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swiftlymoniquesblog · 4 years

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You and Me and You- Winchesters x OC Miliana

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A/N: Hi friends! I’m sorry I haven’t been updating anything in so long! Life has been crazy! Work was chaotic, I went out of town for my birthday last month, yes the one I was supposed to spend with the SPN cast :(, and I moved towns. I’m currently in a temporary living environment as my family searches for a new place! So yeah, I’m so sorry I haven’t been around. On top of that, the mobile app has been so freaking glitchy and it’s super annoying. I’m not on my laptop as much but it might be worth it to read more fics! I hope everyone is well and please, send feedback!

Xxx Monique

Word Count: 2,420

Chapter 3- 1997- Miliana’s POV

It was just another day in high school for me. I didn’t think I was all that special, yet everyone wanted to be my friend. I tried to keep to myself since I wasn’t like any normal sixteen-year-old. No, I was raised by the infamous supernatural hunter, Bobby Singer. Yeah, that was a fun childhood. He was always in and out of the picture but he made sure to show me and tell me how much he loved me. It did help too when the Winchester Brothers would come to stay with me. They were good friends of mine but their Dad kind of went a bit crazy. He found one monumental case up in like Canada or somewhere, packed up all his things, including his sons, and off they went. It’s been six years since I’ve seen them. My Dad tried to stay local for all his hunts since he believed girls can’t and shouldn’t be hunters, and I guess that makes sense, considering a demon killed his wife, but still, I grew up in this life; I understand it. Jody and her friend Donna, who also is a Sheriff, would come by and bring some of the girls they would take in. Just to help them out, kinda like what Bobby did with me. They’d come around when my Dad had a case that wasn’t close to home and it’s not like I’m not old enough to stay at home alone; Dad just gets freaked out.

“So Miliana, you’re almost done with your sophomore year now. How’s that feel?” Jody asked me one day when she and Donna came to stay with me. They brought some girl, Jessica, to stay with us too but I didn’t like her.

“Oh, I’m excited but I’m also ready just to start junior year,” I admit.

“Why’s that, kiddo?” Donna asked.

“Well, there tend to be more ways to get involved in junior and senior year…” I trail off my thoughts, avoiding the real reason I couldn’t wait to be an upper-class woman.

“You mean there’s a prom once you become a junior?” Jody gave a knowing look.

Damn, she was good. Yeah freshmen and sophomores had dances but they were separated from the juniors and seniors and we didn’t get the same respect as they did.

“Well yeah,” I admit, sheepishly.

“That makes sense. Plus, you’ll feel older and feel like nothing is impossible.” Jody said, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

She was exactly right. I loved Jody like she was my Mother. She kind of was, given the fact that when it came to girl stuff, she would be the one I called. My Dad would just get all embarrassed and wouldn’t know what to do. You can probably figure out how my first period went; awkward.

“Hey, I have to get going. I’m on the planning committee for this year’s end-of-school-year dance, as they call it for us lower classmen. I have to meet before and after school so I won’t be home until late!” I yell as I’m grabbing my backpack and rushing out the door.

“Don’t forget to call before you leave school so I can alert your father! Jody called, as I scurried out the door.

“Yeah!” I yell in response as I run out the door and down the driveway to meet up with my friend, Sandy. She was already further in life than I was. Sandy came from a wealthy background; Daddy paid for everything. She had a boyfriend, was gifted a car on her sixteenth birthday, and was already planning to attend college. She would be turning seventeen the first week of June so she was already “older” than the other sophomores.

“Hi, Sandy!” I say as I throw my bag in the back and off, we went.

“So, you won’t believe what I heard!” She starts with the daily gossip that was floating around campus before we even get there! This was a routine for us. Sandy would come to pick me up and would tell me all the latest drama before we even get to school. She’s very into other people and for the most part, this school doesn’t do a lot in private.

“What’s up today, Sand?” I ask. I was the only one allowed to call her that. She hated being called Sand but for some reason, we’re friends and I can call her Sand. Normally, you wouldn’t think two girls like us would be friends, but I stood up for her when some other “popular girls” were getting in her face, so I threatened to give all of them high-calorie snack bars, and they all backed off. Oh, that’s another thing. Almost all the girls at this school are on a low carb, no fat diet. They mostly ate salads all the time and ate like rabbits, which is why Sandy and I became friends. We both have high metabolisms so we can eat like pigs and never gain any weight; all the other girls are jealous.

“Jared Kingston and Carly Wright are having an extremely public break up on the quad; again.”

“Jesus, again? Isn’t this like the twelfth time they’ve broken up?” I ask. Jared and Carly were your typical power couple; Jared, football captain, Carly, head cheerleader.

“Thirteenth.” Sandy corrected me.

“Don’t they get tired of all the drama? And for the love of God, can they not be so public about it?”

“Well, you know how Carly is. She thinks MTV is going to walk in one day and do a reality show off her non-existent singing career.” Sandy and I laughed. You sing a solo in the seventh-grade talent show and suddenly, you’re a professional singer.

“Hell, if anyone is a singer, it’s you, Mills. Get it?” I just scoff at Sandy’s lame joke, playing off my last name being Singer, and before I knew it, we were at school.

We parked the car and began grabbing all our stuff when a real sleek classic black car drove up to the front of the school. Parked rather crooked, two young boys got out of the car and everything around me suddenly came to a halt. I knew that car. I didn’t get a chance to see them because there was a thrall of students surrounding the car. Jared and Carly’s break up long forgotten, as guys were impressed with the car and the girls were impressed with the boys who came from that car.

“Whoa, who do you think they are?” Sandy asked me, snapping me from my thoughts.

“No one worth our time. Come on.” I say, strutting off, but not before I got the feeling one person was staring at me. We got to homeroom Spanish and chatted away with all our friends before Mrs. Ramirez came into the room.

“Clase, cálmate (“class, settle down)!” Mrs. Ramirez had the philosophy to speak in Spanish and have us try and figure out what she saying until she ended up having to tell us anyway. Not sure this was a very useful way of teaching but this what she did.

“Buenos días clase, tenemos un nuevo alumno. Este es Sam Winchester.” (“Good morning class, we have a new student. This is Sam Winchester.”) My head snapped up; it couldn’t be.

“Saluda a Sam.” (Say hello to Sam.)

“Hi, Sam.” A very few students had bothered to say hello to the new student, who was ushered to sit down in the only open seat in the class; next to me.

“Hey, I’m Sam.” He says, sitting down, but not making eye contact with me. I didn’t know what to say so I just kept quiet, hoping he would remember me.

“Do you not…holy shit. Miliana?”

“Hi, Sam,” I say, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” He asks me in surprise.

“I should be asking you the same.”

“You never left Lawrence?” He whispers/asks.

I shake my head. “You know how my Dad felt about a girl being a hunter. He didn’t want me to have to see that life once I reached high school. Said I needed every normal high school experience I could get.”

“Well Miliana Singer, you are far from normal.” He said, causing heat to suddenly appear in my cheeks.

“Sra. Singer, Sr. Winchester, ¿tiene algo que quiera compartir con el resto de la clase? (Ms. Singer, Mr. Winchester, do you have something you want to share with the rest of the class?).”

“No Sra. Ramirez (No Mrs. Ramirez)” We both said in unison, our attention now on the lesson.

