” Chucho told them, patting his stomach happily. He groaned as he bent over to get a napkin out of a bag to wipe his hands and face. “That was delicious,” he said, his garbage getting set down by his feet. “You outdid yourself, Mija.” 

“Thank you,” she replied, her plate also empty. Javi was done and gathered all of their garbage to put in the trash bag. “How late do we hang out here?” she asked. 

“As late as you want,” his dad said. “Some people stay until midnight. Others with kids leave earlier.” 

“Remember what mi mamá would always say when I’d go out?” he asked Chucho, thinking about the words he’d hear every time he left the house for the evening.

“No podré dormir si estás fuera toda la noche (I won’t be able to sleep if you’re out all night).” 

Javier smiled. “Yeah, and I’d always be home before midnight, and you guys were already asleep.” 

They laughed. 

“I promise she was worrying about you when she’d go to bed,” his dad said. 

“Sure, she was,” he replied, taking a sip of his beer. 

“She was.” His dad nodded. “She’d toss and turn and finally get up at about one in the morning to make sure you were home and come back to bed. She’d sleep like a baby when you were safe at home.” 

His stomach plummeted. “What, uh—” He scratched at the back of his head. “—what about when I was gone…?” he asked softly. 

A somber look came over Chucho’s face. “She couldn’t sleep until she prayed for you, and the days she talked to you and could hear your voice, she slept best.” 

He remembered while he was in South America, she ended every phone call with, ‘Te amo, mi nene—que Dios y la virgencita te acompañen y todo salga de la mejor manera (I love you, my baby boy—may god and the Virgin Mary guide you and everything goes in the best way possible).’ Her praying for him nightly didn’t surprise him. It was the fact she couldn’t sleep until she did, and he felt awful for putting her through that, his eyes starting to water.

Cielito’s hand rubbed circles against his spine, resting her head on his shoulder. His arm went behind her back, the other around her middle, hugging her tightly while kissing her hair, holding her, soothing the twinge of remorse he was feeling. 

“Javi,” his dad said to get his attention, turning his head to meet the other man’s eyes. “She was proud of you, Mijo, and knew you were doing good work—she’d tell anyone who’d listen that her son was going to catch Pablo Escobar and look at all you did; all the good. Sure, you made some mistakes and did things you shouldn’t have, but in the end, you helped make the world better, and I can tell you your mom would be proud of you and all you’ve done.” A tear rolled down Javier’s cheek, having to clear his throat. “You know your mother was a pious woman,” Chucho continued. “She found comfort in praying for your safety every night and lighting a candle for you at Mass—she just wanted to keep you safe in God’s light and knew you wouldn’t pray for yourself. She loved you more than anything, Mijo, and needed to make sure you’d make it back home to us.” 

Another teardrop fell. 

“I was too late,” he croaked out, thinking about how she was on her deathbed when he finally returned. Cielito wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. 

“For her, it was perfect timing—she got to see her nene precioso (precious baby boy) before leaving this world, and that was the greatest gift you could have given her, being the last face she saw and knowing you were safe.” His dad’s eyes were getting wet, him sniffling as he took off his glasses to wipe at them. “Now, this is supposed to be a happy day, and we can’t be sad. You should go see your tías (aunts) and tío (uncle)—your primo (cousin) Sebastián is back from Dallas, and you can finally introduce her to him.” He nodded at Cielito. 

Sebastián was his tío Ángel’s eldest son.

He let go of his wif—girlfriend as she sat up beside him and got him to turn his head toward her. He smiled when she fussed over him by wiping away his tears with her thumbs and pushing his bangs off his face.

“Are you feeling okay?” she softly asked him. 

“Yeah,” he answered, his voice a little rough. 

“Okay.” She nodded. “I know what will cheer you up even more.” 

His eyebrows dipped together. “What?” 

Her voice went lower, trying to mimic his as she dramatically said, “Necesito que me beses ahora mismo (I need you to kiss me right now). No puedo vivir sin tus besos (I can’t live without your kisses). No puedo respirar sin tus besos (I can’t breathe without your kisses). Bésame, mi amor (Kiss me, my love). Por Favor (Please).” She puckered her lips, closing her eyes.

Air escaped his nose, smiling big.

“No sueno así (I don’t sound like that)!” he laughed. “Eres tan linda y te amo mucho (You are so cute, and I love you a lot).” His hand cradled her jaw, moving closer to her. “Puedes tener tantos besos como quieras, mi amor (You can have as many kisses as you want, my love).” He pressed his mouth to hers hard, kissing her so tenderly it felt like he was melting into her. 

She had him feeling better, knowing his dad was right and that this was a happy day, and they shouldn’t be dwelling on the sadness—they were here to celebrate his mom and their other family members who were no longer with them. 

Seconds passed, and they were separating, both smiling at each other. 

“Let’s go see everyone,” he said. 

“Okay,” she replied. “This Sebastián, how old is he?” 

That was a good question, Javier wracking his brain to try and remember. “Maybe early thirties?” 

“Mhmm.” There was an inquisitive look on her face. “All of your male cousins in Laredo are either—” She held up a finger. “—married—” Another finger went up. “—in a serious relationship—” A third finger joined the other two. “—or are too young. I don’t know anything about this Sebastián. Is he… single?” 

“What?” He looked at her funny. 

Why did she want to know?

“Don’t look at me like that, Javier! You know I’m not asking for me!” 

His eyes squinted. “Then who…?”

“Robyn!” She threw up her hands. “We’ve struck out on setting her up with any of your Laredo primos (cousins), and now a new Peña has appeared! Give me the deets, babe. Is he single? Is he into women? What’s his star sign? Is he cute—that’s actually a dumb question because all of your cousins are hot! Like no wonder they’re all married or in serious relationships and having a ton of babies. Sexy is apparently one of the attributes of the Peña genes.” 

His dad was laughing, Javier’s cheeks heating. 

He cleared his throat. “Uh, I’m sorry, baby, but Seb is married.” 

“Damn.” She visibly deflated, shaking her head.

“No, he’s not,” Chucho piped up, both of them looking over at him. “He got divorced last year—that’s why he’s back here. He needed a change.” 

“Bachelor number one is back in the game!” Cielito exclaimed. “Oh my god, okay, so what’s he like?”

He was loving her excitement, smiling when he said, “We can go find him, and you can see?” His face fell. “But I thought you said Robyn met a guy she was into…?”

“Well, yeah, but this is a Peña, and she hasn’t stopped bugging us about finding her one of your cousins.” 

That was true. 

Just about every time she saw Javier, she asked if any of his primos (cousins) over thirty had become available and if this would get her off his ass…

“Let’s go find him, Cielito.” He kissed her quickly, then grabbed his beer from between his legs, chugging the little bit that remained, her doing the same, the empty bottles getting set with the rest of the trash.

Groaning as he got up from the slight ache in his lower back and knees, he put his arms out to his wife—girlfriend once standing. He frowned, helping to pull her up onto her feet. 

She smoothed her palms down her dress. 

“Do I look okay?” she asked, checking herself for any wrinkles in the fabric. 

“You look more than okay, hermosa (beautiful),” he answered, taking her hands into his and bringing them up to hold against his chest, their gazes meeting. “You’re fucking gorgeous, and I love that you got this dress for tonight—it’s perfect, and mi mamá would love it.” 

The dress had been a surprise, and when she came out of their shared bathroom wearing it, he’d forgotten how to breathe—she looked beyond beautiful, and it dazed him, not believing she’d chosen him to spend the rest of her life with. 

Basically, Javier found himself falling even more in love with her from all of the thought she’d put into honoring his mother—the dress, the food, and celebrating with his family. Head over heels wasn’t accurate to how he felt; he was completely head over ass, so gone on her, he’d do anything for her, anything, and that included protecting her, too. He’d die for her. He’d kill for her. She was the air he breathed and the blood that kept his heart pumping; she was his life and the most important person in the world to him, and she chose him. 

“El tiene razón (He’s right),” his dad added. “Te ves bonita con ese vestido, Mija (You look beautiful in that dress, Mija).” 

She shyly looked away from them. “Thank you,” she replied. 

His hand went to her jaw, making her look at him as he smiled warmly. 

“None of that,” he said, knowing she was doubting the truth of their words. “I’m being completely honest, Pop is, too, and I wish so fucking bad you could see how I see you.” His thumb stroked over her bottom lip. “How beautiful you are, how incredible—god, I love you so fucking much.” 

His lips took the place of his thumb, his arm going behind her back to pull her into him, trying to make her feel the love he felt for her in his kiss—her fingers slid into the short-cropped hair on the back of his head, Javier shivering when she lovingly dragged her nails along his nape. 

“Estos dos están pegados por completo, Antonia (These two are completely stuck together, Antonia),” he heard his dad say. “Tú verás que en cualquier momento, nos van hacer abuelos (You watch, any minute now they’re going to make us grandparents).”

Cielito snorted, breaking away from him, while Javier sighed, pressing his forehead to hers and rubbing his hands up and down her spine. 

“Pop,” he groaned. “Me abochornas (You’re embarrassing me).”

“¿Digo la verdad y te abochorna (I tell the truth and it embarasses you)?” Chucho asked. He clicked his tongue, dramatically continuing, “Es la maldición de los padres (It’s the parental curse).” 

Javier turned his head, finding his dad sitting there with a shit-eating grin under his cowboy hat and a hand over his chest. 

He rolled his eyes, ready to go. 

“Nos vamos ahora (We’re leaving now),” he said, taking his girlfriend’s hand. “Quédate aquí con mi mamá y cuéntale cómo sigues molestándonos para que te den nietos (Stay here with my mom and tell her about how you keep pestering us to give you grandchildren).” 

“Oh, tu mamá sabe (Oh, your mom knows).” He waved away Javier’s words. “Hablando de mis futuros nietos, tambien un día disfrutarás avergonzándolos (Speaking of my future grandkids, one day you will also enjoy embarrassing them). ¿Sabes por qué (Do you know why)?” 

“¿Por qué, Pop (Why, Pop)?”

“Porque serás un padre increíble como yo y amarás a tus hijos más que a nada (Because you will be an amazing father like me and love your kids more than anything).” 

Javier’s breath caught in his throat. 

Emotion had his voice going gravelly. “Espero ser un gran padre como tú (I hope I will be a great dad like you).” 

“Sé que lo harás (I know you will). Te amo, Javiercito (I love you, Javier). Ahora, ve a ver al resto de la familia (Now, go see the rest of the family).” 

“Está bien (Okay). Estaremos de vuelta pronto (We will be back soon).”

“No voy a irme a ninguna parte (I am not going anywhere).”

That was something Javier knew without a doubt and could always count on—both of his parents were there for him, and no matter the mistakes he’d made, it had never caused them to love him any less. On the rough days in Colombia, there was always the thought in the back of his mind to just give up and go home to them, knowing they would’ve welcomed him with open arms. He’d kept going, though, the ranch a last resort, and when he was sent back to Texas after he horribly fucked up, all his dad asked was when he needed to pick him up from the airport, there was no question that he was coming back to the house for however long he wanted to be there. 

Chucho wasn’t going anywhere for the time being, and Javier knew that, planning to plant his roots in Laredo and grow his family here, wanting to stay as close as possible to his dad and the place where his mother was resting. 

He nodded at his father, leading Cielito away. 

“So,” she started. “Who’s all buried here?”

He slowed down to have them walking next to each other, their hands linked, glancing over at her through his sunglasses as he answered, “My mom and my paternal abuelos (grandparents). My mother’s family is back in Mexico—her parents and my tío (uncle) are still alive down there, but I haven’t seen them since, fuck, her funeral? They all moved back after she married my dad, and we’d visit them a few times a year when I was growing up.”

“Were your dad’s parents born in Mexico, too?” 

He smiled. “Yeah, but they immigrated here before they started having kids.”

“Good to know. Have you thought about visiting your mom’s family?” 

Frowning, he replied, “Maybe? Some of my uncle’s kids live here in the US, I’m just not sure where, and he visits my dad occasionally. It’d be nice to see my abuelos (grandparents)…” 

They were probably in their early eighties by now. 

She got closer to his side, hugging his arm to her as she looked him in the eyes with a smile. 

“Well, maybe we’ll just have to go visit them.” 

That had him sobering up and thinking about the job he’d been doing with the Sheriff. 

In the months he worked for Sheriff Arturo, the narcotics unit had managed to seize almost double the drugs and weapons than the entire previous year combined—not to mention all of the arrests they made. It was so substantial the DEA had set up an in-person meeting with him for that Friday, when up to this point, they’ve only communicated by phone. The agent in charge of Rio Grande Valley was a real prick, and Javier had hung up on him more than once, so he really wasn’t looking forward to sitting down with the guy.

He kept his promise to Cielito about only doing office work, spending the majority of his time reading over arrest reports and seizures, writing up analyses, and creating strategies for the narcotics team to use. With all of the pages he read, he felt like there was something he was missing, some kind of connection that wasn’t making itself known amongst all of the letters and numbers his eyes had scanned over—it was starting to bother the fuck out of him that he wasn’t getting any closer to figuring out where the drugs were coming from than when he began looking. 

“Maybe,” he said distractedly. Changing the subject, he continued, pointing ahead of them with his free hand, “Looks like tío Ángel is with my tías and tíos—Sebastián must be close by.” 

His abuelos had a long, flat headstone that sat amongst the grass, with ‘Peña’ etched in the middle in large letters, and each of their names on either side where they were buried, along with their dates of birth and death. 

The second time he’d come here with his wif-girlfriend, his dad had been with them and showed them where his grandparents were since Javier wasn’t stateside when they passed.

He was ashamed to admit it, but when they died, he’d put his work before his family like he always fucking did—so focused on taking down the Cali cartel he didn’t even think about using any bereavement leave to come home for either of their funerals that were only months apart. At the time, his secretary sent flowers to the family with his condolences like the cold-hearted bastard he was who didn’t even bother calling his tías or tío. 

Looking back, he felt like shit for what his father must have gone through—in less than five years, Chucho lost his wife and both of his parents, his only son away on a completely different continent, barely remembering to pick up the phone for their monthly calls. 

Javier was a real piece of shit then and deserved the dressing down his tías gave him when he’d come back for good. Now, he had his head on straight, understanding that his family was the most important thing in his life, and he wouldn’t waste any more time with them.

His grandparents’ resting place was decorated similarly to his mother’s: marigold blooms were bordering the gravestone and surrounding a large framed photo of his abuelos that was propped up behind it along with two large vases of the flowers resting on the upper two corners of the stone. Candles were also on the hard surface, a couple of votives, the others plain red-waxed, and in the grass were ornaments that were just paper skulls on sticks. His tías had put down a colorful rectangular platter that they had set a bottle of his abuelo’s (grandfather’s) favorite tequila, two cups full of something he wasn’t sure of, and two plates filled with food—chicken legs and thighs covered in his abuela’s (grandmother’s) mole (moh-lay), a sauce made from blackened, burnt chiles, chocolate, and other ingredients Javier couldn’t remember; There was also arroz rojo (red rice), frijoles (beans), and the tamales they made over the weekend.  

His tías Lupita and Rebeca were sitting on a large dark blue striped picnic blanket with a couple of their grandkids who were maybe five or six, his aunts' husbands sitting nearby in camping chairs. Tía María was on the other side of them in a chair next to her husband, another blanket on the ground by them where their eldest son, Danny, was sitting with his wife and two kids—a four- and two-year-old, with another on the way. Everyone was eating except his tío Ángel who was standing and nursing a beer, his youngest son Diego, who was in his late-twenties, next to him, scooping food into his mouth from a paper plate while they all happily chatted between bites.

His tía María spotted them first. 

“Javi está aquí y trajo a nuestra Chula (Javi’s here and he brought our Cutie).”  

All of them looked in their direction with smiles and greetings as they approached. 

“Hola (Hi),” he said. 

“Hi!” Cielito greeted with a wave of her hand that wasn’t holding his. 

“Come eat with us,” tía Lupita ordered, moving to make them plates. 

He was pretty full from what they’d already eaten, sharing a look with his girlfriend, both knowing they’d have to eat some of it, unable to keep from sighing simultaneously.

Something you learned very quickly once being introduced to Javier’s extended family was you absolutely, under no circumstance, refused food you were offered—you’re not hungry? You’re full? You’re not sure it’s something you’ll like? It didn’t matter. You took what they gave you, thanked them, and ate as much as you could. 

Knowing how much time and effort went into making their dishes made it make sense and was honestly great, so you happily accepted the flimsy paper plate loaded with food, and a plastic fork, thanking tía Lupita. 

“How was the carne en su jugo?” Rebeca asked. 

“Almost exactly like mi mamá’s,” Javi proudly answered, picking at the food on his plate like you were and taking small bites. 

“Bueno (Good)!” 

María addressed you, “You’ll come over next time we make our mamá’s mole, so you can learn.” 

“I’d love that,” you replied with a smile. “I’m assuming that’s what this sauce is?” You got some chicken with the mole on your fork to hold up and put it in your mouth. 

“Yes.” She nodded. “How do you like it?” 

Answering after swallowing, “It’s very good.” It was a little spicy, a little sweet, and had an earthiness to it that wasn’t bad, and you had no clue what was in it, assuming chiles, for sure. 

“The tamales are increíble (incredible),” Javier’s tío Ángel’s gruff voice said.

The first time you saw tío Ángel, you thought he wasn’t happy to meet you with how mad he looked. Turned out he just had the same grumpy resting face as Javi, which must make it genetic. His tío was actually really nice, even though he gave off ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes, and it made sense why the asshole horse at the ranch, Enrique, only let him ride him. 

Javier’s tío hadn’t been at the tamalada since he was busy working on the ranch. 

