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stwbrywhiskeysour · 3 months

Text

Leave a Light On

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x F!Reader Summary: A single light flickered throughout the empty room, casting your shadow against the wall. Joel's raspy voice, filled with sadness, whispered a final goodbye.

Words: 6.5k Rating: E (Explicit, 18+ Only MDNI) Content Warning: Jackson time, Establish relationship, No age is mentioned, May contain spoilers to TLOU Part II, Dark/Sensitive topics, does have an happy ending, angst, fluff, Implied MC death, golfing, torture, gun violence, knife violence, graphic descriptions, horseback riding, first aid, explicit language, explicit violence, Typical canon violence, grief/loss, depression, dark thoughts, suicide attempt, smut at the end, fingering, oral F!receiving, P in V, unprotected sex, creampie, cuddling (+ If I forgot any, let me know)

“Baby?” Joel cried as he clutched your lifeless form against his chest. His body swayed back and forth, stroking your blood-stained hair. “Stay with me, baby. Please, stay with me.”

His winter coat was soaked in red while he held you. The bitter cold seeped into his bones as he remained unbothered. His face streaked with tears, clinging to any hope you would awaken and return to him.

JACKSON || A FEW HOURS AGO

The sun began to set on the horizon. Vibrant hues of oranges and pink scattered across the sky. A wicker basket sat next to you, filled with freshly picked vegetables. You took a deep breath, savoring the earthy scent in the greenhouse. You glance out the window as a shadow passes by. As the figure moved away from the greenhouse, you let out the breath you were holding.

The lights flickered on as you eagerly awaited for Joel to arrive. Seconds turned to minutes, and you wondered where he could be. Julie, the other worker in the greenhouse, noticed your uneasiness. She stood up and placed her hand on your shoulder in an attempt to console you.

“Hey, I’m sure he’s on his way. Maybe he stopped home for something?” she reassured.

Joel had never missed a night walking you home. It was the highlight of both your evenings. You would share stories of each other's past and what each other did throughout the day. You especially loved the little spark of excitement that would flash through his eyes when he would talk about Ellie. Joel rarely spoke to anyone outside of Tommy and Ellie. And, since you came into his life, you could barely get him to shut up. However, you cherished those moments. They allowed you to witness a side of him that very few see.

You looked up at Julie and smiled softly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Yeah, hopefully,” you responded as you bent down to grab the basket. You walked towards the door and waved. “I’ll see ya later.” You left and made your way towards the pantry before heading home.

The winter storm caused the wind to blow the snow harshly around you. You pulled your coat tighter against your body, trudging towards Rancher Street. A light in your peripherals caught your attention. Your pace slowed as you turned to face the house belonging to Maria and Tommy and stared towards the window. An unsettling knot grew in your stomach. You looked towards your home and back to theirs. Unable to shake the feeling, you jogged towards their door.

Three hard knocks were all it took for Maria to crack the door open. Her hair was disarray, and she had dark circles around her eyes as if she had not slept in days. She looked shocked that you were standing at the door.

“Has Tommy come home yet?” you asked, not allowing Maria a chance to greet you.

“No, he-” she stated, voice filled with concern, “if you’re here, neither has Joel.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, shaking the snow off your hair and shoes.

“Fuck. I sent a group hours ago to bring them home. I just thought they had gone to the Bison,” she said as she opened the door wider to allow you to enter.

“Do you know what area they were patrolling?”

“Uhm, yeah, it was around the old ski lodge,” Maria stated, walking through the house. You followed closely behind her. “You can’t seriously be thinking about going out there in this.”

You looked at her with a determined face mixed with concern. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can you at least wait til the storm is over?”

“Maria, I-”

“Of course, you can’t,” she said as she walked up to a desk drawer and grabbed a map. She laid it out on the table and circled the area they were patrolling. “They should be around this area.”

You nodded and traced your finger from the gate of Jackson to the area she had circled, making a mental note of the path to take. The lodge was near a small town, and you thought if you could make it there, you would be able to track their prints in through the snow.

“Awesome. Can I take this?” You asked. She nodded and grabbed your arm as you walked past her.

“Wait,” she said. Her grip on your arm tightened. “There were reports of a large horde near the town. Stay away from there. Bring them home, safe. okay?”

‘Well fuck, there goes that idea,’ you thought as you looked up at her. You smiled. “Will do. Thanks, Maria.”

Maria waved at you while you jogged down the street toward the stables. Once you got to the large barn, you grabbed a saddle from the wall and placed it on the back of the black stallion you had named Beauty. You put your head against his muzzle and softly petted his mane.

“You ready, ol’ boy?” you whispered. Beauty neighed as you swung your leg over his back and grabbed his reins. You began to trot towards the wooden gate.

Jesse noticed you on horseback coming out of the stables. He called out to you. “Hey! Where are you going?”

“Open the gate, Jesse,” you said sternly.

“Maria said no one was to leave during the storm.”

“Open the damn gate.”

Jesse looked over at the other patrolman, shocked. They shrugged at him and casually walked over to the lever, pulling it open for you. Just before it was opened completely, you galloped out into the storm, not looking back. The wind whipped through your hair as you urged Beauty to gallop faster.

-- -- --

You rode through the woods, avoiding the town. Because you were not paying attention, you almost caused Beauty to trot off a cliff. He neighed loudly, bucking upwards, knocking you off. You land on the ground hard. You groaned as you got up.

“Easy there,” you stated while you reached for his reins, “easy boy.”

Sighing, you peered across the snow-covered field. A large mansion sat in the middle of a fenced area. Bodies of infected piled along the perimeter of the exterior gate. A shiver went down your spine. “Surely, Joel and Tommy didn’t do that,” you whispered. The wintery air caused a misty cloud in front of your mouth as you spoke. You petted Beauty before telling him to make it home safely and smacking him on the rear. You watched him gallop in the distance.

Taking a deep breath, you descend the cliff. As you crept closer to the building, you noticed dark figures moving across the large bay window. You twisted the door handle, and it creaked open. The warmth of the house greeted you as you slowly entered the room. You heard muffled voices and a loud gunshot that echoed off the walls. You gripped your knife tighter. A familiar voice rang through your ears that caused panic to set in.

“Tommy!” the voice screamed. The voice you came to know so well over the past few years, the voice that was filled with so much love for you, a voice that you could instantly recognize anywhere, the voice that belonged to Joel.

“Put him against the wall,” a young female demanded. She couldn’t be much older than Ellie but ordered the men around as if she were their leader. You inched silently into the room, eyes glued on the two men who grabbed Joel by the arms and shoved him against the large window. His right leg was extended out in front of him, bleeding. “Joel Miller.”

“Who are you?” he grunted, trying not to show emotion.

“Guess.”

“Why don’t you say whatever speech you’ve got rehearsed and get this over with,” Joel bit back. His eyes darted over her shoulder, locking with yours. Fear and shock shot through him as he struggled against the men who held him. You glanced around at the group, quickly trying to assess the situation.

The girl walked to a golf caddy near the sofa and pulled out one of the iron clubs. She nodded approvingly and walked in front of Joel. She brought the club up to her shoulder.

“You stupid old man. You don’t get to rush this,” she growled as she swung the club. It made an impact on the side of Joel’s face. He screamed in agony, blood splattered across the room. His vision blackened as he fell to the ground. The eyes of the girl sparkled with a twisted satisfaction.

You watched in horror as the men drew Joel back against the window, and she raised the club again. Filled with rage, you grabbed one of the men closest to you. Your left hand slid across their face to cover their mouth while you made a horizontal cut across the middle of their neck with your knife. Blood spewed down his body, and his body twitched as you pushed him away from you. His body crumbled to the ground with a loud thud. You ran up to the next person and stabbed them in the neck, puncturing their jugular.

The sound alerted the others, and they turned to face you. You slung your rifle around your body and held it firmly in your hands. Your index finger pressed the trigger as you meticulously aimed and fired at the group. A person came up from behind you and kicked your legs from underneath you, knocking you to the ground. You yelped in surprise as they shoved your face onto the cold floor.

“Get the fuck off of me,” you growled, fighting against the person holding you down, “I will fucking kill you.”

“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?” the girl spoke, stalking up to you. She grabbed you by your hair and pulled you to your knees. You gasped in pain, breathing heavily. “Girlfriend?” she asked as she looked over at Joel. She shook her head. “No. Wife?”

“No, don’t!” Joel rasped out.

She let out a dark chuckle. His desperate plea fell on silent ears as the girl taunted you. Her grip on your hair tightened as she turned you to face Joel.

“This is so much better than what I had planned. You took my father from me; I’m going take something from you,” she sneered, pulling her knife from its holster. Joel struggled against the grasp of the men who held him. His eyes filled with a mix of fear and anger. The moment she took her knife out, his movements ceased. He watched dreadfully as she scrapped the blade down your sternum until it rested just below the hard bone. She pushed your shoulders forward. The blade pierced through your abdomen with a squelching sound; you gasped in pain as you felt the sting of it entering your body. Blood trickled down as you started to sway. The excruciating agony intensified when she dug the blade deeper into you before pulling it out and shoving you away. You fell to the ground, clutching your stomach in a horrible attempt to stop the bleeding. Your eyes locked with the tear-filled ones of Joel. You struggled to catch your breath, and your vision kept flashing black.

“What the hell is this, Abby?” a man yelled while entering the room, “You’re done here.” She groaned in protest. You were unable to pay attention to the words being spoken around you. The words were fading into silence as darkness started to engulf you.

With every ounce of strength, Joel pulled himself across the floor. “Darlin’?” he whispered, reaching his hand out towards you. Abby noticed his movements and kicked him hard in the stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. She huffed and left the house with her group.

You gasped for air, feeling the weight of darkness pressing against your consciousness. Tears streamed down Joel’s face as he scooted himself closer to you. Memories began to flood his mind. He remembered the first time he met you, how strong you were when you fought alongside him in the spore-filled tunnels. He remembered how you yelled at him for being so careless with a child who didn’t even know how to swim. He remembered how he fell in love with you the day he met you. He tried to stay awake, staring at your beautiful face as the memories faded.

Your eyes met his once again. Desperate to speak. You rasped, “I… I…. lo…. love….” you choked on your blood, coughing harshly as it pooled in your mouth. Your body convulsed, and your labored breath came to a sudden stop.

“Baby?” Joel whispered as he tried to pull you closer to him. “Baby, please.” -- -- -- --

“Baby!” he cried, clutching your lifeless body against his chest. He swayed back and forth, stroking your blood-stained hair. “Stay with me, baby. Please, stay with me.”

His winter coat was soaked in red while he held you. The bitter cold seeped into his bones as he remained unbothered. His face streaked with tears as he clung to any possible hope you would awaken and return to him.

A loud, pained groan erupted from across the room. Tommy shifted uncomfortably against the floor as he regained consciousness. His head throbbed in pain from the hit he received. His palms flattened against the cold tiles, and he lifted himself, stumbling backward and hitting the console table. He gazed at the room and noticed the bodies scattered across the floor in puddles of blood.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, just before his eyes landed on his brother, who was sitting on the ground clutching your limp body to his chest. His leg extended in front of him with a belt tightly fastened on his thigh, acting as a makeshift tourniquet. Joel buried his face into the divot of your neck, whispering apologies in a broken voice.

An audible gap erupted from Tommy as he realized the body Joel was holding was you. Tears threatened to fall as he watched Joel cry out in grief once again. Tommy knew that Joel would never recover from losing you; hell, he never recovered from losing Sarah twenty-some years ago. Unsure of what to do, he whispered Joel’s name.

Joel’s puffy, bloodshot eyes lifted from your neck and met his. Tommy took a step back, horrified at the appearance of his brother. The side of Joel’s face was bashed in as if someone had taken something long, hard, with a flat end and hit him across the face with it multiple times. Blood oozed from the wound, and a mix of blues and black colors surrounded it. His left eye was almost swollen shut, and blood caked his face and hair.

“What the fuck happened?” Tommy asked.

Barely above a whisper, Joel rasped, “Tommy?”

He had forgotten Tommy was there. His entire focus had been on you. Making sure nothing happened to you, and he failed. Nothing mattered to him anymore.

Tommy knelt in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He noticed a significant amount of blood covering both of your jackets. With a concerned face, he saw the small cut from the blade on the fabric of your clothes. “Let me see her,” he said softly.

Joel nodded and placed you gently on the ground next to him. He unzipped your jacket, pushing the flaps to the side. He lifted your shirt slowly. The dried blood caused the fabric to stick to your skin. He pulled it up just below the band of your bra to reveal a tiny stab wound on the upper middle quadrant of your abdomen, centimeters below the hard bone of your sternum. Your breath was shallow. So shallow that Tommy nor Joel noticed your chest rising and falling. Tommy placed his hand over the wound, pressed down hard to try and control the bleeding, and immediately blood covered them.

Joel was not paying attention to Tommy. He stared at your calm, peaceful face. His mind was filled with memories and thoughts of you. He pushed a strand of hair that fell on your face, lightly touching your cold cheek as he placed it behind your ear. He noticed your face showed no signs of distress and no pain. You were just there, on the cold floor, unfazed by what occurred around you.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Joel thought as he ran his fingers through your hair.

Tommy’s hand began to tremble. He was unable to control the bleeding. He leaned down and placed his ear just above your parted mouth, hoping for any sign of breathing. Tears began to fall down his face when he felt nothing against his cheek. He mouthed, “No, no, no,” as he said your name shaking you.

Coming out of his trance, Joel watched Tommy shake you. He saw the tears in Tommy’s eyes and immediately knew something was wrong. He didn’t want to believe that you were gone. How could he move forward without you? How could he move on? What will he tell Ellie?

Joel shouted your name. He shoved Tommy away from you and placed his hands down on your wound, trying to believe if he was the one putting pressure on it, it would stop. When it didn’t stop, he started to weep.

“Please, not her. God, please, no her,” he sobbed. He felt as if he failed you. He had failed: as a protector, a lover, as everything. His heart shattered into a million pieces. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

Tommy found himself void of words, unable to move from where he stood. He wasn’t sure why this happened to you, why they attacked you, of all people. He had so many questions running through his head. He glanced around the room again, trying to piece together any information he could find. He noticed a patch that was on the jackets of the bodies. He knelt and removed the patch with his knife. The patch was a yellow triangle with a wolf in the middle. The words W.L.F. are located at the bottom. He quickly pocketed it before going back to Joel.

“We should probably head back,” Tommy stated as he looked at Joel. Joel had his hands firmly pressed against your stomach, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

“NO,” Joel shouted. Tommy grabbed onto his arm, pulling him away from you. “I- I can’t leave her. I can’t-”

“She’s gone.”

“No, no, no,” Joel repeated, shaking his. He pushed Tommy away and tried to go back to you. Tommy grabbed him, stopping his movements.

“I’ll come back for her,” Tommy promised, “When the daylight comes and the storm is over, I’ll bring her home.”

Joel sniffled. He knew Tommy was right. They had to leave, or someone would come looking for them, just as you did. Tommy left the room and returned with a large white sheet. He slowly draped it over you. Joel took it and tucked the sheet under your sides. His hands trembled with every tuck. Blood started to stain the middle of the sheet as it settled across your body. Suddenly, the room felt colder than it had before.

Tommy helped Joel to his feet, wrapping his arm around his middle. They began to walk towards the door, grief heavy on their hearts. Joel stopped for a moment and looked back towards you. He started at the white sheet that covered your body. The light flickered throughout the room, casting your shadow against the wall. He whispered a final goodbye.

As he turned, a gust of wind blew through the open door. It caused the sheet to flutter, uncovering some of your features. His heart sank, feeling a part of him was left behind in the room. Joel sighed sadly, finally looking away from you. They left the building carrying the weight of your absence on them.

-- -- -- --

Jesse walked along the ramparts with a snow shovel. He scooped the snow into its blade and tossed it over the exterior wall. He noticed two dark figures stumbling in the distance. The dense snow made it difficult for him to identify them. He reached for the binoculars and peered through them. One of the figures was held by the waist, their leg dragged behind them, leaving a red trail in the snow.

“What the hell,” he said into the wintery night. “Open the gate!” He shouted but received no response. He glanced over the edge to an empty area. “Where the fuck did they go?”

He ran down the steps to open the gate. Laughter erupted behind him as Dina and Ellie exited the stables. Jesse stared at them in disbelief, eyes darting down from their faces to their interlocked hands. “You gotta be kidding me,” he scoffed, “you were supposed to be on patrol.”

“We are-” Ellie got interrupted.

“This town depends on us. We can’t just be fucking in the stables anytime we want!”

Dina’s face turned bright red. A loud bang on the gate startled them, and a voice shouted just beyond it.

“OPEN THE DAMN GATE!”

Ellie looked at Dina. At the same time, they both stated, “Is that Tommy?”

They ran over to the gate and opened it. The wooden doors creaked, pushing the snow to the side as it opened. Tommy dragged an unconscious, injured Joel inside Jackson. He shifted his arm around his waist, trying to adjust, but Joel slid right out from his arms and landed into the snow. Joel landed face-first into the powdery snow. Ellie immediately ran over to him and lifted him back up with the help of Tommy.

“What happened?” Ellie asked as they reached the clinic. Tommy knocked on the door. An elderly lady appeared, her glasses hung low on her nose.

“Do you realize what time it is?” she said, her voice filled with sleep. She glanced at Joel and gasped. Immediately opening the door, she gestured for them to come in. “The first room on the left is empty,” she said as Tommy and Ellie walked to the room. They laid Joel down on the bed. The lady began to cut his pant leg, revealing the bullet hole.

“Jesus, Tommy. If you don't tell me what the fuck happened right now. I swear, I’m going,” Ellie demanded, clenching her fist tightly.

“That’s it, out!” the lady demanded as she pointed towards the door. Everyone looked at her in shock before muttering and walking out. Dina took a seat next to Jesse. Ellie quickly realized that you were not with them and was unaware of Joel's condition. Her heart started to race, conflicted about whether she should leave or stay with Joel.

Dina’s eyes softened as she watched Ellie’s expressions rapidly change. “I’ll go get her,” she said to Ellie, squeezing her hand.

“She’s not home,” Jesse said softly.

"What do you mean she's not there?"

"She took off hours ago, right before the storm got bad."

Tommy's eyes darted to Ellie's as Jesse finished his sentence. "Ellie, I need to speak to you... Alone."

"I'll be at your house if you need me," Dina told Ellie as she and Jesse left the clinic. Tommy took a seat and rubbed his hands across his face. He sighed loudly as tears threatened to fall from his eyes again.

"There's no easy way to say this," he whispered. His voice trembled. "Kid, she came looking for us. I don't know exactly what happened, but I do know. When I woke, it was too late. She was-" Tears ran down his face, "she was already gone."

"She's gone?" she muttered, tears forming. Her heart sank as she tried to comprehend what Tommy had said. The room felt heavy around her; her breathing became erratic. Everything felt as though it was caving in around her. Her vision tunneled. She violently shook her head; her face went stone cold and void as she stared at him. Just above a whisper, she asked, "You just left her there?"

"Ellie, I didn't have a choice. T'was just me and Joel," he said. "Once the storm settles, I'm going back."

"I'm coming with you."

-- -- -- ---

MEANWHILE || AT THE MANSION

The light flickered throughout the room. Your eyes fluttered open as you desperately gasped for air. The sheet covering your body clung to your face as you inhaled. Shakily, you reached up and pulled it off. The blood rushed back through your body and up to your face. The room spun as you held your head in pain.

You groaned loudly, sitting up. You tried to keep a steady breath as you attempted to stand. Clumsily, you bumped into things while you walked towards the bathroom. You dug through the cabinets, looking for a first aid kit. The blood on your hands smeared the white doors as you opened them. A small red box lay beneath washcloths. You grabbed it and placed it on the counter.

You caught a glimpse of your reflection and were startled by your appearance. Your hair was matted with blood and sweat. Your eyes were bloodshot, and your face was sickly pale, reflecting the trauma you had experienced. Your hands shuddered as you opened the kit.

Among the bandages and alcohol pads, you find a sewing needle and thread. Tucking your shirt under your bra, you tried to thread the needle with blurry vision. After many failed tries, you got the thread through the eyelet and placed it on the counter. You poured water over the wound, soaking the top of your jeans.

With a deep breath, you pierced the needle through the skin, pulled it through the other side, and secured the suture with a double knot before making two more next to it. As you focused on the sutures, the pain intensified. Beads of sweat formed on our foreheads.

After the last stitch, you slumped to the floor. A wave of nausea washed over you. You could barely keep your eyes open. They started to close until you could not fight them anymore and fell into a dreamless slumber.

-- -- -- ---

JACKSON || MONTHS LATER

Darkness surrounded the streets of Jackson. Snow covered the pavement. The white sparkled in the moonlight. The brisk winter breeze bit anyone who dared to be out in it.

A single light flickered from a bulb attached to a familiar house on Rancher Street. Its soft glow illuminated Joel as he sat skillfully strumming away on his guitar. The beautiful melody flowed through the air, stopping passersby as they listened. He sang no words, only allowing the vibrations of the chords to do the music.