“¡Bien, entonces ciérralo! (Good, then zip it!)” As the rest of the class went on, I couldn’t help but steal glances from Sam. He was exactly how I remember him but he grew! He must’ve hit a growth spurt somewhere in those six years since I saw him last because he’s a freaking giant now. His hair is longer now too. He occasionally would flip it out of his eyes and it would send a whiff of his cologne and his natural “Sammy scent” as Dean used to call it, my way. His eyes were a mix of green and brown, like the color of the trees right before they begin to change color for the fall. And his smile was a big and bright and contagious as ever.

“Señorita Singer, ¿le gustaría resumir la Constitución española? (Miss Singer, would you like to summarize the Spanish Constitution?).

“Um…” I trail off but a voice spoke up.

“España es una monarquía y trabajan para mostrar la importancia de la libertad, la justicia, la igualdad y el pluralismo politico. (Spain is a monarchy and they work to show the importance of freedom, justice, equality, and political pluralism.)” Sam responded in perfect Spanish, to which everyone in the room took notice of.

“Muy Bueno señor Winchester. (Very good, Mr. Winchester). To which Sam just winked at me. Holy crap, what was happening here? How has he gotten more attractive all these later? And what is he doing in tenth? Wasn’t he supposed to be a freshman? He’s fifteen after all! I don’t know what his game is but I’m going to figure it out and figure out why he’s back in Lawrence. He got out! Why would anyone want to come back here?

The bell rang, indicating the end of the class and the prime time to catch up with Sam. However, with him being so tall, once he grabbed his backpack, he was out the door in a flash.

“This boy!” I said in my head. Keeping up with him was going to be a struggle considering I’m only 5’6. Rushing out the class, I zig-zag through the crowded halls, looking for that floppy head of hair. Finally, on almost the opposite side of campus, there he was. He was lucky to have a top locker but I guess because he’s so big, it makes sense.

“Sam!” I yell, just a few feet away, but quickly catching up.

“Millie, hey.” He said smiling that perfect smile but using my nickname; the only my closest friends and family can call me. It was weird hearing him say it since he feels like a stranger now.

“Miliana,” I tell him.

“What?” He looked a bit stunned that I corrected him.

“It’s Miliana. Only my closest friends and family get to call me Millie and since you left…” I instantly regretted it when the words fell off my lips but there it was.

“Ah yeah, I guess I kind of deserve that, especially since we didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Sam said, slowly nodded his head as he understood why I was hostile.

“Yeah, no offense but your Dad is kind of…” I say but he interrupts me.

“A douche? Yeah, I know.” Sam said, knowing all too well how I felt about how his Dad just ripped him away from me. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, surprised to see you here. Actually, why are you back in Lawrence?”

“Well Dad figured to move closer to home for a while but Dean still loves the hunter life so he and my Dad go out on a lot of cases.”

“Are you left alone a lot?”

“Oh yeah, but I’m going to living close to your Dad. There’s a small little house that is just up the road from where you guys are so I figured I’d stay there.”

“So, you’ll be around more often?” I tried to hide my hopefulness but I knew Sam; he could tell.

“I hope to, at least until graduation.” He grinned at me and my heart fluttered. Stop it, Miliana.

“By the way, how are you a sophomore? You’re fifteen!”

“Oh that. Well, I’m pretty advanced for my age so they set me up as a sophomore.”

“I’d say you are pretty advanced; you speak Spanish fluently!” I comment, still being stunned that he spoke so effortlessly. “Why are you taking a Spanish class if you’re that fluent?”

“Eh, I needed it for credit so I thought it would be the easiest A I could come by. Plus, I have separate assignments than the rest of the class.”

“What?”

“I’m an in-class tutor. When Mrs. Ramirez can’t tutor students in need of some extra attention, she looks to me. Turns out, a lot of the class is struggling so we made a deal; I tutor and learn all her lessons, I get the credit.”

Okay, Sam was so much cooler than I remember him being. He is so sweet and caring and smart and, oh no, I can’t be falling for him. No way, no! We had one little incident when we were kids but that was it; we were kids! We didn’t know what love or crushes were then. I cannot be falling for my childhood friend.

“You good there, Miliana?” Sam said, bringing out me of my thoughts again.

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure? You looked like you were thinking about me shirtless or something.”

That son of a bitch! “What? Pssst. You wish Winchester!”

Sam just chuckled and shook his head but grabbed some more books out of his locker and set them in his bag, patted me on the shoulder, and bid me farewell. Shit, I’m so screwed.

(Reference for the Spanish Constitution because I don’t plagiarize: Smith, Carr, Spain. Encyclopedia Britannica. Encyclopedia Britannica Inc. 2020 16 August. 2020 18 August. https://www.britannica.com/place/Spain)

Forever tags: @fandom-princess-forevermore @simpleb00x @juju-la-tortue @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams

Taglist: @tlovescoffee @tykezparkerstark

Taglist requests open! Inbox open! Ask open! Requests open!

#Sam Winchester #sam #sam girls #sam fanfiction #sam fic #Sam fluff

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aurorasilverthorne · 4 years

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Surprise Party

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Disclaimer: Elena of Avalor & all of its characters belong to Disney.

Note: Aléjandro (Alé), Llorona (Ro), Esperanza (Rani), Rosalia (Rosie), Emilio (Lio) & Alacazar II (Caz) belong to me and my dear friends Meiwakunatto & hanybony1614. If you use any of them in fanart or fanfiction, please remember to give us proper credit as their creators. Thank you.

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"Are we ready?" Esteban asked.

Esperanza nodded. "Si, Papá. Alé and Ro put up the streamers, I've placed the gifts over on the table and Lio's helping Bisabuela with the cake."

"And I have Caz," Rosalia added, holding up the squirmy, smiling baby. "It's only a matter of time before Mamá comes looking for him. She ought to be back from her afternoon walk any minute. All we need now is for someone to go get her and bring her here."

"I'll do it," Emilio offered.

Esteban quirked an eyebrow at his second son. "I thought you were helping Abuela with the cake?"

"I can put the finishing touches on myself," Luisa assured him. "Lio knows how to get Shuriki's attention. If anyone can get her down here without spoiling the surprise, it's him."

"This is true," Esteban admitted. "Alright. Go get your mamá, Lio, and bring her into the ballroom. Everyone will be there ready to surprise her."

"Si, Papá."

Emilio ran out of the kitchen leaving a small trail of white flour footprints in his wake.

Esteban shook his head. He couldn't remember how the child had spilled the bag.

He must have dropped the sack while carrying it to the kitchen. Lio was covered from his messy haired head to his tiny bare feet.

Esteban couldn't help chuckling. His son looked like a happy little ghost skipping down the hall. He just hoped he wouldn't make too much of a mess for the cleaning staff to tidy up later.

Shuriki was on her way to the nursery after her walk to give Caz another feeding when she spotted her second son Emilio trotting down the hall.

Her day hadn't started off well. She'd woken up after only four hours of sleep to a fussy baby who'd refused to latch onto her breast, then she'd gone down to breakfast where she and Elena had gotten into a argument all because Emilio had put a non-venomous snake inside Elena's shoe-and a baby one at that-to get back at her for all the rude things she'd said to his mother earlier in the week. Apparently the tiny snake had latched onto Elena's pinky toe. When Shuriki had suggested Elena look in her shoes next time before sticking her feet in them, the queen had taken a pitcher of ice water and doused Shuriki with it.

