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molly-ghuleh · 10 months

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Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 1

Camellia: n. - A flower which symbolizes a deep desire or longing.

Summary: You are a translator for the Ministry. You receive a letter summoning you to the Abbey for a project involving an ancient diary with a mysterious author, but you find yourself wishing you were back home. That is, until you meet the charming Papa Emeritus the Fourth.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: Hi all!! This is the first long-form fic I've ever written and decided to publish, so I hope you all enjoy!! The first chapter is mostly setup and scene building, so not a lot of interaction with our beloved Copia. But there will be more, I promise!!

Warnings: none for now but there will be some in later chapters.

AO3 Link

Prologue

“Will you help me move this box?” the Brother of Sin says.

Wordlessly, the Sister of Sin stops what she’s doing and maneuvers through the crowded, dusty basement room to help the Brother. The two crouch down, bracing their hands against the box of books. It leaves behind a path carved into the layers of dust as it slides across the wooden floor.

Once the box is pushed a few feet out of the way, the Sister lets go and, losing her balance, falls to her hands and knees from the crouching position. She cries out in surprise when her hand sinks through the floorboards as one of the slats gives way. The hole is only a few inches deep and filled with dirt and cobwebs, but the Sister’s hand falls onto something softer than wood.

She lifts her hand to find that there’s a small leather-bound volume hidden face-down in the small crevice. The Sister can hardly imagine how long it has been there, with how thick the grime lies on the back cover.

This room of the Abbey’s basement had been long forgotten, until Sister Imperator tasked these Siblings of Sin to clear out the room to make way for new storage. They had half expected to find a ruby-encrusted sarcophagus in the room, with how ancient and opulent the Abbey is. So far the only things of interest they have found are books—it seems that the only items stored in the room are books.

The Sister gently removes the book from the hole in the floor and replaces the wooden slat. Even through her gloves she can tell that it is close to disintegrating. The distinct orange of rotten leather lines the edges of its binding and a few corners of pages fall to the ground.

“What’s that?” The Brother asks.

The Sister carefully turns the volume over so that she can read the front cover. It, too, is covered in dust, so she gently brushes it with her hand in order to read the embossed leather cover. Having been face-down in the crevice, the gold leaf illuminating the embossment is preserved and it shines in the low light of the basement.

“It says…” the Sister squints to read the small letters, “...Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth? Who’s Elizabeth?”

The Sister turns over the book once more. “I don’t know, just… Elizabeth.”

Chapter 1

The ride from the airport to the Abbey is a long one. The car you had been picked up in took you through the city and the suburbs, to the rural outskirts of civilization where the coniferous trees block much of the sunlight. The winding roads, dotted in late-afternoon sunbeams, feel endless as the car climbs into the hills. It’s been a silent ride, and rather awkward (at least, you feel that it’s been awkward) because the helmeted ghoul who drives the sleek black sedan has not said a word.

You knew that the Abbey has ghouls. A few abbeys do, as they are big enough to warrant summoning help, but your home chapter is not. This is the first time you’ve met one.

You wonder if they’re all so stoic, or if the driver simply doesn’t have anything to say. He isn’t impolite, but you wish he would say something, anything to make the drive a little more bearable. You want to ask him about the Abbey–what the Siblings are like, what Papa is like. How many Siblings live there full time? How big is the library? You’ve heard that the ghost of a former Papa haunts the corridors, is that true? Hundreds of questions brew in your mind, but the ghoul remains silent and you’re left feeling like an unwelcome guest in a strange country.

You already miss home.

The Marseille abbey, your home for the better part of your adult life, is a medieval stone structure built on a hilltop south of the Marseille city proper. The ornate, stained-glass windows of its chapel face west over the Mediterranean so that the sunset streams into the room during Black Mass. The walls are old and drafty, and keep faded tapestries in a constant state of fluttering. The linens line the walls of the refectory in between tall, narrow windows which also overlook the sea. If it were not for the inverted crosses and scenes of the unjust fall of Lucifer, one might think the atmosphere in the chapel—and the rest of the small abbey—is almost holy.

The windows in the Sibling dormitories are small and south-facing, with deep stone sills and wood frames that have somehow managed to survive the ages (although they hardly open without a fight.) Your own dormitory windowsill is lined with personal prayer books. Each has about a hundred loose papers sticking out. They are your translation practice, your way of staying versed in every language you know, because you know the prayers by heart at this point. The papers are experiments: which language makes the prayer sound better, sound prettier? Which language makes the most sense? Which language makes the prayers the shortest, the longest?

No matter which language you use, to you the prayers sound the most beautiful in your mother tongue. That is how you’d memorized them, after all. Yet… you wish there had been room in your single suitcase to take your prayer books with you.

“We’re almost there,” the ghoul says, snapping you out of your homesick reverie. His voice is deep and softer than you’d expected. There’s no spurt of hellfire from his mouth as you’d half-thought there would be, and no low rumble in his words that might signify he’s more beast than man. The ghoul, despite his bug-eyed mask, seems shockingly human.

He steers the car through tall wrought-iron gates which seem to open automatically. You can see the tall peak of the Abbey’s bell tower peeking through the trees, and suddenly the reality that you’re very, very far from home hits you.

You unfold the crinkled envelope in your hands and reread the letter for the hundredth time that day.

Dear Sister,

I hope this letter finds you well.

We at the Abbey have recently uncovered a very important document which we require your expertise to translate. However, this document is extremely fragile and cannot be transported in the post. Papa Emeritus IV and the rest of the Clergy request your presence at the Abbey as soon as possible.

We expect this project to take several months. Enclosed is a one-way ticket for you to travel to the airport closest to us, from which a car will transport you to the Abbey. We will discuss plans for your return to Marseille when you are nearing the end of your work here.

We anxiously await your arrival.

Sincerely,

Sister Imperator

The letter itself is quite presumptuous. Sister Imperator had assumed you were not busy, and assumed that you would be able to drop everything and travel halfway across the world for a months-long project. And then to use Papa’s name to exaggerate the importance of this mysterious document which she hadn’t even disclosed the nature of?

Well… you can’t exactly say no to the woman who practically runs the Ministry’s affairs.

The car takes a bend in the Abbey’s endless driveway and emerges into a clearing. Sitting far back on a sprawling lawn is a massive, imposing stone structure. The rows of trimmed hedges and flower bushes do little to soften the gothic hardness of it. Two pointed bell towers loom over the steep roof of what must be the chapel, with stained glass windows stretching up at least two storeys. The central image is of Baphomet, in his iconographic pose. The setting sun glints off of his golden halo. Sweet Satan, you think, your eyes tracking the window as the car rounds the drive. Baphomet alone must be taller than the entire height of Marseille.

The ghoul pulls the car to a stop in front of the wide steps leading up to wooden double doors. A woman stands there, her hands clasped in front of her and her back straight, like the matron of this grand palace. You suppose she is–the severity of her expression alone leads you to believe that it’s Sister Imperator who waits for you.

You step out into the chilly air and shut the car door behind yourself. The ghoul already has your suitcase in hand and gestures for you to walk up the stairs before him. You wish he’d let you carry your own suitcase, if only to give your hands something to do, but you are far too stunned to ask. Climbing the shallow stone steps feels like stepping into another world. A world in which you feel far too plain to exist.

“Sister,” The woman greets with a smile. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, which squint at you beneath slightly furrowed, well-groomed brows. She strikes you as someone who is all business, all the time. “How was your journey?”

You return her smile as best you can. She speaks to you like you don’t understand English. “It went well, your dark eminence.”

She seems a little surprised that you respond so fluently, but she quickly fixes her face into another warm grin. “I am glad to hear it,” she says. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m sure you must understand that this document is very important, and quite fragile. We would not risk losing it in the post.” “Of course,” you nod. “If I may ask, Sister Imperator, what is this document? You did not disclose it in your letter.” You gesture to the envelope safely stored in your jacket pocket.

Sister Imperator turns to step inside the slightly ajar wooden door and you assume she wants you to follow. The ghoul accompanies you over the threshold, but at the wave of a hand from Sister Imperator, he turns down a narrow corridor with your suitcase and disappears around a corner.

You are still a bit too overwhelmed to thank him. Instead, you look at the woman beside you. “The ghoul will bring your luggage to a room we have prepared for your stay,” she explains at your silent question.

She continues down the main hall, deeper into the Abbey. Your footsteps echo through the atrium, bouncing up to the high, painted ceilings and off the stone walls. There are a few wooden benches pushed back against the wall, with pots of surprisingly lush houseplants on either side. Framed oil paintings line the walls: some depicting biblical scenes, some of landscapes, and a few large, dignified portraits. You can tell by the distinct Papal paints in each portrait that the subject is a Papa, and you wonder which one depicts Papa Emeritus IV. You’ve never seen an image of His Unholiness before.

After a few moments of silence, Sister Imperator speaks again. “We found the document last month, in one of the storage rooms in the Abbey’s basement.” She likes to use the royal ‘we’ a lot, you think.

She continues. “One of our archivists believes that it is at least five hundred years old. It is very fragile, you see, and so we ask that you handle it with the utmost care as you work with it. We would prefer it if you used gloves. And frankly, Sister, I believe that you would want to. The leather is fairly rotten.” You stay silent as you follow slightly behind her. You’ve worked with old, rotten books before. The pages nearly crumble apart in your hands and the leather splits easily, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

“We believe it is a journal—a diary, rather, of someone very important in the Ministry’s history.” You find it strange that she doesn’t immediately disclose whose diary it might be. “Who, if I may ask?” “Elizabeth.” Sister Imperator’s voice is clipped as she answers you. She gives no further explanation. Just Elizabeth.

There are millions of women named Elizabeth in the world. It is very likely that there is more than one important Elizabeth in the Ministry’s history as well. It’s a fairly common name, especially five hundred years ago (if the archivist is correct). For all you know, this document could be some random Sister’s sexual logbook, and documenting her sinful indulgences was her way of praying to the Lord Below.

You break out of your ponderance over possibilities when Sister Imperator turns a corner to walk down another, slightly narrower (but still wide) corridor. She speaks again. “The book is to be kept in a lockbox at all times when you are not working with it. Under no circumstances is it to be removed from the Abbey library without my express permission, or the permission of Papa. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sister,” you answer hastily. Her tone of voice as she lays down the law makes you feel as though you’ve already made a mistake.

“Now. The reason we need you, Sister, is because none of our own archivists or translators can figure out what language the journal is written in.”

This piques your interest, and also slightly flatters you. “What do you mean?” you ask.

She releases a long-suffering sigh. “The writing is jumbled. It is a mess of letters and sometimes numbers, with no spaces whatsoever.”

The possibilities immediately start to stack in your mind. Latin from the Roman era tended not to use spaces, a practice called ‘scriptio continua’. Ancient Greek also did this… but wouldn’t the in-house translators be able to read it?

“I cannot explain it well enough,” Sister Imperator says. “You will have to see, Sister.”

