#so we’ve gotta learn what their deal is

[hornedqueenofhell]

Shared Interests Pt. 1

“...and that’s where we will be ending things for tonight!” Eddie says, clapping his hands together and leaning back in his chair while the children cry foul.

“We’ve only been going for three hours!”

“We didn’t even do anything except go shopping!”

“But what about the tip we just got to find Lolth’s lair?”

Eddie’s expression darkens and he smacks his hand on the table to shut everyone up, “We will continue with all of that next time but tonight Steve and I have plans.”

“What kind of plans?” Will asks, he’s the calmest of all of them and generally enjoys hearing about Eddie and Steve being happy in their relationship.

“Stevie is taking me to a baseball game.” Eddie replies and Mike and Dustin explode.

“You’re ditching Hellfire for a sports game?! What the fuck man?” Mike shouts, almost sweeping his things off the table with his arms flailing about so wildly.

“Language” Eddie says before getting a thousand yard stare briefly as he realizes the words that just came out of his mouth. Christ, Steve really was rubbing off on him… in more ways than one.

“So you can tell us to just go find a replacement instead of rescheduling but when you decide to take the night off we just have to deal?” Dustin bites out causing Eddie’s eyes to snap to him and then briefly dart over to Lucas.

Eddie had apologized profusely from his hospital bed, even before Steve had chewed him out for replacing Lucas with his sister. He knew Lucas still felt a bit wary around him when he got manic, which was understandable after everything he'd been through. They had been doing better though, Eddie would rather die than admit it but Lucas had good relationship advice. And he spoke jock so Eddie could ask him for things to say to impress Steve, usually it just made his boyfriend laugh but Eddie still counted it.

“Why a baseball game?” Lucas asks, Eddie turns to him and scrubs a hand through his hair.

“Because Steve likes the Cubs.” It had been the primary source of bonding between Steve and Wayne, both of them finally happy to have someone to talk about sports with.

“So?” Mike is looking at Eddie like he doesn’t recognize the older man anymore.

“Because couples generally like spending time together?” He’s not sure where the confusion here is.

Dustin scoffs, “Steve already goes to your shows and hangs out during d&d, how much more time do you two need to spend together?” Mike nods in agreement but Lucas has a small smile now and Eddie reaches out to squeeze his shoulder and ruffle his hair with a grin.

“Boys, what do those two things have in common that me seeing a baseball game with your babysitter doesn’t?” he asks as Lucas bats his hand away.

“Your things are actually cool?” Mike

“They’re in Hawkins?” Dustin

“They’re Eddie’s hobbies.” Lucas for the win! At Eddie’s confirming nod the other two turn to Lucas looking confused.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Lucas sighs at Mike and pats Will’s shoulder consolingly. His friend really needs a better guy to crush on. “And this is why El is done with your ass dude. You gotta share in your partner’s hobbies too man. Steve goes to Eddie’s shows even though he’s not a fan of metal because he likes Eddie. It wouldn’t be fair to Steve if Eddie wasn’t willing to do the same.”

“It definitely doesn’t make your partner feel good when you just dismiss their interests.” Eddie fidgets with his rings as his eyes drop to the table. He knew that he wasn’t used to relationships, Steve being his first boyfriend ever, and learning the hard way that compromise was a very necessary thing had been a difficult concept to wrap his head around at first. He’d complained about Steve trying to invite him to ‘normie’ events or playing his music until Steve, tired of feeling like Eddie didn’t actually care about him, told him that maybe they were better off seeing other people. 

Eddie had reacted poorly and it wasn’t until his bandmates called him out when he’d tried to complain to them about their fight that he’d figured it out. He still wasn’t a fan of baseball but seeing Steve light up as he’d explained to Eddie why everyone was cheering about a specific player or hit made sitting through the games more than worth it. And Steve wrapping Eddie up in his members only jacket in the parking lot before sneaking a little kiss hadn’t been too bad either.

So they would go see the occasional home game, season tickets being one of the ‘expensive presents definitely make up for the fact we’re shitty parents’ gifts Steve got for a Christmas present last year. Or sometimes when Eddie has a game or just isn’t feeling social Steve will take Wayne and Eddie gets the trailer to himself for several hours. He can take a nice long shower, practice voices for his campaigns, make himself a snack while naked in the kitchen. Or go to Steve’s and cook him something nice for dinner then head upstairs and open himself up on his boyfriend's bed before pulling out a book and waiting for Steve to get back and rail him through the mattress. 

"So what, you're going to sit at a baseball game and just pretend to be interested in it so you can score points with some washed up jock?"

"First off Wheeler, check the fucking attitude. I don't know what it is with you and your sister that you think you can just say the most awful things about Steve and face no repercussions but I will absolutely ban you if you don't start treating Steve with some basic human decency. Second off, I don't have to like baseball, it’s the same way with Steve not being super into my music. We are very different people so we sometimes struggle to find common ground, and when our interests don't line up we have to find ways to make it work. Because, as I'm still figuring out, that's kind of a big part of being in a healthy relationship."

Pt 2

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #dustin henderson #will byers #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair

[ktgoodmorning]

Drunk and not in love

Patri Guijarro x reader

You and Patri have always hated each other, but can copious amount of alcohol change that?

Masterlist

You weren’t sure how it had even started but for as long as you could remember, you and Patri were always at each other’s throats. At this point, your anger for each other was more of a habit than anything else. The two of you had grown up playing on the national team together so everyone knew it would be no different when you moved to Barcelona. At this point, the rest of the team had gotten used to your constant attitudes towards each other. 

Both of you were professional enough to not let it affect your playing, knowing you actually played quite well together. Somehow the link up between you was always seamless. It was because of this, that the rest of the team usually let it go when you would get on each other’s nerves. 

When not playing against a common enemy, you were constantly going at each other. In training, you’d deliver tackles on her with a bit more aggression than you would to any other teammate while she would often be giving you harsh words on how you weren’t doing something right.

 It bothered you how the older woman was always acting like she was better than you, despite having a very similar skill level. Why was it okay for her to get on your case for every little mistake? So you’d always return her words with even harsher ones, or at times, a nudge against her shoulder as you’d walk away. The two of you always had some sort of complaint against each other and the rest of the team had learned to ignore it. 

Nobody quite understood where the animosity between you had stemmed from, including you and Patri. To everyone else, the two of you seemed like you should be best friends. You were extremely similar- always joking around, fiercely loyal, constantly looking for a good time, and extremely serious on the pitch. Your friends had tried many times to figure it out, hoping you could somehow make amends, but always failing. You ran in all the same circles, so eventually your friends learned to look past it. As long as you could both be around each other and be civil enough to not ruin the night, they could deal with the constant eye rolls you threw at each other. 

It was after training when Claudia threw her arm around your shoulders as you made your way to the locker room. “You gotta come with us, we’ve got some time off so we can have some real fun tonight. It’ll be me, Mapi,, Mario, Patri-”

“Ugghhhh, why does she have to be there?” 

“Stop it,” she layed a light smack against the side of your head. “You need to get over it. She’s our friend too and you need to learn to get along. You’re coming with.” 

You knew that Claudia was right. Even if you didn’t like Patri, you needed to get better at ignoring her and just having fun with the rest of your friends. “Alright I’m in, but-”

The younger girl cut you off by attacking you in an excited hug, “Yes! I told Mapi you’d come!”

“But, I’m gonna need a lot of drinks to make it through without killing somebody so you better be buying.” You gave your best friend a smirk, knowing she’d have no problem agreeing to this deal. Claudia gave you another smile, eager to have a night out with all of you later that evening. 

~ 

You arrived at the club with Claudia by your side. The two of you were the first ones to arrive and were more than happy to start your night with a couple shots before anyone else came. You settled into a booth across from her, each holding a shot in one hand and a drink in the other. 

“You know I don’t know what your guys’ problem is, you’re basically the same person.” Your best friend shrugged at you, knowing you had had this conversation a million times before and had never made any progress. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Claudia, she’s always hated me, and I’m not gonna let her say shit to me without defending myself.” 

“But do you really think she hates you that much? You’re telling me it’s all about you defending yourself and none of it is you having an issue with her? Clearly you do!”

Suddenly, Mapi slid into the booth next to you, followed closely by Mariona and Patri. “Clearly you do what?” 

“Clearly she-”

“Nothing!” You awkwardly cut Claudia off before she could tell everyone how you had been discussing your relationship with Patri, hoping to change the subject. “Pina, don’t you have drinks you’re supposed to be buying me?”

At this, your best friend gave you a wink, seeing right through you, before going with Mapi to get more drinks for everyone. 

“So what, you’re just letting Pina buy all your drinks tonight?” You looked up to see Patri glaring at you, scoffing at your lack of immediate response.

All you could do was roll your eyes, “Well if I’m gonna spend the whole night with you here, I can only hope I drink enough to not remember it tomorrow.” Your voice was dripping in irritation, frustrated at how quickly she decided to sour your night. Why couldn’t she just let you be? 

Patri’s eyebrows raised, somehow surprised at your quip back at her, but just as she opened her mouth to respond, the rest of your friends returned with plenty of shots for everyone. 

“We got everyone shots, plus… extras for our two favorite enemies!” A smirk was plastered across Mapi’s face, as she and Claudia set one shot down in front of everyone, two in front of both you and Patri. You rolled your eyes as all your friends giggled, but deep down, you couldn’t have been more grateful for the extra alcohol to help you through the night. 

After you had downed a few more drinks, you all made your way to the dance floor. Ever since the drink comment, you and Patri had managed to successfully ignore each other. If you couldn’t get along, at least the silence was better than the constant fighting. 

The alcohol being constantly pushed on you by your friends, certainly was doing its job, loosening you up more than usual. Your hips were swaying against whoever was closest to you, usually Claudia. The two of you lived for nights like this, finally being able to have fun and forget about all the other stress in your life. Your body fueled by the music (and alcohol) coursing through you, you jumped around somewhat aimlessly, stumbling slightly at times, always being caught by one of your friends. 

You didn’t even notice when you stumbled backwards slightly, straight into Patri, allowing her to steady you with her hands on your waist. Your three friends all shared a look, worried that the older woman would snap at you for falling into her. Nothing could have surprised them more than when Patri, still holding you tightly, laughed. 

You looked at her over your shoulder and joined her giggles, immediately returning to your dancing. It was as if you didn’t even notice who it was who had their hands on your waist as you smiled at her.

Your response was something they’d expect from you if you’d fallen into Pina, or Mario, or anyone else besides Patri, but this- this made no sense. The other girls all shared another look, this time more confused than anything else. Maybe they had gotten both of you more drunk than they realized? There’s no way all it took for you to be civil was alcohol. But here you were and nobody was about to question it, in fear of it ending when you both realized what you were doing. 

You were in your own little world, just having fun with whoever was closest. It didn’t matter that the person you were dancing against was your sworn enemy, if she was willing to join you, you were willing to let it happen. When you both realized you were okay with what was happening between you, the older woman’s hands pulled you in closer to her, still holding you by the hips. You let your head fall back onto her shoulder, relaxing into her touch, as you continued to grind into her front. Patri made eye contact as you looked back at her, greeting you with more smiles, clearly both enjoying your current position. Your hand snaked around to the back of her neck, holding her even closer for you to plant a brief kiss to the side of her jaw, before continuing the movement of your hips. She must not have minded the contact as she too continued her actions, enjoying this newfound time with you. 

You continued like this for a while, neither of you bothered by what was going on, just enjoying yourselves like you would if you were with anybody else. The two of you were only separated when another random drunk person staggered into you, causing Patri to let go of you in order to keep the stranger from fully falling onto you. 

Once the person had been moved by friends of their own, you turned back to the midfielder, giving her yet another smile. She returned the gesture, both of you remaining wordless. It was as if neither of you wanted to address what had just happened, too stubborn to admit how much you’d enjoyed each other’s presence. Too scared to fully trust each other after a lifetime of disrespect. 

All you could do was give her a slight nod of acknowledgement before going back to find Claudia. Your body needed a break from the dance floor and you knew your best friend had a tendency of getting carried away on nights out, so it wouldn’t hurt to check on her. You didn’t realize much time you had spent with Patri until you checked your watch and saw how late it was. In that time, Pina had clearly found some more drinks and was now just as drunk as you. 

Everyone knew that when you were this drunk together, you became a dangerous (and annoying) combination, only encouraging each other to get crazier and crazier. As soon as Mariona saw the two of you, laughing obnoxiously at the bar, ordering yet another drink, she was quick to order you an Uber, knowing that the sooner you went home, the better it’d be for everyone. 

She tried to pull you both up and coax you towards the door but neither of you were in the mood to listen, still just giggling and fighting back against her, wanting to stay. “Mariooo, why do you have to kill all the fun,” you whined as you both pouted up at her, only somewhat coherent. Suddenly Mapi and Patri both joined her efforts, all knowing they didn’t want to handle you any longer than they had to. 

Now being three against two, they successfully pulled you out of the club, just as your Uber was pulling up. Mapi and Mariona had taken to helping get Pina in the backseat as she was much worse off than you, leaving Patri to make sure you got in okay. You welcomed her touch as she placed her arm around your waist, making sure you wouldn’t trip. If this had been any other time, you would’ve preferred she left you for dead before allowing her to lay a hand on you. But for some reason, right now you leaned into it, comforted by the way she was pressed into your side. 

As soon as you were seated, she leaned over you to buckle your seatbelt and Pina immediately took advantage of the opportunity. “Patri aren’t you gonna kiss your new girlfriend goodnight before we go?” Her comment threw the both of you into a fit of drunken giggles, making you miss the way the older woman rolled her eyes in annoyance before shutting the car door. 

Once you and Claudia were alone in the backseat, she continued her teasing towards you. “What was with all the dancing huh? I’m surprised you didn’t fuck right on the dance floor with how close you were. Did you forget how much you hate her or what?” You could hardly make out her words as she slurred through them, constantly interrupting herself to laugh at her own jokes. 

You tuned her out as your best friend continued talking, mostly to herself, all the way back to your shared apartment. It was hard for you to make sense of what had gone on tonight, but then again, did you really need to? Maybe this would be the start of a newfound friendship or maybe you’d just be able to coexist without killing each other. You’d have to wait and see. You still didn’t really like her, she’d said a lot of crappy things to you over the years and it was hard to just let that go. But you were willing to try to keep an open mind- give her a chance at being civil if she was willing to do the same. 

~

Evidently, it appeared Patri was not willing to do the same. You had training just a few days after your night out, finally recovered from your hangovers. Your memory from the night was quite clear and kept playing in the back of your mind as you made your way to the locker room. Would she even remember it? What if she wanted to talk about it? One thing you knew for sure was that you had no desire to talk about it. Either you’d be friends now that you had managed to get past your initial hatred, or you’d go back to the way you were used to being. Talking was not in your plans. 

Luckily, talking didn’t seem to be in Patri’s either. You were so lost in thought that you walked straight into her just before reaching the locker room. It wasn’t hard, she was definitely fine. You had just managed to hit shoulders while she stood talking to Alexia. 

The sudden contact broke you from your thoughts but just as you turned to apologize, Patri beat you to it. “Can you watch where you’re fucking going!?” The way she snapped so aggressively had you shocked. After she literally had you grinding against her all night, she was still going to act like this? 

The anger in you burned deeper than it had before, only growing after her sudden change in attitude towards you. “Seriously!? You’re gonna say that right now!? Should I remind you that-” you were cut off by the locker room door slamming in your face as she left you in the hallway, mid-sentence. 

You clenched your fists and tried to take a deep breath before looking to Claudia for guidance. All she offered you was a dramatic shrug of her shoulders, apparently just as lost and confused as you were. You sighed heavily, realizing that you were exactly where you started with her- still ready to kill each other.

Apparently the alcohol couldn’t fix the problems between you after all.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Masterlist

Feedback and requests are always welcome!

#barca femeni #barcelona femeni #woso imagines #fcb femini #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso #patri guijarro imagine #patri guijarro #patri guijarro x reader #wosoreadingpatri #wosoreading24/7

[transboysokka]

“So… you’re really breaking up with me?” Zuko asked again.

“I mean, I guess. We don’t need this anymore, don’t you think?”

Zuko was more confused than upset. And wasn’t ‘we don’t need this anymore’ an odd thing to say about ending a relationship?

He looked back at Mai across the sofa they sat on, confusion still showing on his face. He could see a hint of exasperation beginning to make its way into her expression. They’d been having this conversation for a while already.

“I just… aren’t things going well?”

“Zuko,” Mai sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder, “You’re like my best friend.”

“Right, so..?”

“Not. A boyfriend?” She raised an eyebrow, hoping Zuko would be able to fill in the blanks.

Zuko knew his relationship with Mai wasn’t… typical. They didn’t kiss much anymore and had never even thought of doing anything beyond that, but it… worked… He valued their companionship.

“I just… why now?” He thought it was a fair question.

Mai huffed and stood up, turning to face him.

“Honestly, Zuko. I didn’t think this was going to be such a big deal. I just thought maybe we were both ready to move on. The world’s changed since you became Fire Lord, and I thought maybe it would be safe now for us to…”

Zuko blinked at her, still making it quite clear he had no idea what was going on.

“Look,” Mai sighed, sitting down to face Zuko on the sofa opposite his, “We aren’t in love, Zuko. We never have been.”

He sputtered, wanting desperately to protest, but finding he needed a moment to think about it. He did love Mai, definitely. He always would, just like he loved Azula. Being with Mai had always made sense…

“Zuko,” Mai pushed, “We’ve never been in love, right?”

“Maybe not…?” he admitted.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand. “I don’t take it personally. I know you’re not interested in women.”

Zuko sputtered again. What? Of course he was… why wouldn’t he…?

“What?” he whispered. The truth was he’d never really thought about it.

“Zu. It’s fine. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m not into guys either. That’s what I thought this whole relationship was about, actually.”

Zuko didn’t say anything. This was a lot to process.

Mai seemed to understand, sitting quietly until he was ready to talk.

“So…” he finally managed, “You’ve always…?”

“Yeah. It took me a while to figure it out, but definitely.”

“So you think if we break up now we could…?”

“No offense Zuko, but I’d much rather be with Ty Lee than stuck in whatever this is with you. I think we’re ready for it now. And you and Sokka—“

“WHAT?”

Mai sighed and put her head into her hands, staying like that for a moment while Zuko tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

“Agni, Zuko. Sorry. I didn’t think any of this was new information to you,” she sat up and looked directly into Zuko’s eyes, “Yes, dumbass. The whole Nation knows at this point that boy is in love with you. He’s not exactly subtle about it. And everyone besides you seems to have the idea that you love him back.”

“But I’m not even…” Zuko was learning a lot about himself tonight, apparently. Could he be in love with Sokka?

He thought about it.

They were just friends, right?

Thought about the happiness that filled his heart every time he entered a room Sokka was in.

Good friends…

About the natural ease with which they spoke with and spent time together.

Close friends…

How he thought of his friendship with Sokka very similarly to how he thought of his relationship with Mai.

…Best… friends?

The desire that had crossed his mind on more than one occasion, which he’d tryed and failed to lock away completely, to grab, caress, kiss Sokka. But thoughts like that were normal every once in a while, right? Everyone had them. Except… he had them for Sokka more than he ever had with Mai…

“Oh shit…” he whispered, “I’m…”

“An idiot,” Mai finished for him.

That was not was Zuko was going to say, but he let it slide.

“I think we gotta break up,” he said instead.

#here’s another one. it’s canon to me #platonic maiko #gay Zuko #zukka #atla #mine #fic #headcanon #greatest hits #100

[matan4il]

Buddie 611 meta

I LOVED that the ep showed us how Eddie wasn’t doing compressions on Buck because someone instructed him to. No, he just couldn’t stand by, couldn't let someone else try to bring his partner back to life, so he announced he was taking over, fuck anyone who would try to stop him. No one even tries to, they wordlessly acknowledge Eddie as Buck's mad with worry partner, much like how in 315, the team treated Buck while Eddie was in danger. And then Eddie shocks Buck’s heart back and gets his pulse going again. Eddie literally kept Buck’s heart going, and then he was still so distraught that he yelled at the medical staff (even though as a medic, he knows it’s pointless), “Do more!” 'Coz that’s what Eddie himself was doing, he stepped in and did more than he was asked to, a continuation of us having seen him doing exactly that in 610 as well, when he didn’t wait for Bobby to decide what to do to help Buck, Eddie charged up an electrocuted ladder he was just thrown off of. Because when it comes to Buck, he will always do more. ~~

The significance of the bond between them is also shown when Eddie is the first flashback Buck experiences within the coma dream, the first lifeline to the real world. That’s continued when the second flashback is to the tsunami, where Buck saved Chris. However, Eddie and Chris aren't quite present in these flashbacks. Buck’s subconscious is at war with itself. The Diaz boys are this powerful connection to the real world (much like Buck and Chris were Eddie’s back in 315, as I tried to demonstrate in this gifset), but the coma dream shows the power of childhood trauma and how much we can be trapped by the desire to fix it. The whole dream contrasts Buck having parents who are loving, who want and appreciate him, with everything bad that would happen if he weren’t with the 118. As the dream goes on, the price keeps getting higher, yet Buck still struggles until the very end with letting go of the illusion that his parents love him, and the sense he himself can be fixed if they do, like he’d then finally feel good enough. That’s why, in a sense, Eddie and Chris have to be more absent than present for the coma dream to be seductive. Because if they’re fully present, if he truly engages with their coma versions and remembers the family unit he has outside the dream, the balance would be tipped over, the battle would have been decided before Buck had a chance to learn his lesson.