His mind was flooded with memories of the past, the battles that were fought, those who have died, and each heavy decision was made. With each note, tears dropped and landed on the curve of the guitar. He played as if it would be the last time his calloused fingers would scrap against the strings.

The last chord strung, he leaned the guitar against the house next to him. He grabbed the pistol from the table and held the cold metal. A sense of finality washed over him. You were no longer here. Ellie never forgave him, and with you gone, the wedge between them grew. He had nothing left, no reason to be here anymore. He contemplated if Jackson would be better without him.

Taking a deep breath, he placed the cold gun against his temple. His index finger brushed against the trigger. His eyes closed for the last time, picturing your face.

“Whatcha think you’re doing there, cowboy?” a feminine voice stated. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes. They land on a familiar silhouette as they ascend the steps. The features of your face appear more prominent as you step into the light. Joel’s eyes widened.

“You’re… You’re not here,” he stuttered. His hands shook as he lowered the gun to his lap. “You can’t be here. This isn’t real.” He shook his head, attempting to remove the image of you. However, no matter how hard he tried, you stood there unmoving, with an amused look, staring at him. Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, questioning his sanity.

He stared at you in wonder. The snowflakes glimmered in your hair, and the bitter cold caused your nose and cheeks to turn pink. He tried to find an explanation. Was this a hallucination? A figment of his imagination? There's no possible way you could be here.

The feeling of longing engulfed him as he stared at your beautiful face.

“Why don’t you come and find out?” you smiled. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he could trust his senses. But the genuine warmth in your voice convinced him to stand. He grabbed his crutch and took a step towards you. His eyes flickered with a mix of fear and excitement. He reached out toward you, afraid that you would disappear. His warm palm lands on your cold cheek.

“Easy there, cowboy. You look a bit unstable,” you chuckled, leaning into his touch. He released the breath he was holding and pulled you into his arms. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar scent of the honey soap you used to use.

“Baby,” He mumbled into your hair. You could feel his heartbeat against your face as he held you tightly. His grip filled with longing and relief. “You’re really here.”

“I’m really here,” you replied with a voice filled with love and reassurance. All the doubts and fears vanished from him as he held you. His hand moved to your chin, tilting it upwards. His teary eyes met yours for the first time in months. He leaned down. His nose touches yours.

“You’re really here,” he whispered again. You could feel his hot breath linger on your lips. He closed the gap between you, pressing his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. He nipped your bottom lip, forcing you to open, and slipped his tongue inside. He moaned in your mouth before breaking away to catch his breath. He started to kiss along your jawline, sucking on your pulse, leaving a wet, red spot. Your hands clung to his brown jacket.

“Joel,” You mewled as he nibbled at the soft skin. His scruffy beard left red marks across your neck. “Let's get out of the cold.”

He mumbled in protest, but you pushed him gently towards the door, grabbing his guitar.

You helped me into the house and up the stairs. One of his arms dangled over the crutch, and the other around your waist. As you guided him through the house, his light touches sent shivers through you. His weight felt comforting and electrifying, making you yearn for more.

You made your way to the bedroom. Joel let go of the crutch. A metal clunk echoed off the walls as it hit the ground. His eyes met yours, filled with desire. Without a word, he pulled you closer. His lips brushed against yours in a tender yet passionate kiss. His hands lifted your shirt slowly up your abdomen, fingers lightly touching your skin.

“Baby,” he groaned as he tossed your shirt to the floor. He hobbled towards the bed, pushing with him. The back of your knees hit the frame, causing you to fall backward. Your back lands softly on the blankets and shifts upwards, allowing Joel to climb onto the bed. He towered over you. You could feel the heat radiating off his body. His lips trailed down your neck while his hand explored every inch of you. Your heavy breathing filled the room.

Joel tugged at your jeans. The tip of his fingers traced lines down your thigh as he pulled them off. Flattening his palm, his hand grazed your inner thigh. He kissed down your sternum, stopping just above the bandage that wrapped around you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, kissing it. “so fucking sorry.”

“Oh hush, now,” you stated, shifting your legs a little higher on the bed. He kissed down your stomach and stopped just above the warmth of your core. He looked up at your face. You propped yourself up on your elbows. As his hand covered your dripping cunt, your head fell backward onto the bed.

“So wet. This all for me, darlin’?” he purred. His index finger slid through your folds, which caused you to gasp. Pleasure coursed through your body as he teased your entrance. His touch was electric, and you find your back arching in response.

You could feel the anticipation building as he went lower on your body, nibbling your thigh. The mixture of his breath and the roughness of his beard against your skin heightened your senses. You yearned for more. He pushed his finger inside, coating the digit with your slick before sliding it out.

“More,” you mewled, voice filled with desire as you begged. The hunger in your eyes fueled his own as he eagerly obliged. He pushed another finger in, curving them to hit the rigid sweet spot that he knew would cause you to scream his name. Each movement of his fingers sent waves of pleasure through you, building an insatiable hunger within you. Your hips instinctively arched upwards.

He leaned in and stuck out his tongue. He licked through your folds, up to your clit, circled it, and before moving down to his fingers. The taste of your slick sent Joel over the edge. He moved his tongue back up to your clit and flicked it a few times before sucking. Your hands grabbed a fistful of his hair as you ground your core against his face. His tongue danced skillfully around your clit. The combination of his relentless fingers and the tantalizing flicks of his tongue pushed you closer to the edge.

“That’s it, baby. Cum on my fingers,” Joel growled into your thigh, catching his breath. “Yeah, just like that.” He pumped his fingers faster, pushing you to your limit. You gripped the covers, and your back arched higher. Unable to hold back any longer, you screamed his name. Your walls tighten around his fingers. “That's it, baby.”

He slowed the pace of his pumping until you came down from the euphoric high. He pulled his fingers out of yours, dripping with your slick. He brought them to his mouth and licked his fingers clean. “Been too fucking long, you taste so good.”

He shifted higher up on your body, peppering your skin with kisses. The leg of his jeans rubbed against your bare cunt as he kissed you softly. His hot breath sent electricity through your already sensitive body. As you caught your breath, you could feel his throbbing cock pressed against your leg, aching for release. He whispered in your ear, “I want to feel you around me.”

You stared deeply into his eyes before trying to shift him off of you. The last thing you wanted to do was to hurt his leg. He peered down at you, confused, but pushed you harder against the bed.

“Darlin’, what are you doin’?”

“Would you just lay on your damn back,” you grunted as you squirmed to get free from his towering form. You moaned as he rubbed his covered thigh against your cunt. He chuckled at your failed attempt to get him to move. You looked up at him with big puppy dog eyes. “Come on, please?”

“No.”

“Joel, come on, your leg.”

“I don’t give a shit about my leg right now,” he grunted. He pulled his pants down. His cock bounced as it sprung free from its confines. His eyes burned with desire as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. His large hands grabbed your legs and placed them around his waist. His cock lay against your fold, and he rocked forward, allowing it to rub through your folds, hitting your clit repeatedly. You groan in pleasure. “You ready for me?”

You nod frantically. He looked down at your blissful face.

“Of course you are. Such a good girl.”

“Please, Joel.”

He chuckled as he pushed his cock inside you. He grunted loudly at the feeling of you around him. Your head hit the pillow, shutting your eyes as his cock stretched you.

“God, I missed you,” He moaned and looked at you, “Eyes on me, baby.”

He wanted to watch you come on him. He didn’t want to miss any more moments with you, especially this one. He firmly gripped your hips, thrusting his cock deeper inside you. You screamed his name as he hit that spot only he knew about. With each thrust, he enjoyed the way your moans grew louder. Your breath grew heavier. He knew you were only his.

“Ah! Fu-Fuck!” Joel grunted. His thrusting became more ragged and forceful. The bed frame knocked against the wall. The sound of slapping skin echoed through the darkened room. Your screams muffled as you pulled the pillow across your face. Joel grabbed it and tossed it to the floor. “I want to see you. Fuck, you feel so good.”

Tears threatened to fall as the pressure inside you became too much. You desperately scrape your dull fingernails across Joel's back.

“You can take it. Just a little bit more,” He moaned, “Such a good girl”

You screamed as you came around his cock. The tightness of your walls sent him climaxing with you. His cock pulsates inside you, coating your insides white.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he panted, collapsing on top of you. You could feel his cock softening until it slid out of you. His come seeps out of your weeping hole.

You ran your fingers through his soft hair while you kissed his shoulder. You smiled widely as you both basked in the afterglow. Slowly, he rolled off of you and pulled you flush against his chest. He whispered sweet words of affection in your hair. You attempted to get up, but he pushed you back down, trapping you between his arms.

“I’m not ready to let you go just yet,” he muttered as he planted kisses along your shoulder blades. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, making it impossible to resist. Your eyes begin to get heavy. You heard Joel chuckle, and then the cover was placed on you. He nestled you under his chin.

The sound of his steady heartbeat lulled you to a blissful sleep. You felt loved and safe, wrapped in his embrace. Whatever tomorrow may bring would be tomorrow’s problem. Right now, you were right where you belonged.

-- --

originally posted: 27/11/2023 on @pamasaur previous account. Support/MDNI banner by @cafekitsune Tags: @pedrostories, @kelbellsficrecs @fhatbhabie (ily) @cool-iguana

#joel miller x f!reader #Joel Miller x You #joel miller x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller tlou #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou fic #tlou fandom #Fic-Leave a light on #StrwbryWhiskeySour writes #Pedrostories

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auteurdelabre · 3 months

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Please Mr. Miller Sequel part 2 bfd!Joel x f!Reader

summary: You're moving on from Joel Miller and looking to a bright future with your bf, Conrad. When Mr. Miller comes to visit Sarah for spring break however, old feelings start to resurface.

A sequel (1 of 5 parts now) to my "Please Mr. Miller?" Series because you voted and you want to see these two horny idiots as endgame! Photo is for aesthetic purposes.

rating: 18+ (GET OUTTA HERE KIDS!!!!)

warnings/tags: Infidelity, age gap, angst, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, public sex, public fingering, not sanitary but sexy, mutual pining, jealousy.

a/n: Y'all between here and A03 i've got such an outpouring of comments and support for this story. I thank you so kindly for following along with the adventures of my two favorite horny sluts. Comments are what keep me goin'.

masterlist here

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Fuck Joel Miller.

You're over him. You've got a loyal boyfriend, you've been accepted into the master's program you wanted and you've never been happier.

Okay, not happier but content.

And some people never get content. Content you can live with. Happiness is reserved for girls that don’t pursue and foolishly fall for married men. Happiness is reserved for girls that don’t lie to their best friend’s face about who they talk to.

Sarah had been wide-eyed when you opened the bathroom door at the pub last month.

“Who were you talking to?”

Your stomach had sunk and the room seemed to get dimmer, more muted. You went to speak but all that came out was a baleful croak.

“It was him wasn’t it?” she pressed, eyes bright. “The guy you’re pining over? The married guy?”

Relief, acute and refreshing like a cup of cool water soothed your frazzled expression. She didn’t know everything.

“Yeah.”

“Sounded intense.”

“A moment of weakness,” you shrugged.

“His name’s Joe?”

“Huh?” Your stomach swooped violently. “What did you just say?”

“I heard,” Sarah said with a knowing smile. “I was about to open the door when I heard you say I can’t stop wanting you, Joe.”

You wanted to give a high pitched laugh at her mistake, but instead you nodded violently. She didn’t hear your plaintive moans of Joel’s full name. So yes, its Joe. Not Joel. Never Joel. Couldn’t be Joel Miller, your father, the man you want more than air and water. No, just a married guy named Joe.

“Yeah. Joe.”

“Just dump Conrad,” Sarah urged, hands on yours, compassion in her eyes. If she only knew. You knew Sarah had a high moral compass. You knew that she hated that you were pining over some married guy.

“I don’t need to dump Conrad. Nothing is happening between me and this guy,” you said motioning to your phone in your pocket. “I want him he doesn’t want me. I’m moving on.”

And so you did.

Conrad worships you and tomorrow is the first day of spring break. Conrad has suggested a week away at a spa in Ibiza (he'll pay for everything of course with Daddy and Mummy’s credit card) and you're eager to go. It’s a mere forty eight hours before you're pampered and spoiled with your handsome boyfriend.

And yet your thoughts continue to linger on a home on Rancher Street, in the arms of a man who wears a wedding band snugly around his finger. A man who’s voice sends you into a frenzy and the memories of your forbidden time together have you slick between the legs.

But he’s not for you.

He never was.

///

“Okay Dad, see you soon.”

Sarah hangs up just as you come back from the shower, hair still damp and dressed in your plush pink terrycloth robe.

“Do you think that new restaurant on campus is any good?” she says as she taps away on her phone. “My dad’s taking me for dinner when he gets here. Hopefully they have an opening for tonight.”

She continues swiping on her phone, unaware of the stricken expression on your face.

"I thought your Dad was coming Saturday," you say sharply. "After Conrad and I leave. That way I wouldn't be in your hair and you’d have the dorm to yourself."

"He said the airline cancelled tomorrow’s flight and rescheduled him on this one," Sarah shrugs. "Its fine, he got a hotel room so you don't have to worry about being in the way. Besides he loved you last time! Last week he even asked how you were doing. He's never been that nice to any of my other friends."

You drop the toiletry bag you were carrying; mumbling out an apology before dropping to your knees to retrieve it, hoping Sarah can’t see your red face.

Joel is asking about you? Why? After his drunken phone call he'd been radio silent. You had been as well, feeling used. You try not to think about him.

You need to get out of here.

You blow-dry your hair in a rush before applying your makeup in a hurry as Sarah studies in the tufted chair by the window. She doesn’t notice your frenzy of getting ready or if she does she doesn’t comment on it.

“Excited for Ibiza?”

“Mhmm,” you say as you pull on your skirt and top. “Very. I think I’m gonna go over to Con's dorm and go over last minute plans for tomorrow.”

“Things seem better between you two,” Sarah offers hopefully.

“Yeah,” you lie through your teeth as you pull on your purse. “Have a nice visit with your Dad.”

You give her a quick hug, fumbling for your keys as you stuff them in your bag. You open the door as you slip on your shoes, letting out a small oh as the door reveals a large figure standing behind it.

Him.

Joel.

Everything in your body comes alive at once. His eyes widen at the sight of you, a look that travels the length of your body before landing limpid and warm on your face. You watch the lust overtake his eyes, blowing the pupils wide. His hand clenches at his right, so tight you see the veins bulge.

Time has only added to the masculine curve of his nose, the sharp of his jaw. You don’t have photos of him and social media had given up nothing. You only had some old blurry Polaroids on Sarah’s vanity mirror to go off of. He lived in your memory so long that actually seeing him here in front of you takes the breath from your body.

You’re so thankful for the tall young man behind him wearing a football jersey that slowly comes into view behind Joel. He’s handsome with an easy smile and large hands that seem too big for his lanky frame.

“Sarah,” you call over your shoulder, your eyes never leaving Joel’s. “Your Dad is here and I think he brought you a surprise.”

Sarah rounds the corner of the room, her eyes landing on Charlie and she squeals.

“Charlie!”

You move back so that Charlie can drop his bag and move into the dorm room, sweeping Sarah up into his arms and twirling her giggling self. You force yourself to look away from the motion, bitterly jealous that it isn’t you and Joel. Instead your reunion is awkward and stilted. You feel his eyes on your profile but you can’t force your eyes back to him.

He ignores you. He uses you.

Move on from him.

Charlie and Sarah are deep in loud conversation interspersed with chaste kisses. Joel takes advantage of this, stepping towards you and lowering his voice to a husky murmur only heard by you.

“Hey, I know I haven’t-“

“Don’t,” you warn in a whispered rasp. “Just…don’t.”

Now your eyes meet his and you see the searching quality of them, how they gaze into your face as if entranced. You wonder if he’s memorizing your face the way you are his. A secret sketch in your brain so that you have it when he’s gone and nothing more than a memory.

Sarah breaks the moment to embrace her father, pressing thankful hugs around his neck and whispered thank you's. You want to leave the room but Joel is blocking the doorway. Sarah moves back, going to chatter more with Charlie.

Joel’s eyes slide over to where his daughter and Charlie face away from him as she turns the corner and shows her boyfriend her modest dorm room and the photo of the couple that she keeps beside her bed.

“Snowflake,” Joel whispers, drawing your gaze to his once more. It’s a soft, broken thing that makes your heart lurch. Your eyes fall to his mouth, desperate to feel his lips on your again before you tear them away, your thumb digging into the flesh of your ring finger. You wonder if Joel wants to apologize for the phone call last month. Or if he wants to ask if you can do it again.

You don’t know what you’d say. The irritation at being cast aside currently outweighs the churning lust you feel. At least you thought it did, until you saw him here, smelled his cologne and watched the pink of his tongue trail over his lower lip to wet it.

"I was-"

“Hey babydoll,” comes a cheerful voice from down the hall. You turn your head to see Conrad strolling towards you, a broad smile plastered over his features. And for once you’re genuinely delighted to see him and his smug, handsome face.

“Hey,” you say with saccharine sweetness. You shoulder past Joel into the hall, throwing yourself into Conrad’s arms. He eagerly sweeps you up, planting a sloppy kiss on your mouth. You feel eyes on you and your face heats as you slowly pull back. “What’re you doing here?”

“Thought we could go over the itinerary for the trip,” Conrad says pulling out his phone. “See what treatments you’d like.”

“Treatments?”

A low voice sounds from behind you and with satisfaction you see Joel eyeing the two of you icily. His broad arms are crossed in front of his chest and like a grim reminder you see his wedding ring glitter under the lights of the hallway

“Spa treatments,” you say with a smug smile. “Conrad is taking me to Ibiza for spring break.”

See Joel? I’ve moved on just like you.

Charlie and Sarah have come back out with Sarah giving Conrad a weak smile. Despite everything you know she doesn’t like him but she also doesn't like the deception of knowing you have affection for 'Joe'.

“Where are you guys goin’?” Charlie asks sweetly.

“Ibiza,” you say proudly, as if Conrad is a self made man and not some entitled trust fund baby. You don’t miss the narrowing of Joel’s eyes as your hand tightens in Conrad’s.

“Woah,” Charlie says in amazement as Joel just sucks at his teeth, giving a brief nod. He doesn’t look away from your face until Sarah steps further into the hallway, her eyes on you and her hand in Charlie’s.

“I’m so jealous,” Sarah says before stopping herself and smiling at her dad and Charlie. “Well, I was before you guys showed up. Now I don't wanna be anywhere else."

"Makes two of us babygirl," Joel grins at his daughter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Three of us actually," Charlie adds and the group laughs.

“Conrad this is Charlie, Sarah’s boyfriend,” you say making introductions and smiling as the two young man shake hands. You pause and swallow before motioning to Joel standing there awkwardly to the side, watching the proceedings. “And this is Sarah’s dad, Joel.”

“Nice to meet ya, sir,” Conrad says shaking Joel’s hand firmly. Joel simply nods in return before shoving his hand back into his jean pockets. His dark eyes find yours over Conrad’s head and you force yourself to look away.

Conrad seems to spot the jersey that Charlie is wearing for the first time. “You a Garopollo fan, Charlie?”

“Yup,” Charlie nods proudly. “I was born in San Fran and I’ll die a 49ers fan no matter where I live.”

“Traitor,” Joel jokes, causing the men in the vicinity to laugh.

“We can’t all be die hard Dallas Cowboy fans,” Charlie teases back with a gentle nudge to Joel’s shoulder that the older man grins at.

“I like the Patriots myself,” Conrad says while you and Sarah exchange looks of gentle exasperation.

“Great,” Sarah rolls her eyes dramatically. “Football. I’ll be here all night.”

“We should go and let you guys get to your dinner,” you say tugging at Conrad’s shoulder playfully. “Let’s go, babe.”

"You two should come with," Joel says casually out of nowhere.

Everyone makes a murmur of surprised delight at the suggestion while you try to hold down the panic that’s festering within your innards. How can you sit at dinner with Joel? You want to be as far away from him as possible. Just being this close has your skin feeling itchy, like you want to peel it off.

“No, no it’s a family thing,” you insist, trying to guide Conrad away.

“No way,” Sarah says stepping forth and taking your elbow. “Don’t make me sit through a dinner of football talk by myself.”

“My treat,” Joel adds with a voice that sounds detached.

"That's not necessary," Conrad says looking at Joel's flannel and jeans. "I'm happy to pay for myself and my girl."

You don't miss the tic in Joel's jaw at this, the chill in his gaze blinked away when he turns his face into an easy smile.

"Alright then. Let’s go."

///

Sarah didn’t manage to make reservations at Bon Bon but Conrad promises that he can get you all in with no problem. When you all arrive and Conrad drops his last name the restaurant is only too happy to accommodate a larger party. You glance over at Joel when that happens, gratified to find him glaring at the back of Conrad’s head.

The pretty hostess takes you to a large hand-carved booth tucked away in the corner. It’s got beautiful red roses in the center and long draping white tablecloth that probably costs more than all your college textbooks combined.

"S'fancy in here," Joel mutters to Sarah and you think he sounds embarassed. You feel a stab of guilt at showing Conrad off like some prize. Even now Joel in his flannel and jeans is so much more enticing than Conrad in his lawn shirt and trousers.