The two of you come to another set of large double doors. Sister Imperator pushes one open and steps inside, holding it open for you. You slip past her into a huge, bright room, filled with hundreds and hundreds of bookshelves. Immediately you are hit with the scent of old books and parchment paper, and the gentle sounds of turning pages. To your left sits an ornate wooden desk with one Sibling standing behind it. They are sorting books onto a three-tiered cart, presumably to put them away in the correct order. You accidentally make eye contact, but they smile politely and you respond in kind with a little wave.

You avert your gaze upward towards the open second floor, which wraps around the large atrium and is protected by a dark oak bannister. A few Siblings linger on the catwalk, carrying books or making their way towards the wide staircase that opens to your right. The bottom floor of the atrium houses several wooden tables where another smattering of Siblings sit. Most other tables are empty save for an abandoned book or two.

The late evening glow shines down into the room from a large, circular skylight in the middle of the ceiling. There are desk lamps and overhead lights scattered about but none have been turned on yet.

It reminds you of the University library.

“Come,” Sister Imperator says after allowing you to gaze around the massive library for a moment. “The lockbox is in the restricted section. You will receive your own key while you are here but you are required to return it, directly to myself or the Head Librarian, before you leave.”

She leads you up the carpeted staircase and deep into the bowels of the second floor. Towards the back corner, where the shelves are labeled ‘Fiction - Romance’, there is a wooden door tucked against the wall. A sign beneath its small glass window reads ‘RESTRICTED’. Sister Imperator fishes a rather noisy set of keys from her pocket and finds the correct one to unlock the door. She pushes it open with a squeak that feels loud in the quiet of the library. When both of you are in the room and the door is shut behind you, she removes an identical key from her keyring and hands it to you. “Your copy,” she says. “Do not lose it.”

The room isn’t cramped, but it is small compared to the atrium. A few single-person desks sit along the back wall, while the walls on either side of you are lined with glass boxes. Each box is shaped similarly to a narrow cubby, and houses a single book. Printed labels on the front face of each box display a box number and the name of the volume stored inside.

“Your key allows you to access any of these boxes,” Sister Imperator explains to you, “but I do not expect you to require any of them, except for the diary you’ll be working with. It is kept in box number seven, which is here,” she points to a box about halfway up the rightmost column of cubbies. Using her key (still attached to the incredibly jingly keyring), she gently unlocks the box and it glides out like a drawer.

You step beside her to look down into the glass drawer. The diary is wrapped in white linen, but you can see the faint brown color of the leather through the cloth. “The archivist requests that you keep the white cloth under the book at all times,” Sister Imperator says. She reaches down into the box and gently retrieves the diary, careful not to jostle the cloth too much. “It will protect the leather from further decay.” You don’t need her to explain how preservation works, but you appreciate it anyway. It saves you from having to ask, or endure another awkward silence.

She places the book down on a nearby table and slowly unwraps the cloth. Already you can see small flecks of brown and orange sticking to it where the leather has rotted, but it seems to be fairly well preserved in light of its age. On the front cover in small, embossed gold letters is the name Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth,” you say, understanding.

“Elizabeth,” Sister Imperator replies. “That is the only word we have managed to decipher. Hopefully you will be able to help us with the rest.”

You nod. “I believe I can.”

She wraps the cloth loosely around the book once more, and returns it to its box. “I do not expect you to start tonight, Sister. We will give you time to settle, and have something to eat. But from tomorrow morning until you are done, this is your sole responsibility. Do you understand?”

Her sudden, almost intimidating tone surprises you. You bite the inside of your cheek–a nasty habit you’ve had since you were a child. “I understand, your Dark Eminence,” you say with another nod.

Her face softens, as does her stare. “Please, just Sister is fine,” she says. You follow her again as she begins to lead you out of the Restricted room. “I believe the dinner hour is to start soon. I will show you to your dormitory, and then leave you to get settled.”

She brings you back through the library and the main hall towards where you’d seen the ghoul disappear with your luggage. The dormitory hall is a long, narrow corridor with windows on one side and doors on the other. Each door is marked with a number and a nameplate, and in between each door are wall sconces lit by incandescent bulbs. Halfway down the hall there is an opening to a stairwell which, you assume, leads up to the second floor of the dormitories. You walk past many, many doors, some of which have two nameplates, until you reach the very end of the hall where there are unmarked doors. Sister finds her keyring again and unlocks one, then removes the key and hands it to you.

“These rooms here are the guest quarters. They are typically not suited for long-term stays but we have prepared yours to have everything you will need. If you need anything, ask Sibling Superior and they will make sure that you receive it.”

Sister Imperator turns to leave, but then turns around. “You know, Sister,” she says, with a curious look. “For someone of your expertise, I thought you would have been… older.” You can’t tell if it’s praise or suspicion in her voice. “Yes, well,” you stall. How are you supposed to explain that language just comes naturally to you and that it’s not your fault you’re not old and wrinkly? “I suppose once you learn one language, all the rest come easy. Especially romance languages.”

“Hm,” Sister Imperator hums, sizing you up for a moment. “Find me at the end of the week and we will talk about your progress. I’m sure you will know your way around by then.”