That’s why he only hears what happened to Eddie, he doesn’t witness it firsthand, and why when the dream's seductive nature is failing, suddenly Chris is there (despite his coma version not being in LA) to tempt Buck into staying. Even then, walking away from the dream version of Chris while telling him that he’s not real is the only thing Buck says he'll always feel guilty about. ~~ 

I just gotta include a small note here on how much I love the progression we’ve had from Bobby saying in 101 that while Buck calls him “pops,” they’re not a family, through Buck telling TK aloud that Bobby’s basically his dad (in the crossover) to Bobby finally admitting this is true for him as well. I’ve pointed out this season repeatedly (like in my 610 meta) that the show’s dealing with questions of fatherhood, including the question of biology in that context, and this ep was no different, yet this truly was one of the highlights for me when it comes to this theme. I love how much Buck and Bobby mean to each other. ~~ 

Buck’s mom saying “your kids” and Buck being confused until she clarifies it’s not his actual children, it’s his students, then his disappointment, that’s one loose end that the ep didn’t wrap up, because that is a continuation of the whole sperm donor situation (with Margaret once more being at the center of confusion on whether Buck is a dad or not). This one is only going to be really addressed once Buck fully deals with his role in Connor and Kameron’s baby’s life, something he can’t properly do until he also faces his role in Christopher’s, a role that this ep really emphasized. No other kids were by Buck’s bed, not even May who has free access as a legal adult and who has now admitted she knows Buck is her step dad’s other kid. Chris needs his Buck in a way that no other firefam kid does. ~~ 

Which brings me to the heart wrenching fate we (and Buck) learn the Diaz boys have suffered in his absence. I have mentioned countless times in my meta posts how important I believe 204 was to Buddie. How critical Buck’s decision to step into Eddie’s mess with him was. Not once, but twice in that ep, first when he helps Eddie by talking to Bobby about Chris spending the day at the station with the 118, then when Buck introduces Eddie to Carla. I have always said Eddie was very attracted (and not just physically) to Buck from the start, but Eddie’s Christopher’s dad first, so he never would have been able to fall for anyone who doesn’t also love his son as much as he does. In other words, I’ve always thought the heart eyes Eddie gives Buck at the end of the Carla introduction scene, that was the moment when he was gone. And now we learn how meaningful Buck himself knows that was. Without that happening, his subconscious just knows Eddie’s parents would have succeeded with their threat of getting Chris away from his dad, leading to Eddie completely falling apart. Buddie's tale is a love story, and this coma revelation is basically the show telling us Buck’s subconscious already knows this. ~~ 

Eddie’s reactions in the real world are also a reflection of how important Buddifer’s little family unit is to all three of them. Keep in mind, even with his therapy, Eddie is still a reserved guy, right? He normally remains calm in the face of adversity, it takes a lot to rattle him, he doesn't easily get to the point where he falls apart emotionally. When he does in this ep, he only allows himself to when his son is looking away. And even then, he just can't go on answering Christopher's questions about Buck's state. So it highlights how important Buck is to Eddie, when the latter DOES fall apart. When he jumps in to take care of Buck on the gurney as it’s wheeled into the hospital. When he shouts at the medical staff. When he looks so wrecked at the hospital, close to what previously it took weeks of insomnia to do to him. When he can’t look at Buck's comatose body or stop himself from crying while he listens to Chris speaking or bring himself to be strong for his son and answer him. And of course, when the reserved Eddie goes against hospital regulations and parental common sense (to keep your kid away from disturbing sights), sneaking his son in to see Buck. But Eddie does it because he gets it. When Chris says he needs to talk to Buck, Eddie knows the full weight of this, because it’s his truth, too. Both Diaz boys need their Buck to wake up. So everything Chris is saying, all the comfort he’s offering, along with the insistence that Buck MUST return to them? He’s speaking for Eddie as well. ~~ 

I also liked that Buck realized during his coma dream two truths that seem, but are not, mutually exclusive: that he does have a family worth going back for, but that ultimately, he’s returning for himself. He’s not trying to please anyone else, he’s not trying to get anyone else’s approval. His adoptive family matters to him, even his bio parents who have failed him repeatedly matter, but at the end of the day, he’s not going back because his loved ones do or don’t need him, do or don’t accept him, do or don’t approve of him. He’s going back because he loves them and he wants to be with them. And that ties in with another thing we see in this ep. 

Bobby describes the coma dream as a world where Buck can fix everything. Buck says not all, seemingly implying he couldn’t bring Bobby back from the dead. But that’s not actually true, is it? 'Coz the coma world is Buck’s subconscious, it can be altered in whatever way he wants. Bobby can be there and talk to him despite being “dead” which means... he’s not really dead, not in the way that makes death so tragic, depriving us of our loved ones. Chris can be at the hospital, despite not being in LA and not knowing Buck. It’s a coma dream, there are no rules! Buck’s subconscious is king! And we know how important it is for Buck to fix things, Eddie pointed it out in 504, and we saw a callback to this just last week. The climax of this ep is even set against the musical backdrop of Coldplay’s Fix You. But this trait stems from Buck feeling like he needs to fix things, to be the hero, in order to be worthy of love. In the coma, Buck realizes he IS loved. And therefore, he doesn’t need to fix EVERYTHING in order to make a difference and be deserving of love. He IS enough, exactly as he is, limited fixing possibilities and all. That’s how he gets to choose both his loved ones and himself in coming back to reality. ~~ 

Oh, can we talk about the heart drawings scene from 514 and how it relates to this ep? I recently answered an ask about it, and pointed out I think Eddie’s heart has been Chris for years now, and for a long time, it was only him. But that scene showed how, thanks to the way Buck has been there for both of them along the years, helping, healing and loving them, Eddie’s heart is no longer exclusively his son. It’s Buck, too. Which explains why the heart theme we’ve been seeing with Eddie since 413 has expanded to include Buck’s in this ep, with Eddie literally restarting it. So 611 really affirms who Eddie’s heart now belongs to. We see how, without Buck, he would have lost Chris as well. Without Buck, he would have lost his whole heart. ~~ 

And that brings us of course to what kind of a person Eddie would be once that happened. We learn he would have become this angry man, drawing on his reaction during the lawsuit story arc. But notice that in both cases, a part of the issue causing Eddie's anger is not having Buck. Yes, back in s3 Eddie was dealing with Shannon’s death, but he doesn’t really start losing it until he also can no longer speak to Buck. Similarly, in the coma dream, he becomes Angry Guy due to the loss of Chris, but that is tied in with the absence of Buck in his life. In other words, losing Buck causes Eddie SUCH grief, that it has no other way out except for rage. ~~ 

Did you notice how once again, Buck got to be Madney’s truth teller? He did that first in 208, when he realized Madney are basically dating. Interestingly, everything he told Maddie about them was also true for him and Eddie. Then in this ep, he tells Chim Madney basically should be married, since they already share every other part of domestic and committed life. Obviously this will come into play soon. So just remember that once again, his words can be easily applied to Buddifer as well, plus Buck’s truth teller status was paralleled back in s2 with Maddie in 204, when she asked her brother about his newfound boy crush on Eddie... ~~ 

Okay, last one, but I just had to share with you maybe my fave parallel from this ep. You might have noticed in my 610 meta how much I think the lightning stroke parallels the shooting arc. Well, this was true with one of the sweetest moments in the ep’s conclusion. Just like how, at the end of 414, we got to witness Eddie hugging Chris while Buck watched on, so we get to see Buck hugging their son while Eddie looks on now. Except Eddie isn’t just looking. He enables the hug by helping Chris into Buck’s arms. Tell me again: how is this not a family? How are these men not partners, dedicated and loving towards each other in every way that matters...? ~~ 

Please enjoy direct links to my weekly meta posts, my Buddie gifs and more of my content in my pinned post. Endlessly thankful to @whosoldherout​, who​ blows my mind away every week with her hard work and beautiful gifs for my meta. Tag list will follow in the reblog, please let me know if you wanna be added/removed here. Thank you in advance for any reblog and like! I’m operating on far too little sleep in order to get this posted quickly, so I can't explain how much any and all encouragement matters to me. Thank you! xoxox

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #wm #buddie gifs #buddie gif #911 gifs #911 spoilers #911 gif #911edit #buddieedit #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

[pinknightsinmymind]

【 hell week - abby anderson 】

abby anderson x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

based off request prompt: What do you think about them being in college and braving through finals together? Like, they've been working for hours and they collectively decide to encourage each other through it?

content: modern!au, college!au, established relationship, helping each other manage stress through finals, you and abby being caring gf's, LOTS of affection between you two, one sexual joke, abby being happy and sharing her sense of humor, lots and lots and lots of fluff, cuddling, use of pet names (babe, baby, love, etc.)

a/n: wowowow this was so cute to write ik its a little past finals week as the next semester has either begun or will be starting soon for ppl, but i hope reading about going through finals week and being domestic with abby is still heartwarming. i hope it can also be a comfort to be read again at a later time when its finals week again and you're stressed and need a moment to relax :) more than anything taking care of yourself during finals is the most important which is something i've barely learned and figured out how to do. anyways, now that i'm done lecturing, pls enjoy!!!!

“I think I’m going to drop out,” Abby announced. You snorted.

“Like hell you’d drop out,” you said back to her. You knew Abby was just being dramatic and complaining. Despite how draining the work was, you knew she loved her major and being in pre-med.

“No, I think I’m actually gonna do it this time. I’ll just scam people online for money. This medical shit just isn’t it. In fact, I think I’m gonna become the country’s most wanted con-woman.”

“What you need is a break from studying, not to drop out,” you advised. You leaned forward from across the table and closed Abby’s textbook and notes. She sighed and rubbed her temples. “You’ve been studying hard enough. Don’t push yourself.”

“You’re right.” She shuffled some of her note cards in her hands absentmindedly. “Neither of us have taken a break in a while. My brain hurts.”

“Tell me about it,” you grumbled. “Wanna get something to eat?”

“You read my mind. I think the walk would be good for me.”

“Plus, we’ve done enough studying for a while. We can study more later tonight.”

“You’re a genius, [Y/N],” she grinned. “That’s why I keep you around.” You rolled your eyes as you gathered your things together and shoved them in your backpack. Abby followed suit as the two of you prepared to leave the library. You checked your phone and saw it was around three o’clock, and you had both been there since before noon. Yeah, you both definitely needed the break.

“Tonight,” you started as you walked by Abby’s side, “we’ll study some more. I say we take a few hours to ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asked flirtily. You hit her arm.

“Not like that! I meant we should decompress for a while. Eat, watch some TV, that kind of thing.”

“Physical activities are good for decompressing,” she countered.

“Oh, I’m sure they are to you. Look at you. You go to the gym, like, six times a week,” you joked.

“Five,” she corrected.

“See!” you exclaimed. The two of you finally exited the library, the sun’s warmth and beams hitting you. The warmth was delicious, and much better than the freezing Arctic inside the library.

“I thought you liked my physique. Some say it’s Grecian.”

The laugh spilled from your lips before you could even stop yourself. “Oh, my God. You did not just say that.”

“I think I’d be a Spartan,” she mused.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m one hundred percent serious. Sparta’s no joking matter.”

“You are so—I don’t even know what to say.”

“Charming? Hilarious? I’ve heard it all before,” she said cockily. Before you could even respond you felt her hand slither close to yours and lace your fingers together. “What do you want to eat?”

“I don’t know. What’s closest?”

“That sandwich place you like is nearby. We just gotta walk past the art building and it’s right there.”

“Deal!” you agreed. Walking through campus was always enjoyable with Abby by your side. She made the weather less dull, the day less mundane. It was these little moments with her that you enjoyed the most. Sure, it’s boring everyday life, but she made it special. Abby swung your interlocked hands through the air as she matched your stride. Yes, you may have been in the middle of exams, but at least you had Abby by your side while you endured it. You enjoyed the small journey together, taking the time to admire the beautiful landscapes before you. The university had many trees planted around campus whose lush, green branches provided bountiful amounts of shade. There were squirrels roaming around searching for food, while only a few other students wandered around. For some finals week had barely begun, while others were going through the dregs of it.

Nearly everyone had coffee in their hands while they were dressed lazily—and none of them you could blame. Finals week tired you out beyond compare, and you still had a paper to complete tonight. Abby had two more exams to prepare for, while you only had one more in a few days. You were both just trying your best to make it through the week, both vowing to help each other whenever necessary. That included monitoring each other’s sleeping schedules, making sure you both stayed on task, and making sure above all you were both taking care of your health. That was the most important one seeing as the two of you had a streak for getting so involved in your studies you often neglected your well-being. It was a slippery slope, but when you had each other to look after one another, it made things somewhat easier.

“Hey,” you said to Abby suddenly. She glanced at you, waiting for you to finish speaking. “I’ll pay for lunch today.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yeah. My treat.” You squeezed her hand in yours, watching as a smile spread across Abby’s face. She looked radiant whenever she smiled.

“Trying to wine and dine me?” she teased.

“You know it.”

Lunch with Abby was just as calming and therapeutic as you thought it would be. Not only did it calm your nerves, but it gave both of your brains just the break they needed. You both took your time to eat, looking to enjoy each others’ presence and the food instead of rushing. After eating, the two of you decided to head back to your shared apartment rather than go to the library again.

“Do we have to start studying right away now that we’re home?” you asked her. Abby glanced at her watch. It was barely five, but she didn’t want you to stress yourself out more. In fact, she felt you deserved to rest more, instead.

“’Course not, babe,” she answered. “You’ve already been working hard enough. Let’s just watch something together.” Abby pulled together some blankets and set up her laptop for the two of you on your bed. Settling herself against the headboard with the blanket wrapped around her, she opened up her arms for you to join her. You quickly joined her, Abby wrapping the blanket around you as well. She pulled you close to her body, arms around you tightly, as you began to watch the show you binge watched together. Abby placed quick kisses against your cheek and forehead here and there, but still made sure to concentrate on the show before her. Despite this, you still managed to distract her and pull her into more heated kisses every now and then.

After a few episodes you asked Abby if she was ready to finish studying, and when she said yes the marathon ended. You sat at the small dinner table together, Abby turning through the pages of her textbook and making countless flashcards. You, however, pulled out your laptop and began working on your paper. It was due tomorrow at noon, so you wanted to be sure you got it done by tonight, even if it meant staying up extra late. You’d make that sacrifice if you had to. You wrote page after page, inserting your quotes, making arguments, for what felt like forever. However, you were still nowhere close to done. It was already past 10 P.M., and you had at least three to four pages left to do. After about twenty more minutes, Abby wrapped up her studying and announced she would take a shower.

“I’ll be back, love,” she said, giving you a small kiss before heading to the bathroom. You sighed as you heard the water start running. You knew it was going to be a while before you finished, but you’d have to bear it for the time being. You worked in a frenzy as the pressure of your final grade hung over your head. You just wanted to finish this assignment so the semester could finally be over. Abby finally returned from her shower after some time, rubbing the strands of her hair in her towel to dry it off.

“How’s the paper coming?” she asked. You shook your head.

“It’s coming,” you groaned.

“It’s getting pretty late. Are you almost done?”

“Hardly,” you answered. Abby came up behind you and began massaging your shoulders. It helped to calm you somewhat, her hands managing to rub the spots that ached the most.

“Want me to stay up with you?” she asked softly.

“I’d like that,” you said. Abby finished massaging your shoulders and pulled out the seat next to you.

“I’ll stay here the whole time with you, baby, but let’s make a deal.”

“What is it?” you asked. You looked away from your screen and into your girlfriend’s eyes as she spoke.

“Before I tell you, what time is this paper due?”

“Tomorrow at noon,” you answered.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll let you write a little bit more, but after midnight you’re gonna take a shower and go to sleep.”

“But I need to finish this,” you argued.

“Yeah, but you can’t tire yourself out, babe. You’re not pulling an all-nighter on my watch. We’ll wake up early together tomorrow and you can finish it, okay? So just do what you can tonight.”

“Fine,” you grumbled.

“So, how much you got left?” she asked.

“About two to three pages,” you answered.

“I think you should write until you only have one page left. How does that sound?”

“Doable,” you responded. You turned back to your laptop and continued where you left off. Abby leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder as you wrote. Usually you didn’t like having people watch you write, but with Abby it was different. You adored her and cherished her company. While she leaned on you, one of her hands rubbed circles onto your back absentmindedly.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking you to finish your paper in the morning,” she spoke up suddenly. “I just don’t want you to burn yourself out or stay up too late. I know how we both get when it’s finals, so I just don’t want either of us to make the same mistakes again, you know?”

“It’s okay, Abs. I don’t mind,” you reassured her. “To be honest, I kind of like it. It makes me feel cared for.”

“You’re very cared for,” she said, pecking your cheek. Finally, after about twenty more minutes of writing, you finally reached a stoppining point that wouldn’t be too hard to continue the following morning.

“Done!” you exclaimed. Abby smiled at you and shut your laptop for you.

“Good. Now do what you need to do. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“You better not fall asleep,” you warned. You pecked her lips as you rose from the table to go take your shower. The warm water was calming as it soothed your joints and cleansed your body. Once you finished your shower and nightly routine, you found Abby waiting in bed for you. She had the blanket covering her legs as she read one of her books quietly. You crawled into bed carefully beside her and curled up into her side.

“Ready for bed?” Abby asked. She closed her book and placed it on her nightstand.

“Yeah,” you answered. Without another word Abby turned her lamp off and pulled you into her.

“Good night,” she whispered into your neck.

“Good night,” you said back to her. It wasn’t long before the two of you dozed off.

+ + +

“Hey,” she whispered. “Wake up, sleepyhead.” You groaned as you wiped your eyes and they adjusted to the bright lights. She must have had the kitchen lights on and the blinds open like always since she was the morning person in the relationship. You could smell fresh coffee and feel Abby’s arms around your body. Her hand stroked your cheek as she whispered to you softly. “Come on. I’ve got your morning coffee ready. Just how you like.”

“For real?” you asked. Abby laughed at your response.

“Yes, now go wash up.” You groggily dragged yourself out of bed and to the bathroom to wash up, the cold water you splashed on your face waking you up. After you finished brushing your teeth, you wandered to the kitchen where Abby sat at the table waiting for you.

“What time is it?” you asked.

“Barely nine, so you have plenty of time to finish up your paper and edit,” she said. You came towards her and sat in her lap, wrapping your arms around her neck. Abby’s hands immediately found refuge around your waist as she rubbed them against the small of your back.

“You’re the best girlfriend ever,” you muttered into her shoulder.

“Well, thank you,” she said in response.

“Alright, I’m gonna finish my work,” you announced. You rose from Abby’s lap as she reluctantly pulled her hands away from your body. You pulled out your chair and grabbed the coffee mug Abby left out for you. It was exactly how you liked it, just as she said. After working for nearly an hour, you finally finished your paper and began editing it. That took close to another hour, and by then you were able to turn it in confidently. You let out a sigh of relief as you glanced at Abby beside you.

“All done?” she asked.

“All done,” you said happily. Abby leaned over and kissed your cheek.

“Happy to hear it. Wanna cuddle the rest of the day? I say we rest today since we have a couple more days till our next exams.”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you answered.

#tlou #tlou2 #tlou x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x reader #tlou abby #abby anderson

[stardustprompts]

house of ashes  -  the dark pictures anthology  sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying     tw ;  language ,  war ,  death ,  drug mention ,  religion mention 

‘I don’t know where i’d be without you.’ 

‘don’t you think it’s about time you came clean?’ 

‘all’s fair in love and war.’ 

‘I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.’ 

‘with all due respect, I think that’s the wrong call.’ 

‘quit being a bitch!’

‘I’ve got a real bad feeling about this.’

‘I wish you’d reconsider.’ 

‘it’s been a long time since we last saw each other.’ 

‘not a day went by when you weren’t on my mind.’ 

‘I’ve missed you so much, (name).’

‘how we left it ... things weren’t so great between us.’

‘we’ve been through worse. a lot worse.’ 

‘I wish I shared your optimism.’ 

‘you wanna ask me something. I can tell by the look on your face.’

‘you’re fucking with me.’

‘you got any other surprises you wanna drop on me?’

‘that’s gotta be about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.’

‘I don’t know about you guys but something doesn’t feel right about this place.’

‘so is that this women’s intuition I keep hearing about?’

‘I don’t believe in curses, the tooth fairy, or santa clause.’

‘fuck. we’re so fucked.’ 

‘I won’t do it. this is not right.’

‘stay the hell away from me.’

‘you better not miss.’

‘you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.’ 

‘I fucking knew it. I knew you weren’t ready for this.’ 

‘you didn’t see shit!’ 

‘I flunked history at school.’ 

‘tell me you don’t feel something...’

‘I don’t feel shit.’

‘we need to get out of here right now!’

‘you want the good version or the bad version?’

‘what the hell are you? what do you want from me?’

‘are you okay? are you hurt?’

‘I’m pretty good at looking after myself.’

‘I guess we could classify this as ‘quality time’.’

‘doesn’t this remind you of old times, (name)?’

‘maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.’ 

‘after you left, I learned to deal with pressure.’ 

‘do you not watch horror movies?’

‘you didn’t hear that?’

‘I didn’t hear anything.’ 

‘you can’t blame yourself.’

‘we’ve both made mistakes.’

‘I didn’t make it easy on you, (name). I know that.’ 

‘I don’t think either of us expected to be out of each other’s lives for so long.’

‘I’ve missed you, like you wouldn’t believe.’   

‘maybe there’s hope for us after all.’ 

‘there you go, reading my mind again.’ 

‘you always were a good guy. maybe too good for me.’ 

‘I want you back, (name).’ 

‘we were pretty damn good together.’ 

‘I know you better than you think, (name).’

‘admit it, there’s someone else, isn’t there?’

‘give ‘em hell, buddy.’

‘you gotta stop struggling!’

‘do you believe in god?’

‘you wouldn’t believe me even if I tried. hell, I don’t believe and I was there.’ 

‘come on, you’re jumping at shadows!’ 

‘whatever you think you’ve seen, it’s bullshit.’ 

‘take a mental picture and snap the fuck out of it!’

‘you got us into this mess, you better get us out.’

‘you wanna repeat that? that’s what I thought.’ 

‘I’m not sure of anything anymore.’

‘in battle, these things are often difficult to judge.’ 

‘are you on fucking drugs?!’

‘we’ve lost enough today.’ 

‘we can get through this, but only together.’

‘I’ve seen their weakness. they burn in sunlight.’ 

‘like any living being, they can be killed. a stake through the heart.’ 

‘we do this together, okay?’

‘what the fuck are we up against?’

‘never before have I ever seen anything so vicious.’

‘do you believe in demons?’ 

‘if you had asked me that before, I’d have laughed in your face.’

‘like you, I also never believed. but look around you.’ 

‘I don’t want to hurt you!’

‘there’s no point in fighting. not anymore.’ 

‘after all we’ve been through? thanks a lot!’

‘we fought it together and we won.’ 

‘I hope you’re a believer. when those things come back, you’re going to need a higher power to pray to.’ 

‘if I gotta fight these things, there’s no one else I would want by my side.’ 

‘cut the bullshit, (name). I know you and I know you care.’ 

‘trust me, you wanna get that shit out in the open.’

‘why is it that no one ever tells it straight? everyone just makes up bullshit to get by.’ 

‘if we die down here? maybe that’s what we deserve.’ 

‘‘fuck’ doesn’t even start to cover it.’

‘there’s no such thing as luck.’

‘do you mind?’

‘I’m glad you’re here.’

‘how did I know you were going to say that?’ 

‘gee, thanks, (name). you ever think about going into motivational speaking?’ 

‘that’s gotta be about the dumbest question I have ever been asked.’ 

‘I guess I just wanted to let go. you know, be someone new.’

‘you think it bothers me what they call me? i wear that shit like a fucking badge of honor.’ 

‘you and I... we’re not so different.’ 

‘please. please don’t leave me down here alone.’ 

‘don’t quit on me now!’ 

‘truth is so overrated.’ 

‘if you turn, it won’t be you I’m killing.’ 

‘I know you can do it, (name). you just have to have hope!’

‘you’re screwed enough as it is! if you stay with me, there’s no hope for you at all.’

‘(name) could lose his own ass if it wasn’t pinned on him.’

‘embrace the suck.’ 

‘you follow me, or you stay here and rot.’ 

‘it’s good to see you, (name). I thought we lost you.’ 

‘that’s not (name) anymore.’ 

‘you worthless pile of shit!’

‘the enemy of the enemy is our friend!’ 

‘well this looks like the worst place in the goddamn world.’ 

‘I don’t mean you any harm. I swear.’ 

‘honestly? I’m just glad to see a human face.’

‘my father once told me that if something looks like shit, and it smells like shit, you don’t have to taste it to know that it’s shit!’ 

‘I think you need to give your mouth a rest.’ 

‘every time you say something smart, you follow it with something dumb.’ 

‘hope is all we got left.’

‘funny how you can know someone for years and never really know them.’ 

‘a time will come when you will deeply regret this manner.’