“Thank you,” you replied. “I just followed Antonia’s recipe as best I could.” 

“Well, they turned out great.” He raised his beer to you. 

“¿Dónde está Sebastián (Where’s Sebastián)?” Javi asked. 

The rest of the group had gone back to talking amongst themselves.

“Está en la tumba de su abuelo con su madre, y su abuela (He is over at his grandfather’s grave with his mom, and grandma).” He pointed with his bottle in their direction.

“Sebastián llegó muy tarde (Sebastián arrived really late),” Diego said, disposing his empty plate into a black trash bag. 

Diego had long hair like his dad, but where his dad kept his pulled back in a ponytail, Diego let his gorgeous black locks fall down to his shoulders—he also had a smile that was absolutely contagious and radiated happiness. 

“¿Cuándo regresó a Laredo (When did he come back to Laredo)?” Javi inquired as he took a bite of some rice. 

“Llegó aquí el jueves, pero se fue todo el fin de semana (He got here on Thursday but he was gone all weekend).”

“¿Regresó a Dallas (Did he go back to Dallas)?” Javi’s eyebrows were knitted together. 

“No sé (I don’t know),” the younger man shrugged. “No nos dijo a dónde fue (He didn’t tell us where he went). El llegó tarde hoy y fresco de la ducha (He showed up late today and fresh from the shower).” A mischievous smile appeared on his face. “No creo que haya pasado el fin de semana solo (I don’t think he spent the weekend alone).” 

“¡Ay!” Ángel said. “Deja de chismear sobre tu hermano (Quit gossiping about your brother).”

“Hey,” Diego replied, putting up his hands in defense. “Es bueno para él seguir adelante (It’s good for him to move on).” 

That had you frowning, hoping he hadn’t met someone. 

Your head turned toward Javi. “I’d really like to meet this mystery cousin now—please introduce him to me.” 

His eyes met yours. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Okay.” Looking back at his tío Ángel, he pointed with his free hand in the direction his uncle said, “He’s over there?” he asked. “I haven’t seen him in a while. What’s he wearing?” 

“Yes, over there—” He pointed with his beer again. “—and he’s wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. Right, Mijo?” he asked his son. 

“Yes, papá (dad),” Diego answered. 

“Okay,” you replied. “On the lookout for a hot Peña in a black shirt and jeans—let’s go, babe!” Holding your plate in one hand, your other grabbed Javi’s arm as you started pulling him where you needed to go. 

Out of earshot of his family, you looked over your shoulder at him, “Hopefully he didn’t fall in love over the weekend. I wish we would’ve known there was an eligible Peña so we could’ve set him up with Robyn on a blind date or something.” 

Javi snorted. 

“You really think Robyn would agree to a blind date?” 

You thought about it for a second. 

“Yeah, I think she would, just for the fun of it.” 

He slowed down, dragging his feet to make you finally stop walking. 

“Cielito?” 

Confusion was on your face as you turned toward him. “Yes, Javi?” 

It looked like he was really choosing his words carefully. 

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up that we’ll somehow get them together…” he said the sentence gently. “You said in the car Robyn met a guy she actually liked, and with my primo being divorced, we don’t know if he’s even looking for anyone—divorce can fuck people up.” He sighed. “What I’m trying to say is please don’t be upset if this doesn’t work out the way you want.” 

“Oh.” It felt like your stomach dropped down to the ground. “You’re right—we can’t force people together. But—” You smiled. “—we can test the waters, you know? See where your cousin’s at post-divorce. Like, is he just going through rebounds? Has he sworn off women? Is he ready to date again? We’ll just see how he’s doing and go from there.” 

He sighed, his eyes closing for a moment. “Okay, Cielito,” he replied, looking at you again. “We’ll test the waters.” 

“Thank you!” you squealed, moving into his space and being careful of the plates you were both holding to give him a kiss. When you pulled away, you grabbed his hand. “Let’s go find this elusive Peña!” you said, making him walk with you again. 

You were on the lookout as you passed other families around the graves of their loved ones and children playing with each other. The mood of the cemetery was upbeat and colorful from all of the marigolds and other decorations; some people including other flowers like purple orchids, pink carnations, white lilies, and chrysanthemums in various colors—music, laughter, talking, and children’s happy squeals could be heard as you continued walking down the row. 

Your eyes locked on a guy heading your way that matched Sebastián’s description, the unsuspecting man holding a beer bottle. 

Suddenly you stopped, Javi almost running into you. 

“Is that him?” you asked, letting go of his hand to point ahead. 

Your boyfriend’s eyes squinted. “Maybe…?” 

“I know this isn’t the time or place, but maybe we should look into getting you everyday glasses—and you can’t be upset about me suggesting it because you know how horny your reading glasses make me, so like, I just wouldn’t leave you alone.” 

You looked over at him to see he was frowning before it looked like he had a realization. 

“That’s… a good idea, but mi amor?”

“Yes, my sexy, hunky man who I love more than anything?” 

He snorted, his face getting close enough a shiver moved through you when his breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “You already don’t leave me alone, but I’m interested in seeing if the glasses really will make you wetter and needier for me—” His head moved abruptly, speaking louder, “¡Oye (Hey)! Seb!” 

The other man’s attention landed on you both, a smile turning up on his lips as he started walking faster. 

“¡Oye (Hey)! Primo!” he responded. 

Sebastián Peña was a little shorter than Javier, with a very defined jaw and cleft chin, his dark brown hair curly and cropped short to his head, his eyes a striking color of green, and as you assumed, he was very handsome. 

You could definitely see Robyn being into him. 

You watched as your boyfriend moved around you to hug his cousin carefully while holding his plate. 

“Hey, man,” Javi said when they separated. He patted Sebastián’s arm, smiling. “It’s been too long—did you get shorter?” 

His cousin laughed, and he had a good smile like his little brother. “No, pendejo (No, asshole),” he replied. “How’ve you been, Javi? I didn’t see you here last year.” 

“I, uh, had stuff going on, and I’m doing really fucking good. There’s someone I want you to meet.” He turned your way, grabbing your hand to pull you to stand next to him. "Primo, this is—“ He told him your name. “—y ella es mi esposa (and she is my wife).”

Your eyes rounded, Sebastián saying loudly, “¡¿Qué (What)?! Your wife?!”

The smile on your face was so big it made your cheeks hurt as Javi went red at realizing what he said, looking panicked. 

“Girlfriend!” he quickly corrected. “Ella es mi novia (She is my girlfriend).” 

“Actually,” you said, moving forward to hold out your free palm to Seb. “I’m his future wife—we’re basically pre-engaged, he’s just taking his sweet time to put a ring on it, and ‘wife’ is definitely a better descriptor than girlfriend.” You wrinkled your nose, Sebastián shaking your offered hand. 

“Oh, okay,” he said, releasing your palm. “Yeah, I knew Javi had a, uh, partner, and it’s nice to finally meet you.” He had a warm smile. “Mi familia (my family) has talked a lot about you and your cooking, especially the pork tamales you make like tía Antonia.” 

“Not as good,” you replied. “No one can top hers.” 

“Stop that,” Javi said, and you looked over to see him giving you a grumpy look. “She’s being modest—her tamales are fucking amazing, primo. You’ll love them.” 

“Well, enough about me,” you interjected. “So, Sebastián—”

“Call me Seb,” he interrupted, still smiling. “You’re family.” 

That had you feeling warm. 

Giving him the same look, you continued, “So, Seb, tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living? When’s your birthday? Are you seeing anyone?”

“You a cop, too?” he asked with an eyebrow raised. 

“Just call me future Mrs. Detective Peña,” you answered with a wink. “But not really, I just don’t know anything about you, and I am beyond curious.”

He nodded, then took a drink of his beer. 

“Firefighter,” he finally said when the bottle lowered. “October 27th, and I’m not answering the last question, but I’m sure you already heard I’m divorced.” There was a frown on his face.

“Yeah,” Javi replied, frowning, too. “Sorry to hear about that.” His arm went around your back to pull you into his side. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about—don’t want someone who can’t be faithful.” He took another swig of his drink. 

“Oh, he’s definitely a Scorpio,” you said under your breath.

“Why do you say that?” Javi whispered to you. 

“They’re super loyal,” you answered just as quietly. “And possessive—it’s why I know I’ve got nothing to worry about with you since it’s in your top three.” 

He scoffed. “Didn’t need the fucking stars to tell you that.” 

“They’re reassuring.” You spoke normally, “So, Seb, how was your weekend? Do anything titillating?” 

He sputtered as he choked on his beer, going into a coughing fit. 

“Shit!” You moved to pat on his back. “I am so sorry. You’re just as bad as your cousin. Sometimes I worry I’m gonna accidentally make Javi choke to death.” 

Your boyfriend sighed, putting his hand on his hip and his weight to one side. “You always choose to say things that will get a reaction when I’m mid-drink, and I think you do it on purpose.” 

“I do not! It’s just a coincidence.” 

His eyebrow arched. “Uh-huh.” 

“It is! Are you okay, Seb?” 

“Yeah,” he wheezed. “My weekend was great,” he said, giving you a thumbs up.

Moving back to stand beside Javi, you decided to just cut straight to the chase. “Seb, here’s the deal. I heard you got divorced last year, and I’m trying to figure out if you’re even interested in dating again or if it’s more of a ‘fuck the pain away’ situation, which, honestly, either would work because I have this best friend who is amazing, and I think the two of you would get along swimmingly.” 

“You barely know anything about me…” he pointed out. 

“All I need to know is you’re a Scorpio and extremely compatible with my best friend, who’s a Leo.” 

He looked at Javi. “What is she talking about…?” 

“Astrology,” your boyfriend answered. “She likes that star shit, and some of it is pretty fucking accurate.” 

Sebastián didn’t look convinced. 

“Anyways,” you cut in. “I know this great girl I’d love to introduce you to.” 

He grimaced. “I’m sorry, but I met someone.” 

“Oh.”

“It’s… new, but I think there’s something between us.” 

You forced a smile, trying not to let your disappointment show. Maybe Robyn wouldn’t mind a younger man like Diego to get that Peña she wants—he was an adorable guy, and you knew he was single.

“That’s great that you’re moving on from your ex,” you replied. “That’s a really big step. We know you’ve been super hush-hush about this mystery person, but do you want to tell us about them? We won’t say anything to the rest of your family if that’s what you wish—I just bet you’d love to talk about them since they’ve caught your attention.” 

There was a visible change as his face went soft, knowing he was thinking about them. 

“She’s perfect,” he said. “Beautiful, funny, not afraid to order me around, a fiery personality, you know?” He gestured to your boyfriend with the glass bottle he was holding. 

“Oh, I know, and it’s great,” Javi replied, pulling you closer to kiss the side of your head, feeling like you were melting from the sweetness. 

“Yeah, I can see that. This girl is small and feisty with the most gorgeous long hair and red lips. She’s mi...” he said a Spanish word you didn’t understand. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, frowning. 

“She’s his what?” you asked Javi, looking at him and finding his eyes wide and mouth gone slack, not understanding what would get that kind of reaction. Maybe it was like when Javi called you his wife or something, and that was what had him shook. Suddenly he was speaking rapid Spanish to his cousin, which you were having trouble keeping up with. 

“What’s going on, babe?” you asked him. 

He stopped talking, bringing up the hand he held his plate in to look at his silver wristwatch.

“Shit,” he said, meeting his cousin’s eyes again. “We gotta get back to Pop, but we’ll see you around.”

That was a dirty fucking lie, and now you were dying to know what in the world was going on.

His empty hand went to your back to usher you away, feeling confused and curious.

“Uh, nice to meet you, Seb!” you called back at him. “See you around!”  

“It was nice to meet you, Prima (Cousin)!” he replied. 

“What’s going on, Javier?” you hissed at your boyfriend, trying to keep up with his long, brisk strides. 

“Hold on.” He turned you guys, heading for the cemetery entrance, him tossing his plate and yours in a trash can as you left the grounds toward the parking lot.

“Why are we out here?” you asked, him keeping you moving quickly. 

He only stopped when you made it to his truck, the two of you standing by the driver's side door, him looking around to make sure the coast was clear. 

Your gazes finally met as he said, “I’m sorry. I panicked.”

“About what…?”

“What he said.”

“What did he say?” A big smile appeared on his face looking pleased with himself, and he only looked like that when— “Oh my god.” Excitement bubbled up inside you. “You’ve got tea, spill—cuéntame el chisme (tell me the gossip),” you batted at his chest. 

There was a chance he’d literally start vibrating; he looked so giddy. 

“Baby, he said she’s his fucking petirrojito.”

Your eyes squinted. “I literally have no idea what that means? Is it something super romantic? Did he secretly get married over the weekend or something?”

“No, no—” He shook his head. “—petirrojo means robin..,” he said slowly.

With the -ito at the end, that’d make it—

“His little robin,” you gasped, your hand going to your mouth. “No fucking way, Javier. Maybe that’s just a cute endearment that’s purely coincidental–it can’t be what you’re suggesting, I’d know.” 

“It is.” His dimple was showing he was smiling so big while he nodded enthusiastically. 

No, you’d know if Robyn hooked up with one of Javi’s cousins. Unless she didn’t know. In all of the dirty details she spilled, she never once mentioned a name, but she was very descriptive of his looks, and now that you were thinking about it…

“Shut the fuck up,” you replied, your hand falling. “Are you positive? How can you be so sure?” 

“I double-checked and had him tell me more about what she looks like, and it’s Robyn, Cielito. It’s fucking her.”

The way he was so excited had you smiling, still unbelievably stunned your best friend actually bagged a Peña without your help. 

“More like he’s fucking her,” you said. 

Your boyfriend’s face fell, paling at what you assumed was him remembering your conversation in the truck. 

“No,” he said in a small voice. 

“Sorry, babe.” You patted his cheek. “You know too much about your cousin’s very adventurous sex life—can’t believe they fucked in the back of his Ford Bronco in the bar parking lot.” 

He made a disgusted face. “Don’t tell me that shit.” 

Amusement was on her face, and he had no fucking idea what she’d say next. 

Javier had been so excited about having what Cielito would call ‘hot gossip’ he’d wholly forgotten their talk on the way here. 

Pop Rocks blow job.

He shuddered, grimacing at remembering. 

“I mean,” she started, and all his attention went to her. “If they start dating, he’ll probably know too much about your very adventurous sex life.” She ended the sentence with a poke to his chest. 

He crossed his arms in front of him while his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Why...?” 

Smiling, she answered, “‘Cause Robyn and I discuss, in pornographic detail, our sexual encounters—yes, she’s well aware you have a big dick, and I don’t want you to be mad. I just need someone I can brag to about the things you do to me.” That had his chest puffing up a little, making him smile. “Plus, we give each other pointers and ideas, which you’ve never complained about. I believe it was you—” She poked the tip of his nose. “—who had us get her a gift certificate to a spa after she convinced me to let you fuck my ass.”  

The memories of that had his pants feeling tighter. 

He nodded to himself. “Worth it,” he murmured. 

She looked so beautiful standing in front of him wearing her pretty dress. He grabbed her waist to back her up against the truck. 

Smiling, he told her, “I love you so fucking much.” 

She matched his expression. “I love you so fucking much.” 

“No.” He gently shook his head. “You don’t understand. I love you so fucking much—” He grabbed her palms in both of his and held them over his heart “—that I feel you here,” he said, pressing them into his chest. “That’s where you are—the place you live inside me, making my heart beat, or race, or thud. That’s you, giving me life. I love you so fucking much that you’re a part of me, and I’m a part of you, and this is our life now—fuck,” he sighed. 

Tears were brimming in her eyes as she smiled. “It’s taking everything in you not to ask me to marry you right now, isn’t it?” she asked. 

He huffed out a breath, his hands moving to hold her face. “Yeah,” he answered, not even surprised she knew. “I can’t do it without a ring, not after…” he trailed off, not wanting to say aloud his first proposal that he had hardly any choice in.

She made the cutest scrunched-up face. “Okay, yes, a ring is necessary, and honestly, I get it now.” 

“Get what?” 

“The whole wanting to go all out for the proposal because it’s your decision, you want to marry me, and want to propose in your own way, and that’s just really fucking sweet, Javi. Thank you for wanting to make it something special.” She kissed him, a relieved breath leaving him that he wasn’t expecting. 

“I love this,” he said softly when he pulled back. 

“What?” 

“How happy you make me, how relaxed, how we have fun—I have so much fucking fun with you, and it feels like I can breathe. I love this, I love you, god, I love everything about you.”

“Good.” She slid her hands up his shirt-covered chest to his shoulders. “Because I really fucking love you and everything about you, and you’re just so fucking perfect—I need you to kiss me right now, or I’m—” 

He didn’t let her finish the sentence, crushing his mouth to hers in a searing kiss, taking a step to have their bodies flush against each other as he eagerly licked into her mouth to tangle his tongue with hers. 

He felt the vibrations of her moans, groaning when her fingers moved into his hair, getting his thigh between her legs. 

It was like she inhabited every part of his being, feeling her in his heart, his soul, and along his skin like a sweet caress; She was everywhere within him, and he didn’t feel alone, knowing she was there with him always. 

It was crazy how he found himself somehow loving her more after all that happened. 

It felt like his future wife loved his mom with all she had done to show her respect and to honor her, making Javier feel like he might cry that they’d never get to meet. He knew without a doubt how much his mother would love her and approve of Cielito becoming her daughter-in-law, hell, she probably would’ve convinced him to propose by now. 

The way his family had taken in his future wife told him he was choosing the right woman—his dad loving her from their first meeting was all the evidence he needed.

She was the one, the only one.

There was no one before her, and there would be no one after—she was it for him, and he was beyond happy about it. 

“Javi,” she said between kisses. 