It seems her well of kindness has run dry.

~~~

If the loud ringing of the bell didn’t tell you that the dinner hour had started, then the steadily rising sounds of a crowd did. You can hear the murmurs of conversation even through your closed door. A few Siblings emerge from the dormitory next to yours, their chatting and laughing growing quieter as they walk down the corridor towards the refectory. The old wood floorboards creak above you from the movement of Siblings who occupy the second floor. All around you there is an excited bustle, and yet you don’t feel like joining it.

You have never liked crowds. Especially crowds of strangers. And these strangers all seem to know each other, if the echoes of loud conversations tell you anything.

But your stomach does rumble, and you feel rather weak from a day of travel, so you decide that it’s best to eat something before you go to bed. Once the corridor seems clear again, you quietly slip out your door (patting your pocket to make sure you remembered your key) and make your way to the refectory. Sister Imperator hadn’t shown it to you but you can make an educated guess as to where it is.

When you emerge into the main hall, you see a few Siblings occupying the wood benches that had been previously empty. They all hold trays or to-go boxes on their laps. Some speak animatedly, enthralling their friends with stories from their eventful day, while others sit quietly beside each other and eat. You think that it might be nice to sit somewhere to eat so that you feel a bit more connected to the Abbey, but all of the benches are occupied. The ever-growing roar from the refectory does not seem too appealing, either.

The large room is across the main hall from the library. When you turn the corner you see that it’s not as grand as the atrium, and that it only occupies one level. There are sheer curtains hung over the windows, which allow the sunlight to illuminate the room but keeps it from growing too warm. Siblings, Clergy members, and ghouls alike sit at long wooden tables not unlike those of your home Abbey. But these tables alone are longer than the entire length of the Marseille refectory, and once again you’re reminded that you’re quite far from home.

No, you can’t eat here. Not tonight.

There is a long counter stretching nearly wall-to-wall to the left of the door, where a dwindling line of Siblings make their dinner selections. Whatever meal the kitchens had prepared smells delicious but you find that you don’t have the appetite for it. However, close to where you stand in the doorway and nestled in the space between the wall and the counter, are a few baskets of fruit arranged on a small table. The baskets are nearly empty, with the only indication of their contents being the small pops of color peeking through gaps in the woven pattern.

Despite not wanting a hot meal, you are hungry, and so you enter the refectory and move towards the baskets. You opt for two good-sized oranges–although the bananas do look perfectly ripe–and turn to leave as quickly as you came. Your eyes briefly sweep over the crowd and land on a long table, perpendicular to all the others, situated on a platform at the opposite end of the refectory. The platform isn’t tall, but it is just enough to raise the table’s occupants slightly above the Siblings. The table is entirely composed of men, save for Sister Imperator, who seems to be talking to an older man with Papal paints and long blonde hair–is that Papa?

You look at the others occupying the table, and find that no less than three are also wearing Papal paints.

Marseille is a tiny Abbey. At any given time, only about ten Siblings reside there at once. And so there is no need for an upper Clergyman to be stationed there. Instead, the Chapter is run by Bishop Beaumont, who (until now) is the highest ranking member of the Satanic Ministry you have ever met, let alone seen.

So, to be faced with not one, but four Papas, all in the same room, makes your heart thump with nerves. You recognize them all from the portraits in the main hall, but in person they are all so much more… just more. And yet you still don’t know who is who.

Of course, you know that all four of the most recent reigning Papas are brothers, the order of which was determined by age. The man who Sister Imperator is talking to must be Papa Emeritus I, or Papa Primo, as you’ve heard him called by Bishop Beaumont. The other three look relatively close in age, and so you truly have no idea which man currently holds the helm and steers the ship.

You realize you’re staring when you make eye contact with one of the Papas. You nearly gasp in surprise, as if you shouldn’t even be on the same plane of existence as him… and yet your eyes met. Of course one of them would have caught you eventually, you think. You were practically ogling them from across the room.

Hastily, you turn and make your way back out of the refectory and into the main hall. Your eyes fall on the nearest portrait. The Papal paints of the subject match the ones of the man you’d just been caught staring at. You blush as if his portrait could think, and had just caught you a second time. Your eyes flick down to the gold plate affixed to the frame, and read the words.

PAPA EMERITUS IV.

#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #ghost bc #papa emeritus x reader #copia x reader #papa emeritus iv #copia #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #copia x f!reader #popia x reader #popia x f!reader #papa emeritus iv x f!reader

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felinefractious · 1 month

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Hi! I was wondering if you have any thoughts or resources on the Highlander/Highland Lynx breed? Or what, if any, is the difference between the two?

I've read that they're two different breeds, but that that may only be the case because of different registry requirements..??

Also, are they really truly domestic? Every where I've read has said that they most certainly are, but that they're also crossed with Jungle Curls? That bit has left me a bit confused...

https://www.petfinder.com/cat/sampson-71366971/wi/new-richmond/gregorys-gift-of-hope-inc-wi432/

This pretty little guy is up for adoption at a shelter near me, and I'm contemplating going to see him (if he isn't snapped up in the next week lol), but I'd like to cover all my bases for breed research first!

He apparently came in fully intact and was recently neutered which seems.... Strange to me. The people who surrendered him supposedly bought him from a breeder out of state?

I'm not by any means 100% certain, but i did look at a few Highlander catteries and I THINK I may have found his breeder? At the very least they have a king that very well looks like he could be this guy's sire

https://www. highlanderswildnwonderful.com/ Kings.html

I do still wonder why he would be sent out as a companion fully intact though... Or why he wound up in a shelter and not returned to the breeder...

Anyway! I'd love to hear thoughts/opinions resources for potential health issues

So far I've only read that they require frequent ear cleanings and have some UTI issues, but the stumpy tail does make me a little nervous... It doesn't seem to be the same thing as manx, buuuuuut......

Woah, amazing find!

From what I understand - and if this isn’t correct someone more familiar with the breed is welcome to correct me - but the Highland Lynx is essentially the outdated name for the breed more widely known as the Highlander.

The exception largely being the Rare and Exotic Feline Registry which has decided the Highland Lynx is still the Highland Lynx and the Highlander is the same thing but backcrossed to the Desert Lynx use in the breeds foundation.

Which doesn’t make sense to me, it should just be considered an allowable outcross…? But whatever. I don’t respect that registry anyways.

As for their domestic vs hybrid status it’s true that the Jungle Curl is a Jungle Cat and American Curl but it seems like the Highlander falls more into the Toyger realm… there are technically wild caat hybrids in the ancestry but they’re far enough removed that it isn’t super relevant.

Even after 4 generations a cat is largely considered domestic or “SBT” (Stud Book Traditional) and these guys are generally even further out than that.

Before I get into the health of the breed I just need to make a small correction to their description… this handsome fella is not chocolate, he’s black sepia - often called brown or sable, sometimes called natural.

The toe beans tell, and he has many beans to reveal his secrets.

Currently we are not aware of any issues related to curled ears the way there are with folded ears but anecdotal evidence suggests that they’re more fragile and.. yes, require more frequent cleaning. Dirty ears and ear infections are definitely something to be mindful of.

As much as I enjoy polydactyl cats I’m not a fan of deliberately breeding for the trait, the nails on these extra digits can be difficult for the cat to maintain and are more prone to becoming ingrown. Some cats even require an onychectomy (declaw) of the excess digits due to reoccuring problems.

[Image Source]

So acclimating to having their paws handled and tolerating routine nail clips is an absolute must.

And finally… the tail.

Your concern about the relation to the problematic manx gene is warranted.

There are presently two types of tail mutations documented in domestic cats: the “natural bobtail” manx gene due to T-box mutations and the “asian bobtail” due to an HES7 mutation. The latter is not presently associated with the same issues as the manx gene.

HES7 mutations are not present in the Highlander.

Two T-box variants have been identified in the Highlander breed, meaning the mutation for their bobtail is the same as those responsible for the manx. Standard Highlander’s can have no tail to a short tail, those with a long tail are considered non-standarf and are largely used only for breeding purposes due to the lethal nature of T-box mutations when homozygous.

Some Highlander lines owe their bobtail appearance to a “novel variant,” meaning no known mutation has been identified. As this variant or variants are currently unidentified we can’t confidently say which gene (if either of them) it’s most closely related to or if there are similar issues associated.

All that being said not all manx gene cats will present with related problems and for those who do the severity is variable, some may have minor issues that can be managed with diet or medication while others may be… pretty severely effected.

I imagine at this age they would have a good idea of if Sampson has any issues and to what degree they’re present if he does.

If you’re prepared to deal with potential health issues should they arise I think it would be lovely to adopt him, you’re not contributing to the breeding of more if you go through a rescue and are equipped to educate others on why “Yes, mine is awesome but no you don’t actually want one.”

Like Dr. Frank Bozelka and his rescue Scottish Fold. His videos are hilarious and informative, by the way, I definitely recommend giving him a follow.

It would also be good for him to be placed with someone aware of and prepared to accomodate possible breed-related issues instead of someone who just wants a fancy cat… but I understand this can also be overwhelming, so absolutely no judgement if you decide to pass.

But if you do adopt him I’d love to see more pictures! I want to squish his cheeks.

#ovinnik #asks #cat breeds #cat genetics #highlander

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wheresarizona · 1 year

Text

Learning to Live Part 17

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

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

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

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

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

I answer comments from my sideblog @wheresarizona-writes

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoga,” you answered on an exhale.

“You do yoga…?”

Another inhale, slowly letting it out.

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

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Why…?”

Breathe in, breathe out.

“To stay limber.”

“For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

That was a little sweet.

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

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

“Sorry, baby.”

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

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

“Downward-facing dog.”

“Mmm.” He hummed. “I like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s more like it.”

He was so ridiculous.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

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

His fingers played with the waistband of your pants.

“Fucking you..?” he sounded hopeful.

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

“But—“

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

“Fine,” he sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not!”

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

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

God, you loved him.

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

He was staring.

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

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

“I’m sure you do.”

“What’s it called?”

“Happy baby.”

“Makes me pretty fucking happy.”

“Go away!” you playfully shouted.

He chuckled, closing the door as he left.

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

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

“Yep,” you answered, shutting the door.

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

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

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

He frowned.

“This is everything…” he said slowly.

Your eyebrows knitted together.

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

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

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

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

That had your eyes going wide.

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

He sighed.

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

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

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

Your hands moved to cup his cheeks.

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

“Okay…” he whispered.

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

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

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

“You haven’t even moved in…”

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

Warmth spreads through your body, feeling happy.

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

He huffed out an amused breath.

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

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

“She can stay where she’s at”

“If that’s what you’d like.”

His eyes darted away.

“There’s one thing…”

“Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re just my shirts…”

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

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

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

He thought for a second, mentally calculating.

“Eight,” he mumbled.

Your eyebrow arched.

“All tailored jeans?”

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

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

“I just like to look good…”

“And you always do, babe.”

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

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

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

He visibly perked up, giving you a look.