Things had only gotten worse from there. She'd gone for her afternoon walk in the gardens just to trip and break her heel. As if that wasn't enough, she'd been stung by a bee while she was hobbling her way back to the palace. The sight of Emilio covered in flour and knowing he'd made another mess after she'd explicitly warned him to stay out of trouble proved the breaking point for Shuriki.

"Emilio Herrera Flores!"

Emilio froze the moment he heard his name and her tone then stood rooted in place as Shuriki towered over him.

"What did you do now?" she demanded. "Is that flour?"

Emilio recoiled a bit. "Um...si, but-"

"Why are you wasting flour? Don't you realize how expensive such ingredients are? Have you no respect for anything? I ought to bend you over my knee and whip you!"

"But, Mamá-"

"No more 'buts'! I'm sick of all your shenanigans! Go to your room and stay there," Shuriki snapped, pointing toward the nearest staircase.

Emilio knew better than to argue with his mother. She didn't favor sparing the rod to spoil children, especially when they were being unruly or disrespectful. He went to his room and curled up in the tub of his washroom where he'd be alone and no one would hear him cry.

Shuriki walked into the throne room to give Esteban an earful for not keeping a better eye on their son and nearly suffered a heart attack whenever a crowd of people suddenly surrounded her and shouted "Surprise!"

Once the initial shock wore off, Shuriki couldn't help but laugh as she gently swatted Esteban's forearm. "You frightened me!"

Esteban grinned. "Did you really think I'd forget your birthday?"

"Well...you've been so busy of late, I thought you might have," she admitted.

Esteban kissed her tenderly on the cheek. "Never. We've been planning this for months."

"Papá did most of the planning," Aléjandro corrected, "We did all the manual labor."

Shuriki chuckled. "Is that so, Alé?"

Esteban ruffled his eldest son's hair. "Oh, muy funny."

"Where's Lio?" Esperanza asked searching the crowd for her little brother.

Shuriki frowned. "Lio?"

"We sent him to go get you," Esteban explained.

"Maybe he went to wash up?" Llorona suggested. "He was covered in flour after helping Bisabuela with Mamá's cake."

Shuriki put a hand to her mouth. "Oh..."

Esteban's smile faded a bit. "Is something wrong, mi amor?"

"I...I have to go," Shuriki replied. "I'll be right back."

She left the ballroom and ran up to her son's private apartments. He'd fallen asleep in the empty tub of his washroom. The sight of his tear-stained cheeks broke Shuriki's heart, especially since she knew she was the cause of his tears.

She gently shook his shoulder to wake him. "Emilio, darling, wake up. I want to speak to you."

Emilio sat up and rubbed his eyes. He seemed afraid. That upset Shuriki even more. She hated the very thought of her children being scared of her.

"Darling, I'm so sorry...I didn't know about the party. I would have never said what I did if I had known you were trying to surprise me. Not that that's an excuse for how I reacted. I was having a bad day and I took it out on you. I shouldn't have. I had no right to. Can you ever forgive me?"

Emilio sniffled. "I just wanted you to have a bueno birthday."

"I know," Shuriki assured him. "My birthday is going well, but there's one thing missing at my party, something important and irreplaceable."

Emilio frowned. "There is?"

Shuriki nodded.

"What is it?" Emilio asked.

Shuriki wiped his tears away. "You."

Emilio perked up a bit. "Me?"

Shuriki nodded again and gave him a warm smile. "Yes. Will you attend the party with me? It's the only gift I really want."

Emilio smiled back at her. "Si, Mamá. I'll go with you."

Shuriki didn't care whether she got flour all over her gown. She hugged her son tight and kissed his forehead.

"Let's get you cleaned up so we can go down and have some of that cake you helped make."

Emilio's smile widened and he nodded excitedly. "Alright. Um, Mamá?

Shuriki quirked a curious eyebrow. "Yes?"

"May I have the first birthday dance with you this year?"

"Your Papá usually gets the first dance," she reminded him.

Emilio's smile faded a bit.

"But I can make an exception just this once," Shuriki added wanting her son to realize he would always have a special place in her heart.

Emilio threw his arms around her. "Gracias, Mamá!"

Shuriki chuckled. "You're welcome, dear."

"Mamá?"

"Hmm...?"

"Te amo."

Shuriki smiled softly. "I love you too, Lio. More than you will ever know."

#disney #elenaofavalor #shuriki #chancellor esteban #elena of avalor #esteban flores #fanfiction #fanfic #original character #EoA #eoa

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ariadnasdiary · 4 years

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¿Ari, cómo te la pasaste en tu cumpleaños? ¿Qué te regalaron Yuuri, Naomi y especialmente Kino? ¿Cuál fue tu regalo favorito? Y finalmente, si pudieras pedir un deseo de cumpleaños, ¿qué pedirías? Por cierto, ¡muchas felicidades Ari! 🎂🎉🎊 Espero que te la hayas pasado muy bien con tus amigos y sobre todo con Kino, (si sabes a lo que me refiero) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ♡

*Translation: Ari, how was your birthday? What did Yuuri, Naomi and specially Kino gave you? which present was your favorite? And finally, if you could make a birthday wish: what would you wish? By the way, happy birthday Ari 🎂🎉🎊! I hope you had a good time with your friends and of course with Kino (if you know what I mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ♡)

Mun Ari: NOOO! I’M SUCH A HORRIBLE PERSON!! I FORGOT TO HIT “PUBLISH” Aaahhh I’M SO SORRY!! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!

Ariadna: I love when someone gives me presents. I’m deeply move when somone give me one! It doesn’t matter if it’s a rose, a candy I appreciate each one of it since it’s the intention that counts!! I love my birthday becuase it makes me feel special for 24 hours!

Ariadna: They all prepared a tiny dinner! Yuri made the dinner with all the dishes I love (and Kino’s, because we know he’s bossy even on my b-day ^^’), so that was his gift.

Naomi gave me a pretty dress! She saw it and told me she thought about me the moment she saw it and I loved it! *whispering* between you and me...I loved the dress better

And in the case of Kino: well, as you know I’m a little of a gamer myself so he gave me a gift card! *giggles* Aww~ I was so moved, I loved surprises and the fact that everyone was with me made me really happy!

Ariadna: if I had a wish...I would have loved all my family and friends to have been here to celebrate with me. I miss my family so much...*shakes her head* B-But maybe one day?

Ariadna: Oh right! Thank you very much for the good wishes!! Eh?...EH!? *blushes* H-How you!? W-Why you!?

*Mun Ari: was that a “yes” or a “no”? Hmmm~

#ariadnasdiary #ariadnaxkino #ariadna koizumi martínez #ari speaks #ask #thank you for asking <3 #I’M SO SORRY!!#diabolik lovers oc #diabolik lovers latino

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nailbatss · 5 years

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Black Velvet - Richard Camacho *SMUT*

Pairing: Richard Camacho x Reader

Word Count: 2,195

Warnings: S M U T T Y S M U T

Author's Note: I know I said I would post my Erick one, but it's only half written. As an apology, here is my Richard smut. I hope you enjoy~💋❤

I only ever met one man who knew how to steal hearts, mine especially. I guess you could say that we’ve known each other for a while, but I never expected to give into these thoughts… these feelings I have for him.