“Hmm?” He nipped at her bottom lip. 

Her mouth was on his again, her words muffled, “If you’re introducing me as your wife, are you gonna fuck me as your wife later?” 

He smiled against her lips. “I already fuck you like my wife.” 

She pulled on his hair to make him look at her seeing her delightfully smiling. 

“I fucking knew something was different when there was suddenly an influx of face-to-face positions!” She started kissing all over his face, not even caring his sunglasses were in the way as she said amongst presses of her lips, “You adorably, romantic, sap. You’re the sweetest fucking future husband anyone could ever ask for, and I love you so fucking much.” 

He was grinning, her placing a kiss on his dimple, then his lips, feeling so unbelievably happy he might burst. 

“I love you, too,” he murmured into her mouth. 

They would get this out of their system, then go rejoin his mom and dad, spending the evening together as the family they were—and maybe tomorrow, he’d go out to the ranch to pick up something his father was holding onto for him…

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

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

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

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

[riley-writes]

Damaged Goods (Dhawan!Master x GN!Reader)

Hi! It’s been soooo long. Grad school will be the death of me. Enjoy this fic that I wrote instead of studying for an exam I’ll take in less than 36 hours that determines whether I graduate or not. This was more fun though. Please excuse any typos I proofread this once and now I have to go study to prove that I can be a professional at hearing people's worst memories while helping them be okay

Dhawan!Master x GN!Reader

You’ve accepted your fate on a planet you don’t even know the name of after being left behind. The last person you expect to see is your ex-friend’s best enemy.

Notes: So reader is gender neutral but there’s a throwaway line that more aligns with the queer/trans experience, but could probably read as anyone who is an outsider or struggled to feel accepted. Enjoy babes!

Warnings: Reference to torture, brief SI language but no followthrough, angst, abandonment. The works.

This certainly wasn’t the way you’d expected to die. Well, that might not be exactly true. You had expected some kind of trouble that you and the fam got into would end in your demise, but foolishly you’d thought that maybe it would be quick.

This was not quick.

While on some godforsaken planet that you couldn’t remember the name of, the Doctor had managed to piss off another alien race, leading to you all fleeing to the TARDIS under heavy fire. And only you hadn’t made it on time.

At first, you’d been confident that the Doctor would come back and rescue you. But the first day passed, and then the second, and then the third, and then before you knew it, you’d been being tortured for… well, you didn’t know anymore. Hard to keep track when you have no clue how long you’ve been passed out for after getting the shit beaten out of you for not knowing where the Doctor had run off to. 

You weren’t really sure when you’d started resenting her for it–for leaving you behind. She and the fam had taken you in when no one else was there for you, when no one would accept you for who you were. You had no one back on Earth. And now you had no one period. It hurt. To be left behind and forgotten like a toy that had been broken and discarded.

And that’s what you were. Broken. You’d held onto your spirit for so long, but as you heard the barred door down the hall swing open, you realized that you just wanted it all to end. You just couldn’t take it anymore.

You didn’t look up as the door to your cell opened and someone was shoved to the ground, followed by the door slamming shut and locking once more.

“Oh come on boys, it was all in good fun!” said a familiar voice, causing your blood to run cold. You snuck a quick glance, and confirmed– yes, the Master had just been thrown into your cell. Unfortunately, your movement didn’t go unnoticed, and his head snapped in your direction. You quickly diverted your eyes, but the damage was done. You heard him tut and wander towards you, and your entire body tensed. 

“Now what is one of the Doctor’s little pets doing in a place like this? Lost, love?” he asked cruelly. You didn’t respond or look up, still curled in on yourself. He stepped closer and your body got impossibly more tense. Your lack of response encouraged him. “Waiting on your precious Doctor to come and save you?”

You couldn’t help but let out a quiet scoff at that, which egged him on further. “How long has she left you here to rot?” He made an irritated sound when you didn’t respond. “I asked you a ques–,” you saw him reaching for you.

“Don’t touch me!” you shouted, vaulting yourself away from him across the cell. You could feel yourself start to hyperventilate, breaths coming quicker and quicker. Yep, this was it. You were dying. The Master was frozen in place, an unreadable look on his face.

The only sound was your quick breathing. He took a step forward, and you pushed yourself into the corner as far as you could.

“Don’t…” you sobbed, terrified. The Master held his hands up and took another step forward as if he were approaching a wild animal. “Please,” you whispered.” He hesitated.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said after a moment. There was some emotion on his face that you couldn’t quite place– though that was reasonable, being that you hadn’t been in contact with anyone that had shown you anything but disgust and anger. Still, you didn’t relax.

“You need to breathe or you’re going to pass out. You humans are pathetic like that, only having one respiratory system,” he said with jest, and you let out a short laugh in shock. He took this as a good sign, because he slowly approached and knelt down next to you. He seemed to not quite know what to do, but settled on a gentle hand on your back as you steadied your breathing.

“Now. I’m going to go destroy every other being on this planet, and then we’ll leave. Consider this my good deed of this regeneration. Can’t be ruining my reputation now, can I?” he said quietly. You looked up in surprise, and were met with an intense gaze. You nodded, throwing your trust to someone who’d never shown you anything but disdain up until this moment. What did you have to lose?

And as you got on the Master’s TARDIS, you couldn’t help but wonder what life had in store for you next.

#dhawan!master #doctor who #dhawan!master x reader #gn!reader #hurt/comfort #angst #please tell me I did a good job #did I do a good job? #the master x reader

[jomeimei421]

you got any orv fic recs 🙏🏼

BOY I sure do. This list is going to be pretty long, so I'll put it below the cut.

Mei's ORV Fic Reccs

Spoilers for ORV until the epilogue!

Post-Epilogue by the1864

GEN, yoohankim if you squint. This one is one of my favorite ORV fics at the moment so it's going first in this list! It picks up right where 551 leaves off, and every single character is written absurdly well, especially the main trio! Great if you're looking for KDJ recovery stuff.

Rendezvous by WindsofTime

Joongdok. A reimagining of select scenes from ORV, if KDJ and YJH made more use of Midday Tryst, told from YJH's point of view. A tiny bit different from canon, but not enough to call it canon divergence. The babygirl YJH fic ever. Op GETS him.

The False Last Act by younglegends

GEN. If you read any fic on this list, please read this one. I can't say anything about it without spoiling parts of it, and I really don't want to do that. Extremely well executed. Lovely, comforting, and will make your stomach flip like you've stared too long into the abyss. Read this fic TWICE. Read it TWO (2) TIMES.

My Cooking was Always Better with You (Now if only you would eat it) by pave_ment

GEN, joongdok if you squint. For those who lament over the fact that we never got to see any scenes from YJH's 81st regression cooking adventure I present to you: Dungeon Meshi AU, ft. chimera KDJ and bratty chef adventurer YJH. Enjoy!

Tell Me I Did Good Until Now by featherx

GEN. with a little sangsoo on the side. KDJ returns post epilogue, but stays a child in body and mind. This one had me reeling for the whole week when I read it. Sweet and melancholy. I especially loved YJH being bullied by children. KDJ is really, profoundly loved in this one.

An Incomplete Record of Correspondence Between The Magnificent, Unbiased, Genius Author Han Su-yeong and The Jackass Who Dares to Edit Her Work by Dragonomatopoeia

Joongdok. Yoohan's annoying arguments in the ORV shared google doc. The concept and title alone are too funny to not put on this list.

The Prologue Past the Epilogue by AVoresmith

Yoohankim, though mostly just JD at the moment. Of all the ORV fics I've ever read, I think this fic comes to closest to imitating the actual writing style of ORV along with nailing the characterizations with pinpoint precision. Also contains a JD kiss chapter that is more intense than any actual nsfw scene they could have wrote. There are some caveats to this recommendation though:

It gets slightly NSFW in the latest chapter.

Biyoo is several hundred years old and is treated as an adult, not a kid. There will be mention of Biyoo in relationships with adult partners -- including implied YJH. In my opinion it's handled tactfully, but it's also something that might turn some people off to this fic, so please be aware!

LGY has a big puppy love crush on KDJ. Obviously completely one-sided, but it's there.

Home Invasion by misoriri

GEN. KDJ gets shingles and has to be taken to the doctor. YJH breaks a door and then looms in the kitchen like an evil lamp post. JHW bites a tomato like an apple. LJY gets demolished at Club Penguin Card Jitsu. A short read, but hysterical. KCom is so fucking funny in this.

I saw you in a dream by featherx

GEN, Doksoo if you squint. OD meets the HSY of his new worldline, and can't help feeling like he knows her from another time, another place. Had to lay down after this one. Solid 999 and SP fam content, as well as typical YHK style cosmic unbreakable bonds.

We are A Woven Thread by ksalientian

Yoohankim. A reincarnation AU. I read this one a while back but I found it again recently and it still hits just as hard! The cosmic codependence trio finds themselves trapped in another looping cycle, but as is always the case with them, they always find each other and are okay in the end.

A Short Pause by Je_te_veux

GEN, but can be read as JD. An episode set between 517 and 520, a day in the life of YJH, and having some time to think. JTV is a Chinese writer, and you will need to copy and paste into a translator to read their fics, but genuinely they are one of the best ORV writers I've ever read. This fic is one of the ones I always come back to. Really excellent YJH characterization.

Honey and Ginger by Rivani

Yoohankim. Good old fashioned fluff sickfic! The banter is very well done; the three of them are insufferable <3

Too Many Cooks by SonaSona

Yoohankim. KCom makes dinner. HSY makes herself a nuisance. Sona's prose is incredible, and her characterization of the main trio is impeccable. Light, sweet, with just a touch of the ORV brand melancholy. Yoohan is always funny.

There are more but this post is getting pretty long so! Enjoy 👍

#orv #mei talks #answered asks #omniscient reader #omniscient readers viewpoint #fic recs

[aparticularbandit]

Whiskey and Peg both function as parallels to the fam and their relationship to Miles.

Peg is at the same general crux the fam is in - her entire life has been this one thing, this one passion, and if it goes (if BIRDIE goes), she goes down, too. This is them doubled (more than doubled, I realized more as I wrote):

The fam have spent their lives pursuing their passions (Claire with politics, Lionel with scientific endeavors, Birdie with fashion (from various angles), Duke with - honestly, Duke was in gaming, Duke went to Twitch, Duke got his head spun a bit; I honestly think Duke should have been significantly younger, but that's another conversation); when Miles blackmails them (as he is definitely doing with Birdie), putting them in a situation where they either choose him (take the fall, get paid out) or not (the news leaks anyway, no money)-- if they lose those passions (through not going along with him), they've got nothing. (Except that brief stint in retail.)

Peg has also tied herself entirely to Birdie, just like the fam have tied themselves to Miles. Peg even says literally to Birdie that her therapist says they are in a toxic relationship, just like the fam is with Miles. If Birdie goes down, she goes down with her; if Miles goes down, they go down with him.

...you can also make commentary about Birdie's very clear lack of brain cells to Miles's stupidity. Miles is just better at covering it up.

...you can also make parallels about Birdie not understanding what sweatshops are (and that they are bad) to Miles not understanding that the concept behind hydrogen fuel that he was funding was bad. They both see a thing, think it is something other than what it is, and jump. Poorly. (And just like Birdie would take Peg down with her, Miles would specifically take Lionel and Claire (and Andi, if she'd been there) down with him. ...I guess, in this sense, Andi functions for Miles the same way Peg functions for Birdie. And just like Birdie has the secret phone, Miles has his secret lawyers.)

Whiskey is roughly with Duke where the fam was at the beginning of everything with Miles, just after the initial he's a creep phase. We see this primarily through her conversation(s) with Helen:

He is incorporating her more on his show, which lets her build her brand more.

She's not sure about this mandom stuff he's been leaning into because if she wants to go into politics (hi, Claire!), she's not sure voters will like who she's associated with.

This directly parallels Miles sponsoring the fam, getting them started, giving them what they need to finally go places - but in secret, he's asking small things of them that they're mostly okay with but kind of tentative about. He's leaning into some sketchy stuff that may impact their future, but right now, they're still staying with him.

Even more - Duke is literally trying to use Whiskey to get something he wants, making her do something (multiple times) that she clearly doesn't want to do - fuck Miles. We can tell from their phone conversation that Whiskey doesn't want to have sex with Miles again, but Duke pushes her to do it so "they" can get what "they" want - a slot on Alpha news. He tells her one last time, but there's no assurance it will BE one last time. This directly parallels specifically Lionel and Claire's relationship with Miles: he is pushing them to make compromises they don't want to make to get what "they" want - Lionel would have his name on a scientific breakthrough, Claire would be responsible for funding clean energy (when taking a strong stance on climate change - and renewable energy - is part of her campaign) - except that they both don't want to sign off on Klear because it is dangerous and get pushed into doing it anyway.

And, again, we see Helen very clearly telling Whiskey what the shitheads needed to be told from the beginning - Break up with him. He doesn't deserve you. You are worth more than this. - and supports her when she thinks she's done it (the same way she is thrilled with Andi when Andi finally steps away from Miles).

But they can't break away the same way Peg won't leave Birdie (even though she has clearly tried - brief stint in retail and then Birdie Jay), they require Miles to metaphorically die (his revelation as the murderer, the explosion that nearly killed all of them - comparable to Duke ACTUALLY DYING) before they can leave him.

And it's also clear that not only do Peg and Whiskey care for Birdie and Duke but the opposite is also true - there are enough Birdie/Peg gifsets that I feel that one is clear, and Duke has a sleepy Whiskey as his phone background; there are small things to support this.

I don't think there's any support for Miles actually caring about the shitheads.

But yeah. Whiskey and Peg's relationships to Duke and Birdie, respectively, throw the toxic aspect of the shitheads' relationship to Miles into sharp relief - it was always there, even from the beginning, even when they believed he loved them - and the fact that this is being shown through additional romantic or co-dependent relationships just. throws things into sharp relief.

#musings #glass onion #glass onion spoilers #birdie jay #duke cody #miles bron #whiskey go #go whiskey #peg go #go peg #glass onion fam #THIS DOES NOT EXCUSE THEM #IT JUST - UGH I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS Y'ALL

[theladyofshalott1989]

Damien Andrew Evans (My OC/MC from the Like Moths to a Flame series)

*I modeled his character off of a young Garrett Hedlund. Here are some photos of Garrett (one with his hair down long - LMtaF Damien - and one with his hair short - BB Damien):

I wrote this in a frenzy last night (referencing my already copious notes from the past… hmm… eleven months??? WHAT), so I apologize if it reads like word-vomit (LMAO). BUT, without further ado, here is my Damien info-dump. Damien is my OC from my series, Like Moths to a Flame, which I started on Wattpad in March 2023. Check it out if you are so inclined (AO3 link because AO3 is better…please don’t hate me, Wattpad police haha).

General Info:

Born and raised in London

Lives in a huge estate in Mayfair

Father’s family comes from old money

Birthday: 13th December 1874 

Mother: Mary REDACTED Evans (yes, redacted because it’s a spoiler for Burning Bright)

Died shortly after Damien turned two 

Father: Andrew Robert Evans

Magistrate in London

Workaholic, doesn’t interact much with his son, leaves him to his own devices the majority of the time (he is very lucky Damien is a good boy; the shenanigans Damien could have gotten up to if he was so inclined…lmao) 

Half-blood (only found this out after he came to Hogwarts; his mother never shared this information with his father)

Only child

Personality:

ENFP (apparently) (thanks Myers-Briggs test!) Fueled by interaction with others (being an only child and spending most of his time alone during the summer holidays deeply damaged him)

Attracted to the same sex (and has known this for as long as he can remember)

Alas, he is super self-conscious about his sexual orientation, having grown up in Muggle London, where being gay is a crime. He is also quite secretive because of it; he wants to open up more to people (it’s in his nature) but is hesitant until he feels he can trust them fully. This can take a while. 

Nearly everything he does, he always has this nagging thought in the back of his mind (it follows him literally everywhere): Would my mother be proud of me? (He has never told anyone this; it also haunts him immensely)

Highly intuitive

Very forgiving (arguably to a fault) of anyone he grows to love and trust

Feels very deeply, but, again, he tries his best to hide it. Something must be terribly wrong or extremely upsetting for him to cry in a public setting. 

Not very organized (also has a problem with tardiness), EXCEPT when he is at home. He doesn’t want to make a mess for the servants, so he is extremely meticulous and clean when he’s home for the summer. Any other time, he couldn’t care less (LMAO). Physical Description:

Very unique brown eyes with golden flecks in them (Seb is absolutely obsessed)

Taller than average (a little taller than Sebastian, much to Sebastian’s chagrin)

Long blonde hair (just past his shoulders) that he keeps tied back in a low bun (his preferred style)

Sebastian would much rather he wear it down and loose (he is quite vocal about this), but he eventually is like fine…you do you, fam

In Burning Bright, Damien has to cut his hair short so his father isn’t suspicious. He has a cute little tuft at the top of his head that sometimes cascades across his face, which Sebastian is enamored with

(Eton, the all-boys boarding school Damien attended before Hogwarts, has strict uniform and hygiene protocols and would never permit him to wear his hair long; Damien’s father thinks he is still attending Eton so he must keep up appearances)

Lithe but muscular, a testament to how active he is when he arrives at Hogwarts. His go-to when he’s not in classes is to ride his broom around the Scottish Highlands and complete Merlin Trials. He is obsessed with finding and completing them all. (What a Ravenclaw…)

Ample arse though (LMAO) which Sebastian loves… (Seb is an arse-man; you’re welcome HAHAHAHA)

Tan from being outdoors most of the time

Sharp jawline, broad neck and chest, prominent collarbone (he is quite thin), very angular features

Light spoiler for stories post-Burning Bright: Older Damien is a bit heavier in adulthood (and Seb loves this development)

Magic Reveal:

Damien never had one of those “oh shit what just happened???” magical moments, so when Fig showed up on his doorstep with his Hogwarts letter at the very beginning of the summer in 1890, Damien thought it was a joke. When Fig did some magic for him to convince him, Damien lost his goddamn mind. He was thrilled, but also terrified. Fig told him not to worry, that he could stay with him over the summer to prepare Damien for the school year. 