“You’d, uh, be into that?” he asked.

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

He grinned.

“We would.”

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

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

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

“Okay.” He nodded.

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

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

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

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

“You got it.”

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scoffed.

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

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

“He deserves it.” Javi shrugged.

“I really want to meet him.”

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

“We could always stay somewhere else?”

An exasperated breath left him, smiling fondly.

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

“I’m in,” you cut him off.

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

He smiled big.

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

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

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

Javi snorted over at the closet.

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

Your eyebrows dipped together.

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

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

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

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

Looking over his shoulder, his eyes were round.

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

You were feeling a little teary-eyed.

“I love you, too, Javi.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What…?”

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

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

“Right now…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” you purred. “Turn—”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know you do.”

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

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

“Sorry!” you apologized quickly.

“Why is it always my ass?”

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

He was frowning.

“My ass?”

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

His eyebrows creased together.

“What?”

Your eyebrow rose.

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

“That’s different.”

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

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

That was an interesting response.

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

He sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead.

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

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

Your eyes rounded.

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

His hand dropped, meeting your eyes.

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

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

“I promise it’s okay, baby.”

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

“Yes, Cielito?”

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

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

That had you smiling.

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

He chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brows furrowed.

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

“Promise?”

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

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

One of his eyebrows rose.

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

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

His face softened.

“I love you, too.”

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

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

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

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

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

“So, what’s in the box?” you asked.

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

“A lot of shit,” you teased.

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

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

“Javi?”

He looked at you.

“Yes, Cielito?”

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

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

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

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

He fondly smiled.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Then we’ll get one.” You nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

Javi took the stuffed animal from you, gently.

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

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

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

“Your favorite toy?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t get rid of it?”

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

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

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

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

Javi had a warm smile on his face.

“Favorite toy?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Can’t get rid of it?”

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

“Your mom’s parents, right?”

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

Your favorite memories during those years were with them.

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

Javi snorted.

“You put more stuffing into him?”

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

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

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

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

“Nope. Where should we keep them?”

“Closet?”

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

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

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

“Thank god!” you laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get rid of the box.”

“And then I can get you naked?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your cunt clenched at the thought.

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

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

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

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

Your throat was feeling a little tight.

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

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

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

“I love you, Cielito,” he husked.

“I love you, too, Javi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you bring a homemade porno with you?”

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

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

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

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

“I have no fucking idea what that is.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’d you get the box?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He muted the TV.

Of course, he fucking muted the TV.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Javi?”

“Yes, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You might…”

She snorted.

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

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

There was a prominent frown on her lips.

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

“Okay…?”

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

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

She’d asked on their first date, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, Javi.”

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

“It’s insane, right?”

“Yeah…”

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

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

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

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

“Really?” he breathed.

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

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

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

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

“You’re the one stuck with me.”

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

He smiled.

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

“I love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

An amused breath left him.

“Are you a vampire?” he asked.

She pecked his mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her hand came up behind her to pat his cheek.

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

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

“Okay, got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Good to know.”

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

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

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

“That makes sense.”

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

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

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

“You were her good luck,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I was.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, there is.”

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

“You—” he said, her eyes widening.

“That’s actually very sweet—”

“—Naked,” he interrupted.

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

He chuckled, leaning to kiss her head.

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

“That’s Hercules.”

“He’s big.”

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

“Oooh, it’s a dragon.”

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

“Astrology, you Sag, and I dabble.”

“Uh-huh, what’s my sign?”

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

He scoffed.

“Right, you dabble…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess…”

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

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

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“Are you an astronomy nerd?”

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Look familiar, baby?”

“Scales.”

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

“Why is this so sexy?” she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Show me.”

“I can’t with your hand on my dick…”

Her lips turned up in a smirk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want them, Javi.” You bit your lip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be full of your come.”

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

“Then I’ll clean you up.”

Your eyebrow arched.

“With your tongue?”

He smiled crookedly.

“Oh, yeah.”

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

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

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

“Are you?” he asked, amused.

“Yep. On your back, soldier.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled.

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

“I’m all yours, too. Forever.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Javi?”

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

“Yes, baby?”

“Is this seat taken?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, too.”

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

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

You’re getting closer, needing something more…

“Touch me,” you said into his lips.

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

The praise sent a tingle down your spine.

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

Your brain was a pleasurable haze, your limbs trembling.

“Feel good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you croaked out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” she croaked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he asked.

She had a confused look.

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

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

Her eyes went wide.

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

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

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

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

His eyes squinted, meeting hers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pulling back, he met her eyes.

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

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

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

“Do you know how…?”

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

“How much?”

“How much what?” she asked, confused.

“How much for a haircut?”

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

That wouldn’t do.

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

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

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

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

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

“To buy shoes?”

Why was she so surprised?

“Yeah?”

Her eyes went round.

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

And that was a fact.

The cold hard truth.

Cielito was it for him.

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

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

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

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

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apicelladonna · 3 days

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Love your art 🥰

Some jealous Albus/jealous Gellert headcanons?

Thank you so much! I love them to bits.

*cracks knuckles* Here we go: Albus/jealous Gellert headcanons!

Gellert 'What makes Albus Dumbledore so fond you' Grindelwald: aka someone talks to your SO what do you do?

It is on SIGHT. Confront-

He will squeeze himself into any conversation that bats an eyelash at Albus.

He will be loud I assure you, not in the fun way as he grills you in the topic you were discussing a few minutes ago with his significant other. Finding any openings he can get to show Albus talking to you isn't worth it.

Whilst his arm finding his way into Albus' waist.

Interrogation style, out of a CSI episode.

He will be petty so get ready for some really weird quips coming from a guy who never got his diploma-

When confronted on why he is behaving such, he will suddenly shut up and fume about other things.

how to win back: Honestly, Gellert's too easy- just Albus kissing him senselessly and a promise if he behaves like a good boy

(Gellert finds out about Nicholas Flamel and Albus' research and that's why he hates Paris-)

Albus 'I am not affected if ignore it with enough sugar' Dumbledore:

He will be polite, smiling through it. He will be more formal, creating a distance between him and the person of he is jealous of.

Might casually display his vast knowledge on a certain topic in the conversation subtly." "Oh yes, I've heard of (topic/person) I'm actually well acquainted with them" you don't realize you are infront of a jealous man until you are lulled in the corner of the conversation-

But he won't make much of a fuss because he really doesn't want any warrant attention :")

"Everything is fine, what do you mean?"

Passive aggressive until you figure out what was bothering him in the first place. He will let you self-reflect on it while he nestles himself into his armchair, a box of sweet treats that he had hidden somewhere Gellert couldn't find, reading a book or grading papers.

how to win back: a bit more difficult really, but Gellert woos him in the privacy of their study. Never tripping in his words as he assured his Albus that all of him was for Albus alone.