I’m getting ahead of myself here. My name is (Y/N) (L/N) and I just turned 21 in August. No one knows me better than my best friend, who suggested that we go out together. Now, my best friend was already 21 since March, but she promised to wait for me so we could get drinks together. Katie Kingsley is my best friend and she’s also my personal hypeman.

“Bitch! I thought I told you to get ready!” Katie scolds.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I protested, gesturing to my outfit.

“EVERYTHING! Are you 21 or 81?” Katie groaned as she pulled me towards my room.

Katie handed me a box, gesturing wildly for me to open it. “I got you a gift to open for later, but since you clearly don’t know how to dress yourself-” She cut herself off.

I shushed her by throwing a shoe at her, earning a screech. I laughed before I opened the box. My jaw fell to the floor.

“Katie, what the hell is this?” I asked.

“It’s a dress, dumbass. Are you blind?” She snorted.

Inside of the box was a beautiful, black velvet dress that looked to be my size. After checking the tag, it only confirmed my thoughts. It was my size. She also held up a pair of black heels to match the dress.

“Wear these with that dress. You’re going to look K I L L E R.” She ushered me into the bathroom.

Why did she seem more excited about this than I do?

Oh well.

I stripped my previous outfit and left it on the counter for now. Then, I slid into the dress that she had given me. Damn, it was tight and hugging my curves. It was giving me shape that I didn’t even know that I had. As much as I hated to admit this, Katie knew exactly how to make me dress. I put on the heels as well and put on some gold jewelry to match it.

“(Y/N), I swear if you don’t hurry- HOLY FUCK!” Katie exclaimed. “You look HOT!”

I laughed before asking, “What the fuck?”

“If I weren’t dating someone, then I would eat you up.”

“Let’s not do that.”

She laughed and sat me down so she could do my makeup and hair. I was seated at my little mirror vanity so she could do my hair and makeup.

Once she styled my hair and did my makeup, I looked to see she had curled my hair. Katie also had applied a gold eyeshadow, did a sharp cat eyeliner, and she had given me a sultry red lip. I almost didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.

“Wow, I look amazing.” I gasped suddenly.

“You’re going to tear it up out there.” Katie winked.

She pat my shoulder, “Come on, hottie. We gotta get to the club soon, or else we’ll lose our VIP tickets at Club La Noche.”

“You got tickets, VIP tickets at that, to that club? Don’t they have like a month long waiting list?” I looked at her incredulously.

“I have my ways.” She winked.

I’m in for one hell of a night.

*Time skip to the club*

The music was bumping through the speakers, blaring Kiss Kiss by Chris Brown as I recognized the tune. Damn, they’re playing the good tracks tonight. Taking in the scenery, there were bodies bumping and grinding on the dance floor, people crowded around the bar in hopes of getting a drink to quench their thirst.

Obviously alcohol isn’t the way to do it, but I mean, anything to have a good time, right?

There are neon lights flashing on the wall, and LED strip lights running around the club in various places. It looked like it had a blacklight effect.

What am I currently up to right now? I’m having a drink with Katie at the bar. We had found two barstools that were empty and we decided to occupy them. She and I were mindlessly chatting about everything from our favorite types of guys, to how good the drinks are at this place.

Suddenly, Katie gets approached by a guy and I give her a look. “Katie, I think you have a visitor.”

Katie turns her head and she stood up, giving him a gentle hug before turning to me. “Do you mind?”

I wave her off. “Go on. I’ll be here.” I smirked.

She stuck her tongue out and was pulled to the dance floor.

However, I was watching her disappear when I hear a voice behind me.

“Hola, como estas?”

My head spun around as I noticed a very muscular man come up to me. He appeared to be Hispanic and he had a lot of tattoos. His shirt was sleeveless, showing off his nice arms. His very veiny arms. I was speechless because wow. Holy. Shit. He looks so good.

“I-I’m good.” I answered after clearing my throat.

“Me llamo Richard, y tu?” He asks as he gestured to myself.

I gestured to myself. “I’m (Y/N).” I answered.

After a little bit of talking, he bought me a few drinks.

“So, what brings you here?” He asked suddenly.

“Oh, today’s my birthday. I just turned 21.”

“Oh! Happy Birthday!” Richard grinned.

“Thank you.” I smiled.

“Did you come here with someone?”

“I came with my best friend, but she was pulled to the floor with someone.”

He nodded and then he seemed quiet for a moment. “Would you like to dance?”

Oh my god. This really hot guy just asked me to dance. I realized I was being a little quiet because he was looking at me expectantly. I stood and brushed my hands over my dress to straighten it a bit before smiling.

“Sure, I would love that.”

Richard seemed to smile as he takes my hand, pulling me to the dance floor. Nothing seems to flow through my mind for a while as we started dancing. We were dancing pretty close to one another as Run It by Chris Brown played in the background. I was facing him, shaking my hips and moving fluidly to the beat before I turned around. His hands rested on my waist as I started to grind with him.

There we were, grinding fluidly and I could feel his hands running up my body. Did I mind? No. Did I want more? Absolutely. I could feel his lips brushing against my neck, pressing feather-like kisses and sending shivers down my spine. A soft moan passed from my lips and I could hear a deep chuckle behind me. Suddenly I was spun around in his arms, pressed against his chest. He sways his hips and engaged me in a dirty grind. But he pulled me close, our lips meeting in a fiery kiss. I could taste the bourbon on his lips.

It was sweet and savory at the same time. God, the kiss was lighting me up inside. I could practically feel him tasting my lips.

He leaned in and he kisses by my ear. “Wanna go with me?”

Mindlessly, I nodded in a hazy bliss. I knew I wasn’t drunk. Tipsy maybe.

But I could be drunk on the taste of Richard alone.

*You already know what’s going down*

*At the hotel room*

It was like we were attached to one another as I held onto him. He was kissing me, I was kissing back, and our hands were flying to feel one another. As we got into the hotel room, he picked me up and held me by my thighs, biting my lip. I decided to tease but then he growled, it ripping through my body and to my core.

God, those noises aren’t human. But I’m glad he’s making them for me. I finally caved and gave in, letting him have the access he wanted. That tongue of his darted into my mouth, exploring every inch and crevice. I began to picture what that tongue could do to me.

Or where I would let it go.

Then he did something. Richard had thrown me onto the bed, making me giggle as I hit the pillows.

“Te gustas, princesa?” He purred and I nodded.

He attacked me once again by kissing me and pushing his hips against mine as he grinds. I could feel everything, especially his dick pressing against my thigh. He was probably rock hard and aching. It felt huge against me and I could only imagine the way it would feel inside of me.

His fingers were clawing at the material of my dress, and I happily complied by letting him slide it off of me. He was exposing my matching underwear and bra set. I felt my face heating up from him staring at me.

“Muy bonita, princesa.” He tells me and I relaxed.

His lips began traveling down my body, making my breathing hitch. He leans up and removes his shirt, exposing his sculpted body and his eight pack. How did I manage to get so lucky? His fingers traveled down my body again.

“Like what you see?”

“Mhm, I do.” I replied as I run my hands up his abdomen and his chest.

His skin felt nice and smooth to the touch, not to mention, I could feel when he breathes. He smells like a warm cinnamon, as well as other spices like cloves. It was hypnotizing to watch him moving and touching me. His lips found mine again, taking my breath away as I slowly undid his belt, tossing it aside. He shimmied out of his pants and left him in his boxers.