Damien’s father was (unsurprisingly) not home when Fig arrived. Damien also asked Fig not to say anything to his father. Fig sensed there was some tension between Damien and his father and agreed (for the time being). Eventually, once Fig got to know Damien better, he decided Damien was right and it was for the best that his father didn’t know about his magic. This was the moment when Damien realized he could fully trust Fig. Surrogate father/son bond activated <3

Their backstory (if Damien’s father asked) for why Damien was gone over the summer was that he was traveling with a friend from Eton. Damien’s father was hella neglectful and didn’t even bother to ask, which to be fair, made things super easy for Damien and Fig (LMAO). 

Likes:

The color green

Flying (he loves how freeing it is and the feeling of the wind in his hair)

DADA is his favorite class (his early dueling wins probably played a factor; poor Damien didn’t have a lot of wins in his life prior to coming to Hogwarts, well…besides being rich AF LOL)

CATS (dude adores cats to the EXTREME; he would love to adopt all of the ones he finds wandering around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade; I even have a headcanon that very early on in his time at Hogwarts he smuggles a cat into his room - a room which he shares with Amit, Everett, and Andrew, mind you. Unfortunately, Amit is allergic, so that plan goes to hell in a handbasket rather quickly.)

Magic (obviiiiiii); he still can’t believe his luck that he’s at Hogwarts

The Wizarding World and how accepting it is of all forms of love. He cannot believe his lucky stars that he can be openly affectionate with Sebastian. It even takes him a while to realize this because no one straight up told him and Sebastian at first wants to keep their relationship on the down low since he’s still trying to figure out if Damien feels as strongly about Sebastian as Sebastian feels about Damien. Silly boys #idiotsinlove

Dislikes:

Herbology (he SUCKS at it; Sebastian and Damien have this in common, but Damien is much, much worse. He never uses magical plants in his duels because he is bitter about how bad he is at growing them and doesn’t want to spend money buying them at the Magic Neep hahaha)

Close-minded people (which is why he is understandably upset and confused by Sebastian’s very vocal hatred of goblins; it nearly ends any potential of a relationship from that point forward, but Seb does eventually apologize more than once *PHEW*)

Dark Mongrels, and to a certain extent dogs (le sigh) (light spoiler for Burning Bright so I won’t go into detail about it)

Interactions with Other Characters:

Fig -

Fig was the father Damien always wanted. Supportive, understanding, a wealth of knowledge. Losing him was absolutely devastating; it nearly broke Damien. 

Natty -

Besides Sebastian, Damien’s second kindred spirit. When Sebastian and Damien aren’t on good terms for a large swathe of Like Moths to a Flame, they are joined at the hip. Sebastian even worries that they might be a couple at one point and is very jelly. (C’mon Seb, read the freaking room!)

Poppy - 

Damien likes Poppy but is a bit intimidated by her. He still really enjoys her company, just in moderation. Ominis -

Damien willfully ignored him before they officially met. He didn’t realize it at the time, but eventually comes to the conclusion that he was jealous that Ominis was best friends with Sebastian. Notably, he easily sensed that Ominis wasn’t into Sebastian romantically, so that was a relief at the very least. Damien was super annoyed by Ominis after the encounter post-Undercroft. He couldn’t understand how someone could lose their temper so easily. Eventually, they do bond… hilariously, it’s Ominis that makes the effort to get to know Damien better. (Of course Ominis knows that Seb and Damien are snogging; he’s ~scary~ perceptive; at first Ominis is just vetting Damien in a protective “I need to make sure you’re a good person for my best friend” kind of way, but then he eventually realizes he enjoys being in Damien’s company. Likewise Damien to Ominis. They eventually also bond over classic music (Ominis lets Damien borrow his gramophone every so often and they sometimes even listen to it together.) 

Amit, Everett, and Andrew - 

Damien’s roomies! He likes Amit and Everett a lot, but definitely has more in common with Everett since they are both obsessed with flying. Damien even buys Everett a broom so he can stop using a school one. Damien finds Amit a bit awkward, but in an endearing way. He would beat someone up for realsies though if he ever overheard anyone make fun of him. 

Andrew and Damien don’t really care about each other either way. Andrew hangs out in different crowds. They don’t talk much. 

And yes, I realize that Duncan Hobhouse is also in Ravenclaw, but I've decided he has his own room. Damien finds him annoying, even though Everett is friends with him for some reason lmao.

Sebastian - HOOOO BOY HERE WE GO Damien fell for Sebastian HARD almost immediately after meeting him (their dialogue after the match in DADA was such a turn-on hahaha). He really struggled to play it cool that entire exchange though. He does succeed (sigh), but later… um… goes back to his room and yeah, in my headcanon he furiously does what you would expect lmao.

Sebastian immediately found Damien intriguing BUT he was not sure why. He had always appreciated the beauty of both genders, but he had only ever been with a girl so it never even crossed his mind that he could be romantically interested in Damien. He didn’t realize until <BIG SPOILER FOR LIKE MOTHS TO A FLAME> Damien asked Seb to kiss him in the Undercroft. Once their lips touched, Sebastian had one of those *connect the dots <Charlie from It’s Always Sunny at the blackboard scribbling nonsense> moments* and is like… OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. And then he just rolled with it. Doesn’t question it at all he’s so confident in what happened. Damien is immediately his. MINE MINE MINE seagulls from Finding Nemo gif. 

<BIG SPOILER OVER>

Unfortunately, Dark Magic was a HUGE cockblock (*sad face*) and their budding relationship combusted to the extreme. Damien was devastated but would NEVER admit it so he lost himself in his other friendships (thank you for being there Natty, you QUEEN). As we all know, Sebastian sucks at expressing himself (LMAO say it louder for those in the back), so he avoided Damien like the plague and stewed in his anger. But he is confused and upset and just a turmoil of emotions and it plagues him. A proverbial storm cloud follows him everywhere he goes. 

And then all hell breaks loose with the relic (DAMN YOU RELIC), BUT Damien and his strong intuition senses something is up and realizes that Seb is not himself. He activates stealth mode and becomes Seb’s shadow without Seb realizing, following him around and making sure he is okay. After the catacomb ~incident~, Damien won’t let him out of his sight and refuses to permit him to head back to the castle alone. In fact, it scares him so much that once they make it back to the castle, Damien has an OH SHIT I LOVE HIM BUT HE JUST MURDERED SOMEONE moment and he is so lost in his thoughts that Sebastian runs off. This haunts Damien immensely because he is so worried that Sebastian is going to hurt himself. And then, of course, he gets all caught up in the repository / goblin invasion stuff that he is distracted, but he still follows Sebastian around when he can. #sneakyDamien

And I’m not going to go into further detail because massive spoilers for the end of Like Moths to a Flame hahahaha.

***

So, that’s my Damien. He is my ~goodest~ boy. And he has definitely stolen my heart. <3

#oc character #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x male mc #sebastian sallow x mc #queer fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic

[imsodishy]

lol so after that unwritten ideas thing... i went and wrote a whole intro to an idea that's been shapeless in my head for months, tricked myself into writing damn it! Anyway... enjoy this thing!

There is nothing. For a long time.

And then there is, very faintly, soft noises. Someone speaking to her kindly she thinks. And then she remembers that she’s a person.

There is briefly red light and then darkness and then blue light.

Then there is sudden excruciating pain.

And then she is standing on a boardwalk, looking at the pacific ocean beyond, and she is Max Mayfield again. Which she hasn’t been. For a while. She thinks, anyway.

Actually, she has no idea how long it’s been since- Vecna.

She whips around, looking for him. Looking for the trick. For the horror to crack the day and come crashing in on her. The beach is packed, people everywhere. Looks like fucking tourists mostly.

She doesn’t recognize this moment. The boardwalk is familiar, but it doesn’t seem like a memory. Somehow she just knows. Stumbling blindly backwards she bumps into someone and they shake her off with a muttered, “Watch it.”

She takes off running.

It’s hard to keep her head on a swivel in the crowd and she collides with more people, getting her cursed out left and right but none of them seem wrong. Nothing has that creepy shadow hanging over it like the visions always did. The sky stays blue and clear.

It just seems… normal.

She slams into a trash can and it crashes to the ground, spilling garbage everywhere. She almost goes down in a heap after it, barely reels back, catches her balance at the last minute. Doubles over panting. Tries to think.

She remembers coming out of the trance in the attic, she does. But then she- she’s pretty sure she died. But unless heaven is a dirty, SoCal boardwalk, crawling with tourists, that can’t be right.

Maybe it’s hell.

“Hey kid!” She thinks maybe someone has shouted that a couple times now.

She looks up, squints into the sun at the figure of a man approaching like she’s a skittish animal.

“Kid, you alright?”

The figure resolves.

It’s Billy.

Which just raises more questions.

She doesn’t know whether to start running again, or scream, or cry.

So what she does is nothing.

“Kid? Can you hear me?” he sounds concerned. Gentle in a way she’s not sure she's ever heard from him.

He's not like the other Vecna visions of Billy. He’s not horribly torn and scarred, like he was the last time she saw him for real. Not flayed and frothing at the mouth. He looks… normal, but… different.

He looks older, not like, a lot, but a bit. His hair is longer than she’s ever seen it, curls hanging down over his shoulders, down to the bottom of his pecs. He's in a muscle tee and his shoulder is bare of the stupid smoking skull he got tattooed there as soon as he turned eighteen. His ear has like three more holes in it though, and there’s a gold hoop through his right nostril.

He's still got his mom's virgin Mary pendant though. That’s still there.

“Hey, you sick? Or did you take something? You don’t look good, kid.” He's still a couple paces away, not crowding her. Bent over to mirror her pose, hands on knees.

“What the fuck is happening?” she finally manages to speak.

“You wanna sit down maybe? You here with anybody?” He glances around.

“Billy,” she says, and she’s got no idea if it’s a question or not.

His head snaps around back to her and his face does a funny little wave from confusion to realization.  He laughs, says, “Small world, I'm a Billy too. What’s your Billy look like?”

“You’re my Billy,” she says, beyond caring what’s going on, desperate to just get on with whatever it is. No point dragging her heels.

She waits for the mask to split, but all that happens is this time the confusion sticks to his face, “Um, not really sure what you mean by that,” he’s still trying to be gentle.

“You’re Billy Hargrove,” she says, and he stands up straight like she electrocuted him, takes half a step back even.

“Excuse me?” His voice sounds so much more familiar now, guarded, sharp.

Max straightens up too, “You are Billy Hargrove. And I am Max Mayfield. You don’t know me?”

Nothing about Billy’s pose or face changes, no twitch or tell of any kind to hint at a monster beneath that face. With every passing second she becomes more sure that there isn’t one. Whatever this is, it’s not that. There’s fear, and confusion, but there isn’t the sense of doom sitting in her gut.

This isn’t Vecna, it’s something else.

“Am I supposed to?” Billy grunts, “Look, if you’re, like, stalking me or something there’s a bunch of reasons that’s not gonna work out for you. First off, I am too old for you, what are you, fifteen?”

She shakes her head harshly, the sheer gross factor of that thought popping her fear for the first time since she woke up. “Ew!”

“That’s what I'm saying!” he swings his arms wide and makes crazy eyes at her and abruptly he is her Billy. The Billy of every petty screaming match that went nowhere and just left them both pissed off.

She shakes it off, “No that’s not- not what this is.”

“What is it then?” he asks, still a little snappish.

“I have no fucking clue.” She's horrified to hear her voice crack. She kind of feels like crying, which is awful. She sniffs hard and tries to will her eyeballs to be cool, but she can see Billy see her struggling.

“Look, kid- what’s your name? Max?” he asks, softer again. She nods. “Okay, Max, is there someone we can call for you?”

Is there?

“We’re- are we in California?” she has to check, maybe she’s wrong about all of it somehow.

“Are we- yeah, of course we are. Where the hell else would we be?” Another good question. There’s a lot of them to go around.

Like: If she’s here, what the fuck is happening in Hawkins?

#dishy writes #max mayfield #billy hargrove #billy and max #when will i write more of this? impossible to say! when i trick myself into it again probably #post s4 fixit kinda? the most canon compliant i will ever be probably #it's very unedited

[imakemywings]

2023 Fic Roundup

No one tagged me, I just love doing this to reflect on the year :3 Mostly Silm fic to no one's surprise.

Total Words Published at end of year: 162,562, which is a huge jump up from 47k last year, something I attribute wholly to having graduated in the spring (not that life hasn't kept me busy since then). This is actually even higher than 2021, when I started doing an end-of-the-year reflection!

Fandoms: Tolkien with a one-off Arcane in there (might have been more if there were more Ambessa requests on the kink meme)

Highest Everything (raw kudos, hits, comments): 

Hits: As Little as Might be Thought (555)

Kudos: As Little as Might be Thought (59)

Comments: What the Water Gave Me (64)

New Things I Tried: Not totally new, but I think this was the first year I wrote chaptered Silm fic? I don't usually write fic that long but I got two this year so I'm pleased with that. Also, finally wrote and published Maglor/Thranduil and Maedhros/Thingol after ranting about them in DMs for literal years XD

Fic I Spent the Most Time On: What the Water Gave Me just because it's by far the longest thing I wrote.

Fic I Spent the Least Time On: Let Me Lie on Grasses so Green, but that was probably comparable with the other two fics in that "trio" of parent&child fics I wrote in February

Favorite Thing I Wrote: Honestly I was very happy with how Sandbox Love turned out! It really captured the energy I was going for with Galadriel's possibly-not-totally-sure unrequited (?) crush on Luthien and the realization that Luthien has sort of grown out of their friendship while Galadriel has not.

However I'm also quite pleased with both my Maglor/Thranduil pieces, which were both spawned as brainchildren of me and @meadowlarkx so they have a special place in my heart <3

Favorite Thing(s) I Read: I deserve an award for limiting this to 15 fics shhh no it wasn't originally supposed to be 10

Less Wise by @meadowlarkx - I know I've flailed about this one multiple times this year already, but here we go again. Our brainchild pairing may be unusual, but I would implore you to give it a chance, particularly if you're a fan of either Maglor or Thranduil. Lark's characterizations here are so fantastic and the dynamic between them is so juicy! Maglor trying to redeem herself through service to Thranduil is so compelling!

Berrypicking Time by swampdiamonds - This fic captures the best part of Finduilas/Nienor which is their healing and moving forward together. Both of them are trying so hard to process their own trauma, but they also want to help each other!

It's the Secret That We Keep by Loriand_Lost - Beautiful fic exploring Galadriel’s relationships with both Celeborn and Luthien in Doriath. Absolutely fantastic characterization! And great smut scenes.

The Pleasure of the King by Anonymous - Ahhh this is such a great fic. Azaghal and his wife Khoreti are quite eager to show Felagund the depths of hospitality in Belegost. Absolutely fantastic characterizations and such a fun time for everyone here. Also, origins of Finrod’s nipple piercings ;D

Beware of Women with Beards and Men Without by TheLionInMyBed - Azaghal and Maedhros’ alliance was full of cultural misunderstandings, but they push their way through it. Delightful characterizations here, particularly of Azaghal who gets basically none in canon, and a funny but also touching relationship between them.

Nesting by LiveOakWithMoss - It has great characterizations and a fascinatingly toxic Kidnap Fam dynamic, both between the twins and the Feanorians and between Maedhros and Maglor themselves. The whole thing is delightfully fucked up.

A Poetry Lesson by HewerOfCaves - Gorgeous characterization for Ingwion and I love seeing cocky prince Maedhros in Tirion who’s hot and smart and he knows it. Also, hitting on someone in a library feels like such an incredibly Maedhros move.

You are Coming Down with Me by TheLionInMyBed - Dark comedy look at the Kidnap Fam which takes, imo, a much more realistic look at how unhealthy the situation was for everyone involved, particularly the twins. Excellent characterizations!

Daeron Nails It by Tallulah - I am in LOVE with this little fic, it incorporates so many delightful details about the court in Menegroth. I am so pleased to see I am not the only one picturing Thingol and Melian with the cringiest pet names for each other.

A Fish Hook, an Open Eye by simaethae - Delicious. Maglor goes to the Havens at Sirion to try to wheedle cooperation out of Elwing, but she is not having it. Their argument takes a interesting turn in private. Love how desperate and pathetic Maglor is here.

A House of Nettles by Ias - Amazing delicious sexy fic where Eowyn becomes haunted by the Witch King–former queen of Numenor Tar-Miriel. It is SO good.

Strength Like a Tower by potatoesanddreams - This fic almost made me cry over a building. Fantastic look at how Elves connect to their environment.

Bite Thy Wings and Let Thee Crawl by @meadowlarkx - I shit you not this fetish porn fic has one of the best theses on Morgoth I've seen in this fandom. Lark displays a particularly deft talent in being able to take what could easily be considered a comical fetish and imbue it with such terror.

And by their blazing signify that a great princess falls, but doth not die by TheLionInMyBed - Absolutely obsessed, some of the best Elwing characterization I’ve ever seen. Gorgeous look at Elwing’s relationship with the other refugees of the Havens and at the Feanorians’ dynamic with them. One of the best Elwing fics I’ve ever read.

Shadow of the Evening by RussetFiredrake - Captures that lady knight/noblewoman thing with Arwyn SO well…both characters are so loveable here.