(When Albus first sees Gellert after so many years, in the newspaper, with the black hair witch confidante he has--he ate out his heart with so much sweets that his tooth hurt-)

Bonus for old married Grindeldore husbands (in another lifetime)

Gellert will still talk out your ears. Watch out peepaws out for you if you made Albus laugh??? While he literally hold hands with his husband.

"If you peck out Elphias Doge's robes, I will never disturb your firepit" to Fawkes one day.

Albus would just be too happy to watch Gellert fume about how much time he was talking to a colleague (it's literally Minerva-)

Subtle territorial markings ft. Albus' very bright purple scarf around Gellert's neck or a scratchy yellow sweater with Albus' initials-

In totality,

Share your own headcanons, I live for these two bastards (affectionately)

#ella's ask and tell!#grindeldore #albus dumbledore #gellert grindelwald #ggad #those old gay wizard lovers yes #fantastic beasts #fbawtft #pls don't take this seriously #im running on a double shot and a deadline #incorrect grindeldore quotes #incorrect fantastic beasts and where to find them quotes

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bippiti · 1 year

Text

moonlight hymns- teaser!!

tanjiro x blood breathing hashira reader (gn)

synopsis: after completing your mission you hear some strange sounds in the forest and decide to investigate

the wind pulled your hair into your face and you pushed it away with your good hand. well, better hand. your left one had been cut and your index finger broken, and your right hand was bruised. your mission although somewhat easy didn’t fail to leave you without some scratches and scrapes. you began to hum a tune, looking up to the moon and then down to the ground, curses began to spew out of your mouth. you had managed to chip your sword, it was small, but enough to warrant a visit to the village once you were more rested. you prayed silently that arisada-san wouldn’t be too upset with you. as you continued forward you heard a noise, a few miles east of you. closing your eyes you focus more on the scent, you could make out 2-no 3 humans and 2 demons. the smell of blood filtered through your nostrils and you set out, pulling your blade out as you ran.

tanjiro could barely see, he had gotten nicked above his forehead and the blood was seeping into his right eye, that coupled with the fact that he still had 3 broken ribs from his original mission didn't help either. inosuke wasn’t in any better condition, he was bleeding pretty heavily from slashes the demon had cut into his chest, and zenitsu was two breaths short of a full-on panic attack. he looked to nezuko who was barely able to keep up with the demon and stared at the moon, forcing himself much to his body's displeasure, to get up. he heard some ruffling sounds and not even two seconds later, saw a red haori eclipsing the moon. immediately the person began fighting alongside nezuko and with one swoop of the sword tanjiro is almost intoxicated by the smell of blood, was everywhere, in the air around him, his clothes- he looks up to see the demon's head on the floor, slowly disintegrating. looking up to his savior he tries to say thank you, but the words die in his throat. black starts to close in on his eyes and he thinks someone is calling his name.

nearing the now unconscious boy you try and assess the damage, after removing his haori and unbuttoning his uniform you graze your hands over his chest. the uneven feeling of his ribs makes you cringe as you further investigate. all in all, he had 3 broken ribs, a broken finger, sprained wrist, and not the mention cuts on seemingly every part of his body. you quickly looked over the others, the boy with a boar head refused to let you near him so you knocked him out with a swift chop to the neck. you had to assure nezuko that you only did this to help him, as her horns began to come out again. after figuring him out, you then went to the yellow hair boy who seemed to be having a heart attack. you knelt down, letting the damp soil touch your feet as you clasped your hands around his shaking ones. looking up, he immediately rushed into your arms, and began to sob into your shoulder. brushing your hands through his hair you hushed him and slowly rocked back and forth, soon enough light snores could be heard from him and you hoisted him onto your shoulder. after helping nezuko get into her box you put her on your back. inoskue went on your left shoulder and you carried tanjiro bridal style. luckily, you weren’t far from your intended destination.

the wind had become more chilling and had picked up in intensity as you finally reached the gates of the butterfly estate. almost immediately after arriving, you were surrounded by aoi and some other kakushi. they whisked the boys out of your grasp and ushered you to your usual room at the mansion. there your wounds were patched up. after they were all done, you went to one of the other infirmary rooms to return nezuko and watch over the 3.

you had already met tanjiro, he had been summoned over his and nezukos unusual circumstances, but you hadn’t really spoken to each other. you doubt he would even remember it if you were being honest. after a while, you began to feel your eyes close and you let the warm embrace of sleep wash over you.

#kny x reader #demon slayer fanfic #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro x hashira reader

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revelisms · 3 months

Text

A small moment with Primo and Terzo from a fic I haven't gotten around to finishing 🪴

WC: 1.4k | Hurt/comfort, dysfunctional family dynamics, bandaging wounds, mentioned blood, big brother Peemo doing his best.

The hall echoes around the pincher's thunk-thudding steps like a cavernous wallow: frigid and endless and lonely, as always. At the root of it stands a black-haired boy, stuck between the prongs of a three-branched tree.

Brother—father—mother and thing.

His knee is still bleeding.

A hand coiled strangely at his own shoulder, his eyes dismal on the tooth-rotted yellow of Nihil's office, he thinks and scowls and thinks again about how Copia, not more than five years on his bones, had tried to press a healing charm on his leg, with a shiver of magic that felt enormous.

He'd smacked his hand away, wide-eyed. Then he'd picked between the tears in his pantleg, found the nasty scrape still angry and red, those blue eyes peering miserably up at him, and scuffed.

Sister has the little freckle-face by the hand, now: her words a silken soothing only a distant memory of his remembers.

The hand on his shoulder squeezes, loosens.

He's off, without another breath—unable to stand any of it: the emptiness, the silence; muggy and dust-soaked and wretched and old. His shoes batter off the stones.

The tussle of habits and buttoned silks are used to this, by now. A mewling stray, some call him: but for all he glides like a cat through the bramble, he just as well soars: a small nightingale flitting through those staccato sunbursts of light and shadow and creaking doors, panting and running, running away from it—from nothing at all.

Still four wings. Still a cage of stone.

He stumbles over the grasses past the stoop to the East Wing: claps his hands on the glass door to the greenhouse. The air is thick with early spring, and damp with the first traces of nectar.

"Nonna." The old goat, nosing over his plants, of course doesn't hear him. He squeaks the door a sliver wider. "Nonna."

Primo sighs, pinching soil into his eyes, and immediately swears a storm. "Yes, what?" He swats his bony hands clean, gruffing dimly. His blondish hair hangs raggled and limp, a few strands slipped loose from the knot at his nape. He's in his gardening clothes, today: wrinkled shirt and trousers, green apron, smattered with fertilizer and grime.

"You three were supposed to be back hours ago. Sister Maria was ready to send a search warrant." His pale eyes leer, gentle for all they glower. He clicks his tongue. "What have you got into, now?"

Terzo, twig-like in the doorway, shrugs. His nails pinch at his shirt. "I, uh—"

His elder brother makes a wordless assessment: a bland stare that slips from his hair to his shoes. "You fell."

He chews on his lip. "I was just in a tree," he mumbles, sourly.

"Little one, we have been through this," Primo chides quietly. "You are too clumsy to do such things." He busies himself over the sink, finding a clean rag for his fresh-scrubbed hands, and hunts for his box of bandages. "One day, you'll break your neck," he grumbles on, peeling the cardboard open, and sighs again. "Come here."

Reluctantly, Terzo does.

Primo helps him up on the counter, his thin hands cold as claws, and takes his time examining the damage: knee, wrist, cheek. "Always in trouble, aren't you?" he wonders, zeroing back on his battered knee. "You shredded the poor thing."

The room is so green, so warm, so sunkissed and quiet—a softer sort, now. Terzo keeps his eyes on the ferns, his cheek between his teeth. Avoids the sight of his brother's back turning to look for the rubbing alcohol and cotton pads and whatever else shouldn't be in here but is, because of how routine this has become: how unlikely he is to go anywhere else: how often he has peeked his head around the corner with bleeding fingers and bleeding elbows and a bleeding heart in his hands.

And Primo, somehow, with his box of bandages, always seems to know how to tape shut the cracks.

"You must be more careful, Zito." He says it with a worrisome glance and a furrowed brow: more a mothering hen than the horned thing they've all assigned him to be. The cotton pad he's soaked in alcohol stings. "How your brother has the patience. Now—sit up, please. Hold still."

Terzo frowns, does as he's told, shifting his dirty nails against the paint-chipped counter. There's a cluster of herbs soaking in the window's sun: tarragon, sage, basil, mint. He plucks a sprig of fresh spearmint, sticks it between his teeth, muddling on it. Primo always keeps some there for him to do so, even though he complains.

"You will eat me out of those leaves," the old goat grumbles—per usual. He smears smooth the bandage on his knee, cleans off his elbow and sticks another one there. "You had lunch, yes?"

"In town."

"And what did you have?"

Terzo picks at his pantleg. "Piadina."

"Good." Primo dabs another cotton pad over his cheek. "And did you get your Chinotto?"

"Uh-huh." He smiles toothily, twists the soda cap out from his pocket. "'Nother for the collection. I'm gonna paint this one purple. See?"

"I see." Primo presses a small bandage over his cheek. "You will have a full set of armor, by the time you are done with those."

Terzo sticks the cap back in his pocket. "That's the point."

"Well, then—perhaps that will help you with these falls of yours."

The light shifts over the glass: a dappling through the pines that cluster around the clearing. Terzo watches it speckle across the floor. His fingers press five knifepoints into the counter.

Softly, unasked, a thin hand cords through his hair.

"You are alright, yes?" murmurs a low voice. "Only a few scrapes and bruises?"

And a little boy with magic that could dwarf him who his mother loved who Secondo could care less for and that must mean Secondo didn't care much for him, either—

He blinks at the plants piled around the room. Shrugs.

A quiet sigh ebbs across from him. "Then all is good, mh?" Primo's fingers comb softly through his hair again, mussing the strands into some floral nicety. And before Terzo can let that comfort shiver through him, let the tears pricking at his lashes build and burn and fall too, that hand draws still over his temple. "Come here."

He slumps into his apron. It reeks of compost, and that wet earthiness of worms, and a trace of his cologne: the one that smells more spicy than sweet. Terzo breathes it in like a blanket he was born with, breathes it out like the first gulp of fresh air he's had in an age.

"It is alright, little one," Primo is muttering on, rubbing gently over his shoulder.

Terzo doesn't think it is.

He doesn't know what he thinks about any of it, really.

He thought he wasn't going to fall from that stupid tree.

His bat-eared brother wraps around him like a dragon, like he's a little piece of gold in a rotted den—or, maybe, just a speck of rot, itself. But if he is, he hopes it's the kind he'll stick in his flowerpots, mingle up with the roots so it can grow into something else.

"You want to see the maggots I've harvested?" Primo hushes, smiling slyly.

Terzo blanches to his ears.

"Found them down by the river. They were nested in a deer carcass."

His head twists from his brother's shoulder. "Wait—is it still there? Can we go see it? Please please please—?"

"So you don't want to see maggots, but you...want to see that." Primo ticks a pale brow. "Satan, what am I to do with you?"

A small hand paws at his apron. "I won't touch it—I promise! Pinky-promise! Double-triple-quadruple promise!"

Primo kneads his fingers into his eyes, again. "You will help me with the roses first, eh?" Terzo's mouth pops open, ready for a beewinged bluster. "And then," his brother hisses on, before he can start, "maybe."

The smile that lights up the room might be worth it all—even if it is at something so grotesque.

"Maybe," Primo reiterates again—but Terzo's already off the counter, sprung free like a wind-up doll, hunting for the clippers and gloves, and, well.

It seems there's not much room to say no, after that.

#the band ghost #ghost band fanfic #ficlet #papa emeritus i #papa i #primo #papa primo #papa emeritus iii #papa iii #terzo #papa terzo #writing #in the messy family feelings again

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weirdozjunkary · 11 months

Text

Been thinking about the movie version of the MVA AU and how it would play out in that universe. So I created a small Tumblr exclusive fic of how I think it would go down. Honestly it’s not that vastly different from the movie, but that’s just how I like to write au tie-ins. Enjoy and happy reading!

The big problem

(a movie MVA AU oneshot)

The night was dark, and so was the house. As sonic had turned off every light in the house in order to create the best movie watching experience. He was still vibrating with exitement from earlier in the day, two full days to himself. Left home alone with Ozzie while Tom and Maddie visited Rachel for her wedding.

As much as he wanted to go, they all nunanamously agreed that it would be best for sonic to stay at home. Rachel still wasn’t accustomed to the brown hedgehog that had warranted himself child status in the wachowski house. Plus the people outside of green hills didn’t exactly know about him yet, nor was he really allowed to let them know about him.

So here he was, the couch l pushed in, practically inches from the tv, front row seats for the blue hedgehog and his non alien animal companion right beside him.

“Alright Ozzie-bozzie! It’s movie night at cassa-de-Sonic! And as esteemed second in place animal companion, you can pick the movie this time!” He twirled the remote in his hand. “Just don’t pick any of the channels next to the news ones, those movies SUCK!”

The tv shut off, and just as quickly became a noise of static. The sudden roar caused Sonic to practically leap from his seat in surprise.

“NO!” He yelled. He pressed his face to the tv and pleaded. “YOU CAN'T DO THIS! DON'T DIE ON ME! DON'T DIE ON MOVIE NIGHT!!!” Ozzie’s bark snapped him out of his delusion. “You’re right ozzie.” He said, wiping a dramatic tear from his eye. “If I'm gonna save movie night, I’m gonna need to get to the source! Be right back!” And he zipped away in a blink of an eye.

Up on the roof the speedy hedgehog pulled up a heavy box of tools, prepared to use as many as he needed to save the night he always dreamed of having since he met Tom and Maddie. Well, more like stalked, as up until a year ago, they weren’t really… accustomed, yet. Though, he most likely wouldn’t need a full box of tools on a satellite dish.