‘I don’t carry regrets.’ 

‘it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.’ 

‘not exactly honeymoon material, is it?’

‘my sole objective, (name), is to make you happy. doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re going through, I’ll always put a smile on your face.’

‘I thought I lost you!’

‘thanks for looking out for me.’ 

‘I can’t pretend like this didn’t happen.’ 

‘I still love you, (name).’

‘I knew you would always be there for me.’ 

‘I wanna try us again.’

‘I can’t turn my back on my past.’ 

‘if I didn’t give you a chance, I’d always regret it.’

‘you fucking deserve each other.’

‘I can’t end up like this.’ 

‘we are being judged. god is punishing us all for the mistakes we’ve made.’

‘we all have our reasons, they don’t have to be profound.’ 

‘I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing here.’ 

‘I can hear you thinking.’ 

‘start believing, (name). we’re gonna get out of here and see the sun again.’ 

‘we’ll stand together. it’s the only way.’ 

‘in this place, everything’s possible.’

‘I thought you were dead.’

‘keep your head clear of everything but the task ahead. it’s the only way we’ll live.’ 

‘secrets keep you sick.’ 

‘if you need me, I’m here for you.’ 

‘I’ll always love you.’ 

‘you’ve come to join the fun.’

‘we’re not out of the woods yet. but what I see in front of me, you’re the best. fuck that, the best of the best.’

‘there’s too many of them!’

‘it’s been interesting knowing you.’

‘you’re late and you look like shit.’

‘I’m going to make sure those things stay buried in that hellhole where they belong!’

‘I’ll have to live with that.’ 

‘I learned not to rely on anyone but myself. I was stronger than all of them.’ 

‘I’ll never get used to this job.’ 

#rp memes #rp sentence starters #rp prompts #video game sentence starters #video game prompts #supermassive games prompts #supermassive games sentence starters #house of ashes sentence starters #house of ashes prompts #vampire sentence starters #vampire prompts

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 15

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

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

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 22.9k

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

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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

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

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

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

God, the hayloft.

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

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

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

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

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

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

He snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We do.” He nodded.

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

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

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

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

“No.” He shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Papí,” you teased, smiling.

He groaned, eyes closing for a moment.

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

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

He looked at you with darkened eyes.

“Goes straight to my dick,” he replied.

“Goes straight to my pussy.”

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

“Okay, okay, I’m going.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you put them away?

Do you hand them to Javi?

“Yeah,” he replied. “Me, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More tears rolled down his cheeks, Javi smiling softly.

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

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

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

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

You hummed in the back of your throat.

“Vegas?” you asked.

Kiss.

“Yes.”

Kiss.

“Bahamas?”

Kiss.

“Yes.”

Kiss.

“Truckstop?”

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

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

You laughed.

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

Javier was tired.

Bone fucking tired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Javi,” she gasped.

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

“Javi,” she said again.

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

“Yeah, baby?” he husked.

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

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

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

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

She made him look at her again.

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

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

“Can I kiss you?”

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

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

“Can I put it in?”

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

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

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

“You’re okay with it?” he asked.

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

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

He caressed her cheek when he broke the kiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Javier was in heaven.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Okay—‘m not gonna last.”

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

“Are you feeling better?” she asked.

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

That made her grin, her eyes going darker.

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, it felt so good.

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

It took him a second to respond.

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

“Yeah? How are the thoughts?”

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

“Any time, Javi. I’m happy to help.”

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

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

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

“Thank you for putting up with my bullshit.”

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

She’d narrowed her eyes, eyebrows furrowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The door’s locked,” Javi whispered.

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

Your mind was racing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He grimaced, “Both…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heading for the smaller room, you heard him sigh.

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

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

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

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

Where was this coming from?

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

His hands fell away, looking upset.

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

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

What the fuck did she do to him?

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

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

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

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

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

That had him pulling back quickly to meet your eyes.

“What bothers you?” he asked.

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

“Fuck, sorry,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit,” he said, looking away.

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

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

He met your eyes.

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

“Yes..?”

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry.”

He smiled, “Nothing to be sorry about.”

“What else? Lay it on me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“You're a guest.”

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

“You want to water my plants?”

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

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

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

He chuckled, kissing you quickly.

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

“Nothing else. You’re fucking perfect.”

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

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

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

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

“If you say so,” you sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re exaggerating,” Javi sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t help but giggle.

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

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

The older man grinned.

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

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

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

“You go right ahead.”

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

“I’d love a piece,” you answered.

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

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

His dad nodded, starting to make slices.

“Ice cream, also?” he asked.

“Sounds good to me,” you said.

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

He was placing pie into each of the bowls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The mystery machine,” you added.

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

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

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

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

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

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

How much did cows even cost?

“No,” he answered.

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

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

“I’m sorry?”

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

You looked at the older man.

“What?” you asked.

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

Your attention turned back to your boyfriend.

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See?” Chucho said to Javi.

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

“Fine,” he huffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pressed your lips to his, kissing him softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kissed your palm, keeping his eyes on you.

“You don’t need my luck,” he said.

“I always need you, Javi.”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss you.

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

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

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

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

“This is so fucking embarrassing,” he breathed.

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

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

His dad laughed, Javi’s cheeks pinking up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looking over at Javi, you grinned.

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

He had a small smile on his face.

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

“I’ll still think you’re adorable.”

“I was all knees and elbows.”

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

That made his smile get a little bigger.

“I hope you’ll think so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And college—possibly the Olympics.”

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

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

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

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

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

His cheeks flushed, seeing him swallow hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Javi’s hand gripped onto your thigh, it probably being a lot to hear his dad say that, so you leaned towards him to press your body into his.

“I’m sure your parents are really proud of you, too, Mija,” Chucho continued.

His words felt like a gut punch, having to take a deep breath.

“Not… really…” you said slowly.

“What?” Chucho and Javi asked at the same time.

“Well, I come from a family of doctors,” you replied, looking between them. “A line of them on my dad’s side, and it was expected that as his child, I do the same. So, when I told them I wanted to be a nurse, it didn’t go over well.” You shrugged.

“Why wouldn’t they want you to become a nurse?” Chucho asked, looking confused. “You help people!”

“In their minds, it’s not good enough—which is fucked up, I know. They want us to have the fancy title and degree, the prestige, and all that bullshit to continue the family legacy.” You couldn’t keep the anger out of your tone, your family’s views on your career a sore spot you hated ruminating on. You glanced between both men, “They had money set aside for me to go to medical school, my younger brother, too, and they refused to pay for my nursing degree but paid everything for him to go to an ivy league school. So, yeah.” You slowly let out a breath, looking away from them. “They are not proud of me, one bit. I am a disgrace to the family name as far as they’re concerned.”

“What the fuck,” Javi seethed.

“¡Que gente tan presumida (What pretentious people)!” Chucho said. “No offense, Mija.” He patted your leg.

You snorted, meeting his eyes. “None taken—presumida means pretentious?” you asked.

“Sí,” he replied.

“Then yes—they’re very pretentious.”

The sincerity was clear as he spoke again, “And they’re wrong. Very wrong. They should be proud of you. They’re your parents and raised you to be this amazing person. I don’t understand how they can’t be.” It felt hard to swallow with the lump in your throat.

“I sure as fuck don’t understand,” Javi added, sounding mad. You rubbed his thigh, turning to look at him and seeing his face pinched in anger.

“It’s okay, babe,” you said softly.

He shook his head, “It’s not,” he said. “You’re fucking incredible and doing good work—they should be proud of you no matter what fucking degree you do or don’t have.”

You sighed, “In a perfect world, they would be, yet, it is not a perfect world, and honestly, I’m so over it—this is why I only visit them once a year,” you awkwardly laughed.

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, looking you in the eyes, his tone going softer, “No offense, Cielito, but fuck them. I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re the most amazing woman on the entire fucking planet, and they don’t deserve you.” Your eyes were getting watery, trying to hold back the tears. “Fuck. Them. I will tell you every goddamn day how proud I am of you because you’re perfect to me.”

He crashed his mouth against yours, kissing you so passionately you didn’t even care his dad was next to you on the couch, Javi making sure you felt the truth of his words with his lips pressed to yours.

You couldn’t recall the last time someone told you they were proud of you, especially your parents.

Once you’d set your sights on nursing in high school, they’d done everything possible to get you to change your mind, even going so far as to belittle you and withhold your college fund. You’d paid for school with scholarships and working at a little diner near campus, living as frugally as possible to graduate with zero debt.

Your experience was a stark contrast to your brother’s, but he’d practically been put upon a pedestal from the moment he was born. Though you were the oldest, he was their first son; he’d continue the family name and wanted to follow in your father’s footsteps.

Your parents were proud of him, that you knew for sure because they made sure you were well aware.

And now you couldn’t recall the last time someone told you they were proud of you, and hearing Javi say it had you struggling to hold the tears at bay.

You loved the work you did, you loved your job, and never once had you regretted deciding to do it for a living.

Your lungs were beginning to ache for oxygen, hearing Chucho sigh wistfully on your other side, “Awe, young love,” he said.

Breaking the kiss, you couldn’t help your giggle as you rested your forehead against Javi’s, him groaning out Pop.

“Lo siento, Mijo,” his dad said, patting Javi on the back. “You just remind me of when I was with tu mamá and how I was always stealing kisses—could never get enough. ‘¿Un beso, por favor (One kiss, please)?’ I’d ask, and she’d laugh, always replying, ‘Nunca es solo uno,’ ‘It’s never just one,’ and it wasn’t,” he chuckled.

You gave Javi a quick kiss.

“Sorry, babe,” you said, his eyes opening to meet yours. “You take after your dad—one is never enough.”

He frowned, “It’s not,” he replied. “Need more.” He kissed you again, making you laugh into it.

When you finally separated, Chucho patted your leg again, “Mija?” he said to get your attention, turning your head to look at him. “I know we’ve only just met tonight, but I can tell you”—He put his hand to his chest—“con todo mi corazón (with my whole heart) that I’m very proud of you.” Your breath caught in your throat, feeling the telltale sign tears were imminent. “You treat people with kindness and care, and I can tell from how you look at my son how much you like him,” he said with a knowing smile. “I agree with Javi, you are amazing, and if your own papá won’t be proud of you, you’ve got me now.”

“Can I hug you?” you asked softly.

“Of course,” he answered.

Leaning into him, Chucho wrapped his arms around your shoulders and hugged you tight.

When did your dad hug you last?

And why did his hugs never feel this nice?

It only lasted seconds, and you cherished every one of them, wiping away your unshed tears with your fingers.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Any time, Mija,” he replied, squeezing your shoulder.

Javi had been in your life for only two weeks, yet it felt like you’d known him forever; something about him feeling so familiar, so comforting, like your very soul recognized his and immediately welcomed him to fill the space in your heart—It feeling so right to keep him there, knowing deep down that it was where he was meant to be.

And now there was his dad, this sweet older man who, in one night, felt more like a father to you than your own had since the day you were born.

These two men had known you for such little time and had shown you more care than your actual family, and you were so thankful to have them both.

Warmth was radiating in your chest, feeling so happy, so loved, you couldn’t think about it too much, or you’d start crying, so you focused back on the photo album sitting in your lap.

“Well, enough about me,” you said, wiping at your eyes. “Let’s get back to the pictures.”

Javi’s hand stroked your thigh as you turned the page to find his senior portrait, his hair over the tips of his ears, wearing a black suit, a big beaming grin on his face.

That was another thing you loved as you’d gone through the pictures, seeing that from a baby, he was always smiling, and moving into his teens looked to be a goofball—always laughing with his friends and cousins, making silly faces at the camera, and just having fun.

You’d even lost count of how many times you spotted that dimple of his.

His shoulders got broader, but he was still all lanky and growing into himself.

There were photos of him dressed up for dances, wearing his letterman jacket, working with his dad on the ranch, and more swim meets.

“I noticed there aren’t any more pictures of him playing soccer,” you said, turning another page to see him folding tamales at a table with his tía María, Chucho’s older sister, his mom in the background at the stove.

“Oh,” Chucho chuckled. “He hated running, and I’m sorry, Mijo,” he said, leaning forward to look at Javi. “He wasn’t very good.”

A laugh slipped from your mouth, quickly composing yourself.

Your boyfriend sighed loudly next to you, “I still fucking hate running.”

“I’m surprised he’s still in such great shape,” Chucho said, “with how much he hates exercise.”

“He definitely gets his cardio,” you mumbled.

“What was that, Mija?”

“That everybody hates cardio,” you answered quickly.

Javi snorted.

“Anyways,” you said, flipping through more pages and looking at all the photos until you stopped on one. “Oh! You went to prom with Anna! From the farmers market!”

She looked almost the same.

“Anna’s bakery has great pan dulce,” Chucho said.

You paused, suddenly putting a lot of things together—her familiarity with Javi, them going to prom together, her mentioning the lookout, him saying he got caught fucking at the lookout.

Gasping, you looked at your boyfriend. “With Anna?” you whispered.

Confusion came over his face.

“With Anna, what?”

“The lookout.”

His eyes widened, clearing his throat as he looked away, mumbling, “Yeah.”

You found this hilarious and couldn’t believe you hadn’t put two and two together sooner.

There were a lot of pictures of Javi smiling with friends, and finally, his graduation pictures in his cap and gown, his parents as always looking so happy.

The summer after high school, he spent his time at the swimming pool practicing, working on the ranch, and hanging out with his family.

It got to him starting college, more photos like the one of him and his mom he had in his bedroom of them standing in front of the Texas A&M sign, but with both of his parents, the beginnings of a mustache on his cute face.

You had not been prepared for college Javi, unable to stop the gasp that fell from your lips at the first collegiate swim meet picture—him standing with a bronze medal around his neck, his body filled out more with all of the lean muscle, and wearing the maroon speedo that hid nothing. The picture was old, but you were pretty sure you even saw abs.

Oh, he absolutely had to fight off all of the girls; there was no way he didn’t. You would’ve been all over him. Even though he was very good-looking then, you preferred him how he was now, loving that he was softer but still so strong.

There weren’t as many pictures as before with him being away from home. The majority were of him swimming or when Javi would return to the ranch for the holidays, his mustache grown in and having fun with his family. It looked like his parents did their best to attend all of his competitions that took place in Texas, Chucho telling you they were more than happy to make the drives to see him swim, and it made you smile at how much they cared.

His teammates snapped pictures during their training sessions, finding candids of Javi laughing and smiling through the pages.

On his school breaks, he’d work with his dad, seeing photos of him on a fully grown Caballito, her copper-colored hair practically glowing in the Texas sun. There was a cute picture of him and his mom in the kitchen, her laughing as he pulled something off of a high shelf for her.

His shoulders seemed to get broader, his mustache fuller, and his lips were always curled up.

He looked like he was having a great time in school, so focused on swimming and his academics, the letters showing he made honor roll put into the album, term after term, and winning more gold medals.

It got to his senior year seeing more competitions and holidays he spent at home with his parents.

Turning the page, you physically jolted, seeing a picture of Javi and a young Lorraine standing in the living room you were sitting in, him smiling boyishly and looking so happy, while her lips were closed, barely a smile on her perfectly done up face, the annoyance clear in her eyes that she wanted to be anywhere else.

“He brought her home on spring break,” Chucho said. Glancing at him, he was frowning. “She refused to eat the dinner Antonia had made—not a single bite. It really hurt mi amor.”

Anger was swirling in your belly at Lorraine’s audacity.

“Lorraine,” you spat out her name, “has zero fucking taste, and I would literally murder to be able to taste your wife’s food. Like, I’d happily go to prison for just one bite. Ugh, she makes me so mad.”

Javi’s arm went around you.

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

You looked at him. “It’s not,” you said. “I would never fathom refusing food someone made for me, and your mom’s at that?! There’s a chance if we run into that dumb woman, I might actually fight her.”

Chucho chuckled beside you. “Me caí de lo mas bien tu novia, Mijo (I really like your girlfriend, my son). Cásate con ella, por favor (Marry her, please).”

“Sí, Pop,” Javi said.

“Quiero nietos (I want grandchildren),” Chucho added. “Nietos humanos (Human grandchildren).”

“Esperar sentado,” Javi said through his teeth.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

He sighed. “Literally? ‘Wait sitting,’ but it’s used like ‘Don’t hold your breath.’”

“Oh, okay.” You didn’t know why a wave of sadness washed over you. “Another way of saying, ‘Don’t get your hopes up.’”

“Yeah.”

Focusing back on the photos, the next was Javi with a gold medal around his neck, grinning with his arm over Lorraine’s shoulders, a small smile on her face.

You knew it was towards the end of the swimming season, there being many competitions both at his university and away at others.

His next medal was bronze, his smile much more subdued than the previous.

Another bronze, his smile not even reaching his eyes that weren’t as bright as usual, his girlfriend next to him looking mad.

There were more candids with his teammates, finding Lorraine popping up in some of them and Javi not smiling as much, his friends looking uncomfortable.

The following competition, your eyebrows furrowed, seeing his body glistening from clearly being in the water, but there was nothing around his neck, his teeth not showing as he barely smiled between his parents, who still looked proud of their son.

You didn’t come across any more photos of him with his teammates, the next showing that he was at an event to try and get a spot on the national team. Antonia and Chucho were there; it took place a couple of hours away from Laredo in San Antonio.

There was a photo of him and his mom before the competition, and something didn’t look right, your eyes taking in his face.

His smile was so small, his eyes dimmed, almost appearing nervous—which would make sense since this was the event that would determine if he’d go pro, but it was odd not seeing the same confidence from previous pictures and how unhappy he looked, it all making you frown.

He didn’t make the team.

His swimming career was over.

The photos of him afterward, the smile was forced, and you could see the defeat, the sadness, Lorraine looking irritated, and it had your stomach falling through the floor.

It was abrupt that the following photos were of his graduation, knowing at least a couple of months had passed, and it had your frown deepening that he hadn’t seen his parents in that time. There were pictures of the group of students in their caps and gowns, heads so tiny you couldn’t make out where Javi was, and one of him walking on the stage, it taken so far away you could barely tell it was him.

On the next page, you paused, sucking in a breath.

In all of the photos, you’d grown used to seeing this bright, happy boy, always smiling and laughing, clearly loving life.

In this photo, he was standing in his maroon cap and gown, Lorraine next to him dressed the same, his arm over her shoulder while she gave a polite smile, and Javi looked tired.

Not just tired, he looked depressed, defeated, hopeless; the happiness in his eyes faded away, his mouth set in a tight-lipped smile.

In the next picture, his parents were with them, looking visibly uncomfortable.

It could have been school, stress from his senior year, and not making the swim team catching up to him, but deep down, you knew the reason for how he looked, and your heart was beginning to shatter.

How hadn’t he seen the person Lorraine was from the beginning?

How had he missed the red flags?

You were looking at pictures and could spot them, so glaringly obvious; his parents were well aware, too.

The album came to a sudden stop, the remaining pages left blank; the reasoning went unspoken because you all knew what happened right after graduation and how things had turned out with Lorraine—him trying to end things and her claiming to be pregnant in order to keep him, her father forcing Javi to marry her, and him bolting the first chance he got when he found out there was no pregnancy.

Chucho carefully took the photo album from you and shut it, feeling like he was closing the last chapter of Javi’s life where there was happiness, him handing you the final one without a word, it not even half full.

Your hands were trembling, your guts churning because you didn’t know what you were about to see, and you were dreading what you’d find, having to take a second and inhale a deep breath.

It was like pulling off a bandaid, quickly opening it, your hand moving to your mouth as you gasped.

It was his DEA new recruit portrait taken after he completed basic training.

You barely recognized him.

It was his face, making out the shape of his jaw and nose and his familiar mustache, your brain telling you it was Javi, but his eyes were so tired, no more brightness shining in the dark pools, his mouth in a straight line, looking so drastically different from the happy boy you saw growing up that he could’ve been an entirely different person.

From the date on the photo, at least two years had passed since his college graduation, and it looked as though he hadn’t seen his parents in that time.

Tears were forming in your eyes, trying to hold back the sob that was threatening to spill.

Earlier, you wondered when his world changed, when things became black and white for him, and he stopped seeing the magic in life. You assumed it was Colombia, and now you had an answer—it was before. He was broken before he even went—before he witnessed the horrors and went through unimaginable hell. You watched him dim, his brightness fade, Javi pushing down his happiness, hiding it away in order to survive.

From the following picture, you knew time had passed, him standing in a city that looked South American, assuming it was Colombia, aviators covering his eyes, his mouth frowning.

In the next photo, a man stood with him, smiling while Javi looked grumpy.

“Who’s he?” you asked.

“That’s Steve…” Javi said slowly. “Pop, where’d you get this photo?”

“Steve’s lovely wife, Connie sent them,” the older man answered. “She’d send them every year so we could see how you were doing.”

The next page showed what looked to be a Thanksgiving celebration, if the turkey was anything to go by, Javi sitting on a couch with a beer, frowning as he glared at the camera.

The photos covered holidays, birthdays, and candid shots you assumed Connie took.

They spanned years, watching Javi aging, hardening, lines getting prominent in his brow, and always looking so angry. By the twentieth photo of no smile in sight, you let the tears fall, the sob finally breaking free.

It was too much.

This wasn’t your Javi in these pictures—he was no longer recognizable, and your heart felt like it was splitting into a thousand pieces seeing him so miserable.

Your boyfriend was turning your head, sounding concerned, when he asked, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

The tears were coming unbidden, now crying hard, wracking sobs shaking your body.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. Javi pulled you into his chest, your face pressed to his shirt as his hand rested comfortingly on your head, the other rubbing circles on your back. “You were so sad.” Your words were muffled. “So mad—so unhappy. I’m sorry for crying—I just want you happy. Please tell me you’re okay now. Are you happy again?”

His stomach plummeted, guilt squeezing his heart so tight it was almost hard to breathe.

He was thankful his dad took the album; Javier moved her into his lap to hug her against him, her body shaking as she sobbed.

Pressing kisses into her hair, he reassured her, “I’m happy, Cielito. I’m so fucking happy—you make me happy. I’m okay, baby. Everything’s okay. Please don’t cry.”

I’m not worth it, was left unsaid.

He wasn’t worth crying over, not after seeing what he’d put his family through—what Cielito was going through now.

It had never once crossed his mind how his choices had affected those who loved him, and her reaction had him feeling like shit. She’d only looked at pictures, fucking pictures, and she was so upset; he couldn’t fathom what it was like for his parents. They lived it and saw in real-time him change for the fucking worst.

Chucho had a solemn look on his face. “Voy a traer le un poco de agua (I’m going to bring her some water),” he said, squeezing Javier’s shoulder. He nodded at his dad, silently thanking him, as the other man got up and made his way to the kitchen.

Wetness was beginning to seep into the flannel of his shirt from her tears, holding her tighter against him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes starting to burn. “I promise, Cielito, I’m happy—the happiest I’ve been in my entire life. You make me the happiest man.” His words were getting thicker. “Thank you,” he choked out, his throat closing up and having to swallow hard.

Her head came up, face all wet and puffy, to look him in the eyes, and he still thought she was so beautiful.

“You promise you’re happy?” she asked, sounding stuffed up.

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “So fucking happy.”

Wiggling her arm from between their bodies to hold up her hand, she stuck out her pinky.

“Pinky promise me you’re happy,” she said seriously.