Joel slides in and sits at the end of the table like a king holding court. You and Conrad curl around one side, Sarah and Charlie on the other. Conrad and Charlie haven’t stopped talking since they started on your walk over to the restaurant.

“And I don’t even think that they have a shot for the Superbowl this year.”

“Fucking Superbowl,” Conrad rolls his eyes. “That’s just a chance to sell ad space; it’s not a real game.”

You and Sarah exchange a look of boredom before diving into your menus. You wish you weren’t sat next to Joel in the booth, but Conrad always likes to sit on the outer rim of them because he claims it’s a power position. Fucking ridiculous.

You all chat amiably about what you’re going to drink before Sarah suggests you and her share a Sangria pitcher. You nod eagerly, knowing that alcohol may help to soothe your high strung nerves. Joel and the Charlie order a beer when the server comes by and you don’t miss how Conrad has to order the most obnoxious sounding wine on the menu, all the way to rolling his r’s to hit the Spanish pronunciation.

As she leaves Conrad’s arm goes behind your shoulder in the booth casually and you lean back into it, watching from under your lids as everyone talks. After a moment you go back to your menu, trying to pick what you want when your stomach feels like it’s coming out your bellybutton. Joel doesn’t look your way as you do this, but it’s like you feel him.

“Are you guys doing any excursions when you’re over there.”

“Dunno,” Conrad shrugs playfully. “I’m up to do whatever she wants, I’m just there to carry the luggage.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and you grin up at him. He’s being so devoted, so charming. You know that from the outside it fools most people and even you get sucked into it sometimes. It makes you temporarily forget the pouting when things don’t go his way or the way he pays off everything to avoid conflict.

The group continues to talk about differing travel locales they want to visit. Sarah wants to got o Greece, Charlie to Spain and you mention Italy.

“I want to people watch there,” you say with a crooked smile. “It seems the perfect place for it.”

“We’ll have to go there next then,” Conrad winks at you. You let him kiss your mouth, despite how he knows that you despise of public affection. He pulls back, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before he tells the group that the steak here is amazing.

At the first graze you think a spider has crawled over your knee. Your hand sweeps over your bared kneecap, hoping to brush it off when a large hand falls over yours, pinning yours to your thigh. You try to keep your features schooled, but your eyes dart to Joel’s profile beside you. He’s looking over the menu, lower lip stuck out in thought. You feel his thumb rub tiny circles into the top of your hand, almost lovingly. It makes you clench up everywhere.

His long fingers circle your wrist and under the tablecloth he tugs your hand into his lap where you find him hard through the denim of his jeans. Your mouth goes dry as he encourages your fingers to squeeze him through the fabric, palming his thickness.

Joel makes a soft sighing noise that could be a casual contemplation of what to order, his gaze on the menu. But then his dark eyes dart to your face briefly before he’s dragging your hand harder against his cock.

Everything in you wants to keep going. To feel his cock throb in your hands. To make him come right there at the table. But you don’t. You remember how he last left things on the phone and you feel your irritation churn in your guts.

Fuck him. You’re not here to be his personal fuck toy whenever he throws crumbs of affection your way.

You tug your hand back slowly, not wanting to arouse suspicion before you drag your hand back up, using both to look at the menu as Charlie, Sarah and Conrad complain about the lack of good movies in the theaters these days.

It’s not until the food is delivered and you’re two glasses of sangria in that you feel the gentle graze again. Its feather light on your inner kneecap, tracing the bone there and you feel goosebumps rise all along your body at the sensation. Yet you force yourself to swallow and agree out loud that the Cillian Murphy will probably win best actor.

You keep your hands on the table, not looking at Joel. You furrow your brows only a little when Joel’s hand slowly slides up your bare knee to your thigh, rubbing gently. He’s leaned forward slightly, one hand around his beer. He looks casual, even relaxed as he does this, nodding and offering the odd comment as everyone eats and talks about school, politics, pop culture, sports. You can barely keep track because all you can concentrate on is the large, warm hand that is now sliding up under your skirt.

You take a bite of your salad, almost choking when a finger traces the damp slit of your cunt through your panties. Your eyes dart to Joel to see him resting his cheek boredly on one hand as if the entire ordeal is tiring to him before he takes a bite of potato. The rest of the table talks animatedly as only the young and carefree can.

You used to be like that.

You squirm, trying to dislodge Joel’s hand from your lap, but he has no intention of leaving. Instead you feel his finger curl around the edge of your panties, testing your warmth, feeling your arousal seeping into your gusset. You feel Joel’s dark eyes slide over your face before he joins in on the conversation with Charlie and Conrad about the latest sports team. You can’t be bothered to ask which on because Joel’s thick finger has breached your cunt now, leaving you with wide eyes and trembling as you try to bring another forkful of your steak salad to your lips.

He pumps his middle finger into your welcoming cunt, a small surprised smile on his lips as he listens to the conversations around the table. When the second finger joins the first and you feel your pussy milking them, you begin to breathe unsteadily, trying to swallow the moan that’s building there. But when his thumb taps at your clit and then rubs in slow circles you let out a small whimper.

Conrad hears it, turning to see your cheeks flushed and sweat dotting your forehead. He gives a look of concern before leaning over and dropping his voice to a soothing murmur.

“You okay, babydoll?” Conrad asks his hand flying to your knee, dangerously close to Joel’s fingers.

“I’m fine,” you say shaking him off before his hand can touch your thigh. Joel’s own hand creeps back to his lap, glistening with your arousal. The sight of it is what sends you pushing against Conrad, desperate to find release.

“I need to use the bathroom,” you urge, nudging him out of the booth. Conrad nods, allowing you to slide out and lurch to the bathroom. You feel your heart pounding as your feet rush to the tiled bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

You’re so achy between your legs you can’t believe it. You lean over the counter, watching as a woman exits the stall, her eyes lingering on your curved spine. She washes her hands, looking at your red face.

“You okay honey?”

“Mhmm,” you nod through clenched teeth. She nods, drying her hands before exiting. You try to catch your breath before you move into the far stall, your body slumping against the wall. You are about to close the door for privacy when a hand reaches out to tug it open. Joel is there, his broad shoulders twisting around

“Joel?”

When you see the fire in his expression you feel your coherent thought leave you. His pupils are blown so wide his eyes look black and the way he looks at you is nothing other than ravenous.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Making you come," is all he says before his he hits his knees.

You fall against the wall of the bathroom stall, hands flat against the cool metal. Joel's pulling down your panties, urging your thighs to part before his tongue is slipping between the lips of your cunt. You offer a small gasp before he begins to suck on your clit, tongue flicking as your knees buckle. It's sloppy and needy and feels so fucking sinful that you immediately go boneless.

“My good girl,” comes the muffled endearment from between your legs. His broad grasp is around your thigh, urging it over his shoulder so you open yourself more to him. He inhales, groaning before his tongue is back to probing you deeply, coaxing your climax.

You let out little whimpers, eyelids fluttering as Joel’s fingers press into your sopping slot, murmuring to himself about how good you taste. You can’t control the way you start to unravel, letting him lick at you, taste you and praise you. You look down the length of your body to see his curly hair, his eyes half-opened, drunk with arousal. You think of how he’s ignored you for months and you want to push away from him but you can’t. It feels too good, too right.

"Joel," you whisper, eyes wide as he wraps his teeth around your pulsing pearl."W-why?"

"I need to," Joel says, his breathing quick and sharp as his gaze meets yours. “Need to-“

The door opens and you hear two older women gabbing, chuckling to one another as Joel abruptly stands. You may be in the far stall, but a man on his knees is going to cause a scene if they glance the way of your stall, you’re sure of it.

You wait for him to grow anxious and wait them out, but instead he pulls his hard and throbbing cock from his jeans. Your eyes blow wide when he grips you by the middle, lifting you by the ass and urging your legs to wrap around his waist. You do it, feeling the cold metal of the stall wall against your spine as he pins you there with his body.

His hand goes over your mouth when he slides into you, groaning gently as he does, as if this is what he��s been living for all these months.

“Need to remind you who this pussy belongs to,” he murmurs against the curve of your ear when he begins to thrust into you. “Remind you who you come for.”

His hand remains stuck over your mouth, sealing in any disagreement from your side. He’ll have found none even if his hand was taken away. The sound of the women chatting is distant, in another world, like insects in the grass of a summer day.

“All that money and that pretty boy can’t make you feel half as good as me,” Joel grunts against your temple. “Cuz fucking him doesn’t feel as good as fucking a married man, does it?”

Your lower belly tightens, your brows saddle. You worry Joel doesn’t understand that being married is the least enticing part in all of this. That you just want him because he’s Joel Miller. But Joel is feral, fucking into you harshly as he maintains your silence.

“He doesn’t make you wet like this, does he?”

You shake your head, watching with fascination as Joel’s mouth curves into a triumphant grin. He thrusts faster, his breathing punched out with each pump before his mouth is on your ear again.

“He make you come just talkin’ to you on the phone?”

Another head shake.

“But you come so easily for me, don’t ya?” Joel grunts quietly. “Cuz your cunt was made for this cock. No one’ll ever make it feel as good as I do. And no cunt makes me feel as good as yours. Can’t get it outta my fucking head.”

You can’t help but whimper behind his palm at the sound of that because it almost sounds as if there’s longing in his voice.

“Shhh shhh shhh,” Joel hushes you, eyes widening slightly. The sound of the women washing their hands is heard distantly. “You don’t want us caught before you come do you?”

But he needn’t have worried. You’re there, fucking yourself against his thrusts as he sends you into a dizzying climax, one that has your eyes clenched tightly and your eyes ringing.

“I feel that,” he murmurs against your lobe. “I feel you squeezin’ me, baby. Fuck keep going. Ride it out.”

You come with his palm sealed tightly over your mouth, arching back as Joel watches you with appreciative awe, soaking his cock. The women exit the bathroom with casual laughter as they talk about the entrees and you shudder violently against the man who has you pinned to the wall. When he’s sure you’ve finished he slowly lowers you, waiting until your rubbery legs can stand independently.

Joel pulls himself from you slowly, his hardened cock waiting. You don’t even hesitate, you just sink to the floor and take him into your mouth, sucking as he winds his hands in your hair and fucks your mouth. You taste your mingled release when he comes down your throat seconds later, breathing in sharp little huffs of good girl my good girl as he does. You swallow it down, your eyes on him the entire time before he brings you to your feet.

His mouth is on yours, tongue tangling with yours as his hips pin you to the stall wall. Your hands clutch at his neck, lacing there before he pulls back, the heat from his eyes dimming as he realizes how far he’s gone. The air thick with tension as you both realize what a monumental mistake this was.

“You go back first,” he tells you huskily. “I’ll wait a few.”

You nod, smoothing down your clothes and hair, checking the mirror to make sure that your makeup is still presentable. You wash your hands and come back to the table to find the group finishing up.

“You sure you’re feeling okay?” Conrad asks as you slip in beside him. “You’re all flushed. I hope you’re not too sick for our trip.”

Of course that’s all he cares about. You’re convinced if you actually were sick Conrad would somehow blame you for it, as if it were within your control. Instead you just assure him with a tepid smile and a light head shake.

“No no, I’m fine. But I think we should head out. I wanna finish packing.”

You can’t be here when Joel gets back. Just the idea of catching sight of him after everything that’s happened has your knees buckling. Conrad throws back the remainder of his drink as you and he cast goodbyes to Sarah and Charlie.

“Let’s go,” Conrad says slipping an arm around your waist as he stands. “Just lemme pay.”

Your skin prickles as a husky voices sounds out behind you.

“No need,” Joel says with a smug smile as he approaches the table. “Already taken care of.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #dad joel miller #fanfic #pedro pascal #smut #fanfiction #joel miller tlou #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #bfdjoelmiller #jealousy #pining

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missrubybird · 9 months

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Seven Sims and a Unicorn

Thanks to the EA Creator Network I was able to get the new Sims 4 Horse Ranch Expansion Pack a little earlier and right away got to making a bunch of townies to go with the lore and existing pre-made Sims in Chestnut Ridge.

Below the cut you’ll find:

The Sims Download Link

Sims’ Backstories and Traits

CC Links and Credits

All Sims have all 8 Outfits using only HR and Basegame

Have fun! ♥️ 🦄 ♥️

CC Links: Freckles//Lashes (make sure to download all 3 versions!)

Please Note:

There is CC included in the Download Files, make sure to put it in your Mods Folder along with the CC linked above!

You need a No EA Lashes mod for the Sims to look exactly like they do in the pictures!

The Unicorn has my Default horse eyes, please be aware of this in case you're using other horse Defaults

Credits:@tamosim@vibrantpixels@vegantrait@rheallsim Thank you so much for your generous TOUs! ♥️♥️♥️

DOWNLOAD

Sims' Backstories (from left to right and top to bottom):

Issi Miashintubbee (loves the outdoors/loyal/rancher) Tula Miashintubbee (silly)

Issi comes from a long line of ranch owners and was supposed to take over her parents' ranch and business and get married to the father of her daughter Tula. To her family's shock and surprise one day she decided she was tired of everyone's expectations and the path already decided for her and packed her stuff and set off with Tula into the unknown to find out what it is that she really wants. Will she find her fortune in Chestnut Ridge? And what does Tula think of all this?

River Dempsey (loves the outdoors/perfectionist/horse lover) Milla Dempsey (bookworm)

River, widowed and possibly looking for love, is a passionate horse breeder and father who would like nothing more than to impart said passion for riding and horses on his daughter Milla. After all, there are competitions coming up! To his great disappointment Milla is all about books and hopes to one day become a published author. It's not that she doesn't like horses but she would much rather think up stories and spend her free time browsing the library.

Yona Kitegista (cheerful/outgoing/foodie)

Yona has run the Oak Barrel Bar as long as anyone can remember and she takes great pride in making the most popular nectar in town. If only there weren't those two youngsters, Marissa and Dani, who seem to have quite the touch at making new and exiting flavors of nectar. Her old friend and childhood sweetheart Don Gooseman is convinced hers is the best around but Yona isn't sure she won't have to change up her longstanding recipe to keep up with the competition!

Jaxen Tracey (creative/music lover)

Jaxen is Marissa's brother and the newest addition to the household, although Dani isn't too sure what to think of this, since things have been a little tense between her and Marissa lately. And now Jaxen is here, playing that music of his rather loudly! Marissa and Dani can tell that he is quite talented but his electro beats are a bit of a sore thumb among the blues lovers of Chestnut Ridge. All the while, Jaxen isn't so sure either what to make of his new surroundings. Will he eventually don the country fashion, get on that horse and become a blues lover?

Arabella von Rosenberg (intelligent/brave/friendly) Charley Bullhorn (rancher/romantic/familyoriented)

Why does Charley have a pink, sparkling unicorn, you wonder? No one knows, but he sure is proud of his beautiful, prize-winning Arabella. The two have travelled all over the country from shows to competitions but now Charley feels like it's time to settle down and find a permanent place to stay. Some may think he's a bit of a ladies man but actually he's a bit shy and secretly wants to have a big family. Can charming Arabella help him find the love of his life? And maybe Arabella too might find a new equestrian friend?

#ts4 horse ranch #ea creator network #missrubybird #Download #My Sims #Women #Men #Kids #Elder

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abellaheart-blog · 1 year

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What Lip Stick They Buy You 💄💋

Bucci Gang x Reader Headcanons

Narancia Ghirga

He picks out cutesy ones for you because he thinks the gloss will look nice.

He saw it online, The Crème Shop x Hello Kitty Kawaii Kiss Moisturizing Lip Oil - Vanilla Mint Flavored. He didn't care about the flavor. He cared more about the appearance and color

He would choose various cutsey lip glosses and the kind that are flavored hence why he got you dippin dots lip balms or Jolly Ranchers but expect different flavors he thought would taste best

His favorite would be fruit flavored glosses on you. Various would be given to you but he'd get a better brand

"Oh tesoro/tesorina! You're wearing the lip gloss I bought you!"

"Please can I have a kiss? You look so sexy/beautiful and kissable!"

"Only one kiss? You're wearing the tangerine lipgloss!"

"No fair! I wanted to try it from your lips."

Fugo Pannacotta

He loves the pink strawberry lip products on you! They make you look ever so kissable and he can't resist your lips

He buys you “Strawberry Kisses lip scrub” from Fourth Ray Beauty

Glosses are a must too he wants to pick the cutest ones for you

Yes all of them would be strawberry flavored or themed

He'd pick out pink strawberry themed lip sticks as well

He's so happy seeing you put them to use. He'll smile so much

Politely asking for kisses like the shy gentlemen he is

He would also get you a balm too if requested or if he see's a good one

He'll bite his lip hoping he could kiss you. The sweetie wants all your kisses when he see's you put it to use. He can't help it

He's shy about PDA so he'll ask you privately

"Mio prezioso/preziosa, I need to kiss you.."

"You're so cute. I smell strawberry. You used the lipstick I got you. It looks great on you, as expected."

"Bella/Bello please kiss me.."

"You're simply irresistibile."

Guido Mista

He's getting you lip products he think would make you more kissable. He can't wait to use a pick up line on you to earn a kiss

Mista buys you watermelon sugar lip gloss. It’s called, “this is juice gloss” by NYX

Much like Narancia he's getting you flavored lip products but I feel like he'd get the soda flavors. He'd totally get them to make some sort of cheesy pick up line. The fruity and coke flavors would be his go to but if you prefer other soda flavors he’d pick them out too.

Mista loves lipstick on his partner too. He thinks it looks so pretty attractive. He might buy you some in red since he thinks its sexy. He'd make sure its a good brand

If you don't like red lip he's fine with other colors but of course he'll like them natural too. He's still wanting your kisses constantly

Too bad he doesn't realize lipstick don't taste good but it's a sacrifice he's willing to make

He would like different colored lipglosses too. I can see him picking purples and pinks

He's going to be begging for kisses when you wear lip glosses since they draw so much attention

"Looking good handsome/gorgeous. Where's my kiss?"

"Is that red lipstick I see? Gimme kisses!"

"You look so sexy. I'm going to need some kisses. I hope I earned them."

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno likes pink lipsticks and he'd love seeing various shades on you too!

He buys you lipstick from Sephora for you. He likes their products because they carry good quality expensive brands.

The Rose lip scrub is his favorite on you

Hot pinks are also a favorite choice of his

He’d be sure to pick out a shade that would compliment your complexion

Dior would be another brand he would love to buy for you

Lip glosses would be the other type of lip wear he’d pick out for you. Pinks and purples. The glosses would look so cute on you

"Bello/Bella I'm happy to see you wear the lip gloss I've given you."

"Scusi but you're looking so divine today. I must kiss you, cara/caro."

"You're wearing the pink lipstick I bought you, aren't you stella (star)?"

"Carino/Carino are you only giving me one kiss?"

Bruno Bucciarati

He likes the red lipsticks for you! Any shade is fine with him.

He’d pick out a good brand like Dior or maybe Sephora

Other shades I can see him choosing would be browns or orange colors

Bright colors would compliment your eyes but he thinks brown shades look sexy too

He’d be delighted to see you wear the colors he bought you. Anything to make you happy

He isn’t opposed to other types of lip wear I feel like Bruno doesn’t know them too well

“I see you’re wearing the red lipstick I got you. You look very breathtaking~”

“I never get tired of your lip prints. They make my day, amore mio.”

“So beautiful.. I know I’ve already kissed your hand. Would you be opposed to a kiss?”

Leone Abbacchio

He’s the perfect one to pick out lipsticks for you. He knows makeup very well and enjoys picking them out for you too. Maybe he could do your makeup too if you like?

Of course he’d want to twin with you by getting you purple lipsticks. He’d get various shades so you can experiment with a color you’d enjoy most

He’d also like blacks and dark greens on you. Red is also a pleasing sight to see as well. Getting brands off of shelves while he’s shopping for himself but it’s most likely he’s shopping for you

He’d love to pick out lipsticks with coffin packaging

He’d get some Nightmare Before Christmas lipsticks as well. He enjoys their shades of lipsticks and would also enjoy the look of the design

He isn’t opposed to other colors. These would be his favorites he’d like to see on you.

He always has a smug look on his face at night when he sees your lip prints on him before washing it off his face or other body parts

If he had to pick his favorite it would be black. He secretly thinks it’s sexy

“The black lipstick really suits you.. better seat you on my lap before you run off.”

“Where’s my kiss, my dark empress/emperor?”

“Need to kiss you, my sexy vampire.”

"Getting lip prints on me whore?"