Richard was quick to undress me the rest of the way before he started to slide his fingers into me. Using his middle finger, he began to work and massage my clit. Feeling the sensation, I moaned almost instantly. I didn’t have to wonder anymore what it felt like to feel his fingers work me. He used a circular motion to massage it and earn more moans from me. My fingers clenched the bedsheets beneath us as I moaned yet again.

He seemed to like watching because he chuckled. Then he added another finger. I moaned more intensely after feeling that. I happened to look up just as he licked his lips.

Fuck, that looked so hot.

After he continued moving his fingers, I eventually reached a climax and released onto his fingers. He removed them and chuckled, licking his fingers to clean them.

“Mm, bueno.” He purred as he slowly looked me over once again, and sending me into another blush.

“Are you ready, bonita?”

I nodded, my hands immediately going to his biceps to brace myself for the pain that was sure to follow. I noticed he had tossed a condom wrapper on the floor. Thank god.

Then I felt it.

He slid his dick into me and I gasped from the sharp pain. I was being stretched and filled in such a way that I had never experienced before. I waited for a few moments before whispering that I was alright. Just then, he took over and he started to move his hips. Of course I was a moaning mess and calling his name softly.

“Louder, princess. I can’t hear you.”

This fucker.

I moaned a bit louder as he began to nail my sensitive spot. Holy fuck. I was in pure ecstasy as he continued to hit that one spot. He knew it too because I could practically hear the smirk within his moans. They were musical and deep, gruff at times as well. I could have sworn this is what heaven was like.

After a while, we both reached our climaxes and I could feel him come undone at the same time I did. He pulled out of me and he laid down beside me. I snuggled into his warmth and we shared a few lazy kisses.

“Happy birthday, (Y/N).” He told me one last time.

“Thank you.” I told him one last time.

“I would like to see you again, if you don’t mind.” Richard says.

“I would love that.” I replied.

This was the best birthday I had ever had, and it was thanks to Richard. In the morning, he had made me breakfast and given it to me in bed. How sweet! I could definitely see myself dating him and having more days like this.

I noticed my phone ringing. Oh man, it’s Katie. I answered after hesitating.

“(Y/N) (L/N) WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!”

“About that… I went home with a guy last night.”

“Oh thank god. At least you didn’t get kidnapped. I expect a full report later.” She hung up.

Richard poked his head in, “Something wrong?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Everything is great.” He laughed and then kissed me. Best birthday ever.

#cnco #cncowner #cncowners #cnco imagine #richard camacho #richard smut

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uncannyvalleyinc · 6 years

Text

Saber ISBI Legacy 2.5

Chapter 2.5

Last chapter ended with Violet giving birth birth to a baby boy, named Gloam...

Violet: Aren't you the cutest little thing?

Who, like most babies in this legacy, gets instantly aged up into a child. Between that awful haircut, the track jacket, and Gloam's inordinate joy over it, I predict he's going to be a total charmer just like his dad Hudson "The Hunk" Monk.

It's been about six stuff packs since I last played this legacy so while the kids are at school the house -- and Violet -- gets a tiny makeover.

The girls are about as enthused as can be expected by their baby brother. They go straight to bed after school.

But Gloam does bring home a friend home.

Enrique: Aunque ahora soy solo un niño, si sigo practicando mis abilidades de modelaje voy a convertirme en un esposo muy guapo para su Legacy ¿verdad? Violet: Did I give birth to you? I could have sworn there was only one...

To be fair, little Enrique does have pretty much the same haircut as Penumbra...

And it's not as if Violet is that great at keeping track of her offsping anyway.

That night Molly shows up to show the world what she thinks of The Sims 4 Parenthood the kids' new dollhouse.

Penumbra: NOOOOO!

A couple days later the whole family gathers, which can only mean one thing...

Paolo: This sure is a great pool party! Violet: Actually, it's a --

BIRTHDAY PARTY!!!

Lacuna ages up into a teenage bunhead. She looks almost exactly like Violet, but with Paolo's hair color. I'm not sure how I feel about this -- Violet is cute and all, but this family has a big case of sameface going on thus far.

Lacuna gets a quick makeover. And cake!

Her birthday gift is a basketball hoop, which everyone has fun testing out.

Perhaps... too much fun.

Meanwhile Violet and Paolo are busy keeping their relationship fresh.

Instead of leaving $20 on the dresser and scramming Paolo sticks around to do the dishes. What a gentleman.

For some reason Gloam spends a lot of time crying over his grandparents graves.

Gloam: It's just like... I was a baby only yesterday, and now I'm a child... and Lacuna just became a teenager. We all grow up so fast, life is so fleeting. Soon we'll all be graves on the back lawn. Violet: Aww, buddy. It's not so bad. I hear vampirism signifigantly lengthens the lifespan, for example...

Somehow he finds that comforting.

Nevertheless, angst abounds throughout the household. Lacuna takes her teenage rage out on the stuffed skull panda.

But Penumbra is such a middle child she spends most of her time cleaning up messes trying to earn her family's love and attention.

That night as if summoned by all the mourning Travis claws his way out of hell.

Travis: Hi Violet! Do you mind if I break the stereo, make eight servings of salad despite the fact that I am dead and therefore consume no sustenance, and then fall asleep in your bed? Violet: AAAH! G-G-G-GHOST!!!

Speaking of the previous generation, Gloam is kind of turning out to be Molly 2.0

Violet: Hey kid, watcha doin'? Gloam: Trollin teh forumz huehuehuehue.

With the Parenthood expansion pack come new opportunities to lecture, so Violet takes a moment to teach Gloam a valuable lesson about using a VPN proper nettiquite.

++Empathy

A few days later Violet is stricken with the "Very Sad" mood. She is a gloomy Sim, but this was triggered by the "Mourning - Lost a Friend" moodlet. And... she doesn't seem to have lost any friends? Nevertheless, she rolls the want to send a sad text to Paolo, who responds with a hearty "come over" followed by the eggplant emoji.

Violet: H-hi, Mister Rocca. What a lovely home. I'm here to see your much younger and hotter son, Paolo...

Paolo: Look, I get it -- time has not been kind to me. But the hot young hunk you once knew has metamorphosed into a striking silver fox! At least that's what I tell myself every time I look in the mirror! Violet: O... kay. Paolo: Besides, I know just the thing to cheer you up!

Maybe watching Sims of the Dead with your recently (and inexplicably) grief-stricken friend is not a great idea, Paolo.

Violet: Ugh, that movie was awful. And your roommate -- I thought she'd never leave! Paolo: Eva is such a third wheel. But we're alone now, so... Violet: Wait. There is something I wanted to say --

Violet: Despite your advanced age and terrible taste in entertainment you're still the only person I want to call when I am sad -- you're my best friend, Paolo. So... how about you move in with me?

He said yes! Which is how Paolo Rocca abandoned his swanky bachelor pad -- which, lets be honest, had a lot of stairs for an old dude like him -- to spend his golden years in Legacy luxury and maybe get to know his kids.

Just look at this cheery domesticity!