It made him smile, chuckling softly.

“A pinky promise?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“A pinky promise.” She nodded. “Nothing more sacred—breaking one results in unimaginable consequences.”

He wrapped his pinky around her smaller one, locking them tight together.

“I pinky promise that I’m happy,” he said softly.

Her eyes were big, her lips tipping up in a smile.

“I’m so fucking glad you are.”

Unlatching his finger, he gently grabbed her hand to bring it to his mouth, kissing each of her knuckles.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I just need help understanding why you dated her?”

Sighing, he looked away, lacing their fingers together to hold her hand, marveling at how much smaller hers was in his palm, her skin so soft compared to his rough gun-calloused fingers.

“I was young,” he said after a second. “I was young and really fucking dumb. I was busy with swimming and school.” Meeting her eyes again, he continued, “Swimming took up most of my free time—it was a lifestyle, eating a certain way, always practicing. I, uh, wanted to do it professionally. Since I was a kid, I dreamed of going to the Olympics. Anyways, I didn’t go out much, and if I wanted to get laid, I knew girls who were down for a good time and nothing more.”

She snorted, “Fucking knew you were fighting off the ladies.”

“Not… really,” he replied. “Girls like football players, not swimmers.”

“Well, I’d choose you over a football player any day,” she said, leaning in to peck him on the tip of his nose.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “Anyways, I wasn’t popular. I wasn’t popular in high school, either. No one cares about swimming—this is Texas; everyone only fucking cares about football. Senior year, during spring break, I went to Corpus Christi with my teammates, us wanting to relax and have some fun before the championships and trials—senior year is when you break or make it. Lorraine happened to be at a bar we were in one night and offered to buy me a drink. I was so fucking surprised. She was popular. Everyone knew who she was because her boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, got drafted into the NFL.” He squeezed her hand, looking away. “I liked the attention,” he said quietly. “I liked that someone popular like her had taken an interest in me. Figured it’d be a one-night thing, her just wanting to fuck around, but she asked me to be her boyfriend, and again, I was young and dumb, thinking with my dick—sex on the regular and with the mayor’s daughter? I was in. I ignored that she was so fucking shallow and catty. I ignored how she looked at and treated my parents. I ignored that she started controlling what I could and couldn’t do, making me miss practices and not letting me hang out with my friends—it had to be all about her twenty-four-fucking-seven. It had to be the Lorraine show, her always putting up a fight when I had a competition or practice.” He sighed. “It was my first relationship. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing—assumed that I’d eventually fall in love with her, and after school, we’d be happy, that she’d be better and nicer, but I was so fucking exhausted.” He felt tired talking about it. “My plans to go pro were shot, school ended, and things didn’t get any better, they got fucking worse, and you know how it fucking ended.”

“You ignored the red flags because being with her made you feel like you were somebody?”

He sighed.

“Yeah. The dumbest fucking mistake I’ve ever made.”

“She… ruined your life.”

“I know,” he whispered.

He saw the sadness on her face, “She… ruined you.”

It felt like he’d been stabbed in the gut because it was true he’d let Lorraine fuck him up so badly it completely ruined him, and to this day, she was still trying to mess him up—like interrupting his date to try and make him look bad.

Since the day he took off and left her at the altar, Javier had been trapped in a cycle of guilt, always making himself smaller around her, walking on eggshells in her presence like it had been all his fault and wanting her forgiveness for the bad decision he’d made all those years ago.

Sitting here with Cielito, looking at the pictures, thinking about all that had happened, there were no more reasons for him to feel guilty—whatever he deserved for leaving her, he’d more than paid, he’d atoned, and he wasn’t going to feel bad anymore.

Anger was threading through his belly, thinking about all the shit she’d put him through, how she had ruined his fucking life with zero remorse. He thought about Danny’s wedding, her being happy while he was struggling, and then the moment she saw him on a date, happy, her trying to ruin it for him like it was her life’s mission to make sure Javier was miserable.

What did he do to make this woman hate him so much?

In his opinion, he’d been a good boyfriend—treated her the same way his father treated his mother because that’s how he’d been taught.

He never cheated—didn’t once cross his mind.

His only sin was leaving her at the altar after she’d lied.

Javier wasn’t the only one affected by Lorraine’s scorn; that was obvious to him now, she’d hurt his parents, his family, and years later, here she was, hurting the love of his life.

He no longer felt guilt; it was gone, fizzled away by the burning rage over all of the injustice of what she’d done and, to this day, continued to do.

Never again would he feel sorry for her.

Never again would she hurt the ones he loved.

Never again would he waste a single thought on her.

Never again.

“I wouldn’t change a single thing,” he said.

Cielito’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What? Javi, your dreams—”

“Were just dreams of a kid,” he interrupted, unlacing their fingers to caress her cheek. “It wasn’t meant to be. All of the shit that’s happened to me, all of it, the good and mostly bad, I wouldn’t change a single fucking thing because it all led me to you.” Tears were brimming in her eyes, her lip beginning to tremble. “I’d do it all again,” he said truthfully. “I’d go through all of the pain and misery, fuck, I’d walk barefoot through hell if I knew you were waiting for me. You’re worth it—you’ll always be fucking worth it, mi Cielito—you’re my little heaven, and the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Oh, Javi,” she gasped, wrapping her arms around him to hug him hard as she crushed her mouth against his, kissing him fervently. He held her around the back, his other hand cradling her face, moaning when she sucked on his tongue.

All he said was true—everything he’d been through was worth getting to sit here kissing the woman who held his heart.

God, he loved her so much.

It was getting harder, each and every day, to keep how he felt to himself and not say that four-letter word out loud. It popped into his head every time he looked at her or thought of her, having to mentally swat it away to avoid slipping up.

Javier was scared since he’d been burned in his last relationship.

What he didn’t mention to Cielito was things weren’t always bad with Lorraine; they started out pretty good, which he now recognizes was her manipulating him, only turning sour after a couple of weeks when he was far too gone on her to get out.

He had zero doubts the same would play out with Cielito, especially with how she reacted tonight, showing that she truly cared about him. It made his chest squeeze at how upset she’d been over his unhappiness, how she needed to make sure he was okay now and happy again.

Lorraine hadn’t given a shit about him, but Cielito? He could see it in her eyes, and how she looked at him, the words she said, her touches, all of it made him feel pretty fucking sure she loved him.

So, he wanted to take his time, do things differently, and allow them a chance to really get to know each other, which made him want to laugh since their track record showed they had a severe lack of self-control. He just didn’t want to rush things, and fuck all of this up, because he knew what they had was real, and he needed to be positive that she was as sure of how she felt for him as he was with her. Deep down, Javier knew that she was it; his future plans had her by his side—marriage, house, dog—she was who he wanted those things with, but the tendrils of doubt sprouting in his brain fuelled his insecurity over being damaged goods—she’d said it herself, he was ruined, and it was hard to believe someone would want to be with him.

He didn’t know what he’d do if he revealed how he felt, bared his soul, and gave her that final piece of himself, only to have it all come crumbling down because he fucked up—it’d destroy him to lose her.

Her tongue was sliding along his, tasting the apple pie and ice cream from earlier.

His dad loudly cleared his throat, “I’m still here,” he said, amused.

They separated from each other, breathing a little harder.

“Sorry, Chucho,” Cielito said, pushing her face into his neck to hide it.

“Don’t apologize,” his dad replied, waving away her words as he approached them with a glass of water. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Mija. I brought you some water.”

She sat up, looking at his dad with a little smile as she accepted the cup with thanks, Chucho taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

She downed the glass quickly, leaning forward to set it on the coffee table.

“Well, I’m sorry that looking at pictures was not as fun as I thought it’d be,” Chucho said.

“I loved looking at them!” she replied. Javier enjoyed how she leaned her head against his shoulder, getting comfortable in his lap while talking to his dad. “I loved seeing Javi growing up and all the pictures of his mom. The end, though, was a real doozy.”

He hugged her closer to him.

“Yes,” Chucho said, frowning. “I know what you mean—the smiles.”

“The smiles,” she said sadly, nodding.

“You want to know something, Mija?” his dad asked, looking at her with sparkling eyes.

“What?”

“They came back,” Chucho said, smiling and reaching to pat her leg that was dangling off the couch with how she was seated sideways in Javier’s lap. “Around the time he met you. Coincidence? I think not,” he chuckled.

She giggled.

“I’m happy I could help,” she replied, leaning up to kiss Javer’s chin.

He couldn’t help himself, moving to press his lips to her forehead, “You feeling better?” he asked.

She looked at him, “Yeah.”

“Still want to go for a ride on Sombra?”

Her eyes widened, sitting up.

“Yes!” she answered, nodding her head.

It made him smile, his hands pulling her face in to kiss him, breaking it after a moment to look at her, “Let’s go.” He turned his head towards his dad. “We’re gonna go for a ride, then come back to say bye.”

“You two have fun,” Chucho replied. “Don’t get caught up touring the land,” he teased.

“¡Dios mío, Pop (Oh my god, Pop)!” he groaned.

His dad laughed.

The sun was beginning to lower on the horizon, the temperature cooling as Javi took you to the horse barn, the large sliding door already open. You watched in interest when he took you into the tack room, seeing the equipment needed to ride a horse and the different saddles in varying shades of brown leather neatly organized on racks jutting out from the wooden walls, Javi gathering a chocolate-colored one, and carrying it easily to Sombra’s stall.

You opened the door for him, bringing an apple with you that the horse happily took when you presented it in the flat of your palm. Sombra made that happy low-pitched sound through her nose, nickering as she swallowed her treat and making you smile.

Javi had set down the saddle, grabbing a soft pad hanging on the door and putting it up on the horse’s back.

“This is so she doesn’t get overheated,” he said.

Sombra was as cool as a cucumber, not bothered at all by what he was doing, standing still while you petted her nose.

Your eyes went wide, watching as Javi picked up the saddle from the ground with a soft groan, the sleeves of his red flannel shirt pushed up, letting you see the muscles in his forearms work as he smoothly lifted it up on top of the horse’s glossy black back. He wiggled it a bit, his face screwed up in concentration while he got it how he wanted, walking around to the other side to pull through the straps and start cinching them tight to ensure it stayed on.

He came towards you, grabbing one last strap that went around her front called the breast collar, Javi scratching her ear as he got it buckled in.

His voice took on that soft tone he used with the animals, petting her neck, “¿Te gusta la atencion (Do you like the attention)?” he asked her. She snorted in response, him smiling and beginning to walk around her to make sure everything was nice and snug.

He walked over to grab her bridle hanging on the wall, you moving out of the way so he could work. You were fascinated with him standing beside her head and putting an arm up and between her ears to grab the leather.

“Why do you do it like that? Your arm’s at such a weird angle.”

He smiled at you, “So, I have control of her head.” Demonstrating, he moved his arm gently from left to right, her head moving with it.

“Is she, uh, comfortable?” you asked as he got part of it into her mouth and started getting the thin leather straps up onto her head, carefully moving her ears forward to get over them.

“The bit—what goes in her mouth just sits on gums. She’s not uncomfortable.” He was standing in front of her face, making you smile when he made sure her long bangs were neatly placed along her nose and out from under the bridle, smoothing them out. “Muy bonita (very pretty),” he murmured. Making adjustments to the leather, he spoke, focused on what he was doing, “She’s one of the better horses—doesn’t put up a fight to get it in.”

“She seems very well-behaved.”

“Oh, she’s wonderful. Isn’t that right, Cariño (Sweetheart)?” he said in that sweet tone that made you feel like you were going to melt, him scratching her ears affectionately and hearing her nicker happily.

He went about getting everything tightened, and once satisfied, he gathered the reins, clicking his tongue, “Vamos, Sombra (Let’s go, Sombra),” he said, leading her out of the stall, with you walking beside him.

“So, we get on outside?” you asked, feeling a little nervous.

“Yeah,” he said, looking over at you. His hand went to the small of your back. “It’ll be okay. You’re not gonna fall.”

“I’d die from embarrassment.”

“It’s not gonna happen.”

“Okay.”

Once out in the open, in front of the barn, Sombra stopped walking, Javi having you stand next to her in front of him, him bending his knees and holding his interlaced hands down.

“What am I doing?” you asked, looking down at him.

He smiled.

“Grab onto the saddle horn, step, and I’ll boost you up—throw your other leg over the horse.”

“You’re going to lift me up..?” The uncertainty was apparent in your voice.

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t you say something about a mounting block? The thing to step on and get up, couldn’t I use that?” you bargained.

He sighed, raising an eyebrow. “We don’t need the block. Step,” he ordered, nodding at his hands. “I’ve got you, Cielito.”

“What if I’d prefer the block?”

His eyebrows dipped together. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

You pressed your hands to your face.

“I don’t think I’m coordinated enough,” you mumbled.

“It’s easy.”

“It’s a lot of steps.”

“It’s three steps.”

“Three too many.”

“If you don’t do it like this, I’m gonna pick you up and throw you on top.”

Your hands fell away.

“You wouldn’t.”

He smirked.

“I would, and you fucking know it. Grab, step, other leg over the saddle. Let’s go, baby.”

The idea of Javi picking you and tossing you on top of a horse was more humiliating than the possibility of losing your balance and falling on your ass, thus giving you the courage to stretch your arms up to grab onto the jutting horn and step your foot onto his waiting hands, thankful you were wearing flats. You squealed at suddenly finding yourself leaving the ground, Javi grunting as he lifted you.

“Throw your leg over,” he said through his teeth, your hands having a death grip on the hard leather, doing as he ordered, his hands moving to your ass to push you into the seat.

“See,” he said, breathing a little harder once you were comfortably seated. You looked down at him, his hair falling messily over his forehead, hands on his hips, grinning. “Easy.”

You sighed. “Sure, easy, Mr. Bossy Pants.”

His head tilted down. “These aren’t my bossy pants; you’re thinking of my slacks.”

“Okay, smartass. Are you coming up?”

He laughed, meeting your eyes.

“Not yet,” he said with a shake of his head. “Gotta lead you through the gate.”

“Okay.”

The leather was smooth on your bare thighs, feeling a bit weird to have your feet dangling, gripping tightly onto the saddle with being so high up. Sombra was so tall, and it had nerves flittering in your belly about falling off.

With the reins in hand, Javi got Sombra moving, your eyes taking in the scenery as he led you along the side of the barn and through a gate, seeing the land stretch for miles, all yellow grass and small hills rolling along the mostly flat land, trees scattered few and far between.

Once the gate was closed, he was handing you the leather reins, his hands grabbing onto the horn, your head looking down the side of the horse to watch him put his foot in the stirrup, the muscles in his forearms tensing as he jumped up with a grunt, easily getting his other leg over, and pushing you as far forward as possible to settle in behind you.

His body was pressed close into yours, feeling him so solid at your back, his arm moving around your middle like a band of iron to keep you firmly against him. His head was beside yours, turning to press his lips close to your ear, “This okay?” he whispered, unable to stop yourself from shivering.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“Still worried you’re gonna fall?”

“No.”

“Good.” He kissed the skin of your neck. “Let me know if you want me to slow down, okay?”

“Okay.”

He took the reins from you, lightly pulling on them to get Sombra’s attention. The line of his legs were pressed to the backs of your own, feeling as his calves squeezed the horse’s ribs, clicking his tongue, “¡Vamos, Sombra (Let’s go, Sombra)!”

She started walking, your hips moving back and forth from the motions, your upper body almost swaying from side to side, Javi giving you time to get used to it before squeezing his legs harder to get her to move faster.

You tensed up with how she was making you bounce.

“Relax, baby,” Javi said into your ear. “Let your hips move with her.”

You were very aware of Javi pressed along the line of your body, relaxing like he said and letting yourself go with the flow of the horse’s movements and him behind you—trying to ignore how he was flush against your ass and the way every time your hips moved forward, his were pushing into yours. Your skin had heated from the contact, not surprised by the inkling of want simmering in your tummy, welcoming the wind on your hot face as Sombra moved swiftly over the land.

The ride had smoothed out, feeling like you were on a rocking horse, your center pulling forward and back, unable to keep from smiling at how comfortable you were, knowing you were safe with him keeping you close, looking out at the landscape in front of you, the golden grass shimmering in the sun, and spotting cattle in the distance.

“That’s better,” he said. “Love having you with me.” His hand at your middle moved up to squeeze your breast, gasping as he kissed your shoulder. “Love having you so close. Do you like this?” he asked with his lips to your ear.

“You feeling me up while horseback riding?” you asked loud enough for him to hear over the breeze.

You felt his chest shake, his warm chuckle making your spine tingle, him squeezing your flesh again.

“I know you like that.” The way his voice went deeper had the words shooting straight to your cunt. “I bet you’re already wet”—he ghosted his fingers down your body, getting under your dress to palm your pussy—”I bet you’d let me touch you,” he purred.

Your heart was hammering in your chest because he wasn’t wrong; you’d absolutely let him finger you, but the rational part of your brain was telling you that coming and falling off a horse would be such an embarrassing way to die—you could picture the newspaper headline, ‘Orgasm Leads to Rider’s Death.’

“I cannot believe you are seducing me on a horse!” you exclaimed. “Hand above the waist, mister. You are driving a moving vehicle.”

“She’s a horse, not a car…” he said slowly in amusement, his arm holding your middle again.

“And yet, she’s still considered a mode of transportation just of the non-motorized variety, and driving impaired could lead to lethal consequences.”

He snorted. “Hand will stay above the waist—don’t want your pussy causing a horse accident.”

“I’ve heard pussy is the number one cause of all fatal horse accidents.”

He laughed. “You’re a fucking liar.”

“Hey, I’m not willing to risk finding out if it’s true or not.”

“Fine, baby,” he said, kissing your neck. “Ready to go faster?”

“Let’s see how much horsepower this baby has,” you replied, playfully patting Sombra’s neck.

He huffed out an amused breath.

“If you want me to slow down, tell me.”

“Sounds good!”

Your hands were back to holding onto the saddle horn between your thighs, Javi’s legs pressing harder into the horse’s sides, hearing him click his tongue. She started going, not a full gallop, but still fast enough to have you laughing while Javi kept you from bouncing out of the seat.

Wind was whipping past you, able to feel the powerful movements of Sombra below you, all of it exhilarating. Javi tightened his arm around you, keeping you secure against him.

“Put your arms out,” he said.

“What?”

“Put your arms out—I’ve got you.”

It was nerve-wracking, having to work up the courage before finally stretching out your arms.

With the wind rushing by, Sombra practically floating over the ground, moving so smoothly it felt like you were flying.

It had you breathless, in awe, laughing happily at how incredible it was.

You could hear her hooves hitting the ground and the air moving past your ears, your eyes beginning to water, practically able to imagine you were some kind of bird gliding over the land, hovering above the terrain.

“Are you having fun?” Javi asked.

“Yeah!” you laughed. “This is so fucking amazing!”

“Grab onto the saddle. We’re gonna slow down.”

Doing as he said, you saw he was taking you up a hill, a large oak tree at the top, the limbs twisting out from the trunk. Sombra slowed down the closer you got until Javi had her stopping, him easily hopping off and tying her to the tree.

“What are we doing?” you asked.

“You’ll see,” he said, moving to stand beside you. “Bring your leg over so both are on this side.” He patted the saddle.

It took some maneuvering, getting your leg up and over, squeaking in surprise when Javi grabbed you by the waist and pulled you off, setting you gently on the ground.

“You okay?” he asked.

Smiling, you replied, “I’m wonderful.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, grabbing your hand. “Come on.”

Following him, he led you to the other side of the tree, him sitting down at the base of it with a groan, resting his back on the trunk.

“Sit,” he said, patting the space between his open legs.

It made you giggle, him practically pulling you down and getting you where he wanted with your back pressed to his front, leaning your head against his shoulder to look up at him. Your fingers touched his jaw, moving his face to meet your eyes.

“You just wanted to sit under a tree?” you asked.

He kissed you softly, looking at you when he pulled back, his hand coming up to stroke along your cheek.

“No,” he shook his head. “I wanted you to see that,” he said, pointing in front of you both.

Looking forward, the land stretched as far as your eyes could see, lumpy with small hills, the sky awash in blues, purples, and pinks, while the horizon was a bright orangish-yellow glow, like a lake of liquid fire pooled in the distance.

He brought you here to watch the sunset, and it was breathtakingly beautiful.

“It’s so fucking pretty,” you said in awe.

“Yeah,” he answered softly. “You are.”

You turned to look at him, his eyes already on your face, looking at you with such a sweet expression it had your heart skipping a beat that he’d rather stare at you than the picturesque view.

“I know,” you said.

He looked a little surprised.

“That you’re beautiful?”

“No.” You shook your head, and he frowned, about to speak, but you stopped him with a press of your finger to his lips. “We’ll deal with my self-esteem later. I know how you feel.” You saw him swallow hard, his eyes looking a little panicked. “Don’t stress,” you continued. “I just need you to know that I’m very aware—those big brown eyes of yours hide nothing.” You caressed his cheek, him leaning into it. “Your last relationship fucked you up, and I’m now up to speed on just how bad it was, and completely understand that you need time. That’s fine with me, and I’ll wait however long you need because I feel the exact same way, fighting for my life every goddamn day, not saying it out loud since I think it’s important that you say it first. So, Javi, I know how you feel, and I feel the same, take your time, and when you’re ready, know I’ll say it back without any hesitation.”

His eyes had softened, getting misty.

“I really fucking like you, Cielito.”

“I really fucking like you, too, Javi.”

“Thank you for understanding.” He cupped your jaw, leaning in to kiss you hard, feeling it in the press of his lips; I love you.

He was happy.

So fucking happy.

Knowing she felt the same way, that she understood what he was going through, and giving him the reassurance that it was okay that he takes his time had a giant invisible weight lifting off his chest and making him feel like he could breathe easier.

She never stopped surprising him, somehow always knowing what he needed to hear, feeling like she truly understood him—she just got him, she cared about him, she loved him.

Since his early twenties, it had felt like he’d had to deal with one bad thing after another, never catching a single fucking break with the amount of shit he had to go through, feeling as though he was at odds with the world—that it was out to get him and he was meant to live some miserable existence of just surviving, and doing his best to make it to the next day.

He didn’t feel like that anymore.

No, his life had changed for the better—there was hope, happiness, calm; he no longer felt like he was swimming against the current, trying to keep his head above water, but for once felt relaxed, going with the flow and letting the waves soothe him as he embarked on this new part of his life, where the only thing working against him was his own thoughts and insecurities.

His own enemy was himself, and that was fixable; with time and reassurance, he’d get where he needed to be, and it just felt so fucking nice to know there was an end in sight, a light at the end of the tunnel, hope.

He had hope.

He had something to live for.

He had someone to live for.

And she felt the same.

He smiled on their ride back to the barn and while holding her hand as they walked to the house; it didn’t leave his face as he changed out of his cowboy boots for his regular boots by the backdoor or when his dad called them into the living room, his cheeks beginning to hurt, unable to keep himself from wrapping his arms around her middle from behind, placing smiling kisses on her shoulders and neck as she giggled, them awkwardly shuffle-walking towards the front of the house.

“¡Dios mío, Mijo (Oh my god, my son)!” his dad said as they entered the room. “¡Deja que respire (Let her breathe)!”

He pressed a loud smacking kiss to her cheek that had her laughing.