#bucci gang x reader #gender neutral reader #jjba headcanons #gender neutral s/o #jjba fluff #bucci gang #leone abbacchio x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #guido mista x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #narancia ghirga x reader #fugo pannacotta x reader

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wren-kitchens · 9 months

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the sims 4 horse ranch pack has reignited my insanity over these two <3

“hey darling.” jimmy looks up, a smile already working its way onto his face. “hi tango.” “what’re you doing out so late?” tango asks, leaning against a beam. “I know you like to get up early.” “I was waiting for the sunset.” jimmy says, warmth in his chest. god, he loves this man. “I haven’t seen it in a while.” “it’s a gorgeous day for it.” tango says, walking over to press a chaste kiss to jimmy’s lips. “not as gorgeous as my rancher, though.” he adds, looking far too pleased with himself. not that jimmy’s complaining. “you sap.” jimmy says, entirely endeared by his husband’s antics. “what are you doing out late? I know you can’t be without your beauty sleep.” he teases. tango turns a little pink as he sits on the bench next to jimmy. “if I told you that I can’t sleep without you,” he starts, grinning shyly. jimmy laughs and puts his arm around tango. “you’re so cute.” “oh, shush.” tango says, leaning into him. “besides, I haven’t seen you much today. how was lunch?” “chaotic and dumb as ever.” jimmy says fondly. “joel’s horse��you know sage?—just had her foal.” “aww!” tango exclaims. “yeah! he showed me photos of her, she’s adorable.” jimmy says. “her name is onion.” “onion?” tango frowns. “yeah, like sage and onion.” jimmy grins. “lizzie had a couple rabbits way back and that’s what they were called.” “oh, that’s so sweet.” tango says. “we have to visit now, I need to meet her.” “that’s what I said.” jimmy agrees. “and grian. we’re scheduling dates to go over.” “I hope i’m coming too.” tango says eagerly. “of course!” jimmy says. “I couldn’t let you miss that, honey.” tango’s smile softens, and jimmy’s heart soars. man, tango is just beautiful. “‘honey’?” tango says, almost shy, and jimmy realises that’s the first time he’s called tango that out loud. “I- have I not said that before?” jimmy says. tango shakes his head, still smiling. “I like it. a lot.”

“that’s good then,” jimmy leans in so his nose barely brushes tango’s. “honey.” he says deliberately, watching with utmost fascination and adoration as tango’s composure crumbles completely. “oh my god.” tango drops his head onto jimmy’s shoulder. “you’re so mean.” “you said you like it!” jimmy says, stifling a laugh. “you’re mean, and horrible, and i’m divorcing you tomorrow.” tango mumbles into the fabric. “I love you.” he adds, quieter. jimmy presses a kiss into tango’s hair. “love you too, hon.” “you hate me.” tango says, muffled. “that’s what this is. it’s an elaborate scheme.” “for what?” jimmy strokes tango’s hair, amused. there’s a long pause. “I don’t know.” tango finally admits, looking up again. jimmy takes this opportunity to kiss him, and, judging by tango’s response, he’s quite happy with this decision. “you come here often?” jimmy jokes as they pull away. tango rolls his eyes, endlessly fond. he cups jimmy’s face in the palm of his hand, tracing his lips with his thumb. “you’re so handsome.” he says, almost absentmindedly. even after all these years, jimmy can’t help finding himself speechless at the look tango is giving him—appreciation and love and curiosity. in his defence, tango is an extremely pretty person. it’s all too easy to be mesmerised by him. “I love your freckles.” tango says, almost to himself. “they’re like galaxies.” it’s all jimmy can do not to melt into a puddle of mush on the floor. “you’re- you’re not too bad yourself.” tango blinks, apparently processing what jimmy just said. “oh.” he grins, and jimmy thinks he isn’t in for a treat. “are you embarrassed?”

“no.” jimmy huffs. “I have a very pretty man complimenting me, i’m flustered.” “yeah, you are.” tango leans in. “it’s cute.” “you’re being mean now.” jimmy says. he can feel tango’s breath on his skin, they’re that close. “my turn.” tango winks, and kisses his nose. “tango-“ jimmy tries to say, when tango starts to pepper kisses across his face. “hm?” tango says, lips pressed against his cheek. “what are you doing?” jimmy smiles. “i’m kissing all your freckles.” tango says, leaning back for a second to grin at him, before resuming. “you dork.” jimmy says, blushing with pleasure. “that’s me.” tango says cheerfully. jimmy is in love.

#if anyone gets the shadowcraft reference ily #rancher duo #team rancher #solidaritek #trafficshipping #wren writes #i love these guys

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v4narana-w0nderl4nd · 1 year

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Aranara Mafia AU

-> Part 7

While Zhongli was knocked out, Venti hesitantly asked questions to the "creator".

Nahida watches while giving the aranara a blueprint for a landmine.

Ei didn't feel like talking, not after remembering what the cabbage creatures did to her land.

And finally, after 30 minutes..

Zhongli woke up, stretched a bit and..

[KCŘAÆCK]

Oh lord.

His back sounded like as crunchy as a jolly rancher.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him.

Because of this, the cabbage people have found a new nickname for him:

"Dookie-colored arthritis nara"

Everyone then resumes their activities.

The cabbages making landmines, the "creator" and Venti talking, while Ei sits in a corner, wondering if her City has truly been demolished.

Zhongli still doesn't believe that the Creator is the one he's staring at right now, so he quietly inches towards the creator, with his weapon and..

He slices through their arm.

But instead of bleeding red, from their arm flows liquid gold.

The aranara, or cabbage people, immediately rush to the Creator's side. Some comfort them, while some try to heal their arm.

Zhongli stands there, completely petrified.

He stares at the Creator, in complete shock and disbelief.

He then approaches them, or at least tries to, only to find himself on the ground.

The sky surrounding him is no longer pink, but blue.

The other archons, except for Nahida, also find themselves out of the forest, with Venti being in Windrise and Ei being in her Plane of Euthymia.

Two of them were glad they got the chance to meet the Creator, while one was regretting every action he's done to them.

Alright, I don't really know how to continue from this point, also this chapter took me a while cuz I didn't rlly know what to write lol

If anyone has ideas, please leave them in the comments, thank you :D

Note: The series isn't done yet, I just need some inspiration 💀💀💀

Taglist:

@sparklyphantom @koima @lilqi @valeriele3 @internet-4ngel @campanula-rotundifolia @silentterri @lxkeeeee @undecidingfate @overlysour @lunarapple @dedef7890 @java-lava @esthelily @justasleepyboi @vvyeislazzy @leafanonsforest @i-need-to-touch-grassss @ra404 @yourlocaldrugdealerbutfancy @m1kali @imlost-sendhelp @reversearrowhead

#aranara mafia au #sagau brainrot #aranara #genshin au #genshin brainrot #genshin x reader #genshin x you #sagau genshin #sagau impostor au #genshin imagines #sagau villain au #genshin aranara #sagau aranara

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playing-it-groovy · 2 years

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Groovy Legacy Challenge

This challenge was inspired by the other amazing 10 generation storytelling challenges out there including, Not So Berry, Sims in Bloom, Whimsy Legacy Challenge and many more!

A massive shout out to my friend Sophie 'Folklore Adventures' for helping me with this challenge, coming up with ideas and helping write the backstory for each generation.

General Rules:

-Each Generation complete the given aspiration & career

-Max out required skills for each generation

-Money Cheats allowed for story telling purposes ie freerealestate

*Make the challenge harder by not using any cheats

-Play on any lifespan you wish (although short is not recommended with all the goals that need to be achieved for each gen)

-Please add extra story elements and ideas throughout the challenge and make it your own, have fun!

-If you do not own all required packs, either leave that part of the rule out or change the trait/skill to something that is similar

-Some Generations are named after tv shows or movies and the storyline for these are not the same, they are just inspired by them.

-You will notice each generation has two colours, an aesthetic and inspiration. These are not required for the challenge but are a fun add on to the Groovy theme of the legacy (though I know this style isn't for everyone). You may like to just do the colours or the aesthetic or neither, it's totally up to you!

-If you decide to play this challenge I'd love you to @me playing_it_groovy on instagram or use the hashtag #Groovylegacy

Packs needed:

Seasons,Get to Work, Outdoor Retreat, Snowy Escape, Strangerville, City Living, Cottage Living, Realm of Magic, Get to Work, Parenthood, Knifty Knitting, Jungle Adventure, Get Together, Highschool Years, Spa Day, Dine Out, Bowling Night, Discover University, Horse Ranch

Edited:22/07/2023

Optional New first Gen (can continue with following generations after)

Generation 1 (alternative): Not your average Rancher:

Your parents gave you the perfect suburban upbringing, but the world is changing and you don’t want a mundane job and a house in the suburbs. So you run away and start a new life with only the clothes on your back. You are quirky, with a love for all things colourful and fun, you show this part of your personality through your home interior and how you dress. Your deep connection to nature, animals and gardening inspires you to start your own farm on an empty ranch. You find someone who shares your love for the outdoors and together you raise a family that grows along with colourful quirky farm.

Aspiration: Expert Nectar Maker

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Rancher, Horse Lover

Career: Nectar Making (make your money from your farm and nectar making)

Skills: Gardening, Nectar Making, Horse Training (get a horse to level 10 in 3 out of 4 skills)

Goals:

-Start from nothing Rags to Riches style, you can either start with $400 or $0 if you would like to make it harder! -Build your home from the ground up - it grows as your family grows -Must end up owning all the 'colourful' mini sheep types -Own a colourful horse -Must also own at least one chicken, cow, goat & llama -Have a minimum of 3 children

*Colours Pink & Green *Aesthetic Colourful Western *Inspiration: Western Barbie, Barbie Movie, Dont Worry Darling

Generation 1: Flower Child

Your parents gave you the perfect suburban upbringing, but the world is changing and you don’t want a mundane job and a house in the suburbs. So you run away and start a new life with only the clothes on your back. You are strong, independent and are driven to make a true difference in the world. Your deep connection to nature, plants and flowers inspires you to find someone who shares your youthful hippie spirit and cares for the environment like you do. Together you raise a conscious family who appreciate the environment and the world around them.

Aspiration: Outdoor Enthusiast

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Vegetarian, Self-Assured

Career: Conservationist - Environmental Manager

Skills: Flower Arranging, Herbalism & Gardening

Goals:

-Start from nothing Rags to Riches style, on an empty lot with no money

-Build your home from the ground up - it grows as your family grows.

-Your home is always decorated with flowers from your garden

-Collect and grow all flower types used for flower arranging and grow to Magnificent quality

-Make all types of flower arrangements

-Have a minimum of 3 children

-Take family on camping holidays for each of their child to teen birthdays

*Colours - Green & Brown

*Aesthetic - 70's Flower Child

*Inspiration - 1960s Hippie Movement, Films - Hair, Dare to be Wild, Across the Universe

Generation 2: Space Oddity

You were raised to love and care for Mother Earth but as the rest of the world begins to look towards the stars, you wonder what else might be out in the world. Ideas of space and the supernatural consume your thoughts and while people might find you strange, you don’t mind at all, because you know there’s something out there. You’re a neat freak and long for the next genius idea you’ll have in the shower. You leave the family farm and move to an unusual new town hoping to meet like minded people but when things start getting strange, you go searching for answers. You finally find a Sim who accepts you for you, quirks and all.

Aspiration: Strangerville Mystery

Traits:Genius, Neat, Erratic

Career: Astronaut

Skills: Rocket Science, Logic, Handiness

Goals:

-Live in Strangerville

-Build rocket ship

-Have a fleeting romance with an alien from Sixam

-Collect all Geodes

-Collect all aliens

-Collect and Grow all Alien Plants

-Get married to to a sim with the geek trait and raise a family together

*Colours - Turquoise and yellow

*Aesthetic - Retro Futuristic/Fallout

*Inspiration - Classic Sci Fi films, War of the Worlds, Area 51

Generation 3: Brady Bunch

You grew up in an unusual family and just long to fit in with everyone else. You dream of a simple family life, with routine, order and nothing out of the ordinary. You find your soulmate and raise a large family of six children. You love being a stay at home parent and focusing on your children. You strive to be the perfect parent, knitting for your family, cooking big family meals and helping your children with their studies. You don’t have many friends other than your family so you decide to have pen pals.

Aspiration: Big Happy Family

Traits: Family Oriented, Cheerful, Perfectionist

Skills: Knitting, Parenting and Cooking

Career: NA

-Be a stay at home parent

-Have a hobby of knitting and selling your craft

-Have 6 children (adopt or have naturally)

-Help Children with all school projects

-Cook a large family meal every night

-Collect all postcards through having penpals

*Colours - Orange and Green

*Aesthetic - 60's/70's California

*Inspiration - The Brandy Bunch, Leave it to Beaver

Gen 4: Grease

Growing up in a large loving family, you were the perfect child that couldn't do anything wrong. You are a straight A high school student and cheerleader, but you wonder if there’s more to life than having the perfect home and family. Towards the end of your teen years, you meet the Sim of your dreams who is the total opposite to you. They are adventurous and rebellious but they change you for the better and bring out your wild side. You live a busy, fast paced and exciting life having adventures together and only have one child. You have a career in writing, sharing your travels with the world. While you teach your only child to follow their dreams, you don’t spend much time together because of your busy travel schedule.

Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast

Career: Freelance Writer

Traits: Good, Bookworm, Adventurous (last trait given)

Skills: Selvadoradian culture, Skiing, Rock Climbing

Goals:

-Get A's in School

-Be a cheerleader in High School

-Have a partner that also has the Adventurous trait

-Only have one child

-Have at least 3 tattoos

-Go on as many trips and adventures as you can afford

-Collect all Omiscan treasures

*Colours - Red and Pink

*Aesthetic - Grease

*Inspiration - Films - Grease, Dirty Dancing

Generation 5: Arts Factory

If your globetrotting, absent parents taught you anything, it was to have fun and follow your dreams, so that’s exactly what you do. You move to the city as an aspiring artist/photographer, live with a group of fellow artists and creatives and throw lots of fabulous parties together. You find yourself an incredible muse, have a whirlwind romance, move into your own apartment and have a baby. But long term relationships just aren’t your style and realising you’re losing your creativity and passion, you break up and raise your child alone. You’re forever destined to search for your next muse, while living out to your artistic and party animal dreams.

Aspiration: City Native

Traits: Creative, Party Animal, Noncommittal

Career: Painter

Skills: Painting, Photography, Mixology

Goals:

-Complete childhood aspiration Artistic Prodigy

-Move to city once young adult and stay for remainder of life

-As YA live with roommates (must be other creatives)

-Throw a party once a week with your roomates & make drinks for guests (whilst in shared apartment)

-Collect all City Posters

-Paint and keep 5 masterpieces for your apartment

*Colours - Black and White

*Aesthetic - 1960s New York Art Scene

*Inspiration - Andy Warhol, Edie Sedgewick, Yoko Ono, Films - Factory Girl, Music - Bob Dylan, David Bowie, The Velvet Underground

Generation 6: Bewitched

You grew up in a dysfunctional apartment in the city surrounded by wild parties and celebrities and dream of a more quiet, traditional life for yourself. But there’s a catch, because you’re a witch! While you love being a witch and developing your powers, you long to fit in and want the world to think you’re just a regular Sim. You find a partner that you love and tell them your secret, but don’t disclose it to anyone else. To your neighbours and friends you’re just a regular suburban parent, who bakes for their kids, cross stitches and enjoys bowling. You go all out celebrating every holiday, while living a secret spellcaster life.

Aspiration: Spellcraft and Sorcery

Traits: Proper, Cat lover, Overachiever

Career: Education

Skills: Baking, Cross Stitching, Bowling

Goals:

-Become a Spellcaster as a teen

-Collect all 26 magical artefacts

-Decorate and go all out for every holiday

-Always own a black cat

-Get married before starting a family

-Have a hidden locked room for all spellcaster items

-Only perform magic at home or Glimmerbrook

-Go Bowling as your hobby

*Colours - Navy Blue and Purple

*Aesthetic - 60's suburbia

*Inspiration - Bewitched, Practical Magic, Sabrina the Teenage Witch

Generation 7: Saturday Night Fever

During the day you work a typical nine to five job just to please your pleasant suburban parents, but all you really want is to be going out dancing. You love music, disco and all things shiny. You love the nightlife, you love to boogie!

You go out dancing multiple times a week. You find it hard to commit to one Sim but you love the chase and romancing them on the dance floor. One night you accidentally get pregnant

(or get a sim pregnant) from a one night stand. This makes you change your ways and you become the most loving parent and devote most of your time to raising your child. You still go out dancing when you get the time.

Aspiration: Serial Romantic

Skills: Dancing, Charisma, Dj Mixing Skill

Career: Business

Traits: Dance Machine, Romantic, Childish

Goals:

-As a young adult go out dancing/DJ at least twice a week

-You do not need to reach level 10 in this career as you are not passionate about it

-Never get married or have a long term partner

-You love wearing all things that sparkle

-Collect all Crystals

- Throw a Gold Medal birthday party each time your child ages up

*Colours - Hot Pink and Silver

*Aesthetic - Disco

*Inspiration - Saturday Night Fever, Flashdance, Studio 54

Generation 8: Commune Farm

You grew up surrounded by bright lights, sparkly things, music and dancing. You had the best parent, who worked a job they hated just to make sure you had a great upbringing. But now you long for a simple life, away from all the hustle and bustle, connecting with like minded people. You move to the country to live off the land, reconnect the earth and participate in a harmonious community. You are all about wellness and living a clean lifestyle. But are you getting yourself into a commune or a cult? You have a child with one of your friends in the community and everyone helps raise your child.You make money from selling produce and items you craft by hand, while living your dream hippie commune life.

Aspiration: Zen Guru

Skills: Handiness, Wellness, Fishing

Career: NA

Traits: Maker, Animal Enthusiast, Recycle disciple

Goals:

-Have all types of farm animals

-Live on a lot with simple living and off the grid traits

-Survive off the land and your farm only

-Sell items you farm and make on woodworking table

-Invite sims to be your roomates that you want to live with you on the farm

-Collect all types of fish

*Colours-Orange and Yellow

*Aesthetic - 1970s Age of Aquarius

*Inspiration - 1970s counterculture, Hippie Commune, Woodstock

Generation 9: Almost Famous

You grew up surrounded by music, playing instruments and listening to stories about the wild music festivals and concerts from your commune family attended. And while commune life is nice and all, you dream of more. You want the rockstar lifestyle and when you’re old enough you take off to chase your dreams of being a famous musician.

Your guitar skills start to pay off as you make your own music and busk on the streets for money. You hang out at all the celebrity hot spots in the hopes of meeting someone famous and you do! You fall in love and live your lives in the spotlight. Now that you are with a celebrity and you start to enjoy the finer things in life and focus on creating beautiful music on the piano.

Aspiration: Musical Genius

Career: Any part time job to make extra money

Skills: Guitar Skill, Piano Skill, Gourmet Cooking

Traits: Music Lover, Foodie, Self Absorbed

Goals:

-Play instruments as a child

-Start learning guitar skill as a teen

-Move to Del Sol Valley as a young adult stay there for life

-Busk to make your main income (allowed to have a part time job to earn more money)

-Focus on Piano Skill later in life

-In spare time hang out at celebrity hot spots until you fall in love with one

-Dine out for meals at least once a week

-Collect all experimental food prints

*Colours - Black and Red

*Aesthetic - 70's/80's Rock

*Inspiration - Films - Almost Famous, The Doors, Dazed and Confused

Generation 10: Charlie's Angels

With two famous parents, you grew up in the spotlight but you long for a different life, one far away from fame. So far away in fact, that you decide to be a spy. You are always well put together, fit, fashionable and intelligent, the whole package. Growing up with the finer things in life, you like your home to feel special and enjoy splashing out on expensive household items. You meet the love of your life but they can never know what you do for work. To them you are the perfect partner, but they have no idea of the adventures you go on and enemies you make along the way.

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

Career: Secret Agent Career (Diamond Agent)

Skills: Fitness, Mischief, Programming Skill

Traits: Materialistic, Active, Overachiever

Goals:

-Have a beautifully decorated home

-Constantly update your home with expensive items

-Hide your career from your partner and children

-Have 3 enemies

-Collect all fossils

*Colours - Light Pink and Blue

*Aesthetic - 1970s Charlie's Angels

*Inspiration - 70s Spy Gene, James Bond

#sims 4 legacy #sims 4 legacy challenge #legacy challenge #groovylegacy

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bokettochild · 7 months

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what are your favourite headcanons for all the boys? (also hi mama lava we havent spoken in a while oopsie hah,,hope ur doing well <3)

I'm doing quite well, m'dear! Mnetally at least LOL

The body hates fall and the changes in the air, but the rain makes me happy and the leaves are going CRONCH so I can still smile! Also, it is now cider and cocoa wheather! (I really need to finish that darn Ravio scarf now LOL)

Okay! Headcannons!

Time: He has no clue what's happening ever. Time is hard for me to relate to or even work with, so I don't tend to mess around as much with headcannons for him, but I love the idea that he is masquerading as an adult all the time and genuinely is confused by almost everything. As someone who was left in charge of see stinkers with no clue on how to handle them, it makes him relatable and easier to write that way :)

Warriors: His dark form is a dragon. Even prior to TotK I liked the idea that certain people could/would become dragons, and considering there are some who ship him and his Zelda and they come before Flora, that would mean it runs in the family LOL. It also really suits him for REASONS and I like playing with it

Sky: His eyes flash silver when he's angry, and lightning will crash even on a sunny day when you piss him off. He killed a god, let this man be an unhinged BAMF eldrich hero!