“Hmm, looks like mister Jet hasn’t come back to build his nest on the dish again.” He folded his arms and stuck his head up in a snobbish manner. “Good! I don’t want to see that dumb hawk again! Stupid jerk! Stealing my chilidog…!” He looked back at the dish. “Oh, right! Movie night!”

He popped open the box and pulled out a screwdriver. “Let’s do it to it!” And he began his work. He wasn’t really fixing the problem, more like just messing with the dish. He’s seen Tom try his hand at fixing it once or twice before, but he didn’t really understand what he was doing. Still, he was going to try and get this thing working again, zipping back and forth from the living room and back up onto the roof to see if the static had went away. But it didn’t, in fact, what he was doing seemed to make the situation worse, as the static began to have an eerie green glow to it.

“What the heck am I doing wrong?” Sonic puzzled, scratching his head with the end of the screwdriver. “It can’t be that hard to fix a satellite!” He banged the end of the screwdriver against the dish. “Come on you stupid thing! Work!”

There was a blur, a flurry of green and browns and neutrals that flooded his eyes till everything went black. His vision had only just begun to come through as the pain did. A soreness that was all around his body, but mostly on his head and back. It was a familiar pain. Similar to when he fought Robotnik for the first time and won. But Robotnik wasn’t here. At least he didn’t think he was here.

There was something else. A shade of golden that pulled him out of the rubble of the living room by his arm. Through his blurred vision he could only suspect it being Ozzie.

He lifted himself up, using him as a crutch as the world still wobbled like his legs did. “Good boy Oz.” He mumbled and petted his companion weakly. Ozzie stayed next to him as he helped guide the disoriented hedgehog to the hallway. Sonic was a trooper though. As just like before, his vision finally focused again, though the room still swayed like he was on a boat.

A deafening click entered his eardrums, snapping him back to reality. The sound made his stomach drop and he grew seasick in his stomach once again, though he didn’t know if it was from whatever had happened on the roof or not. No, it wasn’t from the roof. As the door opened, Sonic was face to face with the man he thought he’d never see again. Standing right there, illuminated by the porch light, was Dr. Robotnik.

“Hello, hedgehog.” He said through a wide grin. “Did you miss me?”

“Eggman?!” Sonic sad in disbelief. He half expected this to be a hallucination from hitting his head to hard. The headache he had should be proof of it. But no. He was here. Somehow. “I don’t know how you got back. But you made a big mistake coming here!”

“On the contrary. The only mistake here was thinking that you had won. But that was but a prelude to what I have planned for you! An hors d’oeuvre, an aperitif, an-“

“I get it!” Sonic growled.

“Oh-Ho Ho! I don’t think you do!” That creepy smile stretched farther across the mad doctors face as he finally stepped into the house. “But you’re about to… and so will that idiot sherif and his wife! And your little dog, too!”

He had enough of this. Sonic charged at Robotnik, ignoring his body's cries for him to rest. But he couldn’t get near him, as a split second before he could give the old doctor what for, a gloved fist careened into his face.

Sonic flew back into the living room which had more mess to clean up as he had been sent flying through a wall. That feeling of dizziness and discomfort came back to him as he slowly stood back up and faced his threat. There, standing through the hole in the wall was a figure he never thought he’d see again, not robotnik, but an echidna.

He was large and muscular, thick red fur coated his body, and he had spines that draped down and framed his face like thick dreads that could be a weapon of their own. But the real weapon was his fists, as large spines poked out from the bottom of his gloves. He stared down Sonic with a fury in his eyes he had never seen before, and while he said nothing, his expression told a thousand words to the hedgehog.

“Now where are my manners!” Robotnik butted in. “Sonic, I would like you to meet, Knuckles! My new BFFAE— Bested Friend Forever And Ever!” That wide grin was still stretched across his face.

How in all of green hills did he manage to do this— to get an echidna on his side? Especially him, one that looked like he would snap Sonic in two if he took even just a single step. He looked like Robotnik’s guard dog. No. He was his weapon.

“Look robotnik, I don’t care who you’ve brought to help you. I’m not going to let you walk in here and take my home from me!” Sonic’s fur crackled with energy as he stared them both down. The feeling felt odd, though. But he didn’t pay any attention to it.

“I am not here for your pathetic home!” The echidna growled at him.

Those words enraged Sonic, and he bared his gums to the red echidna. His eyes and quills began to glow, but it wasn’t amber like it had been before, no. The colour now had turned to a bright, almost neon, green. He clenched his fists tightly as green electricity crackled around his fur. Though he was furious, he was still scared.

Of course he would be, this echidna was part of the same clan that had made him hide for most of his life, that made him run from his home, that took his guardian, Longclaw from him. But here, he wasn’t going to let the same thing happen to this one. He won’t let it be taken from him again. Sonic reeled back a fist and…

“AAAAAAGH!”

Sonic wrapped his arms around himself and began screaming as pain began to overwhelm his body. His yell managed to make even the echidna and doctor pause in surprise.

“W-WHAT IS… GOING ON!!! AAAAAAH!!!” He shouted once more as the green electricity began to crackle around the room, and as well, his height suddenly jolted from 3-feet to 5-feet.

Robotnik reeled back in disbelief. “Um, what?!”

“Deceiver! You never told me he had the master emerald!” Knuckles barked at the doctor.

“The, uh, master-what-now?”

“I am talking about the device that wields ultimate power! Something that that hedgehog now has possession of!”

Another painful yell from Sonic made them jolt again in surprise. His height had doubled again, now he was 10-feet.

“Wait, ‘Ultimate power’ you say?” Robotnik said quietly to himself, partly ignoring the hedgehog who was still groaning and crying as his body kept passing each foot, his fur and quills changing its colour with it. He grinned gleefully as a sinister plan began to cross his mind. “Now you speaky my language!”

“HELP…. ME…. AAAAAAAH!!!” Sonic shouted again and his height jolted once more. 25-feet. He could barely fit in the living room now. His back pressed against the ceiling making it bend and crack. He continued to cry and howl in pain. Whatever was happening to him wasn’t done yet.

Knuckles ran out of the house to the backyard with robotnik trailing on not far behind. They had made it out just in time, as only a few seconds after, the hedgehog had finally bursted out of the side of the house, sending rubble flying across the yard.

“HOLY GEARS AND STARTERS!” Robotnik shouted in awe. He gripped the sides of his head that was reeling from the sight he was witnessing.

Sonic stumbled out of the house, his feet breaking more of the rubble beneath him. He panted and huffed, still feeling awful and tingly from the pain that now faded with him along with the green electricity. It was only a couple more seconds for the vertigo to subside, and he finally saw what had happened to him.

His fur and quills were now a bright blue colour, and they were all messy and ragged from the electricity that shot out of him only a few moments ago. But that wasn’t what made his stomach drop, no. He realized he had suddenly grown 50-feet in only a few minutes.

“Holy crap…” Sonic exhaled in fright. He looked down at his feet. The deck was completely ruined. Broken boards that had snapped against his weight. They were so small now. Everything was so small now.

A bark fell into his ears making him whip his head around to the house. It was Ozzie. Oh no, please don’t let him be hurt.

“Ozzie!” Sonic yelped in fright. “Oh, no no no no! Please be okay!” He knelt down, sending a knee crashing into the wooden floor that broke as soon as it had collided with it. He dug through the rubble, tossing it out to the yard behind him. “Ozzie! Ozzie!” He called out to his canine friend. He heard him bark once more. There, just outside of the living room. He was okay.

“Ozzie!” Sonic shouted in relief and in a flash, he grabbed the retriever in his hands and hoisted him up to his face. “Oh my god I’m so glad you’re okay!” He exhaled through teary eyes, relieved he wasn’t hurt. Ozzie didn’t seem to have any change of view of him, as he wagged his tail at the sight of the now massive hedgehog that held him up carefully.

“Um excuse me! We are right here!” Robotnik shouted.

His voice pierced his eardrums like nails on a chalkboard, and Sonic’s relieved expression faltered. He slowly placed his companion back in the house. “Stay here Ozzie. I’ll be right back.” He said gently to him before he turned to Knuckles and Robotnik.

“What did you do to me?!” His voice boomed.

“Me?! I didn’t do anything to you this time!” Robotnik said. “Though I have to say, it is a good look on you!”

“What he looks like doesn’t matter.” Knuckles bellowed. “No matter your size, I will still strike you down and take the power of the master emerald from you! Even if I have to rip it out of you one cell at a time!”

“Master emerald…?” Sonic muttered in surprise. He looked at his feet again. That old bedtime story that Longclaw had told him many times before. It was actually real? It’s what made him like this?

“Face me, giant!” Knuckles shouted. “Or are you now a coward?” He made Sonic’s eyes glide back to him. “You are unworthy to hold such immense power that belongs to my tribe! The size you are now is proof enough! Now will you stand and fight? Or will you lay down your life to me?”

Slowly, Sonic stood up and shifted away from the house that he had broken a hole through the side of it. He clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes at the echidna below him. Robotnik slowly shimmied away to avoid the crossfire.

“Alright, you want me…” He raised his fists and took a stance. “Then come get me!”

A pleased toothy grin stretched over the echidnas face. Finally, someone who wouldn’t keel over with just one strike from his fists. He reeled back his hand as he stared sonic in the eye, ready to strike him with all his might.

A loud siren shot through the air. It was the last sound that Sonic would had ever expect to hear, especially now. Was it a hallucination? No, they heard it to. As like Sonic, Knuckles and Robotnik turned their attention to the noise, and that was right before a police cruiser broke through the fence and rammed itself into the echidna, driving itself head first into the tree that sat just off of the middle of the yard.

Sonic was in disbelief. How, or even why did this happen? Who was even driving this thing? Was it Wade? Or… The door flung open and a little yellow fox tumbled out of it. A yellow fox… an alien. Just like him.

“Agh! I’m okay!” He huffed. Boy, did he sound young, he looked young. This kid looked to be no more than 8 years old, and yet he was here driving a police car. You have to be at least 18 to be able to drive one of those!

“Uh, I’m sorry. Who are you?” Sonic said.

“Don’t worry, I’m on your side!” The young fox said as he stood up straight. “My name is-“ He paused once he caught sight of him. “Oh gosh! I came too late!”

“What?” Sonic exclaimed in confusion. “What are you even-“ Knuckles’ groaning cut him off, as he finally had begun to wake up from being knocked out and pinned by the police cruiser. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. We need to move!”

He grabbed the fox and dashed away at the speed of sound, creating a violent gust of wind trailing behind him. He left just in time, as the red echidna unwedged himself from the car and just as fast began tailing them behind.

#textpost #fanfiction #sonic fanfiction #tumblr fanfic #sonic au #MVA au #sonic movie #g/t #sfw g/t

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povlvr · 1 year

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6 • The Sweetest Sin | YLGSE

Pairing: Mob Boss Bucky x Baker Reader

Summary: You get closer with the Mob Boss on two consecutive date nights, will you live to regret sinning so sweetly with him?

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: Swearing, NSFW, love bombing, Thigh Riding, Praise Kink, Dom Bucky, Daddy Bucky, Betrayal, Angst

A/N: Once again I will apologise for the length of this post, but it's packed with action & everything will pick up from this point & it will be a wild ride to the finish. Thank you for reading, the engagement atm is shockingly bad but I will continue, working on a few one shots to randomly post in between these chapters.

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It was a typical manic start to your morning, you had been running around trying to make sure you had enough stock baked for the day, then ending up organising a supply delivery at peak time plus asshole customers a plenty, but all frustrations were being placated by the excitement of what lay ahead, tonight you had a date with your Mob Boss & nothing was going to taint your mood.

After you left Bucky’s office the previous night & experienced a highly-strung journey with Peter at the wheel your Pilates class managed to ground you & stopped your head from floating off with thoughts full of your kiss with James, you could still feel his stubble against your delicate skin & the cold signet ring stroking your cheek as he held you close.

Around midday two very stocky gentlemen entered the bakery, dressed in sharp black suits that somehow managed to accommodate their size, their appearance may have startled you, but you were nothing if not welcoming so gave your usual friendly greeting, your anxiety rose the longer they confined mimicking statues not moving or reacting to your hello.

On the verge of panic, you were about to reach for your phone to ring James, but you noticed one of them finally muttered something into his suit sleeve, a jingle of the bell sounded & a much smaller gentleman walked through the door. He had a friendlier demeanour, greeting you as he approached dressed in a lavender wool suit, paired with a cream silk tie & pocket square, ‘Morning, I am Phillipe, could you please confirm your name for me dear.’

You were more than hesitant, but his kind eyes & reassuring smile told you you could trust him, after confirming your full name he swiftly turned on his heel to retrieve a briefcase now being held by up one of his associates. This was getting weirder by the second & you could feel the anxiety rising as your mind spat out a hundred different outcomes as to what was in the briefcase, could this be something to do with the Mob? they looked kind of mobbish. Maybe you should ring James, Just in case.

Without a pause a black velvet box & note card were placed on your counter, with a single nod he turned around & left, followed closely by the Blue’s Brothers, you took a moment to contemplate whether you should open it or not, a hand delivered mystery parcel surely warranted some suspicion?

You drummed your fingers on the cold marble counter trying to coax yourself to reach out for the card, surely that would at least solve some of the endless questions running through your head as to who sent it & what’s in the box? Letting out a deep breath you ran your fingers across the velvet undoing the satin black bow holding the two items together, the slightly wobbly cursive ‘Bunny’ written on the envelope silenced your mind, you couldn’t help the breathless ‘James’ that escaped your mouth or the smile taking over your face. You slipped your finger under the seal & pulled out the thick textured card