Writing Goals for 2023: Nothing specific. Life is a bit in flux right now so I can't say what I'll have time or energy for.

Tagging: @meadowlarkx @polutrope @swanmaids @illusivesoul @maironsbigboobs @welcomingdisaster @undercat-overdog

Please note you are by no means required to follow my template or include individual fic stats at all! You can just answer the questions if you prefer (❁´◡`❁)

#fic roundup #tagged

[swiftyangx12]

“Challenge after challenge”

Ryo Kiritani (Yoru) x Radiant!VP Agent!Reader

[Gender Neutral Reader]

[A/N] = Agent Name

[Synopsis]: A Duelist and a Sentinel competing each other, but it’s more like Yoru is trying to one-up the new agent because he’s either bothered by their presence or it’s something~

[A/N]: I wrote the reader as a Radiant who manipulates metallic elements/materials since I don’t see anyone else pinching in this concept. Now if anyone ask, I also realized later that I based this from the Avatar franchise.

[A/N #2]: I want to thank @hhurric4ne for their help and feedback while writing this piece.

[Warning]: Yoru being a Tsundere/a show-off, injuries from accidents, teeth-rotting fluff, and may be a little OOC (but I’m working on the characters and their traits).

After Agent [A/N] joined the Valorant Protocol, they met some pretty interesting people. At first, they felt out of place and was obviously anxious since there are others like them who gained abilities after The First Light. Though, they still need more control over their Radiant powers of manipulating metallic sources. Luckily, some of the agents were there to be their mentors helping them and able to adapt during the first few weeks at the VP Headquarters.

Everyone like the new agent, except one who saw competition in them.

“Hey fam! KJ and Raze rebuilt the MAXBOT.” Phoenix chimed in the training area with the other agents hanging around. “Wanna see who can beat the robot this time?”

“How about the new agent?” Yoru voiced smugly, pointing over his shoulder behind him directing to [A/N], who was fooling around with scraps of iron. “Me?” Almost dropping their scraps. “I don’t think that’s a good idea since I need more control of my powers.” Protesting to save some trouble, but everybody is now interested to watch how they fight.

“Come on! We want to see how you use your Radiant abilities.” Raze insisted.

“Ja! And this can be an opportunity to help you with training.” Killjoy added as she finishes some codes on her laptop. “We can always rebuild MAXBOT back but with future upgrades.”

“Alright.” [A/N] sighed as they chose their gun of choice.

Jett explained to them about last time when some of the agents tried to defeat the MAXBOT, they almost died and the machine kept winning until everyone banded together to finally kill it off. Now it’s [A/N]’s turn to defeat the former cleaner bot.

“Heh. My money is still on the machine.” Yoru retorted to Jett like last time they bet. The Wind radiant groaned and called out to [A/N]. “Don’t listen to him. Do your best!” She cheered for them.

[A/N] held their Ares close, breathing steadily and when the automatic doors slide open, they sprint inside the room. The MAXBOT set a target on the Metal-bending radiant and starts shooting. They dodge the bullets, hiding behind the structures and starts shooting back. Everyone was watching intently at [A/N] who then uses their spare materials to create a shield to deflect ongoing shots while witnessing them reloading and using their powers to form more bullets out of bullet casings. Barely dodging the flames blasted from the bot and getting hit, slammed against the wall, leaving a crater. The new radiant agent groaned, starting to feel exhausted, but push through to keep fighting. They ran behind the bot, yanking off the extra firearms from its back.

“First hit, first hit on the bot.” Jett exclaimed as Yoru scoffed at her reaction. “It was only luck for them.”

Then silence fell through. It seems ammunition went out and the agent stood in front their ruthless opponent but this is where the fun begins.

[A/N] concentrates and pulls out the deformed bullets buried in the walls with one of their Radiant abilities and shoots back at the MAXBOT in all directions. One of the bullets pierces through the camera, damaging the piece, and it cannot identify the agent now.

Then they use their abilities again to gruesomely rips off the arms and backs up. Reforming the appendages to a set of gauntlets attached to their hands and gets into a fighting stance, and dash towards the armless bot and punches great impact to the torso, sending it flying across the room crashing into a wall. [A/N] rushes over starts beating it, throw punch after punch and tosses MAXBOT out in the open. The machine was unable to stand back up and [A/N] throws the gauntlets aside and walks over to it. They pick up the former killer machine, then start crushing the body with bare hands from their powers. With the last bit of energy, they upper-cut the head off, falling into their arms.

“[A/N] defeated that piece of rubbish! More than peng!” Phoenix was blown away by the event.

“GO [A/N]!” Jett cheered loudly as the doors opened back up. [A/N] came out with the head of the MAXBOT in their hands. “I defeated MAXBOT. It wasn’t too much, right?” They questioned innocently like they never just destroyed the whole robot. Then passes the head back to the couple.

Killjoy and Raze were left shocked of their precious creation being demolished like a soda can. All was left is the head in KJ’s hands.

KAY/O, if he were programmed to show signs of fear, has his screen presenting pixelated sweat drops and barely containing himself from shivering of the idea of having to face against Omega Earth’s [A/N]. “Shit.”

“くそ. That was hot.”

Yoru mumbled under his breath and attempting to not blush from how cool they fought. Yet Jett and Phoenix caught the Riftwalker’s words and started teasing him relentlessly of having eyes on [A/N].

“Ooooh~ Somebody has a crush on [A/N]~” The two duelists synced together at Yoru who glares back at them.

“I do not have a crush on them. I watched like everyone else and noticed their…form was off. I think it’s better that I should mentor [A/N].” He excuses himself to save face.

“Really? You were never interested of mentoring newbies and you always claimed working alone is better.” The Fire radiant stated to Yoru since he knew the lone wolf more. “Phoenix is right. You rarely interact with [A/N] since one day and now decided you’re their mentor?” Jett pointed out.

“It’s only to be sure if they can handle themselves around here.” Yoru finishes and walks away from the two.

“That’s an excuse to get closer to them!” Jett called out as Yoru disappears from their view.

“Getting closer to them. Doesn’t sound bad.” Feeling the same blush growing over his face just thinking about them, Yoru brushes off the sensation and exits into a rift.

Ever since the day [A/N] annihilated the MAXBOT, Yoru uncharacteristically volunteered to be the Metal radiant’s mentor. He kept challenging them and denying he likes them while insisting it’s his responsibility to show off his mentee.

First, he challenged them with arm-wrestling. The Riftwalker almost won but barely lost his arm during the challenge since one of [A/N]’s radiant abilities is unnatural strength.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Yoru!” They panicked and apologized profusely as Skye relocates his dislocated arm and heals it.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, mate. Yoru will be fine and he knows it was an accident.” Skye reassures while casting his injury, which still hurts.

Next, he watched over [A/N] at the Gun Range practicing their aim, and decided to show them off by grabbing a Sheriff, then aims for bullseye. The bullet ricocheted after hitting the center and it headed straight towards [A/N]. They were shot back, cried in pain and Sage had to heal them. Yoru felt like an ass from that memory, but his crush forgave him and joked that they’re both even for hurting each other by accidents.

Lastly, the two radiants were on a mission together to prevent the VL agents from extracting Radianite. He made a bet with them of whoever kills off the most enemies owes them dinner, which earned him an eye roll from his mentee. Both fought together that their effects as a duo was so strong, neither of them won the bet. Though Yoru still took [A/N] out for ice cream for succeeding the mission.

As time continue on, their bond together would grow more, learning about one another and at times, when Yoru beats [A/N] in some form of competition, they compliment him on his abilities and effects. This makes him blush and the rhythm of his heart skip as an reaction while swelling with pride. Yoru realize that he can’t mask away his true feelings for long. He needs to tell [A/N].

“Meet me at the rooftop at 6.” Yoru informed [A/N] when they walked passed each other in the hall of HQ.

Before they could even ask, the Riftwalker disappear through one of his rifts, leaving [A/N] dumbfounded for a moment. “Okay. This has to be important.”

Later that night, [A/N] entered on the rooftop where the sun was setting, coloring the sky with blended hues. They admired the scenery for a little before finding Yoru waiting at the ledge with his back facing at them. “Hey Yoru.” They approach and stood next to him, leaning against the edge of the roof. “So, is there something you need to tell me?” [A/N] faced him with curiosity, waiting for a response.

Then, Yoru finally turns to look at them and spoke. “[A/N], I like you.” He simply confess. “Since the day you defeated the machine, you made me like this. I can’t go on a day without having you in my mind, and …” He groaned, with his face in his palm hiding his blush and embarrassment. “Why are is it so hard to tell you these things?”

“Yoru…” [A/N] then start talking, lifting his face up from his palm and gently holding him. They look into his eyes and continue. “I feel the same way, too. To be honest, I thought you look cool since day one but was too scared to approach you and heard you rather work alone than with others. After the MAXBOT fight, you kept challenging me for training as a way for you to show off and tried to do better hoping to impress me. Which I find adorable.” They chuckled a little.

“Now, I see you as not just the person I want as a boyfriend. I want you as somebody who I can trust, trained with, be protected by, and just the one who can be beside me.” They let go of Yoru’s face and wrapped their arms around his neck, hugging him while still into his dark eyes. “I love you, Yoru.” They finished their confession.

The lone agent was surprised by the revelation of his crush to feel the same way and he wrapped his arms around [A/N]. Getting over the shock, he replied back, “Love you, too.”

The two hugged each other for a while as the sun finally set and the nightly sky appears. They stargazed for a bit, enjoying their presences together until deciding to head back inside of HQ.

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Phoenix: *Watching the newly couple from his hiding spot* Finally! They got together!

Jett: *With Phoenix* It’s about time. Their pining for each other was exhausting.

[Thank you for reading!]

[Reblogs helps creators and creates for more content]

[Tagged]: @hhurric4ne @l0serloki @luckyowl @rinnako @floppydiskettess

#Valorant #Valorant Yoru #Yoru #Ryo Kiritani #Valorant Yoru x reader #Yoru x reader #Ryo Kiritani x reader #Valorant Fanfiction #Valorant Imagines #Valorant x You #Valorant x reader

[pentechnics]

Here Comes the Rain

Chapter 17 of Of Love and Time

Summary: As the rain falls on the world around you both to wash away the last of your woes, after having to keep your feelings closed away for so long, your love has come back to you.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!teacher!Reader

Series Content: teacher/parent AU, fluff, slow burn, lots of mutual pining, mild sexual tension, mentions of past trauma (tagged in detail for specific chapters), depictions of violence (nothing explicit, no gore), angst, a dash of hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, Grogu is at the equivalent age of a human 4-year-old and can speak

Notes: Here we are, my loves. The final chapter of the main story. And yes, I did cry while I wrote it. Words can't describe how I'm feeling right now. This fic is my entire heart and soul, it's the one that started this whole shebang, and so many of you have been avidly supporting it since the very beginning. And so so many of you have just found it and continue to give it so much love!! No matter when you joined the fam, I can't tell you all how much I appreciate you with words alone!

Now, I've said this before but I'm gonna say it again: I'm not done with these two! While their main story is now wrapped up, I still plan to write more snippets from Din's POV, and I am always welcome to asks about these two. Don't be shy sending those my way, okay?

Also, it never occurred to me that I haven't shared this fic's theme song with you all. It's right here. I can't find this version anywhere else but it's this one specifically lol. From beginning to end, this song has been one of the main driving forces of the narrative. So listen, think about them, and enjoy!

I love you all so so SO much and I really hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you all again for coming with me on this ride, it has truly been one to remember! ❤️

~~~~

‘Of course! So happy he’s okay. Excited to see you.’

Din had spent much of the night in Grogu’s room, ensuring he slept through at least the first half of it. 

The rest of it was spent staring at that message, imagining the way your eyes shined when you told him the good news. He couldn’t wait to see you. 

When the light of a new day finally began to seep through the window, Din looked up to find an overcast morning outside: several gray clouds, some darker than others, coated the sky in every which hue they had to offer, many threatening to spill their moisture. He suited up in a flurry, running to gather himself before making his way downstairs. 

As usual, Fennec was already up. 

“You look like you’re in a rush,” she chortled. “I thought you didn’t have work today.” 

“I don’t,” Din said. When he told her he was going to see you, Fennec grinned. 

“Good. We’ll look after Grogu.” 

“Swear you’ll call if he needs me,” he said, voice dropping an octave while he pointed a gloved finger at her. Fennec waved it off. 

“Yeah, yeah, for sure, just go.” 

With one last glance down at himself, Din made his way out of the house and ignited his jetpack. 

~~~~

You hardly slept the night before. Receiving that message from Din sent a wave of anxiety through you. But not a negative one – no, this was the type of anxiety that came before something exciting. Some sort of thing or event that was taking much too long to start happening. It reminded you of how you felt before Grogu’s birthday party: impatient, happy, and hopeful. 

When the grayed-out daybreak hit your room, you decided you were done waiting. You got out of bed and washed up in a flash, throwing on the first clothes you could find and making your way downstairs. Sure, Din’s house was twenty minutes away, but if you walked fast enough you could be there in ten.

You flew down the stairs, your heart already flying out of your chest at the notion of seeing Din. Nothing was going to stop you this time, and the freedom of that knowledge was overwhelming. 

You threw on your shoes just as the sound of rain hitting the roof reached your ears. You flung your door open, only to stop dead in your tracks. 

As the cool morning air bit painfully at the skin of your exposed cheeks and hands, your breath coming out in visible puffs, the smell of moist terrain penetrating your nose, a sudden heat surged through your veins. 

Din was standing at the tip of your walkway just beneath your porch steps, a hand behind his back while the other hung limp at his side. Rain cascaded down every curve of his helmet, pools of it dampening his cape and flight suit, but he didn’t bother to move from his position. 

“H-” you let out a laugh. “How long have you been here?” 

“Just got here,” he said, “Did you really think I was going to waste any more ti- wait-!” 

You cut him off by flinging yourself off the steps towards him. He caught you with a grunt, arms coming around to hold you against his chest. He spun you around, securing his grip on you. You hardly registered the fact that his armor was poking at your chest, or that its collected moisture was soaking through your clothes on impact; you squeezed your arms tighter around his neck. 

One of his hands came to rest on the back of your head, the other keeping its firm hold on your middle. His modulated sigh vibrated against your eardrum. It was pleasing, like a gentle caress. 

Time was lost on you; all you could focus on was the fact that Din was here, and you were finally in his arms. You buried your face into his damp shoulder, relishing in how his body heat rose above it and thawed your frozen nose. 

“Shit, you must be freezing,” he said, “I can feel your face through the suit!” 

You laughed out loud, letting him set you down. You didn’t hesitate to grab him by the hand before leading him inside; he removed his drenched cape before dropping it onto the porch and following you. You laughed at the squelching sound it made. 

The two of you walked into the living room and settled on the couch. Din nodded at your outfit: a pair of leggings and the first sweater you could reach in your closet. 

“Were you seriously going to walk all the way in just that? In this weather?” 

“You didn’t think I was going to waste any more time either, did you?” you asked through another laugh. 

He chuckled and shook his head before letting out a sigh. 

“I, um-” He cut himself off and cleared his throat, moving his gaze to his hand and bringing it around to reveal an ornate brown box. 

“I have something for you.” 

You furrowed your brow as confusion, elation, and wonder mixing together in your head. You glanced between him and the box before he placed it in your lap. 

“Go on.” 

You gulped and looked down at the box, stomach alive with tangling vines as you slowly lifted the lid. You gasped and pressed your hand to your mouth when the object was revealed: 

A single, glowing purple amulet. 

You turned to Din, who was already holding the other one up from where it was strung around his neck. 

“Wha- y-” you scrambled to find words, your brain recalling the small shop and the story you’d heard all too rapidly. “The Ugnaught sold them to you?” 

“He did,” Din tucked his amulet back underneath his cowl. “When I went back he actually already had them behind the counter, said he knew I’d be back for them eventually.” 

“That’s kind of cryptic,” you said with a grin. 

Din shrugged and held out his hand.

“May I?” 

You nodded and gave him the box, turning around so he could put it on for you. Your breath hitched as he eventually reached around your head, arms now devoid of gauntlets and gloves. The small caress of his skin on the back of your clammy neck set you aflame.

“There.” 

You touched the amulet that now sat just below your collar bone, turning back around as you admired it. 

“Thank you, Din,” you whispered, “It’s beautiful.” 

You looked up and stared into his visor, warmth rippling from your system. 

“Listen, I need to tell you something-” 

“Wait,” Din held up a hand to stop you. “I think you’ll want to… see me, before you say that.” 

Your jaw dropped. Was he… he couldn’t be serious. 

“Din, you don’t have to do that-”

“We’re way past that point, Missy.” he gave an exasperated tilt of his helmet. “I’ve… I’ve been wanting to do this.” 

You couldn’t help the way your heart squeezed at his words. You bit your lip and took one of his hands into yours. 

“I’m touched,” you said, “I really don’t know what to say.” 

It was true. You’d been wondering to yourself what those eyes might look like, but no clear picture ever made its way into your head. And now you were about to see them.

He was about to show them to you. 

Your throat began to dry out, your hands suddenly damp with sweat instead of rainwater.  

“Do-um…” Din paused and scratched his neck before putting his palms out. 

“Give me your hands.” 

His words were wobbly. If you were falling apart inside, you couldn’t even imagine what it was like for him. You nodded and placed your hands into his waiting ones, letting him guide them up to the sides of his helmet. You swallowed thickly and tried to take a deep breath, steadying your hands as much as your nerves would let you. 

With Din’s hands on top of yours, you began to pull upward. 

A small hiss sounded through the living room just before the beskar began to give way. The helmet was heavy, even with Din supporting part of its weight. More and more of his true essence came into view the higher it rose.