#sims 4 #saber legacy #saber legacy: gen 2 #sims 4 legacy #ts4 pictures

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exkernal · 6 years

Text

Fanfic: The Life and Death of Hector Rivera, Chapter Two

Hector watched Coco grow. Coco began to crawl around on the floor, and Hector would pretend to chase her, as Coco’s delighted giggles echoed around him. She clutched tightly at his fingers as she took her first uncertain steps. He beamed with pride when she said her first word, “Papa,” and couldn’t resist teasing Imelda. She bounced up and down,, clapping her hands (her version of dancing) whenever Imelda sang or he played the guitar.

They were still poor. Life was hard. But Hector couldn’t find it in himself to complain, not when he came home every night to Imelda and Coco, when he could hold both tightly to his chest know that, finally, he had a family.

Imelda met him outside as he came home from work on his eighteenth birthday.

“What is it?” Hector asked, after twirling Coco around. Imelda was acting odd, like she was hiding something.

“A surprise,” she said vaguely. “You’ll love it—well, I hope you will. You need this. You’re old one is practically falling apart.”

“What is it?” he repeated, assuming she meant a new pair of shoes or jacket.

“Come and see."

There, perched against the stove, was a brand new guitar. This one was all white, but decorated much like his old one, with the same skull design at the handle. It even had a gold tooth to match his own (he had not been quick enough ducking out of the way of the Lopez brothers’ fists).

“Imelda,” he breathed out in awe, “it’s wonderful.” He turned to her. “How did you afford this?”

“I saved up,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. After all, I can’t have my husband going around the plaza looking like a bum.

“Thank you,” he said, embracing her, Coco caught in the middle of them. This was the best gift he’d ever been given. He knew that he would cherish it for the rest of his life.

As Coco grew, so did Ernesto and Hector’s reputation. They began accepting paid gigs at weddings and quinceañeras, not just within Santa Cecilia but in neighboring towns as well. The winning combo of Ernesto’s charismatic showmanship and Hector’s songwriting turned them into local celebrities. For the first time in their lives, they were earning decent money from their music. As a result, he didn’t need to work as many hours, allowing him to focus more of his time on writing music. He’d taken to writing everything down in a small, leather-bound journal. As his twentieth birthday approached, he’d already written dozens of songs for them to perform.

They performed all but one.

Nights in bed were the ideal time for Hector and Imelda to talk. Their daily lives were so busy between work, music, and a growing child, that it was difficult to find time during the day for a real heart to heart. Especially when so many of their daytime conversations involved bickering or playing music for Coco (Hector’s favorite way to relax after a day of work). After dark, while Coco was fast asleep in her room, the husband and wife could finally talk together as they lie in bed, just the two of them, unencumbered by the rest of the world. And although he would never say this out loud (he wasn’t suicidal), Hector valued those rare occasions that Imelda let her hair down, both literally and metaphorically, allowing her seldom seen gentler, softer side to shine through.

“I was thinking,” Imelda said, nuzzled against his chest, “that we might be able to start our own business.”

“Oh?” Hector asked in a teasing tone. “And what would we sell, querida? I don’t think there’s much demand in Santa Cecilia for guitar makers or singing instructors.”

“I know that,” she answered, a little brusquer, though it quickly vanished. “I was thinking something like…shoes.”

“Shoes?” Hector laughed, surprised.

“They’re practical,” she said, “everyone needs shoes, even scruffy musicians like you.”

“Fair enough, but there’s still one little problem: we don’t know how to make shoes.”

“We can learn,” she said. Hector squeezed her closer against his chest. “Senor Castillo hasn’t done much with work in his shop since his wife died, and his daughters have all moved away with their husbands. I might be able to persuade him to teach me.”

Hector knew firsthand how effective Imelda’s powers of persuasion could be.

“Perhaps, querida, but I have my music to think of. We’re starting to make some real money from it. Enough to provide us with a good life.”

“For now,” she said, “but we won’t be young forever. We need something dependable, to put down roots that we can pass down to Coco. She’s young now, but she’s growing fast.”

There was truth to this, he supposed, but for the life of him he couldn’t see himself as a shoemaker. He almost wanted to laugh at the very idea. Besides, no matter what she said, he knew his music career was booming. He couldn’t throw that away now.

“I’ll consider it,” he said.

“Hector, I’ve been thinking,” Ernesto said one evening, as they made their way home from a wedding in a nearby village. Hector was in good spirits, despite the cramps in his fingers and the weariness that nagged at his body. He was beat. He wanted nothing more to crawl into bed and cuddle up against his wife. Yet their performance had been a smashing success, which was really all that mattered. “Remember when we were boys and you told me that you wanted to be a musician?”

“How could I forget?” Hector said with a wistful smile. “And I’d say it came true, seeing where we are.”

To his surprise, Ernesto did not share his smile. His friend wore a serious expression, which was such a rarity for him that it forced Hector to pay attention.

“I wonder…are we really? Oh, sure, we perform for crowds, you write songs. We certainly are musicians of a sort. It’s just…Hector, I think we’ve hit a wall.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We’ve reached as far as we can go in Santa Cecilia. Playing for fiestas, never going farther than a day’s journey. I can’t help but feel that we’re squandering our potential.”

“What are you suggesting?” Hector asked. His heart hammered in his chest. Part of him wanted to challenge Ernesto, to tell him that things were just fine, that he had never felt more complete in his life. But another part of him felt the truth in his friend’s words. In some ways, Hector was still the foolish little dreamer with his head in the clouds, the boy his abuelita always scolded. He knew there was more to be had.

“We have a gift. You have a gift, amigo. I could only dream of being as good a songwriter as you! We make an incredible duo. If we take a chance, if we seize our moment, we could become the most famous musicians in Mexico. Maybe even the world.”

“Oh, come now,” Hector laughed, “I won’t pretend that I’ve never dreamed about it, but the world? I think you’re getting carried away, Ernesto.”

“I’m telling you, you have a gift. And it’s being wasted while we’re stuck here.”

Hector ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Ernesto. I have a family to consider.”

“Ay, you do. Think of how much you’ll provide for them if we become famous. Imelda will never have to work again. Coco can go to the best schools and have the best clothing. Her future will be secure.”

It was tempting. Hector pictured himself playing for a packed auditorium, travelling the world with Imelda and Coco at his side. He saw a version of his daughter who would not have to leave school like he did, not have to work like a dog just to get by. He saw Coco happy and educated and secure.

“Think about it,” Ernesto said, throwing his arm around Hector’s shoulders, jostling the guitar strapped to his back. “An announcer bellows before a spellbound crowd, ‘Presenting—de la Cruz y Rivera!’”

Hector shook his head. “You mean Rivera y de la Cruz.”

“No, no, it’s in alphabetical order, you see.”

They laughed, eyes dancing with the possibilities.

Imelda, as even a child like Coco could have predicted, did not take it well.

“Let me get this straight,” she said. She wasn’t yelling—yet—but her body shook with barely suppressed anger, like a hurricane battering against a flood wall, moments before breaking through. “You’re telling me that you want to abandon your wife and child to becoming a travelling musician, and I’m supposed to, what, give you my blessing.”

“I’m not abandoning you,” Hector said, wounded. “And—keep your voice down,” he hissed, risking her wrath even further, but Coco was playing in the front yard, still within potential hearing distance. “This is only temporary, mi amor. A few months at the most. I could make enough money to keep us comfortable and happy forever. Don’t you want that for Coco?”