‘According to google Alexandrite is rarer than diamonds, at night in low light they appear dark red but come the day with the sun shining upon them they are blue. I thought it was perfect for you my Bunny, you really do transform me with your light.

Yours,

James.’

You specifically told him not to buy you anything, you were a simple baker with no need for fancy things, but you’d be lying if you said the note didn’t make you squeal, you slipped the note back into the envelope for safe keeping & picked up the box. You guessed it would be a necklace from the size & shape, the hinges were stiff, but with a very satisfying creak you managed to open it & your breath was taken away.

The crystal blue stones felt as though you were looking into Bucky’s eyes, they were mesmerising, the elaborate necklace was clearly made in another era from the Art Deco design, the chain had sections of pearls, gems & diamonds, but the pendant was like nothing you had ever seen, it connected to the chain in a cluster of diamonds with one huge stone in the middle surrounded by diamonds & even more stones around those. You couldn’t wait to see it under a different light & after ogling the piece of jewellery for a minute you noticed another note sat tucked into the lid,

‘Ok I lied & couldn’t resist some diamonds too.

I’ll pick you up at 6pm, come as you are, flour, cookie dough & sprinkles included.’

xoxo'

It really was too much, you couldn’t image how much it cost just from the sight, let alone the convoy it took to deliver it, you wanted to put it on, of course you did, but something told you to wait & let James do the honours.

Yelena had watched on silently, concerned that you were getting carried away in a lifestyle you were too soft for, yes, the money, jewels & luxury you deserved but the danger, backstabbing & death were not something you would be able to cope with. Natasha had told her Bucky was a good man, but she also warned her that he was ruthless & terrifying when he needed to be & that he hadn’t ever been in a serious relationship because he was incapable of committing to a woman, under no circumstances did you need a man like that in your life. She reached into her pocket, pulling up the messages exchanged with her sister from the previous night, her fingers moved before she could change her mind & she finally agreed that she would help stop this before you got hurt.

You paced somewhat anxiously feeling completely underdressed for a date, you followed Bucky’s instructions to come as you were, but you allowed yourself a slight makeup touch up & hair refresh before he was due after Yelena had left for the day. Thankfully your outfit looked cute & effortless, so you were hopeful it would be appropriate to cover a multitude of different date scenarios.

At 6pm on the dot you spotted the metallic emerald classic convertible pull up on the kerb, James emerged surprisingly dressed down for a change, he had no right to look as hot as he did in a pair of black jeans, a crew neck t-shirt & camo bomber but he was breath-taking to look at, especially the with his fluffed-up hair. He pulled a bouquet of flowers out of the passenger seat & you couldn’t believe he was real let alone that he was interested in you, he could get any woman he wanted so why were you so special? Instead of letting your thoughts spiral down that path you decided not to question it & just go with it.

‘What’s got you so lost in thought Bunny?’

You were slightly startled at how silent he had moved, one second he was at the car, the next he was in front of you holding the flowers out for you to take, pulling you against his lips for a chaste kiss, sending you to the clouds & back yet again with those lips.

‘Hi’

‘Hi.’

‘So what’s on your mind Sugar?’

‘You were gorgeous, just thinkin’ you make me smile too much & I’m gonna have to get some botox injections or something to deal with all the lines you’re gonna cause.’

He chuckled doing his scrunchy face laugh that you adored, ‘Firstly, no such thing as too much smiling.’ He punctuated his point with a peck on the lips making you giggle right back at him. ‘& second, if you actually got lines on your face because of me making you smile then I’ve done my job right.’

Yet again you were smiling like a fool at him as you accepted the bouquet, ‘Thank you for these, they’re beautiful.’

‘You’re beautiful, there’s more in the car for your place.’

You reached out & ran your fingers through his hair, he practically preened under your touch, ‘Well don’t you think of everything?’, you were on your tip toes as you spoke into each other’s mouths, as though they needed to be constantly in contact with each other.

‘I’ve been raised as a flower giver, my Ma loves em’ so my Dad used to bring them home at least twice a week or whenever he worked too late.’

‘That’s sweet. Let me put these in my office then you can help me lock up.’

He followed you through the bakery noticing the lack of jewellery around your neck, he knew you had received his gift from the text you had sent thanking him, so why weren’t you wearing it? Did you not like it?

‘Bunny, where’s your necklace?’

You turned around noticing the worried look on his face, ‘Oh, well it’s far too fancy to be wearing in the bakery, but I wanted you to be the first one to see me in it. I locked it in my desk, you wanna put it on me?’

‘You’re too god damn sweet darlin’, you know that?’ taking the necklace out of the box you were holding open for him, he couldn’t resist placing a kiss behind your ear as he gently secured it around your neck, you stood in front of the mirror hung in your office & your breath was truly taken away admiring the dark hue the gems were now reflecting, it looked completely different in the low light of your office, ‘It’s mesmerising James.’

Bucky held you tight, his arms wrapped around you as he ran his mouth along the column of your neck, not once breaking the eye contact he held with you in the mirror, ‘mmm Sugar you really are.’ His words & the feeling of his soft lips contrasting with the sting of rough stubble had your breath hitching & your eyes fluttering shut.

Enjoying you being completely at his mercy he traced one hand up your body, over the jewels to your neck, grasping you with absolute authority but with such gentle pressure to turn your lips to his as he dove in full throttle devouring you exactly the way he had been craving.

After your very heated make out session in the back you both decided you needed to behave, so like a gentleman James took care of closing up, having a strong set of hands helped immeasurably when it came to rolling the shutters down & twisting the awkward lock securely, you indulgently watched him at work not missing the way his t-shirt rode up to reveal the very defined stomach & happy trail you’d be more than happy to follow.

You had been chatting about your day surrounded by some smooth jazz playing on the radio as James drove out of Brooklyn, it felt like you were transported into a different time the way the car sounded & the leather smelt, the way the sun’s haze warmed you & sent shards of light across your face. Then there was the gentleman you were with, who seemed like he was taken right out of an old Hollywood film, you were feeling some major main character vibes, like you were both the only people in the world.

You hadn’t even registered the outside world until you passed the sign for Marine Park. ‘Where are you taking me anyway? Thought I’d have to get all fancy for you to take me to an exclusive restaurant or something’

He tensed up from suddenly realising that you might have wanted to get dressed up to be wined & dined, to be shown off, but knowing who he was, his reputation, he thought you would want it to be private. ‘Is that what you wanted Bunny?’

You shook your head hoping you hadn’t offended his efforts, even if the date ended now, it would go down as your best one, the bar was ridiculously low at this point, ‘Absolutely not, I want whatever you planned James.’

He visibly relaxed at your words, it was so refreshing seeing the undone version of the James you had come to know, casual James was relaxed & almost seemed younger, without his suit he was lighter, the weight on his shoulders eased & you were convinced this was who he was under all those suits & scowls.

‘Well we’re here Bunny.’ As if perfectly timed he pulled into an empty parking lot, confused you glanced around for a building or any clue, once you set eyes on the big screen it clicked.

‘A drive in?’

‘Yep, the whole place is ours for the night. We can pick our movie & I’ve brought some food to have before it starts, then popcorn, blankets & a back seat for us to get settled into for the show.’

Your smile was as wide as the sunset as you scooted over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, no one had ever gone to such efforts for you before & it meant the world to you. ‘Are you actually real?’, you playfully poked his arm, he looked so shy & bashful at your question adding even more scepticism that he was really sat in front of you.

‘You know Bunny, I’ve asked myself the same about you. Is this ok though? I could take you to a restaurant if you would prefer.’

You shook your head, ‘This sounds perfect James. Honestly, it’s above & beyond anything I expected.’

Everything from the food & drink to the company & conversation made you feel cherished & valued, you couldn’t begin to convey to James how much it meant to you, once you had both had your fill it was time to set up for the movie.

After gathering the final supplies from the trunk, Bucky pressed a button on the dash & the hood of the car began moving to cover the back seats, you could just picture two lovers driving to a lookout point in the hills of California, getting a little privacy with the hood & making out with a view to die for. You had Breakfast at Tiffany’s & a very handsome man to admire rather than a scenic view & you were more than happy with that; he draped a blanket across the seat before taking your hand & helping you into the back.

It felt surreal how naturally you fit into his side once he had joined you, his arm draped over your shoulder & you wrapped yourself around him letting out a very relaxed breath.

‘You enjoying yourself Bunny?’

You tried hiding into his chest at his question, were you enjoying yourself? Of course, but you were also overwhelmed by everything this man brought to the table & questioned more & more why he was interested in you. There was no doubt you were enjoying yourself, so you nodded against him, ‘I’ve never had anyone do so much for me on a date.’

You dodged the question & you were practically buried in his side, his brow furrowed at the realisation, ‘Is this making you uncomfortable Bunny?’

His ability to read you took you by surprise, ‘A little, it’s not you, this is a total me thing, you couldn’t be more perfect, just not used to it I guess, to have someone take the lead & plan, I’m usually the one that plans & pays so it might take a bit of an adjustment for something so elaborate, to believe that I’m worth all this to you.’

That confession broke his heart a little, you deserved to be worshipped & spoiled, he was sure he could find out the names of all the pricks you wasted your time with before you met him, line them all up & then put a bullet between their eyes for making you think this was elaborate. This was dinner & a movie, the bare minimum, if that, Sam stopped him from going with his original plan, saying it might freak you out. It pained him to know that he was right.

‘Oh Sugar, you are worth the entire solar system to me, this isn’t elaborate. God you should have seen what I wanted to do before Sam talked me down.’

You giggled wondering what could have been more elaborate than renting out a whole drive in movie theatre, ‘Now I’m curious, tell me?’

‘It involved an Italian restaurant.’

‘Well that’s not that grand.’

‘In a little town called Settignano just outside Florence’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah’, now that he had said it out loud it might have been a little much, for a first date anyway.

You laughed, a full belly laugh that he couldn’t help getting caught up in, it sounded like the finest melody he had heard & he wanted nothing more than to have it playing on repeat.

‘We are from two very different world’s James.’ You reached out to his chin, you couldn’t help but pinch it with your thumb & finger before connecting your lips for a short sweet kiss.

He wanted to know how you would have reacted if he had been so bold as to fly you across the world for a date, ‘What would you have done?’

‘Freaked, mainly because I couldn’t leave the bakery’, you shrugged it off, but knowing the weight it held on you at all times didn’t make you feel great to admit out loud.

He raised his brow, ‘Not even for a day?’

You reluctantly shook your head, ‘At the moment, no. Maybe someday.’ You loved your business, you really did, but the man you were pressed against was showing you exactly what you had been missing out on.

He pulled you to his lips adding another soft kiss, his hands gently holding your face, ‘You work too much.’

‘Takes one to know one.’

‘Touché,’ connected by your foreheads he looked deep into your eyes, ‘You promise someday actually means someday soon, so I can fly you around the world?’

You leaned in nodding against his mouth, ‘Yeah, I promise.’

‘Good girl.’ His patience for sweetness was broken the second you shifted your hips & moaned into his mouth, he pulled you into his lap deepening the kiss as his hands explored your soft skin.

You eventually got to watching the film, but it really didn’t compare to the feeling of being kissed senseless by Bucky, he had been on his best behaviour, keeping his wandering hands from any major bases & even when you felt how aroused he was he completely ignored it & eventually insisted on you both actually watching the movie.

Yelena was right, there definitely would be another date & you couldn’t wait for it.

With the previous night feeling like a dream you were slightly perturbed with your morning routine, you loved your bakery, you really did but it was exhausting at times, allowing yourself an extra 5 minutes of daydreaming a romantic trip to Florence with James was a good use of your time, even if it meant you were running late.

Another day & another mystery parcel it would seem, this time a different man with the delivery, thankfully without the intimidating convoy, asked you to sign for a gift, the lack of muscle you hoped meant he didn’t buy you the crown jewels or something equally ridiculous but with James you really couldn’t predict what would be in the box, but reading the note card had you both smiling & rolling your eyes.

‘Message received about going OTT, you’re completely right, yesterday’s necklace is too much for work, this one is much more work appropriate, Pick you up at 6?’

Another black velvet box revealed a less intimidating piece of jewellery sure, but you could still tell it was vastly more expensive than anything you owned, a paperclip necklace scattered with diamonds with a jaw dropping emerald & diamond pendant hung from it.

You pulled out your phone from your back pocket, unlike yesterday you couldn’t wait for Bucky to put it on for you, you managed to take a picture showing it off plus a hint of cleavage for good measure, making sure to arch your back to put your best foot forward as it were.

You noticed his insistence on early dates, whenever you weren’t with him he would remind you to look over CVs to employ some help, he really was trying to reduce your hours stuck in the bakery & even if he was the one reaping most of the benefits of you having more free time, you appreciated his concern.