“Lo siento, Pop,” he said, not feeling sorry at all. He finally looked at his dad sitting on the couch, a lone photo album on the coffee table, along with a Polaroid camera and a sweating bottle of beer on a corkboard coaster. “Me gusta mucho (I like her a lot).” He kissed her cheek again. “No me puedo controlar (I can’t control myself).”

Chucho nodded as he spoke, “Sí, sí claro, te gusta, la quieres (Yes, yes, of course, you like her, you love her).” His dad laughed. “Ya me di cuenta (I’ve noticed)—Eres obvio (You’re obvious).” His attention turned to Cielito, “Mija, how did you like the ride?”

“I loved it!” she answered. “Was a little scared, but it was so much fun once we got going!”

His dad smiled brightly. “Yes, I love riding—so freeing. I’m sure my son would love to take you out again. His primo (cousin), Aarón, would probably let you borrow Dulce. She’s a sweetheart—very easygoing.”

“I met her!” she replied. “She was lovely. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to ride alone.”

Javier was imagining teaching her how to ride on her own, knowing how bright her smile would be when she got the hang of it—he should take her riding again.

His father said what he was thinking, “Well, Javi will have to take you out more—get you used to it.”

“I think I’d like that.” She turned her head to kiss Javier’s chin, him moving to get her lips.

Chucho chuckled. “Before you leave,” the older man said, “May I get a picture?” He leaned forward to pick up the camera.

“Oh my god,” Cielito replied excitedly. “I’m album-worthy?”

His dad laughed, “Mija, you are absolutely album-worthy! May I?”

“I am so okay with it,” she said, looking at Javier and meeting his eyes. “Is it okay with you, babe?”

“Of course, baby.” He kissed the side of her head. “Gotta get you in the album.”

She grinned, his dad practically jumping up from the couch.

“Gracias,” Chucho said, lifting the camera to his face. “Say cheese!”

Javier wanted to groan, their attention on his father, resting his head on her shoulder, and hugging her to him, her laughing as she said, “Cheese!”

The flash went off, hearing the whine as the camera spat out the picture, his dad pulling it out and shaking it a few times before setting it down on the coffee table.

“Uno más, por favor (One more, please),” Chucho said, getting the Polaroid camera into place again. “On the count of three. One, Two—” Javier moved, turning her upper body in his arms and cupping her jaw as he pressed his lips to hers, swallowing her surprised sound. “Three!” The blinding flash illuminated them for a second, followed by the whirring; Javier was too focused on kissing her to care how the photo turned out.

Chucho was laughing, “¡Tres segundos (Three seconds)!” Javier could hear the camera being set down on the table, his mouth moving against hers. “No pudiste esperar tres segundos (You couldn’t wait three seconds).” His dad had calmed down to chuckling. “Eres peor que yo y volví loca a tu mamá (You’re worse than me, and I drove your mom crazy). I see now why you’ve been slacking at work—” He switched to English so Cielito would understand. “—you’re too busy thinking about kissing her!”

Cielito laughed into his mouth, Javier breaking the kiss to groan.

He glared at his dad, the other man looking at the two pictures with a smile, “Are you done embarrassing me?” he asked.

Chucho met his eyes with an amused expression. “No sé (I don’t know),” he answered, shrugging. “You make it so easy.”

He sighed, “I kissed her.”

“For the thousandth time today?” his dad asked. “Surprised your lips haven’t fallen off.”

“Pop,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, Cielito giggling.

“I’m just giving you a hard time, Mijo.” His tone changed to something more serious when he spoke again, “Javi?” He saw the sincere look on Chucho’s face when he looked at him. “I like seeing you like this,” he continued. “I like seeing you happy. We went through the pictures together. You saw what happened, my smiling boy disappearing.” His dad was tearing up, and it had Javier’s throat getting tight. “You’ve come back to me—I got you back. Tu mamá would be so happy if she saw you like this. You know what she’d say?” Javier shook his head. “She’d say, ‘Ahí está mi niño feliz (There’s my happy boy)—mi Javiercito por fin está en casa (My Javier is finally home).’”

Javier’s breath got stuck in his throat, willing the tears away. Looking away, he cleared his throat, Cielito rubbing her hand over his chest, welcoming the comfort.

“I’m, uh, glad you’d both be happy.”

“We’re thrilled, Mijo,” Chucho replied. “The pictures turned out great.”

He saw his dad move, watching as the older man grabbed the photo album and opened it to the first page, which was blank, Javier just now realizing it wasn’t one from earlier.

“Is that new?” he asked.

“Sí,” Chucho replied. He carefully pulled the plastic back and placed the two pictures side by side. “New photo album for the start of a happy chapter in your life.” He’d gotten them situated and the plastic back into place. “¡Perfecto!”

Picking up the album, his dad brought it over to them, standing beside Cielito as he held it open.

The first photo had Javier holding her from behind, his head resting on her shoulder, their ears touching, and both smiling brightly at the camera. The second had her body twisted in his arms, his hand on her back, the other caressing her jaw as they kissed, seeing them both smiling as they did, reminding him of the old-timey photos of men about to go off to war kissing their loves one last time.

That smile was back on his face again, able to see how in love they both were, how fucking happy they were. They looked so good together, so right, so perfect, fitting together so easily. His veins were thrumming with fuzzy warmth, something he was becoming all too familiar with.

“They’re good pictures, Pop,” he said.

“I love them,” Chucho replied.

“I love them, too,” Cielito added.

“We gotta take more pictures together, baby—start our own album,” he said, kissing her crown.

He liked the idea of having something for them to look back on.

“We should!” She looked at him, smiling.

“I have many albums of Antonia and me,” his dad said. “They're nice to have.”

The other man moved, closing the photo album and setting it on the table. He picked up the camera, walking back over to them, holding it out to Javier.

“Un regalo (A gift),” Chucho said.

“No, Pop,” he replied, gently pushing it away. “Nos diste las vacas (You gave us the cows). No necesitamos tu cámara también (We don’t need your camera, too).”

“Lo insisto (I insist),” his dad replied, trying to give it to him again. “Tu mamá querría que lo tuvieras (Your mom would want you to have it).”

Javier’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s playing fucking dirty, and you know it.”

Chucho grinned, “Of course, but she would want you to have it—make your own memories, put together your own albums.”

Javier sighed.

“Fine,” he said, taking the offered camera. “But don’t be fucking surprised with what you get for your birthday.”

“My only wish for my birthday is more pie made by tu novia.”

She giggled.

“When’s your birthday?” she asked.

“July 9th,” his dad and he said simultaneously.

“Right around the corner!” she said, grinning. “We should do something to celebrate! I could make dinner, or we could go out, and I’ll of course make you any pie you want, Chucho!”

The older man looked elated.

“I would love that very much!” his dad said.

“It’s a date!”

Chucho’s face softened, “It was wonderful meeting you, Mija.”

“Hug before we go?” she asked.

“Of course,” he replied, opening his arms. She stepped into them, his dad giving her a big hug before pulling back and holding her by the shoulders. “Thank you for making my son so happy. I can see how much you both like each other.” He winked. “Don’t be strangers, and come by anytime. You’re more than welcome.”

“It was so nice meeting you, too,” she said. “We’ll have dinner every week, and you let me know what pie you want for your birthday.”

“I’d love peach.”

“Then peach, you will have.”

“I can’t wait.” He patted her shoulders gently, her moving away from him, his dad’s eyes meeting his. “Hug, Mijo?” he asked, holding out his arms.

“Yeah, Pop,” he answered, hugging his dad while also holding the camera.

Chucho whispered in his ear, “Tu mamá lo aprobaría (Your mom would approve). Por favor cásate con esta chica (Please, marry this girl). Ella es perfecta para ti (She’s perfect for you).”

They broke apart.

“Sí, Pop (Yes, Pop),” he replied. “Es lo que quiero (It’s what I want).”

His dad was smiling, clapping his hands onto his arms. “Que bueno, Mijo (That’s good, my son). Porque yo también lo quiero (Because I want it, too).”

Javier chuckled.

“Okay, we’re going now.” He held the camera with one hand, pressing the other to Cielito’s back as they started walking to the front door.

“I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning,” his dad said. “Hopefully, you’ll be able to get some work done, and not be thinking about kissing tu media naranja (your other half),” he teased.

Cielito giggled.

“Pop,” he groaned.

“I’m joking,” Chucho laughed. “You’re such a aguafiestas (buzzkill)!”

The front door was opened, goodbyes were said, and Javier walked Cielito to his truck, opening her door and helping her in, smiling when she slid into the middle seat.

“Baby, can you hold this?” he asked, holding out the camera.

“Of course,” she answered, taking it and setting it in her lap.

He remembered something.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Need to run back inside.”

“Okay.”

He shut the door, turning on his heel back to the house.

The sky was dark when you left, stars shining brightly high above.

Whatever Javi forgot, it didn’t take long to grab, him coming back out quickly, hearing his muffled shout of ‘Bye’ to his dad as he closed the front door.

Before you knew it, the two of you were driving down the road back to town, the truck’s headlights illuminating your journey.

Your head was resting on his shoulder, your hand in his atop your thigh, the weight of the camera nestled in your lap while the radio softly played.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“We’re absolutely going to take dirty pictures, aren’t we?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“God, I really fucking like you.”

“I really fucking like you, too.”

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

[sequincult]

Return of the Floyd Part 5

(part 1 can be read here) (part 2 can be read here) (part 3 can be read here) (part 4 can be read here)

“Psst, hey Floyd, wake up. C’mon get out of bed, we’ve got work to do today.”

“Huhhh.” Floyd whimpers as he squints his weary eyes and adjusts to being awake again. After slowly turning himself over, he looks toward the small wooden clock on the table next to him. It was indeed exactly six o’clock, just as Branch had promised.

“Wait, w-what’s that about work??”

…

No answer, he must have left already. There’s no way he’s going to have him help with the bunker construction is he? Floyd had never been the most handy troll, he’d probably make things worse. Or end up injuring himself…

“Floyd! Get up already!” He heard Branch’s voice tumble through the hallways and into his room.

What was his deal? What was soooo important that he had to get ready so early? He checks the clock again, it had only been ten minutes.

“ALRIGHT!! GEEZ!” He shouts back meekly, with little idea if Branch had actually heard him.

He haphazardly drags his legs over the side of the bed and reaches around aimlessly for his jeans.

“Ah, there you are.” He puts them on, tripping over himself as he does. 

“Ow, shit.” Floyd was not a morning person.

After the arduous task of putting on a pair of pants, Floyd creeps out of the bedroom door out into the maze of corridors. Well and truly lost, he calls out to Branch.

“Branch? Where are you?”

“I’m in the kitchen! Just take a left and keep walking. Don’t you remember from last night?”

How the hell was he supposed to remember the way around this labyrinth so quickly? This place is huge and it isn’t even finished yet. Whatever, at least the directions aren’t complicated.

“Alright, I’ll be over in a sec.”

He turns and makes his way toward wherever Branch was. As he gets closer an enticing aroma filled his nose and sent his stomach into a frenzy. Now that he thought about it he’d barely eaten in days, and whatever his brother was cooking smelt fantastic. He honestly felt kinda proud of Branch. Even though his life was rough, he was a pretty resourceful troll. Floyd was never one for practical tasks, that was typically JD’s thing. Actually… Branch kinda reminds him of JD. Just a little. He probably shouldn’t tell him that though, Branch would probably strangle him…

Before long he’d found his way to the kitchen and was greeted by the sight of Branch wearing a white dressing gown and looming over a stove, keeping a close eye on the eggs he’s frying. 

“Woah, I didn’t know you could cook Branch.”

“Yeah, well, it was either learn to cook or eat gruel every day of my life.” He carefully flips the eggs whilst Floyd looks on, smiling.

“Well I’m impressed, I can’t cook to save my life. And is that a monogramed robe you’re wearing?”

“Hey, you haven’t even tasted it yet! And am I not allowed to have a little luxury Floyd.” Branch responds with a grin as he sets a plate of food in front of his brother.

“You better eat fast, we need to get going soon.”

With that, the two of them dug in.

“This tastes amazing Branch. Thank you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’ve barely eaten.”

“Dude, learn how to take a compliment!”

“It’s not like I’ve had much experience with that…”

“Ok then, I’ll give you some more compliments. You’re resourceful and smart. And you’ve built this entire bunker by yourself!”

“Well, y’know…” His ears flicker backwards in embarrassment.

 “And you have so many skills that other trolls lack, and you should be proud of that!”

“Alright that’s enough schmaltz, I think I might throw up.”

“Ok ok!!! Anyway, what was the ‘work’ you had planned today?”

“Oh yeah, gotta pick up a few things from the woods.”

“Huh, what kind of supplies are we collecting?”

“Oh you know. Some wood, sticks. Maybe a few animal pelts.”

Floyd looks back at Branch with a ghastly expression.

“Branch. There is no way I am ever going to kill an animal.”

“Ok whatever. I’ll do that. He shrugs. “You can be stick boy.”

“Hey, don’t call me stick boy.”

“Well, if you’re not gathering pelts then that makes you stick boy. Not my fault.”

“Fiiiine, what do we need sticks for anyway.”

“To sharpen into steaks, duh” He pulls one out from his jacket pocket and presents it to him. “They’re useful as weapons and tools - very versatile.” 

“Ha, that’s one thing my ex never said about me.” Floyd mumbles.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

“Well I’m done eating. I’ll go pack a few tools and snacks, by the time I’m back I expect you to be finished ok?”

“You’re not my mom.” Floyd rolls his eyes deeply.

“Ha ha. Now do you want me to pack you snacks or not?”

“Yeah…”

“Then eat up!”

And with that he’d gone to pack, leaving Floyd to ruminate with his breakfast. Branch sure could be frustrating at times, but he couldn’t really complain. After all, he’d been the same with his brothers when he was younger. He always knew exactly how to get on their nerves, and then turn around and suck up to grandma, who’d believe anything he’d say. Those memories are more bittersweet than ever.

————

After half an hour or so, the pair were up and ready to leave. Branch had all his gear in a small bag resting against his back. Floyd couldn’t help but feel unprepared next to his brother.

“Are you sure I don’t need anything?”

“Yeah don’t worry, most of this stuff is for hunting. You can have this bag for any wood you gather.” Branch hands him a small bag, which Floyd hoists over his shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll show you a good spot to gather wood and sticks, there’s a nice area that’s full of different trees.”

Before he knew it they were out of the bunker and wandering deeper into the forest. This seemed like a natural time to get to know his brother better.

“I uh, noticed you still have the jacket I gave you.”

“Oh. Yeah…”

“It looks nice on you!”

“I only kept it because I had nothing else to wear.”

“Oh come on Branch, someone as skilful as you could make a new jacket if you wanted.”

“Fine! I kept it because I care about you ok? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“I… I’m just glad you kept it. I didn’t think you’d care about me enough for that. You deserved better than me.”

“But it’s like you said, you’re here now. You came back, like you promised.” Branch recalled, gently squeezing his fists.

“Right. And I won’t make the mistake of leaving you again.”

A short while longer they made it to the spot Branch mentioned. Plants and trees of many varieties shot up into the sky leaving little room for sunlight. It was beautiful.

“It’s peaceful right? I come here to relax sometimes. I don’t think any other trolls come out this far so I’ll never be bothered. I can just breathe the forest air, study the plant life, feel the soft ground on my head as I look up at the sky.” Branch mused, completely absorbed in his purple prose.

It was undeniable to Floyd that Branch was much less irritable than he was back at the bunker. Even before they’d made it here he seemed calmer. Nature must be good for him.

“There’s a few loose sticks on the ground over here, but we might need more than that. You can use this if you want. I’ll be over here if you need help.” He passes Floyd a small handsaw.

“Are you sure you trust me with this?”

“Sure. Besides, if you saw off a finger that’s your problem.”

Aaaand there’s good ol’ snarky Branch again! It was a good thing Floyd shared his sense of humour.

“You’d be the one that’d have to patch me up, and I’m sure there’s a thousand things you’d rather do than that.”

Branch snickers before heading over to a silver barked tree. Together they manage to gather quite a large amount of supplies, much more than Branch could handle on his own. Maybe Floyd was just imagining things, but it seemed like his brother had enjoyed this time together.

“Phew, we’ve got a lot of materials huh! Thanks for your help, Floyd.”

“It’s the least I could do, with you letting me live with you and all. How come you’ve never asked any other trolls to help out?”

“I tend to stay away from them as best as I can. They hate me almost as much as I do.”

Floyd rests his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“You’ve got to stop saying things like that about yourself, Branch.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“Are you? Or are you looking for an excuse to make yourself suffer.”

“As if you would know what it’s like to suffer…” He snaps back, obviously irked by Floyd’s comment.

“Branch. I was homeless after my ex broke up with me because my solo career tanked. I might not be fully grey, but things have not been easy for me.”

“Ha, your girlfriend probably had the right idea dumping you.”

“Boyfriend.”

An awkward silence fills the air.

“Oh. Uh, sorry.”

“It’s fine, whatever…’  “Didn’t you notice the earring?”

“Huh? What about it.”

“My earring, it’s on my right ear. It’s like, a way of signalling to people who ‘are in the know’ that I’m gay.”

“Ha, as if I’m ever in the know about anything. I’ve been living underground since I was nine years old dude, I don’t know a lot about social stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I suppose. You shouldn’t just assume things about people though.”

“Yeah yeah Mr. Preachy I get it. You’re right.”

“I wouldn’t be your big brother if I didn’t try and teach you some morals once in a while huh?”

“Better late than never.” Branch mutters under his breath, half hoping Floyd had heard him.

————

“Ok, I’m going to go gather some pelts, you stay here and avert your sensitive eyes until I get back.” They’d made it back from the depths of the forest and Branch was keen to finish up for the day and head home.

“Alright, I’ll just stay here til you get back.”

Floyd rests himself on a smooth, oblong stone and relaxes in the cool forest sun. It was nice to just sit for a little while. He’d really been enjoying talking with Branch. They both had a sarcastic sense of humour, so joking just felt natural. Even if the conversations got a little difficult at times.

After a few minutes of peaceful rest he glances to his left and notices Queen Poppy aimlessly wandering through the woods, her hands full of what look like invitations. He waves over in her direction and after noticing him, her face lights up and she walks over as fast as she possibly can without dropping everything.

“Hiya Floyd!!! Have you seen Branch anywhere? I’ve got this invitation for him! Not that he ever comes… ha.”

“He’s just gathering some stuff, he’ll be back soon.” He pauses for a second. Branch clearly likes Poppy right? Maybe he could help him out? “You know, he probably doesn’t go because he’s not really a partying kind of troll.”

“What do you mean?

“Have you ever considered… asking him what he’d like to do? Just because he’s not interested in parties doesn’t necessarily mean he doesn’t want to hang out.”

“I guess I could… I hadn’t thought of it like that. It’s just so hard for me to imagine a troll that doesn’t like parties! Doesn’t every troll like them?”

“I like them sure, but sometimes I need quiet time to be by myself too. And besides, the world is bigger than you can ever imagine. Branch isn’t all that unusual, he just needs a different approach, that’s all.”

“Ok!!! When he comes back I’ll ask him if he’d like to do something together. It can’t go worse than any of my other invites!”

Floyd looks down to his feet, his voice grows softer.

“Thank you, Poppy.”

“Wait, for what?”

“For… caring about my little brother. It means a lot to me that you’ve tried to reach out to him, even if your methods might not of been the most effective. I know it means a lot to him too, you’ve been the only person in his life for years that sees the good in him. I should have been there. But at least you were.”

He looks back up at Poppy and sees her eyes are now wide with tears. She rushes over to give him a huge hug, something he’s now started getting used to again.

“You’re so sweet Floyd. Branch is really lucky to have you.”

The sincerity of her voice rang through his body like a church bell. Did she really mean that? Even after he’d abandoned Branch as a child?

She lets go of him, Floyd was teary eyed too. The pair sit quietly together on the rock, waiting for Branch to return.

“Hey… do you mind if I ask a Brozone question.”

“Go ahead, as long as it’s not too personal I guess.”

“Right. Uh, do you know where Clay might be? It’s just that well, pfft, he was always my fav Bro…”

“Haha! Clay was something special, but I’m afraid I have no idea where he is. I was hoping he’d be here in the village… With everyone else.”

“What about Spruce?”

“Spruce? I think he sent me a postcard, I don’t know who else it could have been, but for some weird reason there wasn’t a name on the back. That’s all I know.”

“Wow, that must be tough, not knowing how they’re doing. If I had a sister and she went missing? I’d be heartbroken…”

“Yeah it’s- oh hey! Branch is coming this way!” 

The two of them wave at the grey troll, who is now carrying two animals over his shoulders. After noticing Poppy, his expression gets visibly nervous before forcing itself into his typical frown.

Floyd knew love when he saw it.

“Hello Poppy. You going to invite me to some party again?”

“Well, actually…”

#dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #trolls floyd #trolls branch #trolls au #fanfic #return of the floyd au #trolls fandom

[b0nten]

THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE STOPS AT DAWN AND SPINS BACK TO HOLD THE DEVIL

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ being one of five special grades, you learn how to deal with exorcisms, but rarely with loss.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ i was kinda skeptical to post this because i don’t rlly write for jjk but i had this planned out (sloppily) in my notes for so long. i would like to thank @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for inspiring me through their fic if i fell through the floor i’d keep falling to post this (i know we’ve never interacted before so i’m literally so sorry if this comes off as random & makes you uncomfortable) because a) of how much i love that fic and b) of how it reminded me of this and actually motivated me to finish and polish it. also big thanks to my shawtybae ray @httpshujii whom i left traumatized after i asked her to beta-read this fic😭😭

[EXTRAS] ˚⁀➷｡ timeline is probably WAAAAAAAAAY off, especially the shibuya incident/culling game. swearing, a lot of words.

24.12.2017

“you two can’t even tell good and evil apart.”

“doesn’t that guy piss you off, mimiko?”

“nanako, want me to hang him?” the brunette holds her rope tight around the dummy’s neck.

her sister, annoyed by the assistant’s words, hisses. “you guys don’t even know how sorcerers like us are treated in the shitty countryside that doesn’t show up on maps. you do all the good and evil you want. but for us, if geto-sama says so, then black is white and white is black. we believe in the world he sees; and we will hang everybody who gets in the way!” she threatens and they both take their combat positions, ready to strike when, suddenly, footsteps echo through the empty alleyway.

“cut it out, you three.” wind blows though silky hair and a perfume they all recognize takes over the air as all of their faces drop. “don’t bother, ijichi, they’re just as stubborn as their dad.” a smile glides across your lips, but disappears just a few moments later. “ew, my pants are stained with curse juice.”

“mom?” “y/n-san?” they gasp at the same time, and ijichi’s head turns back so fast you could swear you heard his neck snap.

“ ‘mom’ ? y/n-san, what’s going on?” he asks, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“that’s a long story i’ll tell you only if you promise not to snitch to the higher-ups.” you grin at him, patting him on his shoulder as you pass by. “don’t worry, i’m not switching sides.” you reassure, and hear him sigh in relief.

with the speed of light, the twins rush towards you, embracing you in a warm hug.

“miko, please don’t hang my friend, yeah? and you, young lady, what did we talk about, try to be a little less hostile!” you scold, ruffling their hair a little rougher than usual. then, a crash startles all four of you.