She was not swayed. “Of course, that’s why I suggested opening a business. To put down roots. Not for you to chase down your own glory and adventure with bigheaded Ernesto and then use your daughter as a convenient excuse. What happens if it doesn’t work out, eh, Hector? Where will we be then?”

“I have to try, Imelda,” he pleaded. “You don’t understand—”

“Oh, I understand!” she said, her lips twisted into a disgusted grimace. “I know what musicos are like; out all night, chasing girls—”

“Ay, querida, I can see it now: the girls won’t be able to resist this hombre muy guapo,” he teased, raising his eyebrows.

His joke didn’t land well, not that he really expected it to.

“Oh, yes,” she snarled, “you can make your stupid jokes, but I know what’s going to happen those long nights that you’re away.”

“Imelda,” he said softly, “you know that I’m not like that. You’re the only woman for me.”

“That changes nothing,” she said, as firmly as before, but he thought he saw her shoulders relax a little. “You’re still abandoning us.”

“Never,” Hector vowed. “You and Coco are my world. It’s just…I have to try, Imelda. Maybe I’ll fail miserably, but I won’t be able to live with myself if I’m always wondering ‘what if.’ At least this way I can say I tried.”

Her stern exterior started to slip.

“And,” he added, “if it doesn’t work out we’ll open your shoe store.”

“Senor Castillo seems agreeable,” Imelda said, “I think he’ll give me lessons. And you will write to us at least twice a week and telephone once a month.”

“We don’t have a telephone,” Hector said.

“The Guzmans do. We’ll arrange a time and day once a month. They owe me a favor.”

“Deal,” Hector said, feeling like a weight had been lifted.

“I still don’t like this,” Imelda said.

“I know, mi amor,” he said, taking her into his arms. “That’s why I’m eternally grateful to have the best wife in the world.”

If telling Imelda was difficult, than telling Coco was heartbreaking.

“But why?” the four-year-old asked turning her huge, luminous eyes on him. She was Imelda in miniature, but with a rounder face, and a few hints of Hector sprinkled in.

“Papa needs to travel to play his music,” Hector said, trying to explain it as best as he could. “Papa’s an okay musician, right?”

“The best,” Coco nodded fervently. Hector scooped her up into a tight hug, spinning her. She laughed directly into his ear. He wished he could hold this moment forever, the sheer joy of having a four-year-old daughter. He felt confident in his decision before; now, faced with the reality of leaving Coco, a part of him wanted to tell Ernesto that he changed his mind.

“I’ll write you letters every day,” Hector promised. “Mama can read them to you.”

“I’ll miss you,” she said against his chest.

“I know, mija, I’ll miss you too,” he said. He was suddenly struck by an idea. “Remember our song?”

“Remember me,” she answered.

“That’s right,” he said, dropping her down, lightly, onto the bed. “We’ll sing it every night at the same time, right before bed, no matter where we are. Got that, mija? Then we’ll still be connected, no matter how far apart me are.”

“I understand, Papa,” she said.

“Good.” He unclipped his guitar case. Coco beamed; she loved listening to him play. “We’ll sing it together tonight, but after that, you’ll remember to sing it on your own, right?”

She nodded solemnly. Coco was funny like that—in many ways such a bright and playful child, but she also had a mysterious air to her, like an old soul trapped in a child’s body.

“That’s my girl,” Hector said, and he began to strum the opening notes. As he leaned in closer to her, she placed her chubby little hands on his face. They were warm and welcoming, and he wanted this moment to last forever, the two of them together, connected by music.

He left the next morning, just after sunrise.

“Remember the song, Coco,” he whispered in her ear. She nodded against his chest.

“Goodbye, Papa,” she said.

Hector lifted the girl high in the air and gave her one last twirl, savoring her delighted laughter. Then he turned towards her mother.

“It won’t be long,” Hector said, pulling Imelda into a tight hug. “And who knows, you might like it better without me to pester and annoy you all the time. Enjoy the peace and quiet, eh?”

Imelda fought to keep her face stern and failed miserably.

“Don’t be stupid,” she told him, “that’s not an attractive look on you.”

“Ah, so you do find me attractive,” he smirked.

“You’re impossible,” Imelda shook her head. “Just remember to write.”

“I will.”

“And phone the Guzmans the days that I wrote down.”

“I will.”

“And don’t so much as look at another woman.”

“I won’t.”

“And Hector,” she said with a smile so sorrowful it could have broken his heart, “good luck.”

He met Ernesto on the road.

“Hector,” he boomed, giving his friend a slap on the back, “I almost thought you’d chicken out.”

“And deprive you of my wonderful company?” Hector said. “Not to mention my incredible talents.”

Ernesto grunted a laugh. His friend was the picture of boisterous energy, radiating excitement and confidence.

“You’re not nervous at all?” Hector asked as they walked. The train station was a town over, about an hour or two on foot. Perhaps if they made enough money Hector could purchase an automobile. He’d seen them before, though never driven one. He was itching to test it out for himself. He imagined sitting in the front seat with Coco on his lap, letting her steer.

“I told you, amigo, I have that much confidence in us,” Ernesto said. “We have the talent, the dashing good looks. All we need is to seize the right moment.”

“And you’re sure this is it?”

“Of course,” he replied. “This is the moment we’ve talked about since we were boys. We’re finally getting to share our music with the world outside of Santa Cecilia.”

Hector had never been on a train before. Ernesto had, once, to visit some far-flung cousins, but as Hector’s family was either dead or in Santa Cecilia, he’d never had the opportunity. He was embarrassed to admit it, but he acted more like a boy of ten than a grown man of twenty-one. He didn’t think he closed his mouth until at least fifteen minutes after the train started.

The seats were comfortable, facing back so that he could see the sights as they rushed by. On the journey they shared drinks, told stories punctuated by laughter, and Ernesto spent a good ten minutes trying to flirt with the waitress, but Hector’s favorite part was the view. He was mesmerized by the hills and pastures, towns and villages, that sped by. For the first time in his life, he truly appreciated that there was a wide world out there, so much larger and grander than he was. Men occasionally left Santa Cecilia, either to go off to war or travel for work, to Cuidad de Mexico or another city, some even venturing as far north as Estados Unidos. Otherwise, the village you were born in was more often than not the village you died in. A part of Hector was content with that life, content to play his music for locals and embrace the role of husband and father. But another part of him yearned for something more.

Ernesto had said that they would share their music with the world. It was a wonderful thought.

Wherever Hector and Ernesto went, success followed. They always drew a crowd, and after one appearance, word of mouth would bring in even more people, all curious about the two young, handsome musicos.

“You were right, amigo,” Hector shouted to Ernesto at the end of a performance, needing to raise his voice to be heard over the crowd, “we really are popular.”

“I told you! But do you ever listen to your friend?” Ernesto laughed. “We just need to see this through, Hector, it’s only going to get better from here.”

They fell into a comfortable routine. They spent about a week or two in one town, depending on its size, living in inns and making sure to perform almost every night. Ernesto lived for it; he seemed to feed off of the energy of the crowd, the bigger and louder the better. Hector, too, was enthralled by their new lifestyle, though from time to time he found himself nostalgic for the quieter moments when he was with his familia. He made a point singing “Remember Me,” under his breath every night before going to sleep, even those nights when he was out playing late or not quite sober.