A rounded chin, pink lips – one plumper than the other – pulled into a tight line, scattered brown stubble. Vaguely familiar from the small glimpse you got of them after Grogu’s party. 

The helmet rose higher. Your breaths grew shorter. 

Defined cheeks, with bones that jutted out just a bit at the apple. A strong hooked nose, and-

Kriff. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for those eyes. 

All the air left your lungs as the rest of the helmet fell away, Din’s gorgeous brown eyes staring into yours, his wavy hair sticking up in a few places, brows pinched together. 

Your throat fell apart like scattered sand. All you could do was smile as you stared between each eye, memorizing every little crevice you could find within them. 

“Din,” you managed, “You’re…” 

You set the helmet down and gently placed your hands on either of his cheeks. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

He let out a huff, as if he’d been holding his breath, and a small smile sprouted on his face.

His stunning, stunning face. 

You were frozen, your heart ready to burst out of your chest the deeper you stared into his eyes. He stared right back, a dazed sort of excitement aligning his features. 

When his gaze trickled lower, something in you snapped. 

Time seemed to slow as you leaned up and pressed your lips against his. He sharply inhaled through his nose before a hand came up to the back of your head, gently pressing you closer. His lips were soft against yours, warm and welcoming. You ran your thumbs across his cheeks before situating your hands on his shoulders. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, his other arm coming to rest on your waist. 

Your entire body and soul were exploding with affection, wanting desperately to pour it all into him from your lips. The heat he emitted wasn’t helping, instead serving to make you dizzy. The sensation made you smile against him.  

When you broke the kiss to come up for air, you stared at his now flushed face. He was all the more beautiful like this: disheveled features and heaving breaths, dilated eyes, a beautiful pink sheen on his nose and cheeks. 

“I love you, Din,” you said, the words tumbling out of you without a second thought. “I love you so much. I am terrified, I have no idea what I’m doing, but I swear I’m going to love you with everything I am.” 

Din’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes widening at your words. He blinked his now glossy eyes and took a sharp breath, hands coming up to cup your cheeks in his hands. He brought your face closer until his forehead could rest against yours. It blazed onto your skin, but you couldn’t help leaning in. 

“I love you, my dear.” he said, voice cracking. “And I’m so fucking proud of you.” 

He pulled you in for another kiss. This one deeper, more urgent, filled with the almost unbearable weight of his love. You fell into his embrace and wrapped your arms around his neck, desperately trying to give that same weight in return. 

His arms closed you in, holding you impossibly close. He engulfed your senses; all you could feel, think, or smell was Din. And you never wanted that to change. You pressed yourself even further into him, refusing to let even the slightest bit of distance find its way between you.

You could’ve stayed right there forever. And now, nothing could stop you from doing just that.

~~~~

Grogu plopped down one stair at a time, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes. He stretched his arms up just as a yawn protruded from his mouth. When he reached the kitchen, Fennec picked him up and plopped him onto the counter. 

“You ready for breakfast, little man?” Boba asked from his position at the stove. Grogu gave him a nod and looked around. 

“Where’s Papa?”

“He went to go tell Miss he loves her,” Fennec said with a casual sip of her caf. 

“Wait… Really?” Grogu’s eyes went wide, his jaw dropping and ears perking up. Fennec nodded. 

“FInally,” he cried, “it took him so long!” 

Fennec and Boba laughed. 

As breakfast was served, the three of them moved to the dining area to eat. In the middle of his meal, Grogu looked up with a contemplative expression.

“Uncle Boba, does this mean Miss is gonna come live with us?” 

He choked back a laugh while Fennec gave Grogu a smile. 

“Well,” Boba started, “I’m sure we can talk to them about that at some point.” 

Grogu nodded in satisfaction and went back to his meal. 

“It’d be so much fun for Miss to live here. Then Papa can tell her he loves her whenever he wants!” 

Boba bit his lip and looked at Fennec, giving her a pouty face. 

“He’s so cute,” he whispered, “I can’t take it!” 

~~~~

‘Let’s get married. Here. Tonight.’

Din pulled you in closer to his chest as the credits began to roll, giving you a wide-eyed glance. 

“Wait, are they seriously going to?” he asked. You giggled and squeezed his hand.

“You’ll have to watch and find out!” 

Din’s armor was now fully removed, giving you access to poke at his side. The two of you had been settled on the couch watching Parks and Rec for at least two hours, the rain still providing your ears with its backdrop. Conversations were had in between, along with many additional shows of affection. Your lips were swollen from how much he’d been kissing you all morning. But you wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything.

The next episode rolled on and the two of you watched Leslie and Ben frantically pull a wedding together. 

“I feel like our wedding would be like that,” Din said, “We’d just decide it’s going to happen one day.” 

Your brow jumped up as a small wave of shock flew through your system. You looked at him. 

“Wow, you’re already thinking about that?” 

“Of course,” he said as if it were obvious, turning to look at you. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I wasn’t wasting any more time.” 

Warmth engulfed your chest as you looked into his eyes. No more guessing what was hiding there – now you could see the honest, devoted, loving gaze that accompanied his words. You leaned in and gave him a soft kiss.

“I like that.” 

The two of you returned your attention to the wedding just in time for Jamm to throw his second stink bomb. 

“Except we won’t have anyone like that guy remotely near it,” Din scoffed. You laughed.

“It’s weird,” he went on, “their universe seems so simple. Their problems seem… small. But ever since I came to this planet, I feel like the problems here are just like theirs.” 

“It does take some getting-used-to,” you said with a nod. “I felt so strange for the longest time when I first came here. Being on constant alert and always on the run, it becomes a habit.”

He nodded and ran his finger up and down your arm. 

“How long did it take for you to adjust?”

“A while,” you shifted to get a better view of him. “For the first few years I was still pretty alert wherever I went. Sometimes it just felt too good to be true, you know? Like all of this newfound safety could just disappear in the blink of an eye.”

His brow scrunched as he gulped. He must still be thinking that himself. You gave his hand another squeeze. 

“But the more I worked, and the more I guaranteed safety to the kids and their families, the realer it felt. And at work I feel like I have a part in that, like if something bad were to happen that I’d have the power to do something about it. I don’t know if that makes sense,” you shrugged.

“Perfect sense,” Din said, slouching a bit more into the couch. “That… that really helps.”

You smiled and snuggled into his side. When your eyes returned to the holofeed, Ron and Leslie were about to walk into the Parks office. You glanced at Din’s face as Donna began to sing and Leslie walked down the aisle. You felt his chest rise as he let out a small gasp, a sweet smile making his cheeks pop out. 

How lucky, you thought, how lucky am I that I get to see this. 

The scene went on with Ben and Leslie saying their vows, followed by music and gifts. The surrounding flowers caught your eye and made you gasp as a memory resurfaced in your mind. You rose into a full sitting position and stared at Din.

“That plant in the garden,” you started, “it bloomed!” 

“Oh-” his eyes went wide with recognition. “Yeah, I saw it!”

“Saw it?” you asked, “when?” 

“Last time I was here, I stopped at the garden on the way home. That’s actually when I decided to go buy the necklaces, too,” he let out a little chuckle. 

“How funny,” You shook your head. 

The two of you settled back down and finished the episode. This one had always been a favorite of yours; the ending satisfied the suspense, and left behind a honey-sweet feeling of warmth. You let out a breath through your nose and sank into it. 

As the credits rolled, Din sat up straight.

“Wait, you said you’d tell me when it bloomed!” 

“I just did,” you said, putting on an innocent face. 

“You know what I mean, Missy,” he gave you a playful glare.  

“It’s not like I didn’t want to,” you said with a shrug. “Plus, you didn’t say anything, either!”  

The two of you continued your back and forth, eventually falling into laughter. It was surreal to see Din laugh – you’d heard it a few times, but it was always masked, filtered, hindered by his helmet or by other sounds around you. And now not only did you get to hear his pure, uninterrupted joy, but you also got to see its evidence in his features: little crinkles beside his eyes, a small dimple on one of his cheeks, and a big, beautiful smile that made your heart flip flop in your chest. 

Having access to all of Din would be an adjustment – one for which you were more than ready.

~~~~

Epilogue: One year later… 

After the last student gave you a handshake, you rose from your spot at the gate and looked out to the courtyard, smiling as a familiar helmet came into view. Din walked forward and took your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. 

“How was your day?” he asked, voice low and soft. 

“Good!” you said as you led him inside the gate by the hand. “And yours?” 

“Fine,” he shrugged. “Fixed up another droid.” 

“Look at you, droid expert in the making!” you said with a smirk, buffing him with your shoulder. He chuckled. 

“I’ll go get Grogu – meet you after?” 

“Yeah, come to the classroom. I still need to finish up a few things.”

He nodded and gave your hand a squeeze before walking towards Grogu’s classroom, where Din now waited just outside the door for him. 

You were sitting at your desk when the two of them walked in just minutes later, Grogu throwing his backpack on the ground and making an immediate beeline for you. 

“What did you do today, bud?” you asked after wrapping him up in your arms. 

“We did lots of math today,” he said, “It was hard but I liked it!” 

“That’s awesome!” 

You booped his nose before letting him go and returning to your tasks. Din had taken a seat on the other side of your desk. You grinned at the sight as check-in memories flashed through your mind.

“Do you have any meetings today?” he asked.

“Nope,” you said as your fingers glid over the datapad, “Just need to send out a few things, and then I’m all yours for the weekend.” 

“I like the sound of that,” he said, his voice laced with a sultry hum that had heat rushing into your face. You stopped typing mid-word to gawk at him.

He gave a small shrug. You scoffed and shook your head. 

“You’ll just take any chance to talk like that, won’t you?” you leaned in to whisper, “Even in front of Grogu.”

“Hey, we both know you wouldn’t have it any other way, Missy.”

You tried to bite down your grin as you stared him down, searching your mind for a suitable retort. You leaned forward and rested your elbows on the desk.

“And what makes you think it’ll be easy to get me?” you asked, a teasing glint in your tone. He matched your movement and rested a gauntlet on the wooden surface, his helmet now invading your space.

“Oh, I have my ways,” he rasped, “and you know they’ll work.” 

You tried to ignore the shiver sent down your spine as you leaned back and returned your attention to your datapad. 

“We’ll see.” 

There it was. A crack in your voice. All Din needed to ease back with a cocky sigh that made your hands ball into fists of playful annoyance. 

A knock at your door preceded Gila’s entrance. She greeted Din and Grogu as she approached your desk. “Just picking up your reports,” she said. You smiled and handed her a folder from one of your drawers.

“Can you believe the year’s almost over already?” you asked, “It seems like yesterday I only just met this bunch, and now here you are picking up my last report bundle.”

“Time is whacky like that,” Gila said with a nod. With a few more parting words, she made her way out of the classroom. 

“I’m just glad this time around has been better than the last,” Din said. “I still want to punch that guy.” 

“I know,” you said, reaching out to place a hand over his gloved one. “But we don’t need to worry about that anymore. Everything this year has been as safe and normal as any other.” 

Din’s fingers wrapped around yours and squeezed. His chest rose and fell in slow motion as he released a breath. 

You smiled as you recalled the beginning of his ritual of asking about your day. It was laced with a tinge of concern, an alertness that you weren’t expecting. After it went on for those first couple weeks of the new school year, you’d asked him about it. 

“I just want to make sure nothing like that happens again,” he’d said. “And… there’s not much else I can do other than ask if it did.”

The sentiment was a warm blanket around your healing soul. Having someone look out for you, who encouraged sharing your burdens – it refreshed you. By then it wasn’t brand new, but after having Din in your life for more than a year it was still something you acknowledged every day. 

“Yes, it’s all done!” 

Both of your heads turned towards Grogu, who had taken the liberty of decorating your whiteboard with various drawings of all kinds of creatures. Your smile grew as you took it in while he stood before the board with the brightest grin, his little arms pointing out towards it. Banthas, Blurrg, lizard-monkeys, and more of all shapes and colors adorned every free space Grogu could reach. And in the center of it all was a purple Mudhorn. 

“Oh that’s wonderful, Grogu, the kids are going to love it!” 

Grogu beamed and ran over to Din’s side of the desk, who bent down to give him more praising words.  

“Okay, boys, I’m all done,” you said, pressing one final key on the datapad and shutting it down. 

Grogu cheered while you collected your things. Din stood and scooped him up before taking your hand with his free one, leading the way out of your classroom.

~~~~

You and Boba were on dinner duty that night, spending at least two hours cooking one of Boba’s signature stews. You tasted a small sample from his offered spoon, humming as its warmth spread through your body, your tongue bursting with its savory and spicy flavors. 

“I swear, this stew gets better every time you make it.”

“Like many things, it matures with time.” 

You grinned and helped him scoop out each serving before carrying them to the backyard patio.

“Dinner’s ready!” you heard Boba call, followed by three sets of eager footsteps. 

When everyone was situated outside with their meals, each of you shared a memory or story from the week. Fennec spoke of a funny incident at work, Boba of helping and befriending a neighbor. Din recalled the droid he fixed coming to life earlier that day and endlessly shaking and beeping with joy. 

“It kept following me around,” he said as he took a bite, “I had to babysit it until the owner came back since it wouldn’t stay in the lobby.” 

“Oh, come on, it liked you!” you said, “I bet you enjoyed its company.” 

Din glared at you through his lashes, but didn’t refute your claim. Boba let out a chuckle before pointing his spoon at Grogu. 

“What about you, kiddo,” he said, “What did you do this week?” 

Grogu swallowed his mouthful before beginning. 

“In class today, we did a lot of math,” he spread his arms out for emphasis. “It was hard, but it was cool! Finn and Rey were really good at it, and Ben got mad because he didn’t get it.” 

You chuckled, recalling other instances in which those three had been brought up in Grogu’s stories. Grogu got along great with Finn and Rey, though Ben was a different story. It said a lot that Grogu didn’t even want to invite Ben to his birthday party a couple months prior. 

You took a look around as Grogu continued, relishing in the moment. Din was hanging on Grogu’s every word, as were Boba and Fennec. 

This was your new normal. It had been for quite some time now, yet it still caught you by surprise. You had dependable, near-constant companionship, and you’d grown so closely with the rest of Din’s little family that somewhere along the way they began to feel like yours as well. 

You never thought such connections were still an option for you just a year ago. Yet here you were. 

You smiled and continued to listen to Grogu’s tale, taking in more mouthfuls of stew as you did while the slight breeze caressed your face. 

“And then- hey, look! A grasshopper!” 

Grogu popped out of his seat and ran after the sizeable insect. 

“Grogu, no!”  

Din’s spoon clattered into his bowl as he rose to follow. You pressed a hand to your mouth to keep your amusement in while Fennec and Boba cheered Grogu on through their laughter. 

~~~~

The four of you relaxed with a few board games in the living room after dinner, fits of laughter filling the room. Once Fennec had won yet another round of Heads Up, she and Boba rose from the sofa. 

“Okay then, we’re heading out,” Fennec said as she made her way to give Grogu – who was situated in your lap – a hug. 

“You two sure you don’t want to join us?” Boba asked. You and Din shook your heads. 

“We’re staying in tonight,” Din said, squeezing you closer with the arm he had wrapped around you. You grinned and squeezed Grogu in turn. 

Boba nodded before the two took off. You looked down to see Grogu grinning at you, his cheeks popping out like two sweet little cherries.  

“Is it time now?” he asked. 

“It sure is!” 

You set him down and he ran off without a moment to spare. You rose from your spot beside Din, causing him to look at you with confusion. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

“You’re gonna love this,” you said with a grin. “Grogu and I planned a little surprise activity for the three of us tonight.”

He glanced around before returning his skeptical, slightly concerned gaze back to you. 

Grogu’s giggling announced his return as he scampered back to you with a large box in his arms. Din squinted his eyes to read it before his brows furrowed even further. 

“What the hell is Twister?” 

“It’s a game!” you said through a laugh. “We’ve been wanting to show it to you for a while, haven’t we, bud?”

“Yeah!” 

Grogu put down the box and ran to his father’s side. 

“It’ll be so much fun, Papa!” 

Din looked at you with an unconvinced gaze. You shrugged and waved him towards you. 

“At least give it a try.” 

He looked between you and Grogu before releasing a defeated sigh and standing. 

“As long as I don’t have to do any actual twisting.”

~~~~

“Right hand, red!” 

You and Din scrambled to reach the red dot without moving your other limbs. 

This was the third round of Twister, and you and Din were currently sprawled in all directions on the mat while Grogu took on his favorite position: spinning the wheel. Your fingers hardly reached the red circle, while Din’s hand came towering over and covering it with no issue. 

“How are you so good at this?” you laughed, trying to keep your twisted torso from collapsing. 

“I honestly have no idea,” he breathed with a smile. 

“Left foot, yellow!” 

You and Din glanced at a giggling Grogu before attempting to follow the direction. You wound up propped into a table position facing upward while Din now had to twist around above you to get to the circle. Just as he nudged your foot with his, you felt the mat slip before crashing down onto your back. 

Din’s arm had given out and sent him careening into you, the two of you now a pile of limbs and laughter on the floor. 

“What do you think, kid, who won?” 

“Miss did, of course!” Grogu threw his hands into the air. “You’re the one that fell, Papa!” 

You let out a triumphant ‘ha!’ before giving Din a knowing look. He shook his head with a chuckle and helped you off the floor. 

“Okay, pal,” Din turned to face Grogu. “That was the last round. Bedtime.” 

Grogu’s ears fell as he looked between you both. 

“But this is so fun,” he pouted. 

“And we can do more later, but I have to stretch, and you have to sleep.” 

His pout only grew as he looked at you for confirmation. You gave him a nod. 

“Your eyes are getting heavy, bud, I can see it.”