“miguel? what the hell are you doing!” the light-brunette shouts, rolling her eyes once the man’s ironic response reacher her ears.

“ugh, ” you can only do the same, brows furrowing when another familiar face pops up, “satoru, pipe down! and pleaaaaase try to not kill him!” you shout to grab gojo’s attention, dragging out the plead.

“when you ask me so nicely, i guess i can make an exception for you, bestie boo!” he shrugs, winking with his only uncovered eye.

ignoring the antics that you’re so used to, your attention falls back on the girls.

“you two, ” you start, clapping your hands closed and dragging your right hand as to conjure a katana. then, you scrape a circle with it in the cobblestone, “i’ll teleport you somewhere safe, i don’t like where this is going, and i gotta clean up some of the curses suguru let loose around here. be careful, i love you.” you wave as a big fire sphere rushes up from the ground, building a barrier between you. before the girls can say anything else, they disappear completely. “ijichi, text me the date and time and i’ll be there. gotta get to kusakabe as soon as i can or he may need to get his diaper changed.”

you laugh, dissipating into a puddle of black, while your underclassman still can’t believe what he’s witnessed.

15.10.2008

you know that what you’re about to do is rash and irrational, and possibly clearly also considered treachery in the jujutsu world. the fact that nobody had already caught wind of what you were up to was and still is in itself a miracle, but you could narrow it down to them thinking you were still grieving; and truth be told, you still kind of were, trying to do it the best you could. healing fresh wounds is never easy and recovering from a break-up that didn’t directly happen is sometimes like trying to sew shut a deep wound with cotton thread.

and that’s what kept you going in the most excruciating year of your life: your wounds deserve to close properly, and it is within your right to be able to run your fingers across your skin, without fearing they’ll plunge deep into your chest and dreading to take them out knowing they’ll be covered in blood and the smell of a broken heart.

so you step, determined and furious to get your cause across. you bang your fists on the big door, and a chubby man of middle age greets you at the entrance.

“what’s your name? do you have an appointment?” he questions, and you answer with the same western bullshit name you gave when you rang them up to book said ‘appointment’. he turns a few pages in his clipboard and finally his face lights up.

“yes, please, come in!” his arm is stretched out in a gentlemanly manner, signaling for you to enter. and you do, something bubbling in the pit of your stomach. excitement? no, that’s almost impossible. hate? hurt? the wish for vengeance you have so obsessively dreamed about? you’re not sure about any of those. when you step into the room, though, you feel nervous. like you’re walking on the thin glass shards of your broken youth — the one that got spat and shat on by the same world that made geto spiral into his madness — stolen mercilessly by the greediness of the higher-ups.

“geto-sama will come in shortly!” he explains, and you gather all your composure to ensure you won’t vomit right then and there.

“he calls himself geto-sama now?” you wonder, and although you haven’t said it out loud, the title still leaves a bitter feeling on your tongue. you imagine maybe that’s what curses taste like to suguru.

“welcome, miss— oh.“ full of confidence he struts from behind two curtains, and when he sees you, his gaze softens and you swear you can catch a glimpse of the boy you lost an autumn ago. “it’s so nice to see you, y/n!” he calls out and picks up his pace, almost rushing to you. “i’m so glad it’s not one of those monkeys! sometimes i get nauseous from seeing them all the time!” he face-palms, then beams, and takes your hands in his, leaving a kiss on your temple, lastly pulling you close to him like he always did, even before he vanished.

you think you’re going to be sick again, watching him act all nonchalant and normal, as if nothing has happened. “how dare he?” you think, feeling the anger pierce your stomach walls, and settling in your throat. how can he act like this? like you’re still high-school sweethearts, like he’s just come back from a mission and you’re standing at the school gates, ready to welcome him back. your brain almost freezes, heart urging you to stay like that, but mind screaming at you to pull away from him.

so, against your heart’s wishes, you tear away from him. “monkeys? that’s what you call them now, suguru?” you click your tongue in annoyance, a habit he knows you have whenever you’re about to get petty. “what happened to civilians, non-sorcerers, humans, people?” you ask, blank face staring daggers into his soul.

“my love, they’re all just monkeys.” your once-lover says with the same nonchalance, “don’t bother being all so formal with them. they can’t even use jujutsu, like we do, so—“ before he can say anything else, you cut him off, something similar to a mix of anger and sadness in your voice.

“don’t call me that, suguru.” your voice cracks a little, eyebrows furrow and your heartbeat picks up its pace, and you think maybe your legs are going to give out on you any minute now. “i’m not here to play happy family reuinted.” you almost choke on your words. “i—”

“geto-sama!!! geto-sama!!!” a panicked, feminine voice comes from behind the curtains, and soon enough, two young girls emerge from them. one has light brown hair, the other’s is a little darker than shoko’s. they can’t be older than 6, 5 if you dare to overthink. the former is dragging her sister by her hand, and the latter is holding a plushy tight against her chest, stumbling here and there.

“what’s wrong, you two?” he asks gently, crouching down to their level. you remember how he used to speak to you the same whenever you came back from a mission sad or displeased and your heart drops at how easy it is to break down your walls and have memories growing like ice flowers in the archives you vouched to burn off your mind.

“mimiko—“ her gaze averts to you and ricochets into the ground, small figure balancing from foot to foot as she apologizes, “oh, i’m sorry for interrupting.”

when you look at them, you can’t help but smile. they look so… sweet. so innocent. what are they doing here? “that’s alright, you don’t have to pardon yourself, it seemed urgent.” with a motherly sympathy you didn’t know you held within you, you explain. with the corner of your eye, you see a smile bloom on geto’s face.

“ohmygod!” the same one calls out to her sister in a not-so-subtle whisper. “that’s the lady whose picture geto-sama has! the one he told us about!”

“nanako… you can’t say that when she’s in front of us… it’s rude.” mimiko half-heartedly scolds her sister.

you can’t help the blush from creeping up your cheeks or the laugh from escaping your lips.

“y/n, these are nanako and mimiko.” suguru explains and nudges them forward. “girls, this is y/n, but you already knew.” he smiles again, abstaining himself from laughing at his own semi-bad joke. “they’re…” he continues. “they’re my epiphany, the reason i left the useless jujutsu world and started to make my own.”

you try to ignore the last part of his introduction and his sickeningly smug grin, and you crouch down too, in order to observe them from closer proximity. “nice to meet you both.” you say, warmly, and touch the floor with your hand. a puddle of black forms around it and you awkwardly rummage through the void. soon enough, you pull out two candy-bars.

“i hope you two like macadamia nuts and chocolate. unfortunately it’s all i have right now.” you apologize with a sheepish smile, handing them the sweets. they look at geto to seek approval, and when he nods enthusiastically, they accept your gift with lots of giggles and bright grins.

suguru’s heart skips a beat before it melts. he really is touched you’re showing his daughters so much kindness, but he’s even happier he sees the same candy-bars you ate in high school. he feel nostalgic, even though he knows it’s only been a year. but just like in his case, he thought a year might have been significant change for you too.

the tender moment is interrupted by knocking on the door. “geto-sama, i’m terribly sorry to disturb, but your next appointment is here.” an assistant calls out, and geto is visibly annoyed.

“tell them to wait for a little bit. we’re still not ready to wrap up.” he commands, outside going silent instantly. “i am so sorry to cut this short, y/n.” he says, admitting regret, “you are welcome to drop by any time you want. and you don’t have to use a fake name.” he’s hopeful now, he’s even more confident, and he steps closer to you.

but as if you two are magnets of the same polarity, your body forces you to take a step back. his gaze saddens and something like despair flashes briefly across his face. it almost reads like “please come by again. please.” almost like a desperate plead.

“i’ll see.” is the only response you can give before turning around and heading to the door. before you open it, you look back at the three of them. “nanako, mimiko, it was nice to meet you.” you say, softness for the two canceling out whatever uncomfortable feelings you had before.

“you too, y/n-sama! please come by again!” they both say back, waving as you leave the room. a peculiar tickle renders your body almost perplexed when you hear the honorific.

you navigate through the temple like you’re trying to find the exit of a maze, but when you’re outside, you take a deep breath of fresh air. your hand travels up to wipe the shells of the tears forming in your eyes and you swear you can smell the blood that’s gushing from your still unclosed wounds, sewn again with cotton thread.

“they’re my epiphany.”

they’re his epiphany.

you replay the scene in your head, and feel desperate the more you chant the mantra, as if your ego has not only been broken, but sanity stripped away from you. then, your thoughts are broken by your phone ringing. flipping up the cover, you try to play everything off as normal.

“shoko?” you say, “is everything alright?”

“i should be the one asking you that.” her tone is sharp, “is everything alright with you, y/n?” it softens, and like a dam about to break lose, you sniffle and answer out.

“no.” it’s clear, it’s there, you said it. you don’t have to pretend.

“come over. i miss having my girl around.” she says, and you giggle.

“you’re lucky i’m in the area. i’ll be there in fifteen, girlfriend. and stop talking to me like im one of your hoes.”

she just laughs manically before ending the call. you smile, and go.

10.04.2009

you don’t know for sure if whatever you feel against nanako and mimiko is compassion or pity. or maybe hatred, sometimes disguised as jealousy. but ever since geto said that, there is this little voice in the back of your head that keeps playing the same sentence, like your mind’s a broken record.

“he chose them over you.”

“he chose them over you.”

“he chose them over you.”

“he chose them over you.”

“he chose them over you.”

you’re not sure how to feel. they’re kids. they’re young, they didn’t coax him into starting this. maybe they were just caught in the crossfire, you like to guess. maybe they were the last straw.

or maybe, you were simply not good enough, which, in all honesty, was hard to accept. being a special-grade sorcerer that came from nothing isn’t easy. someone’s always on your back, refusing to get off; from the higher-ups to one’s parents. it’s hard to live up to pre-made expectations, and carry burdens on an already-cracked spine, but you’ve always been strong — so strong even gojo pissed his pants sometimes — so what happened? what made him resort to this?

finally, after looking through the things he left behind in his room, you came to understand geto didn’t leave because he wanted to, he left because that was what it came to. and slowly, you accepted that the twins really were nothing more than two girls caught in a crossfire, that geto somehow saved. his last mission, it must’ve been excruciating, he must’ve seen hell in its true form (again) or death itself in front of him (for the third time) when he went to that village and slaughtered it mercilessly.

that was actually the case, as you come to learn. after six months you build up the courage to visit again, this time unannounced, this time without a purpose. you were sure it’d be left unserved anyway, like the last one. so, when suguru welcomes you into the room once more, you make small talk. and ask about his life, sometimes trying not to gag when he makes disgusting remarks about “monkeys”.

and voluntarily, he tells you the girls’ story after they fall asleep on your lap, dead exhausted thanks to the running around they did. you learn their past, and see something ignite in suguru that makes you think. if you had been there, would you have done the same? would you have stopped him, or joined him? he did nothing wrong, he killed abusers. he killed people that beat two defenseless children, something he shouldn’t have been persecuted for, you thought. this whole monkey thing, tough, something else, another story. but maybe, just maybe had somebody heard him out, he wouldn’t be staying across from you dressed in robes but instead you would’ve been sitting in an apartment you bought with all the money you saved up, all four of you cradled next to the other watching tv with the volume off as to not wake up the sleeping girls. and maybe, just maybe, satoru would have found the fushiguro-zen’in boy and his sister that he’s so serious on finding and they’d come over and play together, while you, shoko and sometimes utahime and mei gossip on the couch and suguru, satoru, nanami and ijichi hang out in the kitchen.

if it weren’t for your teenage heart and forgiving soul, you wouldn’t have begged geto to consider your idea.

“i can try and negotiate a deal for you.” you’re serious, and not about to give up, no matter what he says. “i’ve been taking extra missions, suguru. they like me, they started to value my opinion in the last two years.” you say, and your eyes gloss over when you look at him.

“y/n…” he sighs. “this is my choice. i’m content living like this.”

you break a little.

“don’t say that suguru. it’s not too late, you know? i can vouch for you, i can make sure nanako and mimiko are safe, if that’s what you’re actually concerned about. i will take extra shifts, i will fight for you.” you start to crack and chip off at the edges. “in the end, you did nothing wrong killing those villagers, but that’s something they’re just gonna look away from because you killed non-sorcerers. hateful, filthy, non-sorcerers that deserved their fate.” you say, gritting and swearing behind teeth, jaw clenched and breathing like your lungs are glued together.

suguru always liked your sense of justice. it was always strong, defined, your moral compass was as clear as the sky on the first day you were transferred to jujutsu high. it was refreshing to see someone like you, that fought, no matter what; that gave herself up for the cause she wanted to prove. you would’ve killed yourself if it meant judgement had been served correctly, and even if it meant losing yourself on the way, you loved standing up for what was right. you’d tear at yourself so everybody could be happy. and he could see it in your eyes, the way they shine with the beauty of a thousand galaxies and the passion of a hundred suns, radiating hope, even after all that you’ve been through. you’re hope, you’re love, you’re light, ready to sacrifice herself just so others could grasp that spark even for a little while. ah, as long as…, like you said in your heydays, cigarette between teeth as geto lit it for you, shoko boo’d in the background and satoru annoyed nanami but entranced haibara, holding the world in your hands, ready to blast another wall, to save another soul, to make another life-source. you were temperance and the tower all in one, the embodiment of balanced destruction, the origin of damaged harmony. you ate, chewed and spit yourself out so everyone could see that you were raw — you were like them — you were all the same, kids with power and jobs too big for ages that didn’t even bloom correctly yet.

but this time, he can’t let you do that. you can’t be his divine intervention anymore, you can’t make a catastrophe of your life just to build his anew. he had chosen his way the day he committed mass murder, roots of his goal planted deep inside his hatred for non-sorcerers, and it was far too late to go back, no matter what you said or could have said or say, his life is now with his cult. and he looks at you, with his girls cradled in your lap and wonders of the life you could have had, had amanai’s death not taken such a toll on him. he never told you, but he wanted you to meet her. she would’ve absolutely adored you, no doubt, and vice-versa.

sometimes he wakes up in the morning and you’re not next to him and then he imagines it too: a little house in meguro, and he’d wake up at the crack of dawn and look at you sleeping peacefully beside him, then he’d get up and cook breakfast. he envisions evening walks in spring, when the cherry blossoms bloom, and nanako and mimiko running wildly along the river banks, and you shouting after them to be careful. his heart swells with what if’s and maybe’s but he remembers that in his world, he can achieve that. and he doesn’t have to worry about any of you three being in danger either.

you feel the need to change the topic. you feel the regret floating around in the air — you feel the wound you tried to sew shut so many times miserably — and it reeks of fresh blood and sweet tea and plum blossoms and the winter he confessed his feelings.

“let me help you get them to bed.” you smile, and he reciprocates. he takes nanako from your lap softly as not to disturb her sleep, and guides you to their room.

you find yourself kissing their foreheads as if they’re your daughters, as if you hadn’t met them only two times in your life, and suguru finds himself too close to you. you think he’s too close to you too, but right now, in this shit you’ve dragged yourself into, you don’t care at all anymore.

so you kiss him, you lift yourself up on your toes enough for him to already know what you’re doing and to bend down. electricity sparks and you see yourself in the middle of snowy shibuya crossing yet again, people going on about their day while you pour your hearts out to the other silently, carnally, with chapped lips falling against each other, devouring the curse of love with gluttony, and freezing hands tangled in the intimacy of two sixteen year olds dumb enough to think they’re able to write their own destiny.

that’s why you continue to visit. in the rest of 2009, 2010, 2011, and so on. between what you lost that you never even had, and the brief moment of serenity of feeling like a family with geto and the girls, you finally feel like you have something to live for.

it goes without saying that it still frightened you — if anyone were to find out where you were going, who you were going to — they all may have been put in danger. but the moment the big, wooden door to the temple opens and two smiley faces jump into your arms while the boyfriend you never had the guts to break up with greets you sweetly, all the worry dissipates. you were not there “to play happy family reunited”, you had found a family. and as twisted life had layed itself out for geto, maybe yours wasn’t that far from it either.

so, once a month you come, with gifts, with candy, with love and worry and whatnot. you’re there to see the twins grow up, sometimes you help suguru cut their hair, to navigate through all the stages of girlhood you experienced too — well, almost all, since it’s kind of hard to give them really everything when their dad is a wanted mass murderer in a world over half of the population doesn’t even know exists. but you’re there, and you’re happy when you’re with them. they’re your sun.

and it goes like that for years, you come, you laugh, and you leave. sometimes before you leave, geto kisses you chastely, and sometimes more, which means you stay the night, and he partially sees his dream come true the next morining; and he loves it, he can’t wait to get it done, but he feels guilty. guilty for the plan he’s come up with and guilty knowing you’re gonna be on the opposite side, no matter what.

when the girls turn eight, they start calling you ‘mom’, to your and geto’s surprise. but they like it, and honestly, so do you and so does their dad. it’s random, but it feels natural, it feels warm. suguru’s heart sinks, and he thinks he can keep his plan hidden and pushes it back a few more years, until he can’t anymore. so, on the twins’ eleventh birthday, a beautiful day of 2013, it’s the last time you come. you try to talk him out of it, but no matter how many pleads and promises and compromises, his decision is still the one he told you. that day, when you leave and look back with a fake smile at the kids waving at you from the door, the wind feels sharper on your face and the air is definitely colder than what it was supposed to ever be. you go to the bar and drown out your sorrows, glass after glass after glass after glass after glass until you’re numb. and even in the numbness, there’s still an aching pain, like a scorching dagger has been stabbed through your heart, burning the skin and muscle and everything in between on its way to bring you down. you wonder if that’s what curses feel when they’re exorcised.

so, while nanako and mimiko ask about you and why their mom isn’t coming anymore, you bury yoursef in work. you kill, you start to teach, you do paperwork. satoru comes over sometimes and when you look at him, you can only cry. shoko comes over more than sometimes, and when you look at her you can also only cry. they both hug you and sometimes cry with you too: a pity party. nanami writes to you a lot, and when you read his messages you also cry. sometimes you go to visit him, and he looks at you with a disgusting look. he knows you haven’t broken records these past few months because of your love for jujutsu, but because of the hate you bear for it. his heart shatters seeing his senior like this. so, he pours you tea and gets you the cookies you always loved, stashed next to a framed picture of you three — you, him and haibara.

kento always thought you were like glue. you kept everyone together. and although him and yu were only your juniors, you made them feel like they were your brothers. you brought together the jujutsu world so closely, you made it seem like it could work, until nobody was there to help you, even though you tried so hard. it was like a mirage, but so closely and delicately conjured one could swear it was real — maybe that was your true domain expansion — and you would’ve killed yourself if that meant it’d be kept intact, and you kind of did, because at the price of your own well-being, you took care of the others. you worked overtime so gojo had less missions to go on, helped nanami get out of jujutsu and welcomed him right back with open arms and broken heart that still needed mending desperately, and helped shoko with med school until she decided she’d just cheat herself into getting her eligibility.

and you’re a wreck, so you browse pictures in your phone of you, suguru and the girls, you frame them but keep them away from the world’s eyes, god knows who may find them and put you on death-row too. you look at them and feel like you’re mourning geto a second time around, but this time you’re also mourning.. your kids. the kids who called you mom, who sometimes called you up at night when they had some “girl problems” they couldn’t tell suguru right off the bat, the girls that asked you to sew their ripped clothes, and who watched you and geto do that side by side.

you didn’t understand how suguru came to that conclusion, to push you away for good. you never tried to erase his ideology from the girls’ minds, you simply mothered them. you loved them, trained them, you loved him, so what was up with him?

geto feels miserable too. he lost you once, and now he’s lost you twice. he’s rougher with his monkeys, he feels like he’s mourning once again too. and when he looks at nanako and mimiko he cannot stop his heart from ripping apart. they look at pictures of you. every single day, there’s not one that passes when he doesn’t want to call you and tell you to come back. to be the glue, to love him and his daughters, to make them laugh and jump and smile and make him feel warm and fuzzy inside all again. for the first time in his life, he has doubts about his dream world, because when he looks at the once so cheerful duo, sad while holding your picture, and when he remembers the tears in your eyes and how you wiped them away quickly when they came to hug you goodbye, he wants to kill himself like you always did for your cause. he wants to make the devil chew him and spit him out for forgetting you are just like him too — flesh, bones, and misery.

so, for once in his new life, geto does something he never thought he would do — he compromises. exactly 364 days after he forbids you from coming by again, he tells the twins they can go out in the world and enjoy their life. maybe they’ll go looking after you, he thinks, he hopes, and he sees their faces light up and they see his do the same. “but don’t talk to monkeys when it’s not necessary!” he orders, no, he asks. he can’t order his children around.

and mimiko and nanako go out in the world, alone, for the first time, the following day. geto asks them to buy any cake they want, to celebrate for when they come back. so they head to the bakery that breached the barriers of what they knew, once every thirty days: they mostly knew the universe geto had created for them, and once a month came clashing down an asteroid, with flowers, sweets and everything the cult didn’t really have, their mother.

so, after almost getting lost thrice on the metro, when they enter the minimalist store they searched on google maps because they kept a cardboard box of sweets you once brought over, and see your tired figure, tears in your eyes as you mouth and explain the kanji of their name to the lady with the piping bag in her hand, their eyes swell and they can only weakly sob “mom..?”, unsure if it’s actually you or a mirage.

when your head snaps in the direction of the door and you see the two kids you missed so badly in a year, you stare at them blankly. you’re afraid to get close to them, thinking maybe they’re just a shadow created by the months of exhaustion, but when mimiko asks if you remember them, you break down crying, embracing them while they weep on your shoulder too. “how could i not?” you stifle between sniffles and feel them hug you even tighter. it’s almost like movie scene, and even the cashier is on the verge of tears.

when you pull away, you’re all red-eyed and stuffy-nosed, hair a mess and hearts clammy. “let me pay for the cake first, and we can go to my place, yes?” you say and they both nod like they did when you weren’t quite as closely acquainted yet.

“we also have to buy a cake..” nanako says, “could you help us?”

you don’t hesitate and pull them to the refrigerator to chose. “what was the one you always bought?” mimiko asks, heart thumping in her chest. “well, it’s the one i have over there, but they’re actually order-only.” you say, eyeing the cake, sad. the twins bite their lips and scan whatever’s left in the display window.

“excuse me,” the lady jumps in, trying to regain composure too “we have cupcakes with that same filling, if it’s any better!” she says, “and they’re 20 percent off if you buy more than 10! and 50 for more than twenty!”

“then we’d like 24 of them, please.” you say, twins’ faces dropping.

“24? isn’t that too much?” nanako chokes out, and her sister giggles a bit at her expression.