Hyrule: Navi is his mother. I like the idea of him growing up hearing stories of the Hero of Time. i like the idea of him setting out on his adventure not just because Impa asked him too, but because that pig sounds a lot like the sucker who killed his big brother and their family doesn't go down unavenged! He totally had a few words for Ganon in that last fight, and even if it was the last thing the king of evil thought, he knew he was killed on behalf of a hero, not just by one.

Twilight: He's a white girl. It's really a personal gag for me, but he likes horses and stupid romance stories and ridiculously sweet drinks and he can't hold his whiskey for the life of him. Okay, like, he can, but why would he drink whiskey when he can have something strawberry flavoured? He just... he's a big rancher and scary wolf, but he will willingly wear pink and be a barbie is what I'm saying. And yes he'd enjoy it! (although he'd prefer pants please, he's still a man Barbie, okay? Not a Ken, a man Barbie)

(I have others for Twi, but this one makes me happy to ridiculous levels and gives the seratonin <3)

Wind: He's Warriors' grandfather. I know it;s less about him and more about Warriors, but the idea of him shaping and guiding the next hero, preserving that hero's childhood and protecting it as long as he can, makes me happy. there were totally calls to adventure long before Cia, but Wind said "heck no, he's underage, ain't happening" and either stopped that shit or dealt with it himself. He made sure to teach Warriors everything he wishes he'd known, or heard the others say they wished they'd known when starting: starting a fire, wayfaring, tracking, hunting, fishing, map making, how to make gear and supplies last, where to find valuable things, all that sort of stuff. he didn't know what sort of trouble the hero after him would face, so he made sure to provide help and leave supplies in every way he could think of (some of which, incidentally, lasted all the way to wild's time to help him).

Wild: He's Other. He's not quite right and he's more than just slightly screwed up, but not in the pretty, Fae like way it's often pictured. Wild is Other like a twisted and mangled tree that scrapes across your window in the night, keeping you awake but keeping the monsters cowering under your bed in fear. He's other like a too wide smile, like a sigh of relief when he feels Death's touch lingering on Legend. He's Not Quite Right in a way you have to know him to see, but you can't ever stop seeing after. (It's okay. Flora is too and she feels safer being with someone who's the same)

Legend: Personal hc I never get to share! Legend is the personification of Balance! He straddles light and dark both as a rabbit and in his fifth adventure. He's kind of died twice (OoS manga & a personal theory about Koholint) yet he's still alive. He kills in order to preserve life and lives in order to kill that which threatens it. He represents the balance in Hyrule and preserves it, hence why he tends to fill any needed role (watching the backs of the heroes throughout LU, taking the lead in Sunset, acting as a middleground/middle sibling in Sunrise) in order to prevent things tipping out of balance. legend is the middle ground between extremes, and a walking contradiction.

Four: I will do the colours as well, but I adore them being remembered, even though Four thinks he won't be. he comments in the comic that he's glad to at least have done well enough that no one needs to worry about his enemies, hence why they don't talk about him anymore, but I like the idea that Malon taught Time to read by reading him parts or stories about Four, but he got to impatient to wait to find out the ending, so he forced himself to figure it out as fast as possible to get there even if she wans't there to tell him. I like Legend hearing stories of him and growing up admiring him, of spending his first few adventures trying to be like him because that's what heroes who win are like. I love Four being remembered and adored. He deserves it! (And if he maybe got sealed away long enough to come back and meet some future heroes, well, I love that too!)

Red: Is actually the most dangerous of the colours when he's mad. He will wreck your shit, he will burn you alive. Do not try him.

Blue: He's fond of patterns and artwork, and knitting helps keep him calm. He's the crafter of the colors, and the only one if you disregard smithing. Also, he's the mom friend.

Green: He likes drawing. I don't know why, he just does. Also, outdoorsy boy. He hates shoes, hates floors, and will sit in the grass drawing trees and chatting with minish for hours if nothing stops him.

Vio: Loves cats. Despite Four as a whole having a fear of cats, and the other colors also sharing that fear, Vio's sense of self preservation sort of flew out the window with the trust the others had in him when he joined Shadow. Vio can look at any animal that should reasonably be able to kill them and actually will try and determine if he can just... touch it. he doesn't want to even be friends, he just wants to see if, since a dragon will let him, will this giant wildcat also? He adores Wolfie more than even Red. The others think there is something wrong with him that he likes terrifying creatures so much.

#asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu wild #lu four #lu time #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu wind

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rishasdecisionparalysis · 1 year

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#slime rancher #tumblr polls

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ang3licasdean · 4 months

Text

Apple Tree excerpt

unreleased fic

Farmer/Rancher!Soap x Miliary!Ghost

His eyes didn't stop darting. He knew he was magnetized by the pink lips, so stark to the pale skin of Simon's chin. So plump, and attractive, even with the scar splitting square in the middle. He looked devine, a siren, calling so loudly to John it almost felt biblical. Like the emergence of a new prophecy, the call from God for action. Simon’s pleading eyes a prophet, desperate and searching. John was stuck between leaning into his new religion, and shaking back.

"We can't"

Simon's sigh of displeasure was warm against John's chin, making the hair on the back of his neck rise. The proximity made him smell the minty tobacco on his breath, and he was sure if he fell into temptation, if he abandoned what he knew for his siren, and clasped their lips together; he'd taste the cigarette they shared.

John's eyes drifted upwards, over Simon’s head, blinking at the roof of his home, the slowly, lazy spinning fan that shone down a light from a single, old and frayed bulb. A halo around Simon’s already biblical frame.

"We can" Simon whispered, his ungloved hand brushing John's hair from side to middle, a thumb caressing John's temple, "You're thinking about them" He said, and John knew what he meant.

Them.

The village, all the people he knew and grew up in, Kyle, and all the people he's made close friends with. The village that embraced him after his family died, that raised him. He wasn't some unknown in a city, he was the village's boy. Their legacy, of sorts. His family had harvested and nurtured the village for decades, for as long as their family history ran.

They can't know what he is, how he is. How he loves, and how Simon’s lips call for him. How the warmth of his thigh against his hip is driving him wild, how he wants so badly to buck his hips, summon contact into existence. How his yearned to bite into Simon, to feel his very core against his lips. If he could, he'd crawl under his skin, and warm himself there. If he could, he'd curl into his chest, and make a home there.

But he can't.

Simon cups his jaw, gentle, for such a hardened man. Too gentle, like John would break, and he will, he feels it.

"Think about me instead," Simon whispered, prayed into his ear. A messiah begging for forgiveness, for John's love, for John's resolve. "Johnny," Simon whispered pressing their foreheads together. The proximity making John shudder, a strangled breath escaping him, "please, Johnny," Simon continued, breaking down Soap softly, with every plea, "My Johnny"

"Simon—" John shuddered again, feeling Simon's nose at his cheek, how his stubbled cheek rubbed against his jaw. A thrill zipping down his spine, instantly followed by guilt at the enjoyment. A few seconds more and John was sure the cross on his chest would burn him. But for a moment, he didn't care. Not when something hot pressed against the column of his neck, burning heat that softened into pleasant warmth.

Simon's lips, followed by his tongue, pressing devilishly on his skin. Teeth scraping against the flushing skin.

"They can't know," Soap whispered, eyes still trained on the ceiling, "Si," he moaned.

"I know," Simon mumbled, pressing his nose against the underside of John's neck. If he wasn't losing his mind, he might've registered how sad it sounded, a confession, nearly. But his brain fried at every point of contact Simon gave him, and he could only listen to the words; foregoing the tone, "I only need you to know, Johnny, just you"

"You have me," John confessed, finally reaching back to Simon, digging his fingers into the mess of curled hair he was growing, "Simon," John urged, "you have me, you always did," he said hastily. Craning his neck to look down towards his chest, where Simon retreated from his neck, and brown eyes met his with something so warm it made John forget the winter snow outside his window.

"I promise," John whispered, and it seemed enough for Simon, who struck with the speed of a cobra, pressing the same hot, devine lips John had dreamt of for weeks against his. Hot tongue darting to split John's lips, to open him up, and let him explore.

#soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #my fic #mw2 #call of duty #ghoap #modern warfare 2 #cod #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish

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wheresarizona · 2 years

Text

Learning to Live Part 13

summary: Javier is taking you to the place he grew up to meet his dad, and a lot is learned about your boyfriend and the people who raised him.

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, Soft Javier Peña, Rancher Javier Peña, oral sex (f & m receiving), face-fucking, deepthroating, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, come swallowing, almost getting caught, (2) Papi’s, feelings and emotions, lots of kissing, so much fluff, banter, feeling nervous, Chucho roasting Javier, a lot of Javier background, pink shirt AND plaid shirt Javier) please dm me if I missed anything!

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 16k+ (I’m so sorry! We learn so much about Javier)

a/n: Hello there! Sorry for how long this took. A lot of crazy stuff happened in my life when I started this chapter, and after doing all the little one-shots, I was in the headspace to get this finished! This is Javier character-heavy—lots of insight into him. There will be another ranch chapter after this! Shoutout to @juletheghoul for being by my side the entire way, and my beta @invisibleismyname, who is a lifesaver.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Javier swiped at the sweat beading on his forehead with the back of his arm—not even nine am, and his shirt was already sticking to him, wet patches darkening the pink material of his button-up. It was going to be a hot fucking day, Javier riding astride his horse, the black steed trotting behind a group of cattle, herding them towards another pasture.

He pressed his aviators up the bridge of his nose, his mind replaying that morning and how fucking happy he was to wake up with Cielito after spending days apart. He’d slept so good, immediately calmed by her presence, comforted, at peace.

There was her warmth—not just her body heat or how fucking good it felt to be inside her, but the way she warmed his very soul—the looks she gave him, her words, her touches, enveloping him and spreading through his body, making him feel warm, cared for, loved.

He missed her warmth.

He missed her.

His lips were downcast in a frown, holding the reins in one hand while the other was perched on his hip, thinking about how he’d woken up, feeling her pressed against him and kissing him awake. Javier sighed; he loved mornings with her. He loved waking up with Cielito in his arms, feeling her softness first thing, caressing her skin, kissing her awake, but he thought he might like how they woke up that morning more. There was something about coming out of the fogginess of sleep and filling his senses with her, all of her, losing himself in her body to start their day off right.

The sounds she’d made that morning, how wet she was, his dick fitting into her pussy all nice and snug, the depths of her hugging him tightly, welcoming him as he fu—

“Mijo!”

Javier thought he might’ve gotten whiplash with how quickly he turned his head toward his father, the elder Peña riding his large Palomino a distance away, the horse golden with a shocking white mane and tail.

Javier cleared his throat.

“Yeah, Pop?”

“Ponte las pilas (Put your batteries in)!” His dad was scowling under his white cowboy hat, snapping his fingers as he told him to pay attention. “Get your head out of the clouds! Se están escapando (They are escaping)!” He pointed, and Javi looked, seeing that a few cattle had left the herd.

“Sí, Pops! Lo Siento (I’m sorry),” Javier gathered the reins in both hands, sitting up as he squeezed his calves against the horse’s ribs. “Vamos, Sombra (Let’s go, Shadow)!” He clicked his tongue, and they were moving quickly.

The wind was a welcome respite from the heat, cooling his skin, Sombra’s movements so smooth Javier could almost imagine he was floating above the ground. This was his favorite, when it felt like he was flying, the exhilaration, the breathlessness. He wondered if Cielito would enjoy going for a ride—if she’d want to go for one. He knew she would and couldn’t help thinking about having her in the saddle with him, feeling her body against his as they swiftly moved across the land. It made him smile, imagining how delighted she’d be. He’d ask her when she came over that night.

He slowed down as they got closer, rounding up the strays and bringing them back with the rest.

He took up position at the flank of the herd, near the end, his father at the very rear, keeping the cattle moving and pushing the slower animals forward. There were three others on horseback, helping to drive the cattle, all of them Javier’s cousins—The Peña ranch was family owned and operated, aside from the bookkeeper and vet, who both stopped by at least once a week.

Javier flicked up his wrist to check his watch, noting that it was only half past nine. He sighed, shoulders slumping that he still had seven fucking hours to go before he was done for the day, planning on skipping out early.

He leaned forward in the saddle, rubbing his hand over Sombra’s mane, feeling the coarse hair beneath his palm, before lightly patting the side of the horse’s neck, hearing it sigh as it trotted.

“Tranquilo, Sombra (Calm, Shadow), shhh. When we get back to the barn, I’ll get you una manzana (an apple).”

The horse snorted, making Javier smile, a sign Sombra liked what he was saying.

“You’re distracted today,” the sound of his father’s voice had him turning his head to look at the older man who had ridden closer to him, their horses keeping pace with the cattle.

Javier sighed.

“Sorry, Pop.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “Got a lot on my mind.”

Chucho’s eyebrow rose, a smirk settling on his lips.

“More like someone on your mind,” he teased.

Javier huffed out a breath, looking away.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Te estás burlando de mí (You’re making fun of me).”

His dad chuckled.

“Sí, mijo. It’s my job as your father to give you a hard time.”

“Right,” he replied, frowning.

“Mijo,” his father said. “Javi,” the use of his name had him meeting the other man’s eyes, seeing the sincere look on his dad’s face. “I like seeing you in love. I like seeing you happy. You’ve been through a lot—more than most, and I always worried about how South America would change you—was worried when you came home and seemed so lost,” he put a hand on his hip. “These last couple of weeks, I’ve noticed the change, seeing you smile more and in a better mood. You laughed at your primo’s (cousin’s) stupid joke the other day, you made her lunch yesterday, and my old ears might be hearing things, but I could’ve sworn there was singing coming from your shower yesterday morning,” he grinned.

“Pop,” Javier groaned, feeling his cheeks heat.

“No te avergüences, mijo (Don’t be embarrassed, my son). She’s good for you, and she’s bringing you back to me—my happy boy I haven’t seen since before you were with that other woman,” he scowled. “You’re reminding me of when I met tu mamá. Couldn’t stop thinking about her, and even when we were together, she was always on my mind,” Chucho sighed wistfully. “Tu mamá era una mujer increíble y la amaba más que a nada (Your mom was an incredible woman and I loved her more than anything). I want you to have that same kind of love, mijo, and I think you’ve found it.” He paused for a moment. “Just please, don’t let the cattle escape,” he smiled.

Javier’s throat felt tight as he gulped, processing all his father had to say.

“Lo intentaré lo mejor que pueda (I will do my best),” his words came out a bit rough.

“That’s all I can ask,” his dad smiled warmly.

“Pops?”

“Sí, mijo?”

“I, uh,” he squeezed the reins in his hands, “have found it, that same kind of love—she’s it.” He took a deep breath. “La amo con todo mi corazón (I love her with my whole heart). Ella es mi media naranja (She is my other half).”

His dad smiled brightly at the last sentence, ‘mi media naranja,’ something he and his wife would call each other.

Javier remembered as a kid, asking his mom why they called each other oranges since the literal translation was, ‘my half of an orange.’ His mother had smiled, telling him about how there was an old legend that humans were once round, like the fruit, and rolled around in perfect harmony, but it had gone to their heads, thinking that they were so complete it meant they were equal to the Gods. They were punished for their arrogance, the Gods separating them into two halves and forcing them to spend their lives searching for their other half—their media naranja—and once they found them, they were whole once more, bonded so tightly they’d never risk being separated again.

Mi media naranja.

My other half.

My better half.

My soulmate.

“I know, mijo. Have you told her?”

Javier looked away, scratching at his mustache.

“No,” he replied.

“Por qué (Why)?”

He met his dad’s eyes, the older man looking at him with a curious expression.

“It’s too soon,” he answered with a frown.

Understanding came over Chucho’s face.

“Tienes miedo (Are you afraid)?”

He was, and he knew there was no reason to be. Every time he was with Cielito, he could see it in her eyes, feel it from her touch, hear it in her words, the love she had for him—yet, even with all of the reassurances, there was still a part of him that feared it was all too good to be true, that the other shoe would drop at any moment, and as quickly as she came into his life, she’d leave.

“Sí,” Javier sighed.

“I was scared, too, with your mom. Worried she didn’t feel the same way, but then she’d look at me, and I knew she loved me as much as I loved her. It will be okay, mijo,” his dad reassured. “When you’re ready, tell her.”

“I will.”

The day was scorching hot, the air conditioning was cranked all the way up in your car, forcing you to turn up your stereo to drown out the noise. It had taken you five minutes after you’d gotten into your little Honda Prelude to go through your CD case and find what you wanted to listen to, settling on disc one of ABBA’s The Hits Box, the upbeat tune of “Dancing Queen,” playing while you sang along on your way to the grocery store.

It was a little past noon, and you wanted to make sure you had enough time to get the groceries you’d need for dinner and be able to bake a pie before Javi came to get you to take you to the ranch.

You felt pretty good, that morning definitely having something to do with your mood, smiling when you thought of Javi’s sleeping face and how he’d fucked your brains out, making you come a couple more times before he’d gotten out of bed for work. He’d told you to go back to sleep, but you’d missed your regular weekday morning routine—Javi smiling when you ended up beside him at the bathroom sink, him handing you your toothbrush before grabbing his own, his arm wrapping around your waist while you both brushed your teeth.

It was an excellent way to start your day, you just wished Javi could’ve stayed home with you, but you understood his dad needed him, especially since he’d missed work the day before to make you lunch and visit you on your break. Thinking of the previous day had butterflies fluttering in your tummy, the thought and care he’d put into the meal he’d made, and how excited he’d been to see you.

In all your life, you’d never felt more loved and cherished, and nobody could ever measure up to the absolute dream of a boyfriend Javier Peña was. You had to pinch yourself sometimes because you couldn’t believe he was yours.

When Javi told you his father wanted to meet you, you’d been excited by the prospect—intrigued to meet the man who helped raise the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You had, of course, heard quite a lot about Chucho Peña, Javi telling you about working with his dad and stories from his childhood. It was easy to see where your boyfriend had learned his work ethic, and you knew his father loved him dearly, always wanting what was best for him, even when Javi didn’t want to listen.

So you were excited to meet the elder Peña and had gone into planning mode to figure out what you’d make for dinner, settling on something you thought would be perfect with what Javi had told you his dad liked to eat.

Before long, your car was parked, and you were walking through the store with a shopping cart, tossing in the ingredients you’d need for the meal.

The nerves hit when you were looking at pasta sauce, holding a jar in your hand while you read the ingredients, a frown settling on your lips.

There wasn’t enough time for you to make your own tomato sauce, and what if his dad hated your cooking? Javier’s mother had been an incredible cook, something you’d learned from many people around town and Javi himself—even your best friend/coworker Robyn had waxed poetic about Antonia Peña’s tamales and other dishes she’d had at potlucks. You thought you were a decent cook; Javi seemed to love your food quite a bit, but what if he was just being nice? What if this meal went terribly? What if Chucho ended up not liking you?

Your brain was spiraling over worst-case scenarios, quickly deciding on a sauce and moving on to the next item on the list you held in your hand, written down on a piece of paper from the memo pad you kept on your refrigerator door.

The worries didn’t let up as you got each item listed, and when you’d finished shopping, and the bags were loaded in your car, you’d turned the volume on your stereo all the way down, the only sound the whirring of the air conditioning while you hoped and prayed this night didn’t end with Javi breaking up with you because his father hated you.

The rest of your day was a blur, so overcome with your thoughts that you had to pull out your handwritten recipe journal in order to make your apple pie, not able to go about it by memory like you usually would.

It was a little after four when you heard the familiar raps of Javi knocking on your front door—always three in quick succession. The pie was cooling on your kitchen counter, flour spattered on your tank top and black leggings, your heart picking up in speed when you unlocked and pulled open the door.

Your boyfriend had a hand on the doorframe and a dimpled smile on his face, feeling yourself melt as you took in his hair sticking wetly to his forehead, sun-pinkened cheeks, and arms and button-down darker in spots from sweat, looking handsome as always.

“Hey, baby,” he rasped, making you smile.

“Hey, sexy,” you replied.

He always left the first few buttons undone, and you reached out, grabbing onto his open collar, and pulled him into you, making him chuckle as his mouth found yours, his hands finding their way onto your hips.

The worries that had been plaguing you for hours suddenly disappeared as Javi kissed you hard, your brain now focusing on him and the way his mouth was moving with yours.

He was walking you backward into the apartment, Javi kicking the door shut and toeing off his brown leather Chelsea boots, his hands holding firmly against your waist.

“Missed you,” Javi said, his lips kissing the skin of your jaw, mustache tickling your skin, leading you towards the bedroom.

“Missed you, too.”

You sucked in a breath when his teeth nibbled at your earlobe.

“Need a shower,” he said, kissing below your ear.

“Yes, you do,” you said, continuing to walk backward. “I do, too—can still feel you inside me.”

Javi groaned, his head coming up to look you in the eyes.

You both had made it into your bedroom, your fingers beginning to work open the buttons on his pink shirt.

“You kept me inside all day?” He asked.

Your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth as you nodded. His shirt was finally undone, falling open, Javi’s hand coming up to your face, his thumb releasing your lip so he could lean in and kiss you softly.

“Don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured against your lips.