As if on command, he let out a yawn. Din nodded and scooped him into his arms. 

The three of you made your way to Grogu’s room and Din tucked him into the covers. As per your new bedtime routine, you joined Din at the bedside and gave Grogu your hand to hold while Din wrapped his arm around his little frame. The hammock slightly rocked from the movement, making Grogu’s eyes droop. 

You couldn’t help smiling. He was too cute when he was sleepy. 

Din spoke softly to him and ran a thumb over his arm until he drifted off, a sweet smile forming on his little face. When Din stepped away you came forward and planted a kiss on Grogu’s forehead. 

“Sweet dreams, Grogu,” you whispered. 

~~~~

When the time came for you and Din to retire as well, he flopped onto the bed beside you with a huff. 

“All Twister-ed out?” you giggled. 

He responded with a muffled grunt before straightening himself out. You mindlessly twirled your amulet between your fingers while you watched. 

Once he settled into a lying position, you took him in: thin white shirt, shorts, his matching amulet resting in the middle of his chest, and his helmetless face that looked calmer with each breath he took. Eyes closed while he stretched his arms into the air before letting them fall to his sides. 

All this time, yet he was still a vision. Your heart grew warm and you reached for his hand to hold in yours. He turned to you. 

“Everything okay, love?” 

Your head still swooned every time he called you that. You smiled. 

“Everything’s perfect,” you said as you switched off your lamp and laid down beside him. 

Under the darkness, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close until your head was resting on his chest. You sighed as his body warmth engulfed you, the firmness of his embrace melting away your worries. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” 

“What if you… moved in full time?” 

Your brows rose as you looked up at him. 

“Really?” 

“I-I mean, if you want to,” he continued, “The weekends you’re here are always the best, and…” 

He brought a hand up to cradle your face, his thumb sweeping over the apple of your cheek. “I hate watching you go. I hate waking up without you. This place feels… emptier without you.” 

You smiled and leaned into his hand, pure joy drowning your heart with each word he spoke. 

“But if it’s too soon or you don’t want to, or if you’d rather we get a different place-”

“Din,” you gently cut him off. “I would love to.” 

He blinked a few times as he stared at you, a tiny smile pulling up the corners of his lips. 

“... You would?” 

“I hate leaving you,” you whispered, running your fingers over where you could feel a small patch of chest hair through his shirt. “All of you have been so wonderful to me, you make me feel like I belong here. I miss you all so much during the time I’m away.” 

He let out a cross between a sigh and a huff, his chest deflating. Even through the dark his eyes betrayed relief and joy; you couldn’t look away from them. 

“Guess it’s settled, then,” he breathed. 

You nodded with a grin before he leaned in for a kiss, which you immediately melted into. 

When the two of you settled down to sleep once more, you glanced up. 

Above you both, pinned to the wall, was an updated family portrait Grogu had drawn. A scribbled version of you now stood beside him, holding his hand while Din held the other, Boba and Fennec flanking either side. 

You gazed at it with a smile before closing your eyes and tucking yourself into Din’s chest, letting your mind wander and comb over how the two of you got to this point.

From the moment you met him, there was a series of walls surrounding you both. Walls that had been built from years of turmoil, mistrust, and pain. And you were surprised to be weaving your way through his as you got to know him. 

But the moment you noticed him tearing yours down… it seemed too good to be true. Yet it went on until he was a breath’s distance from you. And now here you both stood, in the rubble of your previous fortresses, adding each other to the foundation of a new structure that would house the future: the good, bad, and every moment in between. 

Now, you’d face the galaxy together, and protect each other. 

Now, you had love and time on your side. 

****

as always, if you enjoyed this, please support your content creators with reblogs! ✨

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #grogu #fluff #of love and time

[safyresky]

Happy Saturday night/Sunday morning fellow tsc fans! How we all feeling post episode drop? Good? Bad? SHOCKED and APPALLED at the Charlie scene*? Smad about Jack being called a frozen lunatic? Because our emotional support lunatic DID in fact THAW? Mad that Santa can now, uh, blow winds and uh, send ICICLES? WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN? WHAT DID HE DO TO JACK? WHERE IS JACK?

I'm calm, I'm cool. I'm chill. Uh.

Are you tired of people being like nah, fuck it, Jack is still evil/frozie/villain lmao, POST tsc3? Girl, same.

Well, may I offer you a plug for Crystal Springs in this trying time?

Crystal Springs? You ask. The thing I see you post about a solid 25% of your time on hellsite?

Yes! Crystal Springs!

Well...alright, I'll bite, you say. What is it?

Crystal Springs is a genfic that I wrote that takes place a year after tsc3, and focuses on our boy Jack Frost, who has THAWED! He's been chilling at the Pole, doing them community service hours, making up with Santa and the other elves, just. Y'know. GETTING BETTER POST-THAW. HE'S HAVING A REDEMPTION ARC! IT'S GREAT! IT'S ALL GREAT!

Except for one itty bitty tiny thing...

His powers seem to be...gone. And you know, this wouldn't be TOO much of a problem if he wasn't tied to the Dome that shelters the entire North Pole and saves them from exposure and also, keeps Elfsburg temperate!

But unfortunately, keeping the Dome shipshape is one of the ah, not so perky perks of Jack's job. And when his powers stop working...the Dome starts melting, warming up the North Pole and letting the magic leak out. And if the magic leaks out??? It'll spread way too fast, way too hot, and potentially jeopardize not only the magical populous of the world, but the regular populous, too! Because not only does the Dome keep them safe and temperate, it also doles out the magic in proper quantities so as not to overwhelm the magic that coats the entire globe!

And on TOP of that, BECAUSE the Dome melting is starting--a process known as the Deliquesce--everyone is beginning to think that maybe Jack's going back to his old ways...ruh-oh raggy!

So what to do, what to do? Well, after finally admitting his lack of powers to the Council, there's one thing that may be able to help Jack: the Legate Law.

Santa has his clauses, but the Council? Well, they all have a lil' something known as the Legate Law, in which, should something happen to them or they become unable to do their job or even just retire (yeah tscs series, I did it FIRST! HA!), their Legate steps in to take their place!

Jack's Legate should be good to take over his seasonal duties and fix up the Dome temporarily, if they partially enact the law. They may even be able to help Jack get to the bottom of his power shortage!

There's only one problem.

His Legate is his younger sister, Jacqueline.

Who he hasn't seen or talked in fourteen hundred years.

In fact, the last time they saw each other, he uh. He maybe almost killed her. Maybe. Almost. It was bad. Bad enough to be known as the Day of Darkness in magical history.

But, Jack, realizes, it's time to make amends with the fam. And this seems to be the only way to save the North Pole and all of the magical world. (And Christmas too, I guess).

But when Jacqueline arrives and things take a turn for the worse, the pair realize that if they want to fix this at all, they're gonna have to go home.

Back to Crystal Springs.

(BOOM NAME DROP!)

So off Jack goes to make amends with his parents, meet the younger twin siblings he didn't even KNOW existed, and hopefully get his and Jacqueline's sleet together before the nefarious stranger in the shadows manages to string together a devious plot for some very, very, very old vengeance on the Frosts.

Oh, I didn't mention the mysterious stranger? Well, there is one, and he's stirring up trouble for the entire Frost Fam!

So. In conclusion. Crystal Springs has EVERYTHING.

AND MORE! (Bernard, weird evil man working in the shadows for lord knows WHAT reason, canon characters IN CHARACTER)

But mostly, it has JACK. And if anyone out there is missing their emotional support frozen lunatic, well. I GOTYOU ;)

🆕🆕 And is now on ao3 here! 🆕🆕 (Up to Chapter 29: Mind Goop)

*we here at SafyreSky Industries are aware of the reasons they did the Charlie scene the way they did in Disney+'s The Santa Clauses. However, we are upset at the way they portrayed him and his wife's relationship. SafyreSky Industries is of the opinion that:

A) Charlie should have TOLD wifey AGES AGO about Scott as Santa AGES AGO and that

B) Had he and wifey had a nice conversation that was drawn out and not, you know, like THAT. Just a bit more mature and heartfelt and communicating their needs to one another, then it would've been LESS anger inducing, and finally

C) Like Charlie being next better and as such, will be going forward in CS Verse canon with Charlie becoming Santa's Legate and after that, the next Santa :)

#dani speaks #dani writes #fanfiction #the santa clause #the santa clause 3 #crystal springs #tsc: cs #i re-watched the first two episodes with ana again tonight and damn. i am really missing the frosty man #santa out here like. using jack's essence? get FUCKED man. #long post #the santa clauses #making this the pinned post so if anyone rolls on here like wtf is an crystal springs #they get the answer immediately lol

[actualbird]

I don't know if this has been asked before but what's your hc on how Giann and Marius interact? would they bicker a lot or does giann being 10 years older change things?

hi anon!! i never really wrote a specific hc posts about how i think giann and marius interact, cuz ive written several fics where i Do Make Them Interact in scenes themselves HAHA

so i'll just take the time here to do some shameless self fic recs (with further detailing on what abt the interactions specifically are seen)

-

standard operating procedure (x4 speedrun) | aka the fic where giann returns and finds out marius is dating the nxx5 in a polycule situation

T rated | nxx5 polycule + giann & marius feels | complete fic | 17k words total

while this fic involves the entire nxx5 interacting with giann, the entire thing does delve deep into how giann sees, acts, and recalibrates his relationship with marius given all the changes that have happened.

the 1st, 4th, and 5th chapter have scenes in particular where giann and marius directly interact but as a brief (VERY brief. this fic is 17k for a reason, so i cant bullet point it all JHVKSJHF) summary on those interactions:

despite the 10 year age difference, i absolutely think theyre close as hell, both in the past and in the present of the fic that i ended up writing out.

i also say a huge Yes to bickering, because thats the casual way the ended being accustomed to communicating but that that can be a drawback sometimes. it's the whole "ack, sincerity and vulnerability with my sibling is WEIRD even if we're close, because UGH we're supposed to be cool and calm all the time"

and on a related vein, yes as well to like, how both of them Do talk to each other, but a lot of the time, not much is being Truly Said. i think marius had to have learned the art of putting up a mask from somewhere, and so both giann and marius (especially when distressed) end up brushing off their own problems so that the other wont worry

-

how to care for your dear friend who is currently stuck in his magical serpent form | aka the fic where the von hagens are secretly magic dragons and marius is stuck as a serpent noodle

T rated | no ship + nxx found fam + marius & giann & austin feels | incomplete fic | 15k words currently

once again, while this fic is a little more geared towards exploring the team's dynamic with marius and each other, since the whole magic dragon thing is a Von Hagen thing, the fic does tackle marius' relationship with his family. as opposed to the last fic where it's from giann's pov, this one is from marius'. the fic has a few bits of marius and giann directly interacting in the 1st chapter, and the super tiny quick bites from that is

it's in this fic that i doubled down on how giann is very protective over marius. we are told this in canon, so this isnt much of an hc but still, i rlly like this about giann.

aside from the usual things we think abt when we hear the word "protective" (like hover-y, worry, ready to go fuck ppl up if u hurt the person being protected etc etc), i also think in general that giann was like, the closer Adult Figure marius had and the one he trusted a bit more or found it easier to trust

this is veering away from giann & marius and more into austin & marius now, but i rlly hc that theres a disconnect between marius' relationship with his dad. not to say that austin is a bad dad, but that in losing giann (which already happens after austin lost his wife too), marius and austin kinda lost their key bridge of connection as well

-

aaaaaand lastly

you can run, you can hide, but this email WILL find you! | aka the fic told completely through emails and the fic that im still proudest of in this fandom

T rated | no ship + vyn & giann + giann & marius + vyn & marius | complete fic | 4.3k words total

this fic actually does not have giann and marius directly interacting AT ALL, but in my defense, it doesnt have....anybody directly interacting. bc this fic is told thru emails omfg. buuuut

throughout the fic, i wanted it clear that giann really, really cares about marius and goes to great lengths to ensure that marius (and also vyn, because vyn is his friend) are prepared for everything, even giann himself disappearing

additionally, marius really really is cares to and likes his brother, and was 1) very excited to be able to see him in person and 2) devastated by giann's disappearance, and 3) protective (through his determination to find giann) right back at giann

these arent really Interactions, but i figured it deserved a place on this response anyway as a good conclusion as to how i think marius and giann are with each other: mutual shitheads, close as hell but with trouble being completely sincere, protective of one another, and in general just a couple of ride or die or siblings

-

this was a very long response that answered your question only indirectly jahdvjhVKJVKJ. still, thank you for the ask! i feel really deeply about giann & marius cuz ive also got siblings im very close with, and just knowing tht other ppl r interested in the von hagen brother dynamic too is a treat in itself already :D

#asks #anon #forgive me for talking abt my own fics...it's jst my brain has been so [redacted terrible] that #i dont think i can write anything new for the rest of 2022. so. lemme take a walk down memory lane yknow jshfhjafs

[liz-allyn]

Hi it’s me how are you doing good I hope so I just read sugar and vice pt 4 and I tell it’s breath taking it’s so good I’m so surprised with the sudden change in the tone of the story I knew that it was a dark story because of violence and the mob au usually contains but I was not expecting it to get sending shivers down your spine as you fear for the life of the mc kind of dark you’ve executed the twist so well I bet none of your readers saw it coming I really love that about your writing and I’m so looking for forward to where this is going to end up taking us Peter in this chapter was terrible terrifying and an idiot to put it mildly but I still have empathy for him (see that’s what makes your writing so fun to read ) I did feel bad when is pts kicked but the aftermath ?the way he dealt with ?it left me disgusted and disappointed and disturbed he was awful to someone he calls the brightest thing in his life and he has no excuse for that none whatsoever it left a very bitter taste in my mouth so much for “protecting” her from monsters he should take it easy with her I know he’s learning but if he wants her to even remotely trust him after that incident he needs to learn fast that’s it for now all my love starlight

🌌

Hi starlight!! I am doing well, I had a nice half week off with fam (but now I’m also really tired and ready for quiet?)

How was your last week?

I’m so glad you’re liking Sugar and Vice! Yes, we do not like mean angry Peter, especially when he’s angry at our Honey, but keep in mind, I’m writing a slightly darker, Peter variation. He’s not the same guy we know from TASM. It’s different from how I wrote peter in my other stuff (he was such a sweetheart in Heat of the Moment 💜).

This Peter is going to be darker, messy, controlling (maybe a little yandere), rageful, and at the very least, morally gray. I want to portray him as at war with himself about how to be better, considering the departure his life has taken from the TASM canon. We want to root for him, but he will disappoint us many times. And Honey as we learn is not a perfect healthy character. I predict her impulses will lead them into a passionate, strangely functional (and toxic) relationship. Don’t think that these characters or their relationship is what anyone should want for themselves! That’s another reason why I don’t recommend anyone read this that isn’t over 18, or is triggered by emotional abuse and toxic relationships— everyone needs to prioritize their mental health first!

I read mob fics and I enjoy them mostly, but sometimes the main character ends up being so sweet that you’d be surprised he’s the leader of a criminal organization, or he’s so evil he’s the devil incarnate. No room for gray areas. So I definitely want to do something different, but also try to write reasons to justify those actions.

I’m not totally sure where this story is going to take me! I’m trying something new where I’m not hyper-focused on how this will end, just writing in a flow. But I am a fan of happy endings, so hopefully it’ll be worth it in the end!

Thank you for your thoughtful message! As always I love hearing from you 💜

#🌌.txt #💬 sugar and vice #yandere!peter parker #dark peter parker #mob peter parker #mafia au #mob au #peter parker mob au #dark!peter x reader

[papermint-airplane]

Just some Simblr updates and *cough* other ramblings. Click if you’re interested. Warning: it is long.

It's 5:30 on a Wednesday evening. I am sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair in a church basement. The air smells of mildew and fried chicken (it's a Baptist church). I'm holding a paper cup full of lukewarm water in both hands. It's still full. The bottom is beginning to sag. I stare at it.

"Laura!" comes a voice from my right. I startle, sloshing my water slightly. "It's your turn to speak," comes the voice again, softer this time.

I look up. A large, tight smile stretches across Shelly's face. She probably means for it to look reassuring but it just looks forced. I swear I can make out the faintest twitch in her right eye. I drop my gaze to my paper cup again. All around me, metal chairs creak out a chorus as the other members of the group shift. I know eight pairs of eyes just turned towards me, though I don't look up to confirm it. It would have been nine if Greg had showed up tonight. Fucking Greg.

I open my mouth, attempting to speak, but all that comes out of my dry throat is a strained "u-uh." I raise the paper cup to my lips and down the water like a shot. Some of it floods into my windpipe. I begin coughing uncontrollably, my body's reflexes desperately trying to save me from drowning myself on dry land. Shelly is still smiling at me.

"Take your time," she says. I continue to choke. Jennifer, on my left, half-heartedly pats my back.

After what feels like an eternity, my airway manages to clear itself and I am no longer dying. I only wish I were.

"Uh," I say again, even more hoarse than before. "I-I'm Laura and I can't--"

"'Don't'," Shelly corrects me. "We don't say 'can't' here."

"Right, uh, I don't finish things," I say. Shelly nods her approval. "Uh..yeah."

"Hi, Laura," eight voices drone in response.

"It's been two weeks since I posted the last part of Denizens of Woeford," I continue. I know that I should--"

"Ah ah ah!" interrupts Shelly, wagging a finger at me. "We don't 'should' ourselves here."

"Right. I know I sh--I mean, I need--I want to post another part but..." My voice trails off. Sentences are another thing I struggle to finish, apparently. Shelly's eye twitch becomes a bit more pronounced. "You know what, I have to go to the bathroom," I blurt out, holding up my empty paper cup as if it is exhibit A in my legal defense.