“not at all, no, no!” you reassure, patting their heads. “and don’t even dare to pay me back.” you half-heartedly threaten when the other one reaches into her pocket to take out her wallet. “put it back, miko.”

and so, you get to patch up your heart a little bit. you buy them candles, and they blow them on the cupcakes, and take pictures and laugh about whatever.

and it was like this a lot, because whenever they came over to yours they begged you to tell them about your teenage years and show them everything you did. and, because you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away the years of beauty you had documented on film and paper, you showed them everything, accompanied by cups of tea from porcelain haibara bought you from missions he went on, and cakes and biscuits and all the snacks they asked for (thank god you always kept some stashed for satoru).

pictures of you, satoru, suguru, shoko, nanami, haibara, mei and utahime. they were all there — immortal in the plastic of the polaroids and untouchable in the albums — and no one could steal away those precious moments. you showed them pictures of every kind, going on missions and late night hang-outs in your dorms, they gasped at the sight of geto smoking and laughed at the hairstyles you did on him. in the span of weeks and months of two years, you showed them the person you had fallen in love with, and the friends that welcomed you with open arms in tokyo.

of course they were especially keen on pictures of you and geto, fangirling over the “couple pictures”, the ones shoko took of you both when you weren’t watching and later on gave to you. you showed them satoru’s first hangover, and how their dad held his hair back as he was vomiting his hollow purple into the toilet, and the selfie you and shoko took, a little less hungover, leaning against the stalls.

you showed them videos of you all rehearsing your techniques and geto protecting nanami from gojo’s annoying teenage ass.

you took them to disneyland and rode with them on all the rollercoasters they wanted, and took so many photos you bought nanako a picture-only phone. each of you hung them up in your homes, and sometimes suguru stumbled upon the girls’ pictures when he went into their room, and cried over your portrait upon seeing you in a winnie the pooh headband almost identical to the one he wore when he first took you there in high school.

and although, physically, it weren’t four of you gathered around the table anymore, you still laughed together and you felt free, until 2017 came along.

it was maybe early november when you got the call from satoru, away on business in sapporo. it sounded urgent, and first and foremost, he sounded scared. not frightened, but rather desperate, like he didn’t know what to do. therefore, on your first day back in tokyo, you went to see him.

“just rip the bandaid off, satoru.” you say, gently.

“geto has declared war on us.”

you’re left dumbfounded, tea cup shaking in your hand. you can only blink, awaiting gojo to say more. to give you more information.

“he came by the day i called you. said he’d unleash a thousand curses in kyoto and shinjuku on christmas eve. wanted yuta to join him and belittled maki.”

you put down your cup, head resting in your palms. it feels like a bad dream. you knew what to expect of him, that sooner or later he’d act on his crazy dreams of a non-sorcerer free world, but hoped it would be a lot later than this.

“was he alone?” you ask, gojo’s face making a funny look.

“no, two girls that wanted to eat crepes on takeshita and a shirtless guy.” he explains, “why do you ask?”

this time, you lie to him. you can’t let him know you’ve committed treachery for almost a decade now. “then we should also expect some counter-attack from them, not just some curses running loose.” you explain, and gojo nods approvingly.

“you’re right. we should be careful then, especially with the managers.” he says, and you only bob your head a ‘yes’. “y/n” his voice softens, and round shades peel from his face, “don’t do this to yourself.” he crouches down next to you, hand caressing your shoulder. when he feels your muscles tense, he welcomes you with open arms and you cry on his shoulder for a good ten minutes. when he feels you’ve calmed down, he unlocks his phone and dials a number. it doesn’t ring for long, and he speaks, “hey, emo girl. come over. we’re having a reunion.” he laughs, “y/n’s sad, so you do the maths on how manny bottles you bring.” he says, regretting instantly. “wait, don’t you think five is too much, shoko? hello? shoko? agh, fuck you, girl.” you laugh, and so does he, stroking your back once more. “everything’s gonna be okay, babygirl.”

“dont you ever call me that again.”

the next day, you wake up with your phone blowing up, next to shoko, in gojo’s bed. “answer the fucking phone already.” she groans, and you do, but not before kicking her side.

“yes?” without even looking at the caller id you speak, head spinning from all the alcohol (two bottles and a half, each) and voice hoarse from the packs of cigarettes each one of you smoked the previous night. (three, each.) there goes shoko’s quitting.

“mom? you’re not answering the door, are you okay?” nanako speaks from the other side and you instantly jump out of bed, startling your friend.

“i’ll be there in… fifteen. please wait.” you say and hang up after hearing a positive answer.

you dart from the apartment, hugging gojo on your way out, explaining something came up.

you drive through the city with the speed of light, getting home not just in time, but seven minutes early, and the twins hug you when you see them. when they sit you down on the couch to tell you something, your heart sinks, because you can already feel what it is.

“geto-sama declared war on the college last week.” the fawn haired admits, and the other just looks down at the ground.

“i know.” is all you say, trying to hold back tears.

“we’re really sorry. and if you don’t want to see us again, it’s alright, we, we get it.“ mimiko says, words pulled out of her mouth with prongs, almost unable to finish her sentence.

“don’t you ever think something like that.” you snap, dam breaking behind your eyes. “i saw you all this time despite not agreeing with suguru’s ideology, but you’re still my kids too, you know? i have also done some parenting these last ten years.”

it’s bittersweet, and they feel it too, and they cry too, because from being rescued by suguru to seeing the stranger lady walk into their temple every month and showing them the kindness only geto ever did, you became their mother. you stuck by them, always looking over your shoulder whenever you visited them and taking extra precautions whenever they visited you. you were their asteroid, you were their world, and although geto hurt you, not once, but twice, you still loved him and them like you were there when he saved them.

and they always saw the broken youth and undreamt dreams that hid behind your eyes, so motherly, so tender and reassuring albeit living no better than a fugitive. their lives were less stressful than yours, because you sacrificed yourself to come see them. maybe out of fear of losing geto yet again, or denial, but whatever you may have feared, you always put your little beautifully broken and beloved family above all else, bravely so.

“just promise me you’ll both be careful.” is all you say before they collapse in your arms. and you stand there, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes and the blood of the wound you thought closed up.

“we will, no matter what.”

24.12.2017

you walk into jujutsu high and can’t believe your eyes. you’re tired from killing curses and giving kusakabe a pep-talk every ten minutes, but you don’t think this is all in your mind: smashed cobblestone, holes in the ground. and blood, lots of blood.

you run into the infirmary, shoko’s door flying open as she lets out a half-scream.

“what’s your problem?” she asks, partly annoyed.

“i’m sorry for worrying about my students after i babysat a grown man all day.” you reply, and she laughs, “atsuya again, huh? too bad he’s actually talented, that crybaby persona gets too much somtimes. they’re all safe, yuta used rct on them, but gojo wants to talk to you.” she says.

“is he in the common lobby?” you ask, and she nods approvingly.

when you enter the room, you feel a chill creep up your spine. satoru is still, way too still.

“y/n.”

“satoru.”

he gulps down saliva before asking you the question. “did suguru have daughters?” he says, and you answer, mindless.

“yeah, he has tw—“ then it dawns on you. “satoru?” he sees it too. in the small crack of your voice, some glass shards hitting the linoleum. “satoru, don’t tell me,” you’re on the verge of tears. your throat is dry, stomach doing flips. “oh my god.” you gasp, legs turning into sand, and he rushes to catch you.

“he told me to take care of the three of you, and i didn’t understand and i thought about the crepe girls and then you of course and.. you and.. i… i’m sorry, y/n. i didn’t want it to end like this.” he spits out word after word, boulder rolling off his shoulder, letting himself cry in your embrace.

“no one did, satoru. i’m never gonna blame you for his death, yeah?” your eyes start to water too. he’s still the boy that lost his best friend, you’re still the girl that lost her boyfriend, shoko is still the one that lost a best friend, and you’re all three still teenagers, waiting for someone to guide you through the loss.

you stand like that for a while, until you both calm down.

“thank you.” gojo satoru, the strongest, smiles through tears he’d only ever shown a handful of people.

“thank you, boywonder.” you smile through tears you’d only ever shown a handful of people.

“i have to talk to yaga.” he runs a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily before hugging you goodbye.

you sit down in your chair and watch the sun set. through the window, maki, yuta, panda and inumaki wave at you. you reciprocate, thankful they’re still alive, when all of a sudden your phone rings.

“mom?” the moment you answer, mimiko’s voice cracks on the other end. she usually isn’t one to call, so you’re guessing you know what this is about.

“i’m coming.” you say between your own small shallow breaths, waving the students goodbye through the window once again. you make another quick phone call before leaving campus.

“yes?”

“megumi, gojo’s had a rough day and i can’t spend time with him tonight. shoko also has to do overtime at the morgue. can you keep him company for a bit?”

he sighs. “yeah, i will.”

“thank you.”

“sensei… take care. you’re a great sorcerer…and a great person. just felt like you needed to hear that.”

“thank you, megumi. you too, kiddo.”

31.10.2018

“you know this was reckless, yeah?”

“we’re sorry for keeping you in the dark so long. it’s just — we knew you would’ve stopped us if we told you kenjaku took over geto-sama’s body, and we really want him to have a proper burial.” the brunette clutches her phone to her chest, eyes fixed on the ground.

“we didn’t mean to keep you in the dark so long, but you were already grieving geto-sama for the second time. we didn’t think you’d find out like you did.” mimiko apologizes too, and even though they stand in front of you, apologizing for the biggest mistake they have ever made, you can’t scold them. not when they thought about you, about easing your pain.

“you guys did a stupid thing, that’s all i’m gonna say.” the pause and sigh you take between sentences make them want to burry themselves into the ground, “but i’m not mad, because you did it with good intent.” your voice softens and their gazes come up, meeting your face. “i’m gonna help you, but please wait until i come back.”

their faces lighten as you stroke their hair, stopping when your phone rings.

“ijichi? itadori? alone? shibuya? what’s he doing there? he’s supposed to be in harajuku station with mei ” they read between the words, knowing exactly who this itadori is, “i can’t, i really have enough curses to fight, the meiji-jingu area by itself is packed.” you apologize with gritted teeth and exhausted breath, “i’ll enter the curtain when i’m done, and send you guys some back-up,yeah?”

you look at the twins again, wanting to instinctively crouch down to their level, but they’ve gotten too tall for that. “please, don’t go out. and if you do, be careful, and stay safe. don’t do anything rash.” you say, embracing them both. “i love you two so much.” you hold onto them a bit longer than usual, kissing their cheeks before unlocking the door.

“we love you too.” they say in unison, and smile.

“be careful, yeah? lock the door after i teleport.”

“always.” is the last thing you hear before disappearing.

9.11.2018

“come on, pick up, pick up, pick up…”

you bite your nails in frustration. it’s been a week since the culling game has started, a week since gojo got sealed, since nanami died. since maki got burned. and the biggest act of jujutsu terrorism happened in less than 24 hours under your very noses. a lethal battle royal, where everyone has to kill each other.

it’s been a full week since neither of the twins have contacted you. they don’t respond to their texts either. for mimiko it was normal, she didn’t really use her phone as much as her sister, but when nanako, whose cursed technique is all about using her phone, doesn’t have it, then that’s when you start to worry.

“sensei…” megumi walks up next to you, visibly worried, “who are you looking for? maybe we can help?”

you’ve known megumi ever since gojo found him, and met tsumiki a few times too. you helped gojo train him, something that turned out useful because of your somehow similar cursed techniques: his ten shadows and your use of void space were easy to adapt to the other. you had grown close, especially because of your shared annoyance for his guardian. yet, he never once met your daughters. you would’ve loved to introduce them to each other, mimiko would have been thrilled to have another just as quiet friend of her age and nanako would have loved to bother the two of them. still, you didn’t. you couldn’t, because that would mean explaining to gojo why you have two kids with you and (while still visiting the temple) possibly needing to convince suguru to let you take them out, and even a possible slip-up would’ve meant all hell breaking loose. though sometimes you thought maybe not, since it wasn’t non-sorcerers you were wanting to befriend them with, but it was still too risky. higher-ups had eyes everywhere, and you didn’t want to risk being labeled as foe.

“y/n-sensei, fushiguro’s right!” yuuji chimes in, making you laugh a little bit, “tell us, maybe we’ve seen the person!”

“and once we’re done speaking with master tengen, we can help you search for them.”

“you too, yuki?” you sigh, still spamming the call button.

“that’s tsukumo-senpai to you!” she jokes.

“ugh, someone, take this thing away already! it keeps buzzing way too much!” a hole opens on itadori’s hand, sukuna groaning some curse words and spitting a cell phone out, full of annoyance and disgust.

your heart drops and your mind blurs as you look at it. green, silicone, bunny ears.

“sensei?” yuuta now directs his attention to you too. “sensei, what’s wrong?” he seems worried, and so do the rest of them.

“what’s that?” choso points to the green rectangle on the ground, crouching and flipping it around. they all look at the screen, which reads “mom”.

“that’s a cellphone, choso!” yuki explains.

“that’s — that’s nanako’s cellphone.” you stammer, collapsing to your knees. “yuuji, when— how? this is bad, bad, bad, bad..” you think out loud, voice shakier with every word as you flip the phone from one side to the other. “she-she can’t use her technique without her phone, oh my god. but she’s definitely with mimiko, so maybe they can transfer points to each other, and her combat skills aren’t bad at all, maybe.. ”

“y/n-sensei, i don’t know how that got there.” itadori speaks, almost ashamed.

“i do!” another orifice opens on his hand, grinning. “i killed them.”

everybody’s in shock, you gasp, phone falling on the floor as both your hands cover your mouth.

“the dark haired’s head i blew off, the other’s i sliced.” the curse continues.

“itadori, please make that thing shut up.” maki orders harshly, expression softening when her gaze falls back on you.

“sukuna, this is not the time for jokes.” itadori intervenes.

“i’m not joking. they tried to boss me around, telling me they’ll give me another finger if i kill kenjaku. some brats, trying to command the king of curses around, pfft. i couldn’t give a damn about them wanting that body back or whatever.”

yuki and yuta help you up. megumi stares at you, and choso has partially read the air, pitiful expression plastered across his face. itadori’s head hangs low. yours does too. you don’t blame him, you could never, but you’d like to beat sukuna dead right then and there. exorcize him out of his mind, over and over again. your blood boils, and you feel the cursed energy forming in the pit of your stomach. the ground breaks beneath you, literally, and everybody watches the crack extend into the horizon. you feel like a part of you has died again. the first one died when geto committed mass murder and disappeared off of the face of earth, the second one died when he told you to stop visiting the temple. the third one died on christmas eve, with suguru, and two more parts, the fifth and sixth, died when you found out your girls were dead, a few moments ago. you didn’t even know you had that many in you, but you knew you needed an outlet.

so, you use the only one you have around, that is not fatal to anybody: you let the shards break, you let them explode, allow them to cut you — you scream. you scream, falling to the ground, hands gripping at your hair. and you scream, you scream for nanako and mimiko, for suguru, for satoru, for shoko, for nanami who could’ve escaped his destiny had he not come back, for haibara, for inumaki, for mai, for mechamaru, for nobara who’s fighting death, for the youth you had lost, for the kids that are next to you in this hellhole, for the youth they’ve been stripped of, you scream for your life and scream. and megumi sees one of the women he grew up around losing it, and yuta and itadori see their teacher in shambles, maki sees her role model falling apart; yuki sees the only other special-grade, that’s not a teenager, she has left fighting to not blow up the country, and choso sees a talented sorcerer with a good heart dying inside.

and you scream, you scream until your throat is dry and even dryer and you cough, cough dry, cough blood, cough until you just stop.

megumi kneels down in front of you, and you just stare at him. he looks back at you, eyelashes wet with tears he’d never admit of having shed, silently begging you to not leave him too. he grasps your hands softly like suguru did on the first day you showed up at his temple and pulls you in to hug you. and you see in him the boy suguru used to be, and in all your other students the group of teenagers you built a family with and your heart breaks because they built their own too.

maki kneels down too, and hugs you too, and so does yuta, and although, sheepishly, yuji does that too. choso thinks a bit but megumi nods in approval and he does join, and yuki also circles her arms around you as you cry. deep down you feel and know they’re scared of what you would do, so they hold you down.

megumi never saw you cry once. not because you weren’t a cryer, the three of swords was marked by scalding iron on your heart, but because you never really cried in front of people you didn’t know, or people you didn’t want to perceive you as weak. but he remembers the only time — once, when him and tsumiki were staying over at gojo’s for the weekend — he heard you through the walls. he was eleven, he believes, and he still remembers how you sounded. the memory is sewn into his brain, and whenever he remembers it, his stomach knots and his lymph nodes harden. since then, sometimes, when he saw you smiling, he only thought about what’s kept underneath your smile and your designer clothes and jujutsu records that you broke.

“i raised them, they were my girls too.” you whisper, “they only wanted their dad to have a proper burial, was that really so much to ask for?” your head shakes in disapproval to their fate, “curse users or not, i still carry their picture around in my wallet, i still have every inch of my home full of pictures of them.”

you stop to catch a breath. they’re all still around you, not letting go.

“if it means killing kenjaku, i’ll turn myself into a vengeful spirit if it has to come to that.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x female reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x oc #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #jjk geto #nanako hasaba #mimiko hasaba #mimiko and nanako #jjk mimiko #geto suguru angst #geto angst #jjk season 2 #jjk angst #jjk smut #jjk fluff

[gaystan]

average catg segment

CLYDE: Okay, so, before I forget, okay.

JIMMY: (laughing)

CLYDE: The other day, I can’t believe I haven’t told you guys this yet. So I was eating at McDonald’s for breakfast,

TOLKIEN: McDonald’s for breakfast?

CLYDE: When I sat down for my feast a guy walked into the door, looked at me and said, “Idiot can’t even make his own pancakes. How pathetic,” and walked out.

JIMMY: (laughing)

CLYDE: Don’t laugh at that!

CRAIG: I mean, it’s a- it’s a power play.

CLYDE: I tried to enjoy my meal, but all I could taste were dejection and tears. How can I track this guy down, explain how restaurants work, project the image of a man who definitely understands the concept of making pancakes to every stranger I encounter?

CRAIG: (laughing)

TOLKIEN: Here’s the thing. This thing this person did was… wrong? But also, I think very funny maybe? Also?

JIMMY: I think the alternative is you walk into a Pizza Hut and go “These fuckin’ idiots don’t know how to make their own pizza, BYE!”

TOLKIEN: There’s a nicer way of doing this. Walk into a McDonald’s. See someone eating a stack of pancakes. Hand them a recipe for pancakes, and then walk out.

CRAIG: Mhm.

JIMMY: That’s the suh-suh-sweet way of doing it, you’re right, Tolkien. You walk in, you hand them a recipe for pancakes, and you say, “for next time!”

CLYDE: (Laughing) For next time, try this!

CRAIG: I wanna be.

TOLKIEN: If you do it wrong, they’re crepes.

CRAIG: I wanna be in the head of the person who’s walking by McDonald’s, sees someone eating a stack of pancakes, is like, “I gotta go in there and say something.”

CLYDE: Fuckin’ double parks-

JIMMY: (doing a voice) Victoria, just go ‘round the block. I’m just- I’m just gonna be a sec.

CLYDE: I think he went in wanting to buy something, and just-

CRAIG: Pancakes are very easy to make at home-

TOLKIEN: Deceptively. Deceptively difficult, Craig.

CRAIG: You didn’t learn how to cook until you were twenty-three,

TOLKIEN: Getting the right pan temperature?

JIMMY: Now, it is undeniable that McDonald’s does have d-d-duh-dark, arcane, breakfast treats, that like, you tell me how they make that McGriddle, with the fuckin’, with the biscuit, with the syrup nugs,

CLYDE: They have these magical crystals of syrup-

JIMMY: A wuh- a wizard gave ‘em. A syrup wizard. A Canadian syrup wizard. A maplewitch. That’s why it was such a big deal when they did breakfast all day, ‘cause they’re burning through the non-renewable resource of syrup crystals so fast.

CLYDE: (doing a voice) You’ve run out of syrup crystals?? We’re running low on syrup crystals!! Call the maplewitch!

TOLKIEN: Clyde, it’s not funny that you got bullied and it’s not funny that this person was an ass. What’s funny is the idea of walking into a restaurant just- pre-angry, that people here are eating things that they could just as easily make at home.

CLYDE: (laughing)

CRAIG: Does he walk into autobody shops and say “Change your own oil! Idiots!”

TOLKIEN: Idiot doesn’t even know how to do a triple bypass!

JIMMY: Just saying, if this happened to me it would make my fucking week.

CLYDE: Really?? It totally bummed me out!!

JIMMY: Seriously?

CLYDE: I went to McDonald’s and someone put me on blast for eating pancakes at McDonald’s! I felt-

CRAIG: Let’s start with the big problem. One, you’re eating in the McDonald’s.

CLYDE: We’ve talked about- yeah. You guys have found some problems with eating inside the fast food establishment.

JIMMY: Fast food restaurants are, by definition, a gun that sh-shoo-shoots burgers at you.

CLYDE: So for you to go inside the gun and retrieve the burgers like a dragon’s horde, is, um-

TOLKIEN: What if it was at a different location? Something nice?

CLYDE: If a stranger yells at me about the food I’m eating I’m not gonna give a fuck- I don’t care if I’m at the Jiro Dreams of Sushi restaurant. Somebody kicks in the door and is like, “Can’t make your own sushi!” I’m like, “Oh, my dinner’s ruined.”

CRAIG: You’re at the fancy sushi place and a guy says you can’t even make your own sushi and your first reaction is “he’s right” ?

CLYDE: No, my first reaction would be, “Oh no, a stranger yelled at me.” How are you not getting that? I don’t want a stranger to yell at me in any situation, any circumstance!

#microceleb au #south park #been thinking about mcau catg a lot lately #also i’ve been meaning to finish writing this for SO LONG

[ayjaydraws]

I have a lot of thoughts about the PROCREATE DREAMS announcement

No, ok, I gotta talk about this now because no one else in my specific tumblr bubble is and I’m actually really so so excited for this because this is an actual absolute game changer for the indie animation scene and beginner animators. So I’m gonna do what I never did before on this blog and write an actual real blog entry here.

At the 8th of September, the people behind the IOS drawing and Illustration app Procreate announced a completely new app focusing on motion design and animation. The announcement trailer and the event of the announcement can be found here:

Fellow artist that use Procreate know about the incredible advancement this app made in the illustration and design field by its insanely powerful tools yet Apple-typical simplicity. One thing this app has down to a tee is it’s intuitiveness. Even complete beginner digital artists will find their way around the app quite easily after only a few hours with it. Of course it doesn’t make you a pro artist over night but it gives you fast-to-learn tools to help you on your artistic journey without any hidden fees, account signups or AI systems needed.

Procreate Dreams follows the same approach, giving simple intuitive tools to everyone, not just industry veterans. The app has been announced to launch on the App Store on 22th of November and only cost 20$ in a one-time purchase. This may seem like a usual tech announcement but I want to clarify what this company has just done by creating this app.

If Procreate Dreams turns out to follow its predecessors footsteps in terms of simplicity, richness in features and intuitiveness (and from the looks of it, it will) and continue their user-friendly pricing model, this app will single-handedly change the indie animation scene completely.

Giving tools to everyone to a fair price for them to explore their creativity is not industry standard anymore. Procreate is currently one of the only players on the market that offers such an advanced experience for basically the price of a thrift shop T-Shirt. Everytime I tell someone new to digital art about Procreate and the one-time payment at such a low price too, they will simply not believe me. They expect hidden fees, a subscription model. It’s unthinkable to them that a professional art app would be offered to the consumer in such a way.

So please keep in mind that this is not the norm. This app will inspire a whole new generation of animators and artist and that for the low price of 20$. Even the professional animation industry will be shifted by this. This is a big deal just as the arrival of Procreate was a big deal.