His head moved, kissing each of your cheeks, your forehead, then the tip of your nose.

“You didn’t have to do anything,” you replied. “You’re amazing.”

He gave you a lopsided smile.

“I’m happy you think that, Cielito.”

“I know that you’re amazing, thank you very much,” you said, Javi chuckling. “Now let’s get naked and clean, so we can get going,” you grabbed a handful of his ass to punctuate your sentence.

“Yes, ma’am,” Javi chuckled, his hands grabbing the hem of your shirt, raising your arms so he could tug it off.

Quickly, you undressed each other, tossing the dirty laundry into your hamper, Javi’s arms wrapping around your middle, his front solid against your back as you both walked to the bathroom. His mouth was kissing the skin of your shoulders and neck, his mustache tickling you, and making you smile, while you turned the shower on, him following you in when it was warm enough.

He finally released you, letting you turn to face him, finding him looking at you with a sweet expression, his big hands coming up to hold your face, leaning in to press his lips against yours. The kiss was soft, tender, just him wanting to feel your mouth against his, slowly kissing you over and over, your hands resting on his hips.

He placed one last peck on your lips, before kissing the tip of your nose and pulling back, his eyes taking in your face with a smile on his lips.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered.

Heat crept over your cheeks at how he was looking at you, that same tenderness he showed you that morning, the effect taking your breath away.

“Stop being sweet. You’re gonna make me like you more.”

“I want you to more than like me,” he chuckled.

“Oh, that ship has sailed,” you waved a hand while smiling. “There was zero chance of me not falling head over heels for you.”

“Yeah?” He asked, looking a little unsure.

“Definitely. You come into my life being the sweetest man on the entire planet, caring deeply, being amazing, and I was done for. Throw in your expert ability to make me come; I’m not gonna lie, I’ve thought extensively about how my first name would pair with your last.”

He was smiling.

“How do you like the sound of it?”

“I love it,” you grinned. “It sounds good.”

He said it out loud, rolling your first name and his last off his tongue with ease, and it made a tingle move down your spine.

“I like how it sounds, too.” His head was back in your space, kissing you again. “It’s perfect.”

The kisses lasted for some minutes, the hot water cascading against your back, the two of you losing yourselves to each other, just wanting to be close and share in this moment.

You couldn’t even remember what had bothered you earlier, your mind only able to focus on Javi crowding into you, his body warm where it pressed into yours, grounding you, keeping your thoughts with him. That was something you loved about Javier—his ability to calm you and make you forget about your day.

You felt bad that you were hogging all the water, so you moved, making him turn, so he was under the spray.

“Fuck,” Javi hissed through his teeth as he broke the kiss. “Like fucking lava or some shit,” he reached behind him to turn down the heat a little. “Any hotter, baby,” he said, looking back at you. “And it’d melt our skin off.”

“It wasn’t that hot,” you laughed.

His eyebrow rose.

“I bet my back is redder than a fucking stop sign.”

“Oh, shush,” you said playfully swatting at his chest.

He turned around, looking over his shoulder, showing you his flushed back, your eyes taking in the redness and muscles, freckles dotting his skin.

“See. Red.”

You leaned in, kissing up his spine, and felt him shiver under your lips.

“I’m sorry you’re a baby about hot water,” you said into his skin.

“A baby?” He turned, pulling your body into his. “I’m not a baby—you were trying to cook us alive.”

“The water was a tiny bit hotter than usual. Honestly, that was mild for me,” you shrugged.

“Mild?” He asked, looking shocked. “That was mild?”

“Yeah. I like my water feeling like it came straight from the fiery pits of hell. Makes my skin feel nice and warms me up.”

Javi shook his head, chuckling. He leaned in to kiss you.

“We can slowly turn it up if you want. Just give me a chance to get used to it,” he murmured against your lips.

“You’re the sweetest,” you smiled.

A minute later, you had your loofah soaped up and were washing Javi’s body, your tongue peeking out between your teeth as you scrubbed.

“Have you been putting on more sunscreen on your lunch,” you asked, washing his arms.

You were horrified when he told you he didn’t wear any with the work he does outside, and you’d made sure he put some on every morning.

Javi was smiling.

“When I remember,” he answered truthfully.

“From the pinkness, I think you forgot today,” you laughed, now crouched down and rubbing his legs.

“I was, uh, distracted today.”

“Oh?” You asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You grinned, warmth flooding your veins.

“That is the cutest shit,” you replied, standing back up and kissing him. “I hope you didn’t get in trouble,” you frowned.

He huffed out an amused breath.

“Got yelled at a couple of times, and Pops gave me a bunch of shit about it.”

You snorted.

“I’m sorry you got yelled at because of me.”

He pulled you in for a kiss.

“Don’t apologize.”

“Okay.”

You washed his back and made him practically purr when you got to his hair, Javi’s eyes closing as he enjoyed your fingers moving over his scalp. You’d already done the shampoo and were now lathering in the conditioner, scratching at the back of his head.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he groaned, his hands on your waist, fingers digging into your softness.

He loved when you washed his hair.

“Yeah, baby?” You leaned forward to kiss him, Javi chasing your lips when you pulled away.

“Can never get enough of you touching me.”

“Mmm, I feel the same.”

He blinked open his eyes.

“You like my hands all over you?” He rubbed up your sides, feeling the breadth of his large palms move along your skin.

“Oh, yes,” you smirked. “I like your hands on me and inside of me. Honestly, I just like your hands.”

He smiled, palming your breast and rolling your pebbled nipple between his fingers, causing you to gasp at the jolt of pleasure shooting to your core.

“Yeah, you do like my hands,” he rasped.

“Javi,” you warned, stopping your ministrations, hands all soapy and looking at him pointedly. “It’s a quick shower, then we have to leave. Don’t tease me.”

“But I wanna make you feel good,” he pouted.

“You can make me feel good when we get home,” you replied, continuing to work the conditioner into his thick brown strands.

“I can get you off quick,” he tried to bargain. “Will just use my fingers—the fingers you love.”

You couldn’t help giggling.

“I do love them, but I really want us to get going. Wash out the conditioner,” you said, hands leaving him to rinse under the spray.

He did as you asked, and when he was done, he grabbed the loofah, getting it all sudsy before he pressed it against the skin of your stomach, his other hand clutched on your hip, his focus on what he was doing.

Javi was always gentle when he scrubbed you down, and his hands were known to wander, pawing at your breasts or ass, and it made you smile that he was following your request to make the shower as quick as possible. Your eyes fell shut at how good it felt, Javi making sure your entire front was soaped up and crouching down to get your legs. He stood back up with a groan, his free hand coming up to slide along your cheek and cradle your face as he leaned in to kiss you tenderly. You smiled into it, his lips soft against your own.

“Couldn’t help yourself?” You asked when he broke the kiss, Javi chuckling.

“Of course not. Turn around for me, baby.”

You did as he asked and giggled when he squeezed the plump flesh of your ass, opening your eyes to look over your shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

“Couldn’t help yourself?” You asked again.

He was smirking, bending to kiss your shoulder.

“Course not,” he said into your skin, eyes sparkling.

Javi stood back up and went to work washing your back, your head facing forward again, enjoying yourself.

Before you knew it, you were rinsed off, and Javi was working the shampoo into your hair, doing it how you liked, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration while his fingers rubbed against your scalp, your body tingling. You knew how much he loved taking care of you, it was something that made him happy, and you enjoyed letting him indulge—he liked to wash you, and you liked to wash him, the two of you sharing in something so intimate, simply because you both felt such deep affection for one another.

The shampoo was finished and rinsed out, Javi immediately going through the same motions with the conditioner, and when that had been washed out, the two of you sufficiently clean, he held your face in both of his hands and kissed you deeply under the falling water.

“You sure you don’t want to come?” The question was said into your lips, and it made you laugh, pulling back to look at him, his eyes rounded.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

“Okay,” he nodded. “If you change your mind, just let me know.”

You couldn’t help your amused huff.

“You’re not getting me off at your dad’s house.”

He gave you a mischievous look that had your eyes widening.

“You’re not getting me off at your dad’s house!” You said again.

His hands moved down your back, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him.

“You sure about that?” He asked, head moving closer to yours.

“It’s your dad’s house,” you whispered.

“So?”

His lips were hovering over yours.

“You wouldn’t,” you said, but in your heart, you knew it wouldn’t deter him one bit, the man was insatiable, and the thought made arousal burn in your belly.

“I would, and you know it,” he rasped, crashing his lips against yours and greedily pressing his tongue between your lips, groaning softly when it tangled with your own. Your hands slide up the wet skin of his chest and over his shoulders, landing in the hair at the back of his head, threading your fingers in the strands.

He kissed you breathless, his big palms squeezing your ass, and you melted into him—into the intensity in which he was kissing you, until your lungs began to burn, and you finally parted, your chests heaving, and Javi knowingly smirking at you.

“You’re a menace,” you poked him in the chest. He caught your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss each of your knuckles, his eyes locked on yours.

“I’m your menace.”

“Yes, you fucking are,” you smiled. “Now, let’s get going. It’s going to take me an hour to make dinner.”

“Lead the way, Cielito.”

The shower was turned off, and you both dried off with big fluffy towels, you going through your routine to get your hair presentable while Javi hung out with you, standing naked with his hip against the bathroom counter, the two of you making easy conversation.

You’d picked out a yellow sundress to wear, getting dressed, and putting on a little bit of makeup.

After the first week of Javi sleeping over at your place and knowing he was a permanent fixture in your life, you had cleared out a drawer in one of your dressers for him to keep some clothes in. His laundry was already mixed with yours, and it made sense for him to have a place to store his stuff instead of lugging around his overnight bag.

He changed into a clean pair of dark wash jeans and a red flannel shirt, the sleeves pushed up his forearms, and some of his chest showing because the man didn’t believe in fully buttoning his shirts—which you didn’t mind with how sexy he made button-ups look.

Your mouth went dry as your eyes roamed over his body, watching him from the bathroom doorway while he combed his damp hair.

“Yeah,” he said, to himself, your gazes meeting in the mirror, seeing him with a knowing look, a smirk curled on his lips.

You felt your eyebrows crease.

“What?” You asked.

“I’m getting you off at the ranch.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re giving me fuck-me eyes, baby. I’m getting you off at the ranch,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me, sir? Fuck-me eyes? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you crossed your arms over your chest, noticing his eyes dropping down to your breasts.

His tongue swiped along his bottom lip, meeting your gaze again.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He’d finished with his hair, turning towards you and closing the distance, pulling you in for a kiss, his mouth warm against yours, moaning when his tongue pressed inside, making your toes curl with how he slid it along your own. You were almost dazed when he bit at your bottom lip before separating his face from yours, smacking your ass, and making you squeak in surprise. “Time to go,” he said with a grin.

Javier Peña was a menace.

He was your menace.

The radio was softly playing in Javi’s truck, and the air conditioning was turned up as high as it could go. All of the things you’d need to make dinner were on the back seat in two paper grocery bags, along with the pie you’d baked.

You were chewing at your thumb, nerves swirling in your belly now that you were on your way to the ranch. All of the worries from earlier hit you again, your mind playing out the worst-case scenarios while also trying to tell yourself everything would be okay.

Javi was driving, you sitting beside him in the middle seat, his hand holding your other one on top of your thigh, looking out the windshield as you left the city limits seeing all of the empty land, patches of grass, and desert scenery, the appearance of various farm animals scattered about.

His head turned towards you.

“You okay?”

You looked at him, seeing the concern etched in his features, lowering your hand from your mouth.

“Yeah,” you said, offering a small smile.

Of course, he saw right through you.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

He focused back on the road, his eyes moving back to you every few seconds.

“I’m nervous,” you sighed.

“About what?” He asked, his head moving to look at you again, eyebrows deeply furrowed.

“Meeting your dad.”

He squeezed your hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the back of it.

“Don’t be nervous, Cielito. He’s going to love you—he already likes you.”

“He hasn’t met me,” you frowned.

Javi smiled.

“Doesn’t mean he can’t like you already, baby. And he does,” His attention turned back to the road.

You weren’t sure if Javi was just saying that to make you feel better, feeling doubtful.

“What if he hates my food?” You asked.

He made an amused sound.

“Cielito, bebita, Pops is gonna love your food.”

“But what if he doesn’t?”

“Impossible,” he shook his head. “Best fucking cooking I’ve had since mi mamá.”

“You’re not just saying that?” You worried your lip between your teeth.

He looked at you with his eyebrow raised.

“Would I lie to you, Cielito?”

You thought about it for a second.

“No, you wouldn’t, and I’d never lie to you.”

“Exactly,” he smiled. “Pops is going to love what you make, and he’s going to love you, too.”

He sounded so sure, and it eased you a little. Maybe his dad would like you. You’d just have to find out.

Wire fences lined the road until it met the driveway where thick wooden posts rose high up on either side, another going over the gravel with a hand-painted sign dangling from it proclaiming, ‘Peña Ranch,’ in white lettering.

Javi had turned down the drive, the gravel crunching underneath the tires, your eyes taking in what was in front of you.

There was the house that from the front looked to be one story, with its white siding and red metal roof, a large porch attached to the front. As you got closer, you saw a second story at the back that was probably big enough for a room and bathroom. There was a smaller building with the same coloring across the driveway with a sign out front stating, ‘Office.” In the distance were two barns, one wooden and older, painted red with white trim, the other looking new and made from metal matching the color of the other. You saw fenced pens, your eyes spotting some cows milling about, and further out on the horizon were the shapes of more cattle grazing in the golden grass.

The driveway led a little behind the home where the gravel fanned out a bit, various cars and trucks parked at the end. Javi stopped near the front of the house, the passenger door opening directly to the walkway that led to the front door.

“Well, this is it,” Javi said as he put the truck into park, looking over at you.

“It’s really pretty. I like the flowers, and those roses are gorgeous,” you pointed in their direction, flowerbeds and rose bushes lining the front porch, an array of reds, pinks, purples, and whites, all beautifully well kept.

“The roses were my mom’s pride and joy.” You turned your head to see he had a soft smile. “Most of the other flowers she planted, too. Pop takes care of them all,” you saw him swallow hard. “He knew how much she loved her flowers and shows them the same love she did. I, uh, think they make him feel close to her, or at least he talks to her while he’s tending to them.”

Your eyes were burning, seeing Javi’s were misty, too, lifting your hand to press against his cheek, Javi leaning into the touch.

“That is the sweetest, most romantic thing I have ever heard in my entire life. I like knowing that being a lovingly devoted partner runs in the Peña genes. Now, please kiss me before I start crying.”

He chuckled, smiling as he closed the little space between you, kissing you softly. He pecked your lips one last time and moved to kiss your forehead.

“You ready?” He asked, looking at you with those big brown eyes you loved.

“Yeah,” you answered.

He nodded and moved to unbuckle his seatbelt, you following.

Javi helped you out of the truck and handed you the pie from the backseat, him taking the two paper bags. After shutting the car door, you followed him up the walkway, admiring the flowers as you went.

On the porch were a pair of white rocking chairs, a small wooden table between them; you immediately imagining sitting in one and drinking fresh squeezed lemonade while enjoying the fresh air. Javi had juggled the bags in his arms, the screen door opening with a whine, blocking it from closing with his body, to get the front door open.

“You just keep it unlocked?” You asked.

He looked at you, moving so you had room to get past him.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “We lock it at night.”

“Right—wouldn’t want someone catching you naked and unawares.”

Javi chuckled.

“The only person I want catching me naked and unaware is you.”

“Damn straight,” you grinned, stepping into the entryway. “Is your dad here?” You asked. There was a doorway at the end of the hall, a door midway to your right, and a larger opening across from it.

“No,” Javi said, following you inside, the screen door shutting with a slam. “He’ll be working a while longer. We’ll probably be started on dinner by the time he shows up.” He closed the front door.

You nodded, Javi moving past you, you walking behind as he led you through the larger doorway to the left. It opened into a living room, a brown leather couch and recliner against the front wall with windows, and the entertainment center on the opposite side of the room. There were framed family photos on the walls, and one caught your eye, stopping to look at it—a black and white photograph of a young couple standing under the ‘Peña Ranch’ sign at the driveway entrance, the mother holding a smiling toddler, and it was unmistakable who it was a picture of.

Looking at the parents, probably in their early twenties, if you had to guess, you could see where Javi got his looks—his dad’s eyebrows, hair, and mouth; his mom’s eyes, nose, and chin.

The toddler was now a grown man, older than the adults in the picture, and he was standing beside you. You were smiling when you turned your head to look at him.

“Not only are the Peña men outstanding partners, they also can really pull off a mustache,” you said. Javi made an amused sound, giving you a smile. “My god,” you continued. “Look at how fucking cute you are! And your mom is so beautiful.” You looked back at the picture, taking in the small family. “They’ve got to be in their early twenties.”

“I was two, maybe three, when dad took over the ranch? They would’ve been, fuck,” he paused. “Pop would’ve been around twenty-five, and mi mamá twenty-four, I think,” you turned to him, seeing his eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed like he was doing the math in his head.

“They were married for over thirty years?”

He smiled, focusing on your face.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “High school sweethearts. Mom moved here from Austin when she was sixteen, dad was born and raised, met at a dance, started dating, married as soon as she graduated, and had me a few years later.”

“Wow, to find your soulmate that young—which, from how much your dad loved your mom, and your mom loved your dad, they’re absolutely soulmates—but to find your person that early? I’m envious. We’re late bloomers, babe. Took us too fucking long to find each other, but I’m really fucking happy we did.”

He grinned at you, the dimple of his appearing in his cheek as he leaned in to kiss you.

“I’m really fucking happy we did, too,” his words muffled against your lips. “Mi media naranja.”

Your eyebrows creased as your brain put together the words, pulling back to look at him.

“I’m your… orange?” You asked slowly. “I don’t get it.”

His eyes were soft as he gazed at you.

“In Mexico, it’s how you call someone your other half—mi media naranja—my half of an orange.”

“It’s cute! But why an orange?”

He smiled warmly.

“Let’s put all this shit in the kitchen,” he nodded his head towards the bags in his arms, “and I’ll tell you what my mom told me.”

“Okay,” you replied, following as Javi led you through the other doorway in the living room that opened into the spacious kitchen.

White cabinets lined the wall to your left, with wooden countertops in a walnut shade and a big window above the sink. Against the wall in front of you were more counters and the stove, moving past the fridge that was just inside the doorway. To your right was a four-person table in the middle of the room between two more entrances, one leading to the front door, and you assumed the other would go to the back.

As Javi went to set the bags on the counter beside the sink, he told you the legend his mother had told him of orange-shaped humans being split into two and having to spend their lives searching for their other half.

You’d set the pie on the countertop, listening intently while Javi unloaded the groceries, laying out all of the items, and folding the paper bags when he was done to store underneath the sink, him talking the entire time.

“—and once they found their media naranja,” Javi said, standing in front of you with his hip resting against the white sink basin, “they were whole once more and never risked being separated again.”

You knew your eyes had to be big when the realization struck you.

“From the story, it sounds like calling someone that means you’re calling them your soulmate….”

He smiled softly, ducking his head, looking a bit sheepish.

“Yeah, that’s another way it’s used.”

Stepping forward, you closed the space between the two of you, your hands moving up to rest on his cheeks to make him look at you, feeling the scrape of his stubble beneath your palms.

“I’m really sorry if my accent is awful,” you said, and he gave you a confused look. “Me gustas mucho. Eres mi media naranja. (I like you a lot. You’re my soulmate).”

You were pretty sure his smile could be seen towns away with how bright it was, his dimple prominent in his cheek, wrapping his arms around your middle to pull your body flush against his.

“Perfecta (perfect),” he said into your hair, kissing your temple. He leaned back, tilting your chin up to look him in the eyes, Javi smiling warmly. “You been learning for me?”

“It was my second language in high school and college,” you said. “I understand it a lot better than I speak it, but I’ve been practicing,” you felt your face heat. “Um, you know Luis, the pharmacist at work?”

“Yeah. Mendoza, right?” You nodded. “He went to high school with me.”

“Yes, that’s him. Luis and Gil, the orderly who works in my department, have been helping me practice. I just, uh,” you looked away shyly. “You speak Spanish—it’s your first language, and I’d like to be able to speak it with you and your family if that’s, um, okay?”

You weren’t sure why you felt so nervous, your fingers gripping into his shirt.

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Your eyes met his, seeing his eyebrows dipping. “I’ll help, but you don’t have to learn a whole fucking language 'cause you’re dating me.”

“I want to,” you said softly.

You saw his face relax, a tender expression coming over it, smiling.

“Then I’ll help you learn, bebita,” he nodded, kissing your forehead. “You ready for a tour of the house?” He asked, meeting your gaze.

“Yes. I’m very interested to see where you grew up.”

“Come on, baby,” he said, grabbing your hand and leading you through the kitchen and out the doorway to a hallway that ended with the backdoor. There was a guest bedroom and bathroom, a laundry room, and a staircase that led up to his dad’s room.

The hallway walls were painted a bright teal, with artwork of various types of flowers all in the same style hanging up, Javi pointing out his mom picked them, along with other decorations. You realized the Peña men had done their best not to change things from how Antonia had left them, leaving all of her little touches, all the little memories of the life she brought to the home.