His usual blacked out Range Rover was outside the bakery at 6pm sharp, this time you were ready for him all locked up bounding up the car climbing in the passenger seat before he even had time to open the door for you, ‘Where we heading tonight gorgeous?’

He leaned over the centre console to place a soft kiss on your cheek, ‘Well sugar we’re heading to my house where there’s a little lady dying to meet you.’

You curiously eyed him with a squint before it clicked, ‘Alpine?’

Chuckling at the total 180 facial expression change & the wide-eyed excitement simmering from you at the revelation he couldn’t be more enamoured by you, ‘Yes, she’s been washed & preened ready for some cuddles.’

Clapping your hands in glee you wiggled in the seat, ‘yesssss’

‘Thought I would cook you some dinner too’

‘That sounds like my kinda night.’

‘I thought it might be less intense?’

The sceptical look returned to you face, ‘Hmm let me see, no elaborate chef?’

He shook his head looking completely innocent, ‘Nope, just me.’

You raised a brow, ‘No Jewels or cars on offer?’

A coy little smile caught the side of his mouth, he loved that you have him all figured out, ‘Not unless you want them Sugar.’

You knew you’d catch him out with this one, ‘Flowers?’

The most pained look took over his face, ‘Oh Sweetheart, there will always be flowers, can’t change this leopards’ spots on that I’m afraid.’

You laughed nodding, ‘Well that’s a good compromise I guess.’

‘You drive a hard bargain Bunny.’

You knew he was rich, but you didn’t know he was Richie rich rich, you didn’t pull up to a house, it was an estate complete with the absurdly long driveway, perfectly preened bushes & turning circle at the top. It was the kind of home that looked like it needed an intercom in every room, there was no way you could shout loud enough to tell everyone when dinner was ready.

For a moment you imagined how lonely it must be for him to have all this to himself, surely, he didn’t need all the rooms, you’d take a lucky guess that the most he actually used was a bedroom, bathroom, office & kitchen so why did he feel the need to have all this space, to be so isolated?

As if reading your mind, he cleared his throat ‘it was my childhood home & I inherited it when my dad passed, my mom couldn’t face coming back.’

You reached out for the hand holding your knee to give him a reassuring squeeze.

‘Probably a bit silly to hold on to it for just me but I always pictured raising my kids here & making memories like I got to.’ He shrugged his shoulders dismissing the idea of it being something he could have. In truth, he had given up on that fantasy the minute he took control, he always thought he would have enough time to settle down before the burden of the family business was bestowed upon him. Tragically he was wrong.

You brushed your thumb against his hand, grateful he felt comfortable enough to open up, you got the impression he didn’t do it often & yet with you he was like an open book at times, ‘That’s a lovely sentiment & I’m sure your father would have loved that idea, suppose it’s a bit ridiculous to leave a place like this empty & you live in the city.’

‘Yeah, I just rattle around if I’m honest, alpine loves catching butterflies & field mice in the gardens though, can’t do that in the city.’

You smiled at the warmth he was radiating just talking about his little lady, ‘Well there you go, I might have to borrow her to get the mice out my apartment.’

‘You best be joking Bunny, I’ll have you a new place ready by tomorrow if you have an infestation.’ He looked so earnest, brow fully furrowed, like he was waiting for you to agree so he could jump into action.

You giggled at how ridiculously over the top he was, ‘If you can’t buy me jewels & cars there’s no way I’m accepting a house, I’d settle for an exterminator but there’s really no need, I don’t mind the odd mouse, they’re probably trying to get to nicer apartment next door & using mine as a shortcut through.’

‘You tell me if that changes bunny, you could always stay at my place anytime you need ok?’

You held his hand tight, ‘I promise there’s no need. You’re too sweet, you know that?’

‘Only for you sweet girl’

You heard the little bell before you saw her, but she strutted across the marble entrance to greet you both & you couldn’t help fawn at the sight of a tough mobster with a fluffy white cat, calling her a pretty girl & introducing her to you.

‘Now you be nice Alpine, Bunny will be stopping by a lot if I have my way, so I need you to get on.’

You were giggling at how ridiculous he was crouched on the floor giving strict instructions to a cat, that would be ignored completely most likely, a cats gonna cat, still, you sat down on the cold hard floor crossed legged & held your hand out for her to give a sniff. Thankfully it took 0.7 seconds for her to jump into your arms, Bucky looked like all his Christmases had come at once, you were here & his best girls were bonding.

You were busy loving on the adorable fluffy angel as Bucky was watching in awe ‘Bet you loved your bath, didn’t you pretty girl.’ You turned to the mobster giggling at the expression he was sporting, ‘I’m guessing whoever drew the short end of the straw was clawed alive.’

He shook his head laughing, ‘I did it Bunny, she put up a fuss but resisted clawing her daddy.’

Ooof, daddy he extruded it & you probably should have stopped thinking of it right there, but it was clear he registered it in the exact way you did from the way your eyes shot up meeting his quickly darkening gaze, the practically imperceptible twitch of his eyebrow for a millisecond told you he was very into that idea & you would be lying if you said you weren’t either.

You were sat on the kitchen island as Bucky stood at the stove cooking the pasta, having been lifted & placed there when you offered to help, the aromas wafting through the air smelt delicious & the way the mobster turned to speak to you or kiss you between stirring & adding ingredients was setting you alight.

He was so attentive & engaging as your conversation flowed, Sinatra playing in the background, he was interested in every story you had to tell, asking you questions that challenged you & the spark you were feeling only igniting further. Somehow, he was even hotter relaxed in his home, sleeves turned up to the elbows of his navy shirt showing the intricate artwork on his left arm & the slacks he wore clung to his thick thighs, maybe it was the way he walked over to you, spoon under a cupped hand as he stood between your legs dangled over the island letting you try the delicious sauce he had prepared.

The noise you made trying it had him needing to adjust his trousers, it was so sinfully sweet & he knew you had no clue the affect it had on him, he’d already calmed one boner down when he playfully patted your behind with a spatula after you insisted on helping out with dinner, the way you bit your lip on contact went straight to his cock.

Whilst the water for the pasta was heating up he turned back to where you were sat watching, ‘Dance with me Bunny.’

You scooted to the edge of the island to jump down but before you could, Bucky was lifting you off as if you weighed nothing, lowering you to the ground he made sure to catch your lips with his for a cheeky kiss making you giggle like a school girl.

Alpine sat on the counter observing the scene as Bucky held you close & swayed with his forehead touching yours, it felt like a picture-perfect moment in his life & one he had dreamt of for so long, being able to dance just like his parents did in the kitchen with the one woman that he had cared about like no other, he didn’t care that he felt like he was falling uncontrollably for you. He welcomed it.

"Days may be cloudy or sunny We're in or we're out of the money I'm with you, baby I'm with you rain or shine."

You settled down in the snug after the delicious food, the cosy den was exactly as described & you couldn’t help imagining how amazing it would be to enjoy a slow Sunday morning in winter watching the snow fall snuggled up with a fire, the dark mahogany walls lined with books would feed your soul with words & the man at your side warming your heart every second spent with him.

He passed you a glass of wine before pulling you onto the chair on his lap, ‘How about next weekend you prep ahead & make enough stock & leave Yelena in charge? I could lend you Peter to help out, then you & me can go to my house upstate for a couple of days?’

You thought about it, trying to do some mental gymnastics to see if it could work, Bucky could see you at least attempting to think about it & it meant the world to him that you were trying to fit him into your life.

‘If I could have Friday with Peter to train him & you let me bring some paperwork & my laptop to do at least a little bit of work then you have a deal.’

‘Bunny you can have full use of my office at your disposal … for set limited times.’

You playfully batted his arm, ‘That’s not full use then.’

‘Ok smarty pants, I didn’t realise this was a negotiation.’

You nestled further into him, making yourself completely comfortable on his thighs, ‘Well look at it this way, if you keep me busy enough I won’t have time to do the work will I?’

He shook his head repeating his words from earlier, you didn’t miss the way his tongue poked his cheek, ‘You drive a hard bargain, but I think I know a few things that could occupy us.’ Without wasting a second, you were flipped facing him, straddling his thigh.

‘Then you have yourself a deal.’ His lips were on yours, his hands holding your face & you were cursing the seam of your jeans pressing on your clit as you unsuccessfully tried to stifle a moan from the way he was rubbing himself against you.

‘That feel good sweet girl.’

You nodded letting out another moan, not even trying to stop it.

‘Christ you make the most beautiful sounds, you want me to stop?’

‘God no.’ That’s all it took for Bucky to increase the pace of pressing his thigh against your clit, he latched his mouth to your throat peppering kisses down the column of your neck until he reached the base where he found that sweet spot that sent you wild.

Your hips bucked against him & he smiled knowing the pleasure he was delivering ‘grind that pussy on me Sugar, show me how you like it.’

‘Fuck James, feels good.’

‘I bet you taste amazing right now, that pretty pussy all wet for me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes what?’

‘Yes daddy, soaking for you.’

‘Good girl, you look so fucking gorgeous riding daddy’s thigh.’

You let out a seismic moan as the pleasure was building, the pressure rising & Bucky knew he had you right on the edge, he slowed down slightly trying to prolong the show he was getting, your hands cupping your tits, fingers pinching your nipples as you were thrusting your hips making sure your clit grazed his leg with each ministration.

He took one of your hands, lowering it to rub it on his hard cock ‘Feel what you do to me Bunny. God you’re fucking gorgeous & all mine.’

You nodded looking down at where you were connected moaning at the sight of his hard on, it looked huge & your mouth watered at the thought of him cumming down your throat, that sinful idea paired with Bucky picking up the pace was all it took for you to tumble over the edge, moving to grip the mobster by his shoulder, you moaned his name into his ear as you reached your climax in his arms. He was gentle at slowing down his movements & a hand caressed your spine as you came down from the high that was riding James’ thigh.

Without wasting a second you placed your hand back over the bulge, his eyes fluttered shut at the contact, but before you could go any further, he rested his palm over your hand. ‘No need sweetheart, this was all about you.’

‘Do…do you not.’

He didn’t even let you finish that sentence, there was no way in any universe that he didn’t want you right at this second, ‘believe me Sugar, I’m practically bursting for ya, but I’m trying to be good, treat you right. So I wanna wait til I have all the time in the world with ya pretty girl, it’s getting late, I know you’re tired so I just wanted to do something for you.’

You nodded your head, astounded by him & yet again questioned if this selfless, gorgeous, generous soul was really real, if only people knew what the real James Buchanan Barnes was like, his reputation would be ruined.

Yelena had insisted on another girl’s night, she wanted the gossip from the two dates with James & you wanted to discuss the potential of her running the bakery so you could have a weekend away with him. You might see her every day, but with customers constantly keeping you busy it wasn’t really the most appropriate topic to have in their presence. You were sure detailing how you rode a mob boss’ thigh & the tipping point of the best orgasm you had in years was how his cock looking so deliciously big in his trousers most people didn’t want to hear grabbing their morning coffee.

You had suggested Vibranium knowing you would both be safe plus free drinks, but she insisted on somewhere else uptown that was quieter, she seemed to have an eye for upmarket joints all of a sudden because this place was fancy, a definite club but your feet didn’t stick to the floor, there wasn’t a fog machine in sight & there wasn’t a sea of people dancing coked up in the corner.

With Wanda on night shift, it was just the two of you, as usual Yelena was being Yelena swooping in for a table that had a reserved sign clearly placed on the top, she simply threw it over her shoulder with a ‘whoops’ & you hoped it didn’t cause any damage on impact. Before you could get on to the topic of the night you needed a bit of Dutch courage & Yelena seemed stiff even for her, some loosening up was in order, the bar was busy but eventually you were served, you figured it made more sense to double up, so you weren’t spending the night with the bar instead of your friend. When you glanced over your shoulder you noticed she was keeping herself occupied on the phone, looking tense exchanging some messages, you made a note to ask her what it was about after you had polished off a drink or two, she wasn’t the most open when it came to feelings or things playing on her mind, most of the time you had to force it out of her & alcohol usually assisted your efforts.

As you set the drinks down on the table your eye caught a group in the back, they were the loudest in the place, boisterously taking shots then cheering each one in turn, the longer you watched laughing at their collective camaraderie the more familiar a few of the faces registered. First it was the side profile of Steve you spotted, you faintly heard Sam’s voice & then it was as though all sound muted in your ear & replaced with a faint buzzing noise, your pulse quickened, yet time somehow seemed to slow down & you felt the exact moment your heart dropped, maybe even break.

Sat amongst his friends with two gorgeous women flanking his side, nuzzling against his neck & propped up on each outstretched thigh was James, your James. It was a bizarre concoction of feelings taking root within your gut; guilt that you were still watching, feeling as though you were prying having been completely blindsided seeing him like that, anger that he would do this having pursued you like he had & then there was that familiar feeling of disappointment that seemed to be the norm when it came to men these days, you really thought he was different.

You let out a long sigh trying to accept the reality of what you were witnessing, you weren’t going to let any of the tears gathering in your waterline fall, you needed to go home & think. It could have only been a matter of seconds stood watching every ‘I told you so’ play out in front of you, you were going to look away to tell Yelena you needed to leave, but Bucky looked up & across the crowded room his eyes connected with yours.

----

[Next Chapter]

A/N: sorry!!! He will redeem himself eventually but it will be a rough ride!

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