"Of course," coos Shelly. "We'll still be here when you get back. Unless it's after 6:00, because the ladies have to set up for prayer meeting."

I scramble out of the room as fast as my legs will carry me. To my credit, I do stop at the ladies' room to toss my cup into the wastebin. I flush one of the toilets, hoping the sound will drown out my footsteps as I bolt down the hallway towards the exit. Greg had the right idea ditching tonight. Fucking Greg.

I won't be back.

~~

So. If you’re wondering what that was all about, me too, fam, me too. Ever get a shower thought you can’t shake until you write it down? This was that. I’m so sorry I put you through all that.

That was just my round-about, extremely convoluted way of acknowledging my faults. I have started like three stories on here that I’ve dropped already because I didn’t have time to do a good job or I was bored or *dismissive hand flap* whatever else. I do have a hard time finishing things, I admit that. I have limited time to play because of my full-time job and when I do play, I tend to prioritize my own enjoyment (as I should, as we all should) so if I’m not enjoying something, I drop it. That’s what happened to Bellaverse.

Bellaverse was going to be a multiverse-spanning story about Bella Goth née Bachelor in several different iterations just...just going through it. I actually wrote like 90% of it. All I had left to do was set up pictures for it. Problem was, due to my limited time, I kind of ended up half-assing the pictures in the prologue. I wasn’t really happy with any of them but I didn’t feel like I had the time or attention span to redo them. So I dropped the story rather than putting something out I’m not happy with. Maybe at some point, I’ll take another crack at it. Like I said, I do have most of it written and I don’t want a story to go to waste. 

All of this is to say I feel bad when I drop something else or I don’t feel as excited about something as I once did. And that’s dumb. This is a game that I play for fun on a Simblr I maintain for fun. I shouldn’t be making myself feel bad for only focusing on stuff I enjoy and dropping what I don’t. But, this isn’t really about the Simblr. I have trouble finishing things in other areas of my life, too. I have mental health problems and I tend to put too much pressure on myself and get too overwhelmed and...things just don’t get done. I’m working on it in therapy. My therapist is not Shelly, thank God. He’s actually really good and he’s helping me get over a lot of self-inflicted guilt.

So I’m not dropping Denizens of Woeford. However, I am changing it. 

My original plan was to play every family in Woeford in a rotational save, posting their stories one part per rotation and continuing on like that, tying each family’s story into each other. Ambitious, you say? Nah, not really. The intertwining narratives were always going to happen with what I had planned, so that wasn’t my issue. My issue is this stupid game doing what it does and making life difficult for me. I found Pleasant Sims’ detailed instructions on how to play Sims 3 rotationally and I followed them. to. the. letter. And it didn’t work. Even after I set up castes, even after I added everyone to them, even after I installed a mod to enable Sims 2-style aging, even after I set lifespans on epic, my unplayed Sims decided “hey fuck Laura, let’s just do what we want!” and aged up without my input anyway. It was really annoying trying to focus on one family when I had to go jump into other households real quick to fix people. 

And that’s when I realized, hey, I don’t want to do this. The only households I was really enjoying playing were Aiden’s and Eleanor’s, in that order. So, instead of my grand rotational plan, I’m going to focus just on Aiden and Eleanor. I’m still going to post introductions to the other Denizens of Woeford (because I worked hard on those, dammit), and you’ll still get to see their stories play out, albeit in the background of Aiden’s story. It’s just better for me this way and I think it’s better for anyone who wants to read this mess, too, because not only will it be less confusing, it’ll be more fun. And I’ll be having fun instead of wishing I was playing with Aiden instead of whoever I’m posting about. I know my feelings would show through, and that’s no good for anyone. 

So, Tl; dr, I will be posting Denizens of Woeford once more. I scrapped all my initial plans and screenshots, and moving forward, I’ll just be focusing on Aiden and Eleanor instead of everyone.

More than likely, I am literally the only person on the planet who cares about any of this, but I wanted to get my thoughts out there anyway. If you are reading this, holy shit why?! But also, thank you, and if you learn anything from this, prioritize what you find fun over what you’ve made yourself think you’re obligated to do. Because at the end of the day, nobody is going to care anywhere near as much as you do, so you might as well stop making yourself stress out over nothing. Nobody is forcing you to do anything except you. And maybe Greg. Fucking Greg.

#tangentially sims related #ramblings #this is very long and very stupid #only read this if you want updates on what i'm doing on my simblr #and updates on my life i guess #and if you want to read an extremely long description of a joke only i find funny #oh god what have i done

[hoshi-y]

Hello there! Can I request Akane(male), Mitsuba, Kou, and Yashiro with a reader that is like Anya from spy x family?

A Reader that is like Anya from Spy x Family

genre : Fluff

characters : Mitsuba Sousuke, Minamoto Kou, Aoi Akane, Yashiro Nene

TW : None

A/N : Is this a sign that I should continue Spy x Fam, WAHAHAHA I haven't finished it yet

So, Her Personality :

- impressionable towards the people around her

- quite clever

- she has abandonment issues

- doesn't have good social skills

- severe lack of situational issues & common sense

- tends to be completely honest (too honest)

- Possess a kind and emphatic side

I just wrote that down so I can have a clearer idea HAHA

Troublemaker

You were so impressed about him keeping the title of top student for years now

But when you found out he was a half wonder

aha, This you didn't let it slide

You had a HUGE Interest with supernaturals

and schools 7 Mysteries you just had to know

So when you knew, You started following him around

WHATS HE GONNA DO??

Is he gonna bring out a big clock??

CAN HE STOP TIME?

So you started bombarding him with questions

"Akane Pleeaaassee—"

"For the Last time [F/N] I am not doing that."

But this wasn't the end of your investigation!

After school you'd notice he would always dissappear

So like any other totally not noisy person

You followed him

Buutt it didn't end pretty well

Almost got attacked by a supernatural

and a huge lecture from akane....

As Akane was finishing off the supernatural, You were planning your escape from his wrath

You did not want to deal with an angry Akane, Nope not today, Well it was also your fault for being so noisy at whatever he is doing afterschool..

Right before you could exit, he grabs you by the arm "[F/N]...." Tensing up a bit and slowly looking at him

He was glaring daggers at you—

"How many times do I have to tell you that you can't go here? It's dangerous! What if I hadn't come in on time that supernatural could've hurted you—" You disturbed him by hugging him tightly

"I'm sorry.. I won't do it again.." Looking up at him with slight tears in your eyes

Sighing softly he gently wipes off the tears in your eyes and kisses your forehead "You should, Other wise that would be extra work for me.. You are ome big troublemaker I hope you know that.. " He laughs as he teases you

"Lets get out of here.. Okay?" You nod and you two started heading back to wherever you entered from

Focus on something else

Your first time meeting with him was ehh, I guess not so great

Met him thru Kou!

And found out that he was one of the 7 wonders

You once tried to enter his boundary

Always get dragged out by friends...

Did he call them his friends? Ehh you'll know eventually

He would always say he was too cute to hurt anyone because of his rumor

But you were a bit 'too' honest

"Cute? You look more of a 4/10.." You said scratching your cheek with your pointer finger while you stared at a very stoned Mitsuba

"WHHAAATTT IM CUTE! CUTER THAN YOU!" He crossed his arms and heard a 'Hmp!' From him

He hates how TOO honest you are

You cant seem to lie, Always the truth

But yk, The cold truth is better than a warm lie

Aside from that, He loved your kind and warm nature

Also smart, But had poor social skills..

He once brought you to the broadcasting room

Introduced you to the gang

Ended up shaken as Tsukasa pinned you down for answers..

"hey! Hey! Are you Mitsubas S/O?!?" He said as he pinned you down making Natsuhiko panic

"O-oy! This isn't right Tsukasa get off of them!"

"No way they're so squishy!" He said as he hugged you tightly

Luckily Mitsuba entered and quickly dragged you away from Tsukasa's Touch, You a bit shaken as he pinned you down with no explanation whatsoever

"C-can you not pin anyone I bring in here down?! You scared them!" Petting your head as you were in the verge of tears already

Mitsuba would stick to while you were staying in the broadcasting room

Cause you can't seem to hold a decent conversation sometimes

But eventually warmed up

And really enjoyed your stay!

I guess Mitsubas plan to take your mind on something else rather than his boundary and him being a wonder worked

I'm here

He didn't know how severe your abandonment issues were

Actually he doesn't know about it at all

He soon found out about it when he asked you to hangout at this carnival

The area was new to you so you clinged onto him or stuck beside him

Played lots of games!

He even caught a fish for you ooo

Eventually you two got hungry

Decided to go for takoyaki

You were waiting in line

But Kou? Nah, He was about to walk up to you when the crowd started flooding in the food court

He didn't get the chance to tell you since he couldn't see where you were anymore

So he got swept away by the crowd without your knowledge

"Hmmm, We should go buy Fruit shakes later—" You turned around to ask him what he wants but he wasn't there

Looking around you, You couldn't see any messy blond hair anywhere

Where did he go?

You started walking all around the place hoping to atleast see him wandering around playing in the booths or just looking

But you couldn't find him anywhere, Your phone was dead so you couldn't call him

Did he leave you here? Or much worse did he abandoned you here... What if he got kidnapped—

Your thoughts were interrupted by a hand gently placed on your shoulder "there you are! I was looking all ov—" You turned around and hugged him

"Where did you go?.. I thought something bad happened to you.." Yoy mumbled, Still a bit shaken on what had happened earlier

He patted your head in jopes that it will calm you down "Hey.. Don't worry now.. I'm here.." He said, As soon as you calmed down, The two of you started to enjoy the rest of the day in the carnival

You think I'm pretty?..

She absolutely adored you!

She thinks you're very cute

and wants to get to know you

But you had poor social skills

meaning, You sometimes space out when she talks to you or tend to not reply

Kind of struggling to keep up the conversation

But that's alright! She made it her goal to help you feel comfortable around her!

Started with small talks turned into long conversations!

You surprised her when you started talking first

Ahhh So proud TT

"Nene-Chan, Can I ask you a question?" turning your head to face her as you put the watering can down on the desk

"sure [F/N]! You can ask me anything!" She said

Taking a deep breath you asked—

"Why.. Do you have.. Fat ankles? Do they hurt?" You asked starring at her legs

You've been curious about her legs for awhile now, It amazes you that a human body can be formed in different shapes

You look back up at her and she looked like she was about to break down "You think it's ugly huh?.." You shook you heard

"I think it's amazing that the human body can be formed into different shapes! Plus you look like of those chibis I see on anime" You told her

"AWWW, If only the guys I liked thought of me like that too.. They always say I have ugly daikon legs.."

"Mmm, You're pretty Nene, You don't need a guys validation on what they think about you! If they start commenting about your legs I don't think they are the one for you"

"You think I'm pretty?.." You nodded your head as she hugged you "WAAHHH [F/N] YOU'RE SO KIND"

A new profound confidence was boosted into our heroine Yashiro Nene that day, And she wants to thank you for that

This took me, A loongg time trying to write LMAO

#toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shoujo hanako kun #tbhk x reader #jshk #jshk mitsuba #jshk akane #jshk kou #jshk nene #tbhk mitsuba #spy x family

[denniezemclyon]

Today is Tuesday and I have done a lot!

The car dealer who i gave my deets to contacted me earlier this morning so I grabbed the oppurtunity to go to them and check the car out! My honest opinion is, "It is not a cool car" but I always deemed Honda as reliable and am quite familiar with Jazz's. Tried to test drive it but because I am a learner, one of the guys, Mike, drove the car with me as I asked him to gom to our so tht I can show my fam the car. They all saw the car, even Mammoo, and they kinda liked it. We all had the same thought, it was kinda small but it'll do for our first family car. It'll have to do for now because I can't wait to do more things and I am so impatient as I constantly feel that time is of the essence these days. I want to get so many things done, which by the way I am. Plus the way I manage my stress levels is far better than the last couple months. Going back to the car, it's got a sunroof tho. So, we're quite happy. We have to, we've already made a commitment and deposited £300. But again, it will have to do. For now.

Went to Tita Jac's and searched for quotes which always takes time. Both the online searching and spending time at Tita's house. I am always thankful tho. No matter how it goes, Tita is always one of the people who stood by us and still does. Also, got printed labels for me to return the parts I bought off of ebay for my bike as it didn't fit.

After that, spent the rest of the day with rigorous messages, emails and conversations. Time check is 21:43 and I am starting yawn continously. My body is tired and is asking for rest but my mind is still hectic.

I wanna start blogging cos I need to offload stuff. This way I can do that and track my past, reflect and learn from them in the future.

My fam still is suffering from yesterday's backlash, no matter how small and how we laugh it off. Critisms from people, from family friends who know our situation better than anyone. I get to talk to my personal friends and appreciate them more. I somehow think in this situation, we value friendships because on how they can be of use to us when we need something. So, it got me into thinking. Maybe. But I've already made up my mind as I wrote the fundraiser campaign. One day I want to give back. So, no matter how hypocrite I believe my thoughts are, that's okay. Also, I wouldn't wanna believe that I am trying to compensate for it by wanting to give more back.

It made me become more grateful on how blessed I am to have all these people I can call friends. No matter what level of friendship it may be. I am just so glad. And can feel the love. One day I hope I can make them feel tenfold. As it has helped the morale inside the house by a lot.

Anyways, I need to develope a routine and set of times. Deprive myself of gadgets a scheduled time and start to wind down so I can wake up tomorow, do my morning routine workout then go into deep work and also plan rests in between. Note: I also made my brother stop by 10pm. And he did. Right now. Time check 21:54

All in all, today was a very productive day and I am proud of the things I have done!

#journal #daily life #proud of myself

[martianloon]

Fic Recs!

Inspired by @captainkirkk's weekly fic rec posts. I've been reading a lot of really cool stuff recently and thought I'd share. People who can create are awesome and deserve all the attention and praise, so please, go give them attention and praise!

Boku no Hero Academia

[Series] We'll All Be Fine (we will) by RejectsCanon | @rejectscanon | 7 works | 65.6 k words | Complete

The trials and tribulations of the Erasermic Fam as they adopt Shinsou and Eri. I hope you enjoy!

KinnPorsche

can't let it go by KouriArashi | @gingersnapwolves | 15.4 k words | WIP

After the dust has settled, Porsche still wants to know who killed his father, and what exactly happened to his mother. Unable to go to Kinn with his concerns, he works with Vegas and Pete to get more information. He realizes that what happened all those years ago is something that still haunts the entire family to this day - and is a mystery that Kim has been trying to solve for years.

Middlegame by majestictortoise | @majestictortoise | 12.6 k words | Complete

Part 6 of checkmate

Macau has always known he's only a pawn in his family's stupid games.

Naruto

Focus, then Refocus by jimmythemystic | 193.7 k words | Complete

Sasuke gets sent back in time to stop Danzo. He intends to save his clan, and his brother. But he made one major mistake: He left the number one unpredictable ninja in charge of the jutsu. He's about 10 years too early. Thanks, Naruto...

Now what?

Shadowhunters

The roads we take by ToTheStarsWriting | 40.9 k words | Complete

A person's life is made up of a series of moments, of choices. What we do in those moments, what choices we make, can change the road ahead of us. In one world, Alec never met Lydia Branwell, not until she came to take over his Institute, setting them on a path toward a wedding that would never be, and a love for Alec that was worth everything.

In another world, those two met much, much earlier, and that single meeting, that one single moment, was enough to change everything. Well, almost everything.

When a moment of weakness revealed the one secret that Alec had been trying so desperately to keep, and revealed it to the very last person he'd wanted to see it, a fifteen-year-old Alec found himself being shipped off to the Lisbon Institute under the guise of studying and learning to improve his tactical planning. None of them could've anticipated what he might find there, or what things it might change.

Stranger Things

chat with you, baby (flirt a little, maybe) by desiccatedwithering (acornsofthemind) | @desiccatedwithering | 11.7 k words | Complete

“Hey, shitheads!” Steve “the hair” Harrington barks, looming in the doorway like a monster from the Abyss. “What the fuck are you doing in here? Get your asses down to the gym right fucking now.”

Eddie gapes. First of all, the audacity— Second, he’s never been much for physical fights, but if this douchebag thinks he can bully any of Eddie’s kids, he’ll have to go through Eddie first.

“Let’s go! Move it!” Harrington snaps, making an impatient gesture down the hall.

should i keep it on display, or redecorate? by RejectsCanon | @rejectscanon | 20.9 k words | Complete

The first thing Steve removes from his room is the random framed photograph of a car.

Before Steve realizes what he’s doing, he’s snatched that photo off the wall. It comes off easily, the only thing holding it in place is a nail haphazardly hammered into the wall. Picture in hand, Steve doesn’t pause to think, letting his body take over as he rushes down the stairs.

Steve stalks downstairs, wrenches open the back door, and smashes that obnoxious picture to the ground.

Or, Steve hates his room. He decides to change that.

The Untamed/MDZS

Would You Come Home? by s6115 | 46.9 k words | Complete

Jiang Cheng wrote three times a year for over a decade and a half requesting that Lan Sizhui come and visit. Finally, at nineteen, arrived, having absolutely no clue why the sect leader would want him to come. Jiang Cheng showed him to his quarters, opening the doors and said, "This was your father's room."

Suddenly, Lan Sizhui finds himself in the home of the father he'd forgotten, but surrounded by his things. Can he unravel the mystery of who his father was? With his friends, can he even find a way to bring him back from the dead?

I suck at summaries I'm sorry, but welcome to Family Feels Central?

#fic recs #stranger things fic recs #kinnporsche fic recs #bnha fic recs #untamed fic recs #mdzs fic recs #naruto fic recs #shadowhunters fic recs #my post