You found your way back through the kitchen and into the entryway. Javi opening the door across from the living room, taking you into a bedroom.

Immediately you knew it was his—smelling the spicy notes of his cologne lingering in the air.

“When the house was originally built,” Javi said, walking you inside, “It only had the downstairs, and this was the main bedroom, so it’s got an en suite,” he pointed towards a door further down the wall to your left.

“Did your parents add the extra bedroom?” You asked.

“No,” he shook his head. “Previous owner did.”

Your eyes took in all of the details—his bed was against the far wall to your right—smaller than a queen, with a red and black plaid quilt on top, all perfectly tucked over the pillows. The walls were paneled in light-colored wood, looking at his wall decorations that included a Fleetwood Mac tour poster from ‘77 next to a smiling Farrah Fawcett in a red swimsuit.

“Okay, I love,” you looked at him with a smirk, pointing at the woman, “that you’ve kept things the same since your teens.” You saw his cheeks pinking up and the tips of his ears going red, making your smile grow. “Young Javi had excellent taste in women and music.”

He cleared his throat, scratching at the back of his neck.

“What about adult Javi?” He asked.

You pressed your fingers to your chin, making a show of thinking over his question.

“Music? Still excellent. You try your damndest not to sing ABBA, but I see you mouthing along.”

He scoffed.

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re in a safe space, baby. You can admit you love the Swedish supergroup and still be the sexy badass that you are.”

He gave you a look, making you laugh.

“Okay, okay,” you put up your hands in a placating gesture. “You want to keep up that tough guy image, fine, but I’m just saying—I hear you singing “Lay All Your Love On Me,” or any of their songs, and the panties are immediately coming off.”

“I’ll remember that,” he smirked, moving into your space to grab your hips and pull you against him. His face leaned close to yours, his eyes locked on yours. “My taste in women is still excellent,” he rasped, trailing his nose along yours before kissing you.

“You sure?” Your question muffled.

“Positive,” he replied, kissing you harder, moaning when he deepened it, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

He licked into your mouth, stealing your breath away as he kissed you, his tongue tangling with your own and making you throb between your legs.

You were panting when he broke the kiss, a warm smile on his reddened lips.

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit, baby,” he smacked your ass. “You’re fucking incredible, and I’ll tell you every fucking day so you remember.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest, seeing the earnestness in his eyes. You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat.

You poked him in the chest.

“A two-way street!” You said, his eyebrows creasing in confusion. “You remind me I’m incredible,” you continued, “and I’m reminding you every day that you’re a good man—an outstanding man—thank you very much,” poking him harder. “Gonna remind you so fucking hard,” you narrowed your eyes. “You just watch me.”

He chuckled, grabbing your hand to bring it to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“Okay, Cielito.”

“Kiss me. I want to snoop around your room.”

He complied, kissing you with such tenderness it made your heart clench.

His hand slapped your ass again when you parted, making you giggle.

“So,” you started. “Any places off limits?” You asked, moving past him and heading toward the wall opposite the bedroom door, a bookcase against the wall, two large unopened cardboard boxes on the floor at the base of it, and a dresser with a mirror beside it.

“No?” He answered.

You looked at him over your shoulder, Javi standing at the foot of his bed with his hands on his hips, eyes locked on you.

“Not worried I’ll find your porn stash?”

“Under my mattress,” he nodded towards the bed.

“Of course, that’s where you keep it.”

You wanted to peek at his books, stopping at the boxes and peering at them on the shelves, finding textbooks on criminal justice, criminology, and psychology, and seeing a variety of world history, biographies, thrillers, and true crime novels. Amongst them were some titles that didn’t fit with the others and surprised you, their paperback spines showing signs they’d been read.

The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Jurassic Park, Dune, Good Omens.

“A little surprised you’ve read The Lord of the Rings books.”

“Read them as a teenager.”

“Right, and how many times since you were a teenager have you read them?”

You pulled out the Fellowship of the Ring, noting the wear on the cover.

“A few times.”

“Sure, Javi,” you smiled over at him before returning the book.

“Did you like the Jurassic Park movie?” You asked.

“Yeah. Thought it was good.”

“I thought so, too, and that Jeff Goldblum, what a hunk.” You heard him sigh, making you smile. “Okay, the one that’s really throwing me off is Good Omens. Like, I can picture you reading these Stephen King books, and I bet you loved The Shining movie—”

“I did,” he confirmed.

“But Good Omens is so out of left field.”

“I was being sent back home from Colombia,” he said, and you turned around to look at him, “and didn’t want to spend the plane ride stuck in my head, so I bought a book at the airport—just grabbed the first thing cause I didn’t give a fuck, and it was that one.”

Your head tilted.

“Did you like it?”

“I did,” he smiled, nodding. “It was funny and did its job of distracting me—had it finished in a couple of days after I got stateside,” he shrugged.

“It’s definitely entertaining—an angel and demon completely fucking up stopping the apocalypse, and somehow it all just working out.”

“All a great big, fuck, what did they call it?” His eyebrows furrowed, it hitting him a second later. “All a great big ineffable plan.”

“Yes,” you giggled. “That’s it,” you nodded. “I want to kiss you, but it will distract me from snooping, so try to stop being cute.”

“I’d prefer us kissing,” he smiled. “Maybe even break in my bed.”

“You’re telling me that’s not where the magic happens?” You pointed at it.

“If the magic is me fucking my fist, yeah.”

Your eyebrow rose.

“You’ve never fucked in here?” You sounded dubious.

He sighed, hands on his hips as he looked away.

“My parents were always around,” he said. “At least my mom was,” his eyes met yours. “So nothing more than making out and hand stuff. Now the hayloft...” He gave you a suggestive smile.

“Oh my god, the barn?”

“Oh yeah. The truck I drove as a teen also saw a lot of action.”

“Jesus, Javi,” you laughed, shaking your head. “No wonder we’ve fucked multiple times in your pickup—it’s nostalgic.”

“I guess it is,” he grinned.

To stop yourself from moving towards him and kissing his pretty face, you turned around and walked over to his dresser, finding a couple of small model planes sitting on top of it—World War 2 fighter aircrafts, if you had to guess. You crouched a little to look at the details, seeing how perfectly they were put together, showing the time and patience it took to build them, the paint jobs amazingly detailed.

“Did you make these?” You asked.

“Yeah—something to waste my time doing when I came back.”

“They look incredible,” you looked over at him. “You’re really talented.”

He ducked his head, scratching at his mustache.

“Thanks.”

You stood back up.

A glass bottle of cologne was sitting next to a pair of aviator sunglasses and some sunscreen you bought him. You picked up the cologne, uncapping it, and taking a sniff, your eyes closing as you smelled. It was spicy with some citrusy notes and a muskiness, making it intoxicating to your senses and not surprising you when you felt warmth radiate in your center.

You set it down, eyes catching on a photo taped to the corner of the mirror of his mother and a younger Javi—late teens, you thought—all tall and growing into his broadness, not quite filled out yet with the beginnings of a mustache, boyishly smiling. His mom was much shorter than him, her head barely meeting his chest, with her arms wrapped around his middle, smiling proudly as they stood in front of the Texas A&M University sign.

“This is a cute picture. Your mom looks so happy and proud of you. You’re very handsome. I bet you had to fight off all the girls.”

He snorted, staying silent.

“That’s not a no,” you smirked, glancing at him. “I know you majored in criminal justice. What was your minor?”

“Psychology.”

“Ah, the books,” you pointed at the bookcase.

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

You focused back on the dresser, remembering he said nothing was off limits, so you tugged open one of the two top drawers, being met with white socks, all paired and bundled. You closed it, moving to the other drawer, and opening it.

“Bingo,” you said to yourself. “I thought maybe you’d be a tighty-whitie guy,” you grabbed a pair of folded underwear, holding them up in front of you. They were cut like boxers, but the material was tight fitting like briefs, noting the ‘Calvin Klein’ logo on the waistband. “But these definitely make more sense.”

“Why’s that?” He asked in an amused tone.

“Your big dick, baby,” you replied, winking at him over your shoulder and making him chuckle. You focused back on the white cotton material in front of you. “You need the room boxer briefs provide,” you continued, “But also the way they’d keep you all nice and in place. Yeah, these make perfect sense,” nodding to yourself.

You paused; images of him wearing them had your mouth suddenly going dry—his bulge, the way they’d hug his thighs, how cute they’d make his butt look. There was a familiar stirring in your belly, thinking about how easy it’d be to just pull them down and…

“Javi?” You didn’t mean for your voice to sound so husky.

“Cielito?”

You turned your head towards him.

“We should bring some of these to the apartment.”

His eyebrow rose, lips tipping up knowingly.

“You want me to wear them for you?” He asked, moving toward you.

“Yes,” you nodded.

Javi was next to you quickly, plucking the underwear from your hands, his eyes darker than they’d been minutes ago and locked on yours.

“Was it my dick or ass?” His voice had gone lower, the sound going straight to your core, arousal pooling in your belly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You looked forward, feeling heat creep up your neck at seeing your face in the mirror and knowing your lust-blown eyes had betrayed you. You swallowed, the energy in the room shifting.

“Yes, you do,” he tossed the boxer briefs into the drawer and shut it, his hands grabbing onto your hips. “The thought of me wearing them turned you on,” he started moving you to walk backward, taking up the space at your front. “Was it my dick or ass?” He asked again.

Your body was feeling hot, pulse thumping in your chest, your skin beneath your dress tingling where his hands were touching. You focused your eyes on the bit of skin you could see from his first few buttons being undone, a flush licking up his gorgeous neck.

“Both,” you answered, “and your thighs.”

The backs of your legs hit the bed, and you sat on the edge, your head tilting up to look at Javi towering over you, his heated gaze meeting yours.

He leaned down, pressing a hand into the bed beside you, his other circling the base of your neck, making you shiver as it moved up the taut skin, his eyes moving from your own and down to your lips until he was cupping your jaw, his thumb rubbing over your bottom lip.

“You want me, Cielito?” He rasped.

“Yes.”

You pulled his thumb into your mouth, sucking on it lewdly, Javi’s eyes closing with a gasped fuck.

His jeans were bulging, cock half hard in his pants, as you rubbed your hands up his denim-covered thighs.

He looked at you hungrily, his tongue wetting his plush bottom lip, beginning to lower himself to his knees, but you stopped him by digging your fingers into his flesh.

His eyebrows dipped down.

“I wanna taste you,” he said.

You let go of this thumb.

“And your dick is in front of my face,” you said. “So, ladies first.”

“Shit,” he groaned. “You wanna suck my dick?”

You nodded your head, looking at him through your lashes.

“Choke on it is more apt,” you purred, feeling the wetness between your legs at the thought—the moment you imagined him in the underwear, you immediately wanted him in your mouth.

His hand held your face as he closed the distance, crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss, deepening it with a press of his tongue between your lips, welcoming it to slide along your own.

You could feel how much he wanted you, a rough sound in the back of his throat as he tasted you.

The kissing stopped when the need became too much, and you were separating, Javi standing up, his cock now straining against his zipper in front of you. Leaning forward, you rubbed your cheek over his bulge, your hands on his thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath your palms.

“You hungry for my dick, baby?” He was looking down at you with lust-filled eyes.

“Yes,” you replied, moving to open his belt, the metal clanking as you undid it before working open the button on his jeans, hearing the zipper teeth pull apart as you lowered it.

Javi pulled the bottom of his flannel shirt up and out of your way, revealing his skin and the coarse hair below his belly button, and not surprising you when you opened his pants to find his cock waiting for you unobstructed.

Licking your lips, you pulled him out, wrapping your fingers around the shaft and languidly pumping him, looking up at Javi and meeting his eyes.

“Such a pretty dick,” you said, making sure he watched as you stuck your tongue out and tapped his cock against it. “Tastes good, too.”

“Fuck, Cielito.” He audibly swallowed.

You kissed the head, before licking a stripe from base to tip, swirling your tongue at the top, relishing in the taste of his arousal, while Javi groaned.

“Javi?” You said, between kitten licks, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along his length, moving up and down, your eyes still on him, while your other hand fondled and caressed his sack, making Javi moan loudly.

“Yes, Cielito?” He finally choked out, meeting your gaze.

“Fuck my mouth.”

His eyes went round.

“Shit. Are you sure?”

“Yes. Make me choke on your dick… Papi.”

The sound he made could rival a pornstar, and went straight to your cunt, mentally patting yourself on the back for learning that word. His eyes were completely black, flush forming on his cheeks.

“You can tell me who taught you that later,” he said, words coming out rough, sliding his fingers into the hair at the back of your head and curling them into a fist.

“To yell at them?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“To thank them,” he smirked. “Lemme see your tongue, baby. Stick it out.” You happily did as he asked, Javi’s hand in your hair angling your head how he wanted it. “Tap my thigh if you need me to stop.”

“Yes, Papi,” you replied with a mischievous glint in your eyes, sticking your tongue out again, your hands moving to hold his thighs.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Your gonna fuckin’ kill me with that one.”

Before you could talk again, his cock was filling your mouth, and you were relaxing your throat to let him set the pace, moaning at the heavy weight of him on your tongue, Javi pushing in and out slowly, his eyes half-lidded as he watched with a slacked jaw.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “Your mouth feels so good.”

There was a chance you’d developed a slight addiction to sucking Javi’s dick, and he was all to blame for making it so fucking enjoyable—the noises he made and how vocal he was, making sure you knew how much he loved what you were doing to him, and his face? His expressions clearly showing how good he felt, made you throb. You also loved how he felt in your mouth, sliding past your lips, his thick girth moving over your tongue, savoring his taste.

You loved sucking Javi’s dick.

Hollowing your cheeks made him go deeper, making him brush the back of your throat when he thrust forward before pulling back until just the tip was inside, slowly picking up speed to fuck your mouth.

“You look so fucking beautiful with my dick in your mouth,” he grunted. “Taking me so well. Ready to choke on it, hermosa?”

You nodded as best you could, given your situation.

“My good girl.”

His other hand joined his first, holding your head steady as he started fucking your mouth in earnest, tears stinging your eyes and drool dripping from the corners of your lips, flickering your tongue on the underside of his shaft. Your panties were wet, core pulsing with want, loving every second of having him inside you.

The way he was looking at you with so much devotion and lust had you rubbing your thighs together to ease the ache between them, your body thrumming with electricity, so turned on by what he was doing to you.

His hips pushed forward all the way, his hands keeping your head in place as he buried his cock down your throat, swallowing him down into the tight space. You breathed through your nose, welcoming the intrusion while he held you there, eyes locked on his, humming around him, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he moaned. “You’re doing so fucking good for me—so fucking gorgeous taking my dick down your throat.”

Your nose was pressed into the coarse hairs at his base, smelling his musk and the body wash he’d used in the shower earlier. It became too much, and you started sputtering, Javi tugging you off of him while you wetly coughed, a string of saliva and precum connecting you to him.

“You okay?” He asked, looking concerned.

You got your hand around his cock to keep stroking it, your fingers gliding easily along his spit-slick shaft.

“Yeah,” you said, voice hoarse. “Give me a second.”

After you got your breathing under control, you opened your mouth for him again, pressing your hands back onto his thighs, Javi wasting no time to push back in, starting slow, almost gentle in his movements with how he was pushing in and out of you.

Your eyes were on him again, watching his face screwed up with pleasure, his mouth hanging open, hearing the rough sounds coming out of him.

He sped up, fucking into you to bump against the back of your throat, his hips moving fast, relentless, praise spilling from his lips about how good you were doing, your face wet with spit, precum, and tears from suppressing your gag reflex.

The muscles in his thighs started tensing under your palms, Javi breathing harder, his eyes glazed over with pleasure, and you knew he was close, his cock steadily leaking, his taste getting stronger.

You took all he had to give, relishing in the way he was moving in and out of you, fucking your mouth with purpose.

“I’m close,” he gasped. “Oh, fuck. Gonna come. You want it down your throat?”

You hummed an affirmative, Javi groaning and pushing his hips in deep, you taking him into your throat with a swallow, his hands holding you there. You felt as his cock pulsed, it jerking when he came with a loud moan of your name, his fingers tightening in your hair, breathily moaning as you drank him down, gulping around him.

He pulled out a little, letting you catch your breath while you licked away any salty spend you missed, cleaning him up until you were satisfied and pulling off him.

Javi was looking at you, all blissed out with hooded eyes and a crooked smile, his hands moving to cup your cheeks as he pushed you back onto the mattress, kissing you hard as he settled on top of you.

“You’re so fucking good to me,” he said between kisses. “I’m so fucking lucky. Fuck, I like you so goddamn much.”

He kissed at the tear tracks on your face and made you moan when he licked off the spit on your lips and chin, his mouth finding yours again in a messy kiss.

He pulled back, his eyes meeting yours and the way he was looking at you had your breath catching in your throat at the clear adoration shining in the dark pools. You felt like you knew what he was thinking from his gaze alone, or at least you hoped that he had the same four-letter word swirling around in there that was sitting on the tip of your tongue.

His eyes seemed to take you in for a moment, a soft smile on his lips when he finally leaned in, his perfect nose sliding against your own before he kissed you tenderly.

“I really fucking like you,” he murmured into your lips.

“I really fucking like you, too,” you answered.

His head came up to look at you again, his eyes going darker with desire.

“Can I eat your pussy now?”

You pressed your palms into his cheeks, smiling at him.

“Yes, Javi,” you nodded. “You may eat my pussy.”

Javi smiled, his cheek dimpling as he leaned in to kiss you quickly before moving back and off the bed, settling himself on his knees on the floor.

Your dress was shoved up to bunch at your waist, Javi gripping your thighs and tugging you closer to the edge, setting your legs over his shoulders.

Sitting up on your elbows, his eyes were on yours as he kissed along your thigh, the wet streak of his lips and tickle of his mustache making you shiver.

The burning arousal in your belly had been simmering, and now it was threatening to engulf you, needing Javi to touch you, your cunt aching.

Your eyes rolled back in your head when he pressed the flat of his tongue through your panty-covered folds, his nose nudging your clit, moaning his name at the jolts of electricity shooting to your core.

Quickly, his fingers pulled your underwear down and off. Opening your eyes allowed you to see his dark gaze locked on your glistening center, seeing him lick his lips like he couldn’t wait to get a taste—and he couldn’t, Javi wasting no time in diving in with a heady groan.

The first broad swipe of his tongue had you gasping his name as the nerves in your body lit up. He licked up your slit and ended with a teasing swirl around your clit that had your toes curling, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth.

His tongue was hot and slick, his groans reverberating through you as his mouth worked, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh. Soft sounds were falling from your lips, your fingers tangling in his brown waves when he pushed his tongue inside you, shoving it in as deep as he could and fucking you with it, tasting your need from the source.

Tension was building in your belly, feeling the beginnings of your orgasm coming, writhing beneath him.

“God, it feels so fucking good,” you moaned. “Fuck, I love your tongue.”

You could feel him smiling against you, Javi licking up your slit to close his lips around your clit, your hips bucking at the sudden burst of pleasure sparking in your core.

He slipped two fingers inside you, making you gasp at the stretch, dragging them in and out before curling them to zero in on that spongey place that made your brain white out from the intense pleasure.

“I love your fingers, too,” you sounded wrecked, and you didn’t care, so close to falling over the edge. The muscles were tightening in your belly, Javi relentlessly rubbing his fingers against that spot, his mouth sucking on your clit. “Fuck, I’m close. Oh, god. ‘S good.”

His head came off you, his thumb now rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves, continuing to finger fuck you in earnest. He let your legs slide off his shoulders, moving up to crash his mouth against yours, his hand continuing to work, your body trembling from the way he was working you over.

He messily kissed you, licking into your mouth, moaning when you tasted yourself. The heat was building in your core, the coil winding so tight, your mind a muddled mess focused on the man consuming your senses—his fingers stretching you open, tasting his tongue in your mouth, smelling his cologne, hearing his hard breaths, and if you opened your eyes all you’d see is him.

Javier.

The man about to make you see stars.

“You love my tongue,” he said into your mouth. “You love my fingers. What else do you love?”

Euphoria was crashing over you, coming with a loud moan of his name, clenching hard around his fingers.

You vaguely heard the slam of a door, Javi’s free hand suddenly covering your mouth.

“Mijo?” A voice called from somewhere in the back house.

Your eyes flew open while his fingers still worked inside you, helping you ride out your high, suddenly thrown from your post-orgasm bliss.

“We’ll be out in a minute, Pop!” Javi replied, not looking at you. “Just giving her a tour.”

“Okay!” His dad replied.

Javi looked at you, his eyes a little wide.

“That was fucking close,” he whispered.

Your brain had cleared up, pushing him off of you with one hand, making him stand up beside the bed, his pants still undone, his face and mustache shiny with your slick, looking all disheveled and clearly just fucked.

“Javier,” you hissed. “You said he’d be out for a while!” You harshly whispered.

He checked his watch.

“Probably saw my truck and ended his day early,” he shrugged.