A test and overview of the new and advanced features of Procreate Dreams can be found here:

#procreate #procreate dreams #animation #digital art #Art #indie #indie animator #indie animation #illustration #Apple #iOS #ipad #ipad drawing #ayjaytalks #beginner artist #beginner animator #Youtube

[warmglowofsurvival]

RS: The last time you played in the UK, we made a video piece where we asked your fans waiting in line about what the band has meant to them. So, as we wrap up this retrospective conversation, let’s finish on that same question – what does Twenty One Pilots mean to you?

JOSH: Well, it’s changed my life. I remember very early on, maybe even before Tyler and I played music together, having a conversation about music and what it is and what it means. Throughout the course of our lives, we’ve both experienced the journeys of what the human brain can do to you. It’s not always an easy road every day. I think Tyler and I both really took a lot from music to help with that, and having a conversation where we said ‘man, if we could make and put out music that helped one person through life, dealing with difficult times, that would feel worth it’. And it’s gone beyond that. 12 years into being a band, there’s a line of people outside of the shows. Seeing and noticing and not taking that for granted, and hearing stories of how it has impacted people positively, that’s what Twenty One Pilots is to me.

TYLER: It’s hard to make your dreams come true. But it’s not as far away as some people think. I think that what Twenty One Pilots has taught me and what it means to me is that when you are passionate about what you do, and you try to pair that with a confidence that what you’re doing is good, that goes so much further than actually having all the talent in the world or all the connections in the world or all the knowledge – all these things that get in the way of feeling like you can go do it. I remember when I first thought ‘I want to write songs, I want to play shows’, I’d be rubbing shoulders with people even in a local scene in Columbus, Ohio that knew so much more than me about gear and about songwriting, who were better at their instrument, knew more people in the industry, had more connections. It was this moment where I felt like I just wanted to quit. There’s no way I could catch up, I gotta learn all this, I got to meet all these people. Something in us said ‘No, you don’t need to figure all that out, just keep going’. Now I look around at something I want to do or understand or create or become and because of Twenty One Pilots, I now realise all of those walls that are in between me and becoming that thing, they’re just made of nothing. But you can still see them, and you feel like you can’t break through that wall. But really, you’ve got to just casually walk through them. It’s not that far away. I don’t know if that makes sense. But I’ve seen it in other ways. Now that I’m a dad, wanting to instil a passion or a purpose in a small child. What are they like? What do they want to become? What are they going to dream up to be? And not only just for me, but for them to see the story of Twenty One Pilots is something that should encourage them that yes, you can do that. I guess not to be too dramatic about it, but there’s no reason on paper why this should have worked. If you’re writing down on paper all the reasons why you think your dreams aren’t going to exist, then you’re looking at the wrong thing, because that’s actually not as big of a hurdle to clear.

#twenty one pilots #twentyonepilots #josh dun #joshua dun #tyler joseph #rock sound #rock sound 25 #rock sound 304 #interview #excerpt #text

[giggly-squiggily]

Hi Squiggly! I saw your requests were open and was wondering if you would be willing to write for Haikyuu? Totally understand if you’re not feeling up to it though! If you are willing though, could I request platonic lee Suga and ler Tsukishima? I think they’d be such an interesting pair with how mischievous they both can be. I don’t know if you want a prompt or not, but if so, maybe Suga was trying to get a rise out of Tsukki and get him to be a little more joyful/playful, but that backfires and when that playful side comes out, there do be tickles. Thanks Squiggly and I hope you have a fantastic day/week and have fun with your writing adventures!

Ooo, the rare playful Tsukishima! We love to see it! :D I've gotcha covered, anon! :3 And thank you so much! I wish the same to you- may your week/weekend be a great one and your day be lovely!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@thatbigbisexual29, @duckymcdoorknob @rachi-roo

“Hey, Tsukishima! How’s the weather up there?” Suga slapped him on the back, the gesture far too light to send the blonde off-balance. “I gotta ask- do you like being the team’s wall? You’re really good at it.”

“Uh, thanks I guess?” The middle blocker raised a brow, fingers twitching to pull on his headphones. It wasn’t that he disliked talking to Suga- it was more he just…didn’t like talking. Usually Yamaguchi carried conversations for both of them, but he had after school tutoring today- meaning the blonde was left on his own. “And I suppose. It’s a position.”

“Ah, you’re trying to act cool. A Lot of first years do, you know?” Suga gave his shoulder a squeeze before shaking it some. “I remember when us third years did. I like to think we’ve grown into our cool era.”

“You have? I couldn’t tell.” Oops- that slipped.

Suga’s jaw dropped, eyes lighting up at the comment. “Oh, so that’s how it is, huh? Very well then- take THIS!” He dropped the hand on Tsukishima’s shoulder, clamping it on his side for maximum effect. “Now you’re gonna learn to respect your seniors!”

“Er! Hmmph!” Immediately Tsukishima clamped his mouth shut, twisting away from the ticklish touch. He should have known where this was going. “D-Don’t! I’m n-not ticklish!”

“Sure you’re not.” Suga snickered, bringing both hands up to attack his ribs, increasing his efforts. “That’s why you’re smiling so much, yeah?”

This guy! Tsukishima willed himself not to laugh, bracing against the tickly fingers. Suga was good, but this was nothing compared to the torment Kuroo and Bokuto unleashed upon him during the training camp. He could deal with it until Suga gave up…

Or he could get him instead.

“Hm? Is that a laugh I hear- whoa!” Suga yelped when Tsukishima grabbed his wrist, twisting with all his might. The setter stumbled some as he was whipped forward, just barely saved from falling by the blocker’s hands. “C-careful no-OH!”

“I think being careful’s gonna prove difficult.” Tsukishima mused, his fingers itching along Suga’s waist as the setter squirmed and giggled, doubling over into himself. “What’s wrong? I thought you were teaching me a lesson?”

“Yoohohohohure a snehehahahahaky ohooohohohne! AHehahahahaha- Dihhihihihid thehehehy teach yohohoohou thahahhat?” Suga wheezed, cheeks pink and giggles increasing when his ribs were marched on next.

Yes. “Nope. I just picked it up somewhere.”

“Lihihiihihiiar! Aheahhhahahahhaha- wahahahahit wahahhahait I’m sohohohohorry, I tahahahke it bahahahhack!” Suga all but flailed when his middle ribs were prodded at, nearly headbutting Tsukishima in the process. “Yohohohohohu ohahahakay?”

“Yeah, fine. You’re so squirmy though- hang on.” With another move he ‘picked up somewhere’, he kicked Suga’s legs out from under him, sitting on his hips as he carried on drilling into his ribs from behind. “There- now I can tickle you better.”

“Gehehehahahahahhahhaha! Tsuhuuhuuhuhkki, plehahahahhahahhase!” Suga was a mess of mirth, feet kicking against the ground as he pressed his arms tightly into his torso. “Iihihihihihihihit tihihihihihihickles sohoohhoohhoo muhuhuhuhuhuhuch!”

“Huh, you don’t say?” Tsukishima let his fingers walk across his back, looking for newer spots to torment. “Are you ticklish here? How about here?” He prodded randomly, snickering when Suga jerked and squeaked with each jab. “I think I remember you having a spot along…here?” He wiggled a finger beneath Suga’s armpit experimentally.

“AHAHHHHAHA!” The shriek was so loud it echoed across the empty gym.

“Wow. What a spot.” Deciding he’d take the hearing damage, he dug both hands into Suga’s pits, grinning as the Setter thrashed beneath him in hysterics. “That’s right- laugh for me.”

“TSUUHUHHUHUUHUHKI PELHAHAHAHAHAHAHSE!” Suga begged, cheeks hot and eyes starting to mist over. “STHAHAHAHAHAHP!”

“Heh, given up already? Alright.” The tickles came to an end as the setter gasped for air, curling onto his side. “That’ll show you for trying to tickle me.”

“Ehehehehe…hehehehee…ohoohoho doohohon’t wohohorry…yohohour lesson is stihiihihll underway.” Suga pointed out, earning a raised brow.

“Really? And how is that?”

Just then- two hands from two different bodies touched his shoulders, making him stiffen up.

“Hi Tsukishima.” Daichi was all smiles.

“Ready for lesson two?” Asahi grinned.

Thanks for reading!

#haikyuu!! #tickle #tickle fic #fluff #tsukishima kei #sugawara koushi #karasuno antics #I love them your honor #they are good bois akrjkeakjrakerjk

[ketho484]

Chapter seven of the Actor AU!

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of near death and actual death as well as gun use. Discretion is advised

Au belongs to @frillsand

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Chapter 7: The Rescue

The cast of Welcome home all had a day off today. They went to their chatroom and decided to meet at the community center to figure out their next move to help Willow. They all met at the center, Wally arriving last as he was still seething after last night. When prompted by Barnaby about his anger, Wally told them everything he learned, showing them the contents of the briefcase as proof. Needless to say, they were convinced his theory might be right.

“No wonder you go to close to her so quickly” Poppy stated as she and Howdy inspected the birth certificate

“No wonder she trusted you more than all of us combined” Howdy added

“And now that poor little kid is living with her kidnapper?” Sally asked, Wally nodding in affirmation

“And the murderer of your parents?” Frank added, earning another nod from Wally, who looked ready to kill someone

“Gee, Wally. That must’ve been really hard on you to learn this” Eddie said as he put a comforting hand on Wally’s shoulder

“…I’m going to that house tonight” Wally stated “We have the evidence we need right here. Id you guys can keep all this safe, I’ll get Willow somewhere safe and make sure the cops take him away”

“Wally, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Julie asked, worried for her friend “What if you get hurt?”

“Julie’s right” Barnaby spoke up “If you’re gonna do this, at least take someone as backup”

“Not to mention a potential witness if something goes wrong” Frank added

“Mmmm…You all make good points” Wally said as he took a breath “I-I just couldn’t sleep last night now that I know what I know”

“It’s okay, Wally” Poppy said as she wrapped a wing around his shoulders “Nobody’s judging you. We just want you to be careful”

Wally sighed and looked over at Eddie

“…Me?” Eddie pointed to himself

“You and Howdy both work jobs outside of our acting careers” Wally explained “You work at the post office in the early mornings, he works the night shift at a Whole Foods. Not only are you the most available, but thanks to your job, you’re cool under pressure and won’t freak out of something goes wrong”

“Wally has a point” Howdy said “You remember that fight that broke out in the store last time you were there. You immediately took charge and acted as a mediator to help break it up before security could do anything”

“If anything, behind that sweet attitude is a smart soldier” Frank added, making eddie blush

“Well…If you really think i’m capable, you don’t mind if I drive, do you?” Eddie asked shyly “My car is darker, so it’ll be less likely to be spotted”

“Deal” Wally smiled before turning to the others “The rest of you be on standby just in case something goes wrong in the worst possible way”

With an affirming nod, the group all went back to their homes, Eddie taking the briefcase just in case Eric tried looking through Wally’s house to get it back. Wally waited all day, practicing his painting while he did before Eddie pulled up in his simple, black Camaro. Wally got in, tablet in hand, and directed Eddie to the right house. The arguing was really bad tonight. Poor Willow was crying again as Wally pulled out his phone and called the cops.

“HCPD, how can I help you?” A lady on the other line spoke

“Hi, I’d like to report that I might’ve found the killer of the Darling couple” Wally said

“Wait, really!?” The lady spoke up “Where is he!?”

“Number 2059 West Maple Avenue”

“Damn, that’s in the suburbs. No wonder we couldn’t find this guy. Alright, a squad is-”

Before the lady could finish, a loud shot was heard inside the house, making both Eddie and Wally jump

“What was that?” The lady asked, having heard the gunshot

“…I think the guy shot a gun” Wally said worriedly

“Okay, don’t move. Help is coming” The woman said before hanging up

“We’ve gotta get Willow out of there!” Wally said as he dropped his phone and dashed for the house, Eddie following close behind

Willow screamed from inside, a scream that quickly got louder as she saw Wally and ran for him. Wally was going to pick her up, But Eric came from behind and headlocked her, picking her up and backing away as he held a gun to her temple. Behind them, Wally and Eddie could both see Jessica dead on the ground with a bullet hole in her skull. It made them sick, but also sad that the one person Willow saw as her mom, the only one in that house who tried to save her, had died to try and make that happen.

“Stay back!” Eric shouted, Willow crying out as she struggled in his hold, finding it somewhat hard to breathe, though not impossible “You bastards should’ve minded your own damn business!”

“It is our business!” Wally shouted, rage evident in his eyes “Especially since you took my sister away!”

“This brat is mine!” Eric screamed “This is how a puppet should treat it’s fucking master! And you made her disobey!”

“Please let her go” Eddie begged “She’s just a child”

“No! I’m making sure nobody will find this brat again!” Eric shouted as Willow got an idea “And you can’t stop me-AAAAAGH!!!”

At that moment, as the sirens were being heard coming closer, Willow bit down into Eric’s arm and ran towards Wally, not even thinking about catching her breath. Wally bent down and held her in his arms, but turned his body around when Eric pointed the gun and fired, Eddie, getting down to avoid the shot…

…Silence filled the air followed by a thump. Willow let out a scream as Eddie ran to place pressure on a fresh gunshot wound in Wally’s chest. The guy was struggling to breathe, his vision blurring and his hearing muffled as he heard sirens of the cops and an ambulance. The cops dragged a screaming Eric to their car while the paramedics took Wally straight to the hospital. Eddie had to stop Willow from running after him, holding her back so the medics could do their jobs. Once she stopped struggling, once the ambulance drove off, Eddie washed his hands in the house sink and took Willow to the car, driving her to his apartment. It was small, but quaint. Eddie set Willow on the couch and got her something small to eat, not wanting her tummy to be too upset after what she just went through. She didn’t eat anything. She just stared at her plate for forty-five minutes before the landline rang. Eddie picked it up.

“Hello? This is Eddie” He spoke to the other person on the line, though Willow couldn’t hear what the other person was saying “Uh-huh…Yeah, she’s safe. How’s Wally?…Yeah? Oh my gosh, thank you so much!…Yeah? Oh…Oh, I see…No, no, I’ll tell her…Yeah, I’ll deliver the news…He’s going to be okay, right?…Okay…Yeah, thank you” With that, Eddie hung up the phone and approached Willow slowly “Well…The good news is he’s stable”

“Will he be coming for me?” Willow asked, her voice quiet as she set the food tray aside

“…That’s the bad news. He’s in a coma right now, so he won’t be able to wake up for a little while” Eddie explained, pulling the little puppet into his arms “He’ll wake up, I’m sure of it, but he needs some time, okay?”

Willow hugged Eddie, fresh tears coming to her eyes as she nodded tiredly

"...Okay. I trust you..."

#welcome home #oc #actor au #wally darling #eddie dear #tw: mentions/descriptions of death #tw: gun use #tw: near death

[twilightknight17]

Last time on P3R: fun, not-fun, and another full moon!

Also, Koromaru <3

So I went back into Tartarus because two people wandered in like… three days before the full moon. So I gotta go get them. BUT. Elizabeth informed me that there was also something else in Tartarus I needed to rescue.

HOW did you get to the 72nd floor, kitty??? I mean, we got him out, he’s fine, but just ?????????

Elizabeth also requested another outing, this time to Naganaki Shrine. We had a great time. It’s actually really refreshing to have Elizabeth around. In a world where everyone seems to be some shade of unhappy, she’s full of wonder about the small things.

She recognizes a slide and a jungle gym, which means she’s seen them before somewhere. Do you think the Velvet attendants were kids once, like Lavenza? Now I want a whole room of the Velvet Room that looks like Discovery Zone.

Anyway, it’s full moon again. We’re off to an… abandoned underground military facility on the north side of the city. We didn’t have any trouble getting in, but once we arrived and determined that the shadow was deeper underground, we were surprised by two out of three of our weird trio of midnight assassins.

At least they’ve introduced themselves now.

Strega is pissed off that we’re trying to destroy the full moon shadows and Tartarus, because… they’re selfish, basically. If we get rid of the Dark Hour, they might lose their powers.

They like running around in a hidden hour, playing god. They like being untouchable assassins. And they don’t actually think Apathy Syndrome or anything worse that might come is something to worry about.

I mean… he’s not wrong, considering how many times over the course of Persona canon that humanity has almost destroyed itself. But like… dude. We still have to try.

Takaya and Jin lock us in the underground facility. Kudos to them, I guess, for not just shooting us dead right there. If they’re not killing anyone but their targets… at least they have some sense of decency? So, rather than banging on the impenetrable steel door, we’re going to head down into the dark to go look for the shadow.

...fun.

There are OLD ROCKETS AND DEAD BODIES DOWN HERE. Why would you just leave this stuff like this, wtf????

Anyway, something like 30 meters underground, we find the Justice Shadow! Or maybe Chariot?

Or both! It splits in half when you hit it hard enough. Which… the only thing that seemed to hit it hard enough was my theurgy abilities, so that was kind of a slog. They also do the thing where if one dies, the other revives it, so you have to balance your attacks so you can kill them in the same turn. I liked it. And the designs for these were cool. Half the full moon shadows so far have had really good designs, and the other half have just sort of been “...okay?” XD

So after the shadows are down, we call Ikutsuki to inform him that we won, but we are stuck in the base.

...sir, you could be a little more concerned???

Who are you sending, it’s still midnight???? Are you making us wait out the Hour? Hello????

We all make it back safe, though, and Pharos comes to visit literally the next night. I feel like I should be concerned that he showed up right away, but that’s fine. Hi, dude.

...baby boy, you could be a little more specific. X’D If we’ve got a traitor, that’s kind of important info.

Elizabeth gives me a chain-of-deals sidequest the next day, with the weird stipulation that she doesn’t want anything specific. She just wants me to trade the random bandage she gives me and turn it into something cool. I traded all over Iwatodai and ended with…

If she’s happy with what I got her, I’m glad. ^_^

Mitsuru calls a meeting in the evening, and we learn that Koromaru is better, and officially joining the team now!

No one’s really sure how this tech works, but with Aigis translating, we learn that Koromaru wants to help us because we saved him. He’s such a good boy. T_T

With the shadows eliminated and our fluffy new teammate, I’m ready for the rest of summer to be aweso---

...you know, Mitsuru, when I jokingly called you “mom”, it was just that. A joke. You didn’t have to do this to us. I’ve already had a week of mandatory track practice.

Fuuka claims that it’s only for “a few weeks”, so we should make the best of it. Actual school starts again in less than a month!! When do I get a break!! There’s at least two part-time jobs I haven’t even managed to try out yet because there’s no time!!

At least if I’m back at school, maybe I can rank up some of my school social links…

But first, we’re going on an outing with Junpei for some summer fun. We’re gonna smash a watermelon! And learn some more about Junpei in the process.

Instead of using Junpei’s childhood bat, Akihiko smashes the melon with his bare hands. Which… holy shit, senpai.

Adding injury to insult in terms of my summer break, Ikutsuki has decided that we all need to go to the doctor. You’re not my dad! Leave me alone! But I cannot refuse. We’re going one at a time, and my appointment is on the second to last day of summer school (which is only a week, btw, Fuuka).

Summer school sucks, though. Like… not only is it another week of just “go in, see cutscene, go home”, it takes my evening slots away too! Six days of getting nothing done, and the worst part is, even though it gave me points towards my academics for each day, my academics still didn’t rank up!! Ugh. X’’’’D

Thank god you can pet Koromaru.

When Friday rolls around, it’s off to the hospital for a checkup, which… goes very weirdly. Apparently Minato’s took much longer than everyone else’s, because his persona power is so unique. They had to run so many more tests! But, uh… what kind of tests are you running on personas at the hospital? That’s weird, Ikutsuki. What are you testing for?

He comments on how we’ve been making so much more progress since Minato arrived in Iwatodai.

Well, I am the Protagonist. B)

Apparently my fucking doctor’s appointment took so long that by the time I get back to Iwatodai station, it’s midnight. Like, wtf, Ikutsuki. Fuuka’s on-call with Lucia to make sure I get home safe, but before I can go anywhere, she detects a shadow in the city, like the night Koromaru got hurt.

LET’S GOOOOOOO, MOONLIGHT BRIDGE.

Sprinting off to Moonlight Bridge, I do not get to actually run around, but I do find Takaya and a weirdly fucked-up-looking Abbadon.

Minato and I are not willing to leave anyone to die, even if it’s this dude, so we team up to take out our common foe. Takaya’s gun is really effective, but we also get to see him summon his persona.

Dude looks like he’s in pain while summoning, and no wonder, considering what his persona looks like.

We successfully take out the shadow, and Takaya leaves before Mitsuru can show up to get me. But not before acknowledging that he owes me for my help. We’re enemies, but he doesn’t leave his debts unpaid.

Dude’s bonkers, but again, apparently has some sense of decency in there somewhere.

The summer festival rolls around, and it’s nice. We went with Aigis and Mitsuru, to give Aigis some more regular human experiences.

...I just suggested that we hold hands!

Koromaru is also a regular part of the household now, so you can spend time with him like you do your other teammates. Either going for walks, or…

You know what? Okay. Let’s do it.

Outstanding.

Lastly, since NONE of my school confidants are available to rank up, I guess we’re going out with the Gourmet King, again. Who is 100% legit in a cult and I am uncomfortable.

DUDE, NO. I’m not drinking your damn kool aid. I’m going home to watch more documentaries with Koromaru. X’’’’D

Next time I need to head back into Tartarus to see about the new area that unlocked. I’ve been trying to go for like a week, but stuff keeps happening at night! God, P3, I’m trying to manage my time and you are killing me. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m not gonna max everyone’s links this time around, but I want to at least try, you know?

#Li plays P3Re

[hello-eeveev]

Character ask game with Essek + 2, 12, 22! :D

~character ask game~

(previous here!)

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Telekinetic feat. I refuse to believe he used a whole Telekinesis to take that cupcake from Jester in that one episode. I am giving him an invisible mage hand.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?

I love a good autistic!Essek in a fic. If you haven’t read you know that time is all we’re made of, go do that now. you’re welcome. enjoy.

Related: when writers use Essek to explore or discuss their own chronic pain, illnesses, and disabilities! It’s not something I experience, but I know many people who do. It’s a very interesting topic to me and I love to get various insights on it!

I don’t write a ton of angst myself, but Essek has a lot of angst potential, so thank you to everyone who writes the good Essek angst, whump, and hurt/comfort. Y’all keep things exciting and I thank you for your service.

For dislikes: not a fan of instant love. In general, but especially for Essek. If you think that man didn’t have to work through a bajillion layers of what it means to like a person, to care about a person, to connect with another person honestly and genuinely, to feel any significant kind of attraction for someone (much less what attraction even looks like to him), before he’s able to arrive at in love, I don’t know what to tell you. I think we’ve got different Esseks in our heads.

Which kind of relates to another thing I’m not big on, which is when Essek is too… emotionally intelligent? Not as emotionally stunted as he should be? One of my favorite traits about Exandrian wizards is that none of them are particularly good at processing and dealing with their emotions in a healthy way (except for—afaik—allura ily my queen). Essek and Caleb are learning, but that was not by choice. They accidentally got friends who they care about and who care about them, and it turns out if you want to have lasting, fulfilling connections, you gotta work on yourself. gross lol

#thank you! #eve talks #essek thelyss #ask game #answered ask #anon ask