You sat up, spotting yourself in the mirror over his dresser with your face wet and hair mussed, inwardly cringing that you got so carried away—that you both got so carried away. That’s just how it was with Javi; he made you so horny sometimes that your brain ceased functioning, and you thought with your pussy.

Your eyes narrowed, poking him in the chest.

“Stop seducing me!” You whispered.

His eyes widened.

“What?”

“Stop being stupidly sexy and charming and making me lose all rational thought because,” you waved your hand up and down at his body as an explanation.

He was smirking now.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he leaned down, so his face was close to yours. “I’ll try to be less stupidly sexy and charming—can’t do much about how I look, though.”

“You’re not sorry,” you sniffed. “And there is literally no fucking way for you to be less stupidly sexy and charming, so this is the life I must live, being seduced, and finding myself in compromising situations.” You sighed. “Ugh, I like you so much. Where are my panties?”

“Were you wearing any?” He asked with an innocent expression.

“Javier, I know they’re in your pocket—I am not making dinner without underwear on.”

“Fine,” he pouted, pulling the lace from the back of his jeans and handing them to you. He kissed you quickly before standing up, tucking himself and his shirt back into his pants, and getting his jeans back to sorts.

You pulled on your panties, standing up to straighten your dress.

“God, I need to fix my face,” you said.

“Need to wash mine,” Javi replied.

You followed him into his bathroom, the place surprisingly clean for a bachelor—you’d seen some absolute horror shows in your past, but Javi’s looked like he kept it all neat. Not being able to help yourself, you peeked behind the white shower curtain finding his shower tub sparkling and sparse—one bottle each of brand-name shampoo, conditioner, and a bar of soap.

Turning toward him, Javi was grabbing you a small green towel from a cabinet built into the wall, handing it to you.

“I love that we use the same brand of shampoo and conditioner,” you smiled.

He had moved to the sink, washing his hands and looking at you through the large mirror on the wall. You took two steps to stand next to him, beginning to clean up your face with the towel, happy you hadn’t worn too much makeup. It only took seconds to get the spit and tears wiped from your cheeks and chin and the mascara streaks from under your eyes.

“It’s what my mom would buy when I was living at home—I’ve never thought of using anything else,” he shrugged. “You’ve got the fancy shit, though. I’m an original guy.”

You laughed.

“Noted. I’ll make sure to get you some.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he frowned. “I like what you have.”

You watched as he lathered his hands with a bar of soap and started washing his face.

Your eyes widened.

“Javi?”

He hummed in acknowledgment, leaning down to rinse off the soap with splashes of water.

“Why aren’t you using face wash?”

Your eyes looked over his countertop seeing a toothbrush in a holder, toothpaste, the bar of soap, and hand soap. There were cabinets and drawers under the counter where you assumed he kept more of his personal care items, pulling open the drawer in front of you to be met with his shaving supplies—razor, shaving cream, fine-toothed comb, trimming scissors.

He straightened, turning his head toward you, a sheen of water over his features.

“You done using that?” He pointed at the towel grasped in your hand.

“Yeah.”

He gently took it from you, flipping it over to the clean side to dry his face.

Javi tossed the dirtied towel into a nearby hamper before pointing at the soap bar, “That’s what I use,” he said. You watched as he looked in the mirror, opening the other drawer to grab a brush and fix his hair.

“I am physically pained by your lack of skin care.”

Chuckling, he passed the hairbrush to you without you having to ask, immediately going through the motions of making yourself look presentable.

He moved behind you, watching you in the mirror, leaning in to kiss your shoulder.

“Not everyone can be as beautiful as you,” he said.

You snorted.

“You’re ridiculous.” Your hair was fixed, leaning over to put the brush away, quickly washing your hands, and drying them on the hand towel hanging on the wall. “Okay,” you started, turning around to face him. “Do I look okay?”

His eyes trailed down your body.

“You look more than okay. How do I look?”

You took in his body, starting at his head and moving down, taking in his combed hair, his freshly washed face, the plaid shirt that was sinfully stretching across his shoulders, the open collar showing his chest, your gaze moving down to his narrow waist, and his tight jeans fitting so perfectly.

“You have them tailored, don’t you?”

Your eyes were stuck on his crotch, remembering how his bulge looked earlier.

He looked down at his pants.

“My jeans?”

“Yeah. There’s no way in hell they just fit like that,” you pointed in emphasis, “off the rack.”

He sighed.

“Yes, they’re tailored. So are my suits,” he looked at you.

Your head whipped up.

“Suits?”

“Yeah,” he smiled crookedly. “A requirement of my former job.”

Your brain was picturing him wearing one, and you liked the image very much.

“Gonna have to get you to wear one for me sometime,” you winked. “Now, let’s get going before your dad comes and finds us.”

He pulled you into his arms, leaning in to kiss you, feeling him smiling against your lips, it lasting seconds before he was smacking your ass and pulling away.

“Let’s go, baby,” he grinned.

Javier was nervous.

Logically, he knew he had no reason to be—his dad already liked Cielito, but the last time he brought home a girl was Lorraine, and he knew how his parents felt about her.

Lorraine had never looked at him twice in Laredo—they went to the same high school, were in the same grade, and she acted like he didn’t exist even though they’d crossed paths on more than one occasion. She was the head cheerleader dating the star quarterback, her father the Mayor—why would she care about some guy on the swimming team?

They ended up at the same college, her following her quarterback boyfriend, who got a full-ride and was being scouted for the NFL. It was spring break during their last year—Javier spending it in Corpus Christi with some friends, having a good time with all the other twenty-somethings in a bar when much to his surprise, a newly single Lorraine approached him and offered to buy him a drink. He was young, excited someone popular like her would take an interest in him, and he happily accepted.

She was his first real relationship out of high school. They started dating, and he liked her, or maybe he just liked the idea of her because looking back, she’d treated him like shit—something his parents noticed right away. His mom had even warned him about moving in with her, telling him it was a bad idea, but again, he was young, dating the mayor’s daughter, and thought he would fall in love with her.

After a few months of living together, things weren’t going well, the rose-tinted glasses had shattered, and he realized he would never love her and that even if she claimed to love him, he knew she didn’t simply from her actions. He tried to break things off, and that’s when she claimed to be pregnant, which led to him being ostracized by the town for getting the fuck out of dodge the night before their wedding after finding out it wasn’t true.

She’d begged him to still marry her.

He hadn’t even bought her an engagement ring.

His mother was a smart woman.

She sniffed out Lorraine the moment he brought her to their family home, his dad catching on quickly, too, that something was up. His parents were disappointed with how he’d left without a word, but both had been relieved that he hadn’t tied his life to that woman.

Years later, after his mom had passed and he’d been sent packing from Colombia, he and his dad had been having one of their chats late one night, and he told Javier that they knew Lorraine was using him to get back at her father.

That she didn’t care about him.

That the way she looked at him wasn’t how you looked at someone you loved.

That his mother prayed Javier would see her true colors.

“You’re stubborn, mijo,” his dad told him, “and when you set your mind to something, nothing gets in your way, even common sense.”

Javier was nervous his father would see things he was missing because he was too caught up in this new relationship.

Holding Cielito’s hand tightly, he ignored the nerves swirling in his belly and the way his fingers itched for a cigarette, leading her through the house to find his dad sitting at the kitchen table with a bottle of beer in front of him, the glass sweating while he sorted the mail he was holding into piles.

His head came up when they entered, looking at them through his glasses with a smile pulling up on his lips. He set the envelopes down, the chair squeaking along the floor when he moved it back to get up.

Javier knew his dad’s cowboy hat was hanging on a coathanger by the backdoor, the other man’s hair pulled back, wearing his work clothes that were similar to his own—button-up, jeans, cowboy boots.

“So,” Chucho Peña started as he approached them with a warm smile, “this is the woman who has my son singing in the shower.”

Javier felt his ears grow hot as he groaned, “Pop.”

His father was going to embarrass him, he was positive of it, and it had him beginning to sweat.

“I wasn’t aware he was singing in the shower,” Cielito giggled, smiling over at him, and Javier ducked his head.

“Yes,” his dad nodded, grinning. “Something that goes,” he started humming a familiar tune under his breath, and Javier wanted to die, his face heating because Cielito recognized it immediately, her eyes boring into him, while his dad softly sang the title line of “Take a Chance on Me.”

“I knew it!” She poked him in the arm, looking elated. “You do love ABBA!”

“I don’t love ABBA,” he grumbled.

He thought they were okay—he couldn’t help their shit was catchy.

“The singing in the shower begs to differ, babe,” she ribbed, nudging her shoulder into him.

“I like her,” his dad laughed, putting his hand out towards her and her taking it. “I’m Chucho. Hopefully, my son has told you about me—he hasn’t been around a lot lately, and I worry he forgets I’m here after he leaves for the day.”

Cielito introduced herself, shaking his hand as she spoke, “I can assure you Javi’s talked about you,” she smiled.

“That’s good,” Chucho nodded, his hands settling on his hips. “Welcome to our home. Did Javi remember his manners and offer you a drink?”

“Oh, we were busy talking when we got here,” she said. “But it’s okay!”

His dad clicked his tongue disapprovingly, shaking his head.

“¿Qué diría tu madre acerca de sus malos modales, mijo (What would your mother say about your poor manners, my son)?” Chucho scolded him like he was a child again.

Javier sighed.

“Le estaba contando la leyenda que me contó mamá, Pop (I was telling her the legend mom told me, Pop),” he said. “The orange one.”

The other man’s eyes brightened.

“¿Le dijiste (Did you tell her)?” He asked, looking excited. Javier knew exactly what he was talking about; their conversation from that morning coming back to him and trying to tell his dad to shut up with his eyes.

“About the media naranja legend, sí,” he said slowly. “Also, she knows some Spanish.”

Hopefully, that would get through to his father to watch what he said.

His dad’s attention turned to Cielito.

“I’m sorry, mija,” Chucho said.

Javier jolted at the endearment, his eyes slightly widening.

His father never once called Lorraine that or any of the girls he was seeing in high school. He felt himself smile, his shoulders relaxing, feeling like a weight had been lifted off of him—his dad liked her.

His dad liked her a lot.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Chucho asked. “There’s lemonade, milk, water, or cerveza.”

“Beer sounds great!” She answered.

“A woman after my own heart,” the other man said, smiling over at him. “¿Mijo, cerveza?”

“Sí, Pop,” he nodded.

“Tell me about yourself, mija,” Chucho said, heading for the fridge and opening the door. “Javi told me you moved here at the beginning of the month?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied, his dad uncapping the beers with the bottle opener magnet on the fridge, bringing them over to them, while Cielito told him about where she was from, how long she’d been in Texas and her work at the hospital. His dad walked over to the table to get his own beer, joining the two of them in friendly conversation while they all sipped their drinks, Javier delighted things were going well.

“—found him staring at a stack of tomatoes like he wanted them to confess their deepest darkest secrets,” Cielito was recounting their first meeting with a bright smile and making him chuckle.

He brought his beer to his lips, taking a drink.

“Ah,” his father said. “So, love at first sight.”

He choked, sputtering as the beer went down the wrong pipe, Cielito looking at him concerned as she patted his back.

“Shit, babe,” she said. “You okay?”

“Swallowed wrong,” he wheezed, it taking him a second to recover, his eyes watering.

“You good?” She asked, her hand rubbing circles against his spine.

“Yes, Cielito,” he said, his arm wrapped around her waist beside him, leaning over to kiss her temple. She smiled at him before turning her attention back to his dad.

“It was more, ‘I must help this adorable man who happens to be handsome.’”

“You thought I was handsome?” Javier asked with a smirk, looking at her.

Her head turned towards him with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course—standing there with your perfect face wearing that purple button-up and your tight-ass jeans—thought you were very handsome.”

“And your immediate reaction was to help me?”

Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah? You see someone struggling, you help them,” she shrugged.

He didn’t think it was possible to love her more, and here he was, his heart feeling like it was going to thump out of his chest as warmth spread through his veins at just how deeply he felt for her.

“Fuck, I like you,” he said, moving his head to kiss her. She made a surprised sound in the back of her throat, quickly melting into him and making him smile as his lips pressed against hers.

His dad chuckled, and Javier straightened to look at the other man.

“I’m happy you were there to save the day, mija,” Chucho said fondly. “I’m happy he met you—a couple of weeks, and I haven’t seen him this happy since, goodness,” his dad sighed. “He was a teenager,” his smile turned solemn. “I just wish mi Antonia could see him like this again and meet the wonderful woman we owe it all to.”

Javier had a lump in his throat, swallowing hard.

Cielito’s arm was around his back, and she moved closer to him, her other hand holding the beer, moving to his stomach as she hugged his middle, Javier welcoming it and embracing her back, pressing his lips to her head.

He’d known without a doubt his mother would’ve loved Cielito, and his eyes felt misty, saddened that they’d never get to meet—his heart ached that his mom wouldn’t get to see him the happiest he’s ever been in his entire life, and she’d miss seeing him married one day.

There was something else, some longing he kept hidden so deep that he tried not to dwell on because he knew he wasn’t deserving of it, but at this moment, he couldn’t help but think: she won’t get to meet my children. He buried the thought as quickly as it came to him, grief welling up like a ball in his stomach.

“Javi’s told me about his mom,” Cielito said. “She was such an incredible woman, and I’m sad I won’t get to meet her, but I can see her all over this house, and I know how much she loved you both just from what he’s told me and the pictures I’ve seen. You both have done an excellent job of keeping her spirit alive.”

His dad had to remove his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“Thank you, mija,” he said. “She may not be here, but I know she’d like you,” he put his glasses back on. “Now,” he raised his beer bottle, “we shouldn’t dwell on sadness; it’s a happy occasion! I’m meeting Javi’s novia (girlfriend), who he thinks about instead of doing his job.”

“Pop.” Javier hid his face in her hair. “¿Por qué me avergüenzas (Why are you embarrassing me)?”

“Because I’m tu papá, and it is my job,” his dad chuckled. “Lo siento, mijo.”

“I apologize for distracting him from his work,” Cielito giggled.

His dad waved away her apology.

“Don’t apologize, mija—it’s a common side effect of being in love,” his dad teased.

“Pop,” the word was said through his clenched teeth, his head coming up to glare at his father. “Anyways,” Javier said, and Cielito laughed at hearing the irritation in his tone.

“It’s okay, babe,” she rubbed his back.

“Right,” he replied. “So, she’s making us dinner, right mi amo—Cielito?” He’d barely caught himself, his eyes widening, his father looking over the fucking moon by the almost slip.

“Yes,” she giggled.

“What are we having?” His father asked.

“Baked ziti,” she replied. “It’s pasta in a tomato sauce, with sausage and lots of cheese.”

“Sounds delicious,” Chucho said. “I can’t wait to try it! Do you want me to stay down here, or is it okay if I go get cleaned up?”

“Javi can help me in here. It will take a while to make, so no rush.”

Javi had been right—his dad liked you, and you were ecstatic.

There was still dinner to make, but you had a newfound confidence in knowing his father thought well of you.

Before you started cooking, your boyfriend turned on an older portable radio nestled in a corner and out of the way on the countertop. He told you it was his mother's; it already tuned to her favorite Spanish station, and when he asked what you wanted to listen to, you said to keep it where it was at.

The two of you were used to cooking with each other at this point, and though you were in a foreign space, Javi was there to get you what you needed, the two of you working together seamlessly, chatting as you chopped onion and garlic, and he got a pot of water on the stove to heat.

The meat was browned, the onion and garlic added, and everything sautéd before the tomato sauce was added, all of it simmering, the pasta boiling in the pot. Javi was beside you, grating mozzarella cheese while you got a spoonful of the meat sauce, blowing on it before bringing it to your mouth. It tasted good, the flavor was decent, your mind thinking if you should add any other seasonings as you scooped a little more, cooling it with your breath, and presenting it to Javi.

“Does it need anything?” You asked.

His mouth was open before the spoon even reached him, happily accepting it with a hum.

The metal was licked clean when you pulled it away.

“Tastes fucking amazing,” he said.

“You sure?”

He looked at you.

“Positive.”

“Awesome,” you said, moving the pan to a cold burner and switching off the one you’d been using.

An upbeat song started playing, and Javi let the cheese and grater fall onto the plate he was using.

“Is the sauce done?” He asked quickly.

“Yeah—” the word evolved into a giggle as he grabbed your hands and pulled you into the middle of the kitchen.

He was gripping your waist, bringing you closer to him as he sang with a smile, “Bidi bidi bom bom.” Your arms went around his neck as you laughed, Javi getting you both moving to the music, swaying a bit quicker than you usually danced with him, adding some impressive hip shaking.

He was singing all the words, dancing with you to the beat as you listened to what he sang, familiar with the song—it was Selena, after all—about how excited she gets when she sees the man she likes, and the sound her heart makes.

Giddy happiness was vibrating in your body, beyond amused by the impromptu dance session. At some point, Javi got your hands and had you wildly laughing when he carefully spun you and pulled you back to him with his front pressed to your spine, moving his hips from side to side with yours while he sang directly into your ear.

You loved when Javi got like this, just enjoying himself and having fun.

Spinning you one last time, he was laughing with you when he got you facing him again, this time his hands coming up to cradle your face, his eyes locked on yours as he sang you the final lines, changing one of the words, hearing him sing in Spanish:

“My heart goes crazy

Every time I see you pass,

And it starts to beat,

like this, like this.”

And as the last word left his lips, he was moving in and crushing his mouth against yours and kissing the breath right from your lungs—welcoming his tongue when he delved it past your lips to tangle with your own.

You felt it in the way he kissed you—his adoration, devotion, love, your body heating at the passion, feeling the same things for him, your body awash in warmth and fuzziness, and simply happy to be there in the moment with him, the man you loved.

It may have been decades, but Chucho remembered the first time he saw Antonia like it was yesterday; her standing across the high school gymnasium in a pretty blue dress, and the moment their eyes met, her laughing at something her friend said, it was like time stopped, and the stars aligned—Chucho was a romantic, and he wasn’t ashamed of it, but he knew right away that she was the one, a gut instinct.

He remembered how she looked at him when they first fell in love, her eyes glittering with the adoration she felt for him, and he remembered how thirty years later, she looked at him the same way, her eyes just a little more crinkled at the edges.

He remembered the moment he knew he loved her—it was their fifth date, she’d surprised him with his favorite pan dulce, and he remembered how his love for her only grew as the years went on, and even though she was gone now, it continued to grow.

Antonia was his media naranja, and one day they’d be reunited and whole once more.

Javi and his novia reminded Chucho of him and his Antonia.

He could see from how they looked at each other how much they loved one another—it was the same way he looked at his wife and how she looked at him.

And Chucho knew that Javi was right when he said his Cielito was his other half—the little time he’d spent with them together was enough for him to see how perfect they were for each other.

When his son returned from Colombia, he’d been broken, lost, and seeing him now, Javi had found himself—he was almost forty years old, and finally, he was whole.

Chucho was beyond happy for his son. He just wished Javi wasn’t so stubborn, a trait he’d gotten from his mother. He knew Javi would tell her his feelings, but it would take some time and a push, the boy still scarred from his last relationship.

He had just stepped into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks, finding Javi and his novia in an intimate embrace—another reminder of him and his Antonia. He had to stop himself from chuckling, smiling as he cleared his throat instead, the pair separating from each other with wide eyes turning to him at being caught.

“This is why tu mamá forbade me from being in the kitchen while she cooked,” Chucho said. “I was a distraction—I see you take after me, mijo,” he grinned.

Javi’s cheeks were flush.

“Oh, Javi’s a distraction at all times,” his Cielito said.

Chucho laughed, watching Javi turn toward her, looking betrayed.

“I’m not a distraction,” he said. “I was helping you make dinner.”

Her eyebrow rose as she stared him down.

“And you interrupted making dinner. We haven’t even put together the casserole,” she said, pointing at the stove. “A distraction,” she poked him in the chest, smiling. “But you’re my distraction, and I love when you cook with me.” She leaned in to kiss him, Javi grinning when she broke it, turning to look at Chucho.

The boy looked absolutely smitten, and it warmed his old heart.

“She likes that I’m a distraction, Pop,” Javi said.

“I’m happy for you, mijo,” he chuckled. “But I’m also hungry—I worked very hard today since someone couldn’t pay attention and left early. So, please let the nice woman finish making our dinner.”

Javi frowned, sighing.

“Sí, Pop,” he looked at his novia. “Let’s finish cooking, baby. Someone is, what’s that word you use, uh. Oh, hangry. Someone is hangry.”

She giggled, and Chucho had no idea what the word meant, but the pair went back to making dinner while he sat back down at the table to finish going through the mail, separating his from Javi’s and the junk to discard.

He held an envelope, noting the sender.

“Mijo?”

“Sí, Pop?” He didn’t bother turning his head.

“Sheriff sent you another letter. Want me to put it with the junk again?”

Javi looked over at him.

“No. I’ll look at it later.”

Chucho was a little surprised and set it with the other couple of things for Javi.

He glanced up, watching with a smile as the pair rubbed shoulders and shared glances while cooking.

They were a perfect pair, and they were perfectly in love.

Antonia would be happy.

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