He made sure to call the Guzmans once a month at the appointed time. First he talked to Imelda, who told him any little detail that struck her fancy (“Senor Castillo is going blind in his right eye, so you can imagine how long it takes for him to find the right materials”) or grilled him about his habits (“That’s what you consider an acceptable dinner? Ay Dios mio.”). Afterwards, she’d put Coco on. Hector tried to tell the little girl as many exciting things as possible, but mostly he just listened to the seemingly unimportant stories that meant the world to a four-year-old.

“I lost a tooth, Papa! I really did! Carlos Jimenez pushed me and it fell out!”

“I’m sorry you were hurt, mija, but it’s exciting all the same.”

“If my tooth doesn’t grow back can I get a gold one like you?”

“It’ll grow back, Coco,” he laughed.

Or:

“I found a cat in the alleyway, Papa, he’s been following me everywhere. I named him Rojo because his fur’s reddish. Mama won’t let me keep him, she says Pepita will fight with him and that he has diseases. Can we get a kitten, Papa?”

Or:

“I can braid my hair all by myself now! Well, kinda. They usually fall out when I start playing.”

Inevitably, the conversation would be cut off much sooner than he would have liked, by an impatient Guzman or Imelda wanting to remind him of something. Hector marveled at how much Coco was growing. Soon she would be ready for school, and not too long after that, her first communion. Hector wondered if he’d be able to teach her to play the guitar; perhaps in a year or two.

Two months away from Santa Cecilia, Ernesto got the bright idea to hire a photographer.

“If we get our photos taken, he can get more exposure,” he reasoned to a doubtful Hector. “We can print them in the newspaper to help get the word out.”

“I don’t know,” Hector said, “they always take so long setting up and by the time they’re ready I always scratch or blink and ruin it.”

He thought about the last photograph he posed for, one that he’d arranged as a present for Imelda. He probably fidgeted more than Coco, only two at the time, but the results were magnificent.

“Quit being such a baby,” Ernesto said. “It will take five minutes.”

It took fifteen, but who was counting? They took pictures of the two of them together, posing with their guitars, and a few individual photos, which the photographer dubbed “headshots.” Hector had to admit that they weren’t bad; he was especially fond of his headshot, since he’d never seen a picture of himself that really captured his personality before.

Ernesto was right, once again: the photos brought them even more attention, which led to more paid appearances. Hector kept his own headshot in his pocket, wanting to show it off to Imelda the next time he went home.

There were girls, of course. Girls were drawn to them like flies to honey, and Ernesto hadn’t changed his womanizing ways. Some nights he didn’t return to their room at all, and Hector would find him the next morning having breakfast at the inn, acting even more cheerful than usual.

A side effect of this was that Ernesto often tried to rope Hector along. One night, after yet another successful performance, Ernesto pulled him over to a side table, where they entertained the lovely Lupe and Renata.

“You were so good,” Renata (or so he thought) gushed with a hand placed lightly on his forearm.

“Where did you learn your songs?” asked Lupe (probably). “I’ve never heard them before.”

“Ah, well, that’s because I wrote them.”

“Ay, Dios mio, you wrote them?!” Renata exclaimed.

“You’re so talented” Lupe said. “And handsome.”

Ernesto gave him a knowing smirk. Hector felt honor bound to set the record straight, especially since Ernesto had most likely mislead these poor woman.

“Mucho gracias, you’re too kind,” he said. “but being a musico has its drawbacks. Being on the road makes me miss home, especially my wife and daughter.”

“Aw, you have a daughter? How old?”

“Four.”

“What’s her name?”

“Socorro.”

“This is so sweet!”

To Hector’s surprise, this only seemed to make them more interested in him, as if being a family man only added to his attractiveness.

“Pardon me, senoritas,” he said, standing, “I, uh, need to use the restroom.”

Ernesto frowned after him, but didn’t say anything.

Ernesto returned to their room just before midnight. Hector was still awake, lying in bed and writing in his leather-bound journal. Ernesto scowled at his friend.

“What were you doing back there? After you left, we were uneven. Lupe was feeling left out, so they both went off somewhere else.”

“Sorry for that,” Hector said, “I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. It’s just, you know, married,” he tapped the ring on his left hand for emphasis.

“Plenty of men are married but don’t act like they’re allergic to girls,” Ernesto grumbled.

Hector thought back to Imelda’s words: “I know what musicos are like.” He knew that a lot of men would not have a second thought about going to bed with Lupe or Renata, married or not. He knew that if Ernesto had a sweetheart or wife back home, he’d probably still chase girls at night. But Hector couldn’t be like that. He knew that Imelda’s anger towards “musicos” was a front to hide her pain and fear. But she didn’t need to be worried in that regard; he’d meant it, wholeheartedly, when he said he only had eyes for her.

“Well, I’m not like those men,” Hector said.

Ernesto shook his head. “What happened to you, mi amigo? You’ve changed in the last few years.”

Hector wanted to retort that he’d always been this way—he’d started his odd courtship with Imelda when they were fourteen, for God’s sake—and that it was kind of, sort of, shitty for Ernesto to put him in situations like that, knowing how Hector felt. But he didn’t say any of that; he valued their peaceful relationship too much to be petty. So he went back to his writing, allowing Ernesto to sulk in silence, letting him get it out of his system.

Before he knew it, they’d been away from home for five months. Hector was only a few weeks away from his twenty-second birthday, and two weeks after that, it would be Coco’s fifth.

Hector was almost scared of how popular they were becoming in such a short period of time. A small part of him had always expected to fail, despite Ernesto’s unwavering optimism. It had been Hector’s dream since he was a niño to share his music with the world, but he couldn’t shake the fear that he’d ruin it somehow, that he really was the daydreaming screw-up that everyone always called him.

However, success did not equal freedom. It seemed that the more popular they became, the more Ernesto insisted that they needed to do. They needed more performances, to travel even farther, to prolong their return home to the ever vague “just a few more weeks.” And while it was wonderful sharing his music, expanding his abilities, five months was an awfully long time to be away from a wife and growing child. While Ernesto basked in the glory, Hector found his thoughts turning more and more towards his family in Santa Cecilia.

It was a letter that sent him over the edge. Such a simple thing, really. Hector had been true to his word, sometimes sending letters twice a week, always making sure to keep Imelda updated on his travel plans. Letters still got lost, inevitably. They moved around so much that sometimes they were already gone by the time a letter arrived, but still, Hector got most of them (or some of them, he actually wasn’t entirely sure how many had been lost).

For the most part, the letter wasn’t remarkable. It contained Imelda’s usual updates on the goings on of Santa Cecilia, her progress with Senor Castillo, and Coco’s growth. There was one tiny difference: at the bottom of the letter, written in large, uncertain letters, was “CoCO”

She wrote her name. His baby could write her own name now. He brushed his fingers over the letters, noting how she capitalized every letter except, for some unknown reason, the first “o.” He imagined Imelda guiding Coco’s unsteady hand, forming each letter slowly. He pictured Coco’s excitement at getting to sign her name for her papa.

Where had all the time gone? How did he now have a child with missing teeth who could braid her own hair and write her own name? What else would he miss, if he stayed away any longer?

Enough was enough. He needed to see his family now. Then, perhaps, after spending time with his family, he could decide how to proceed, but for now, he couldn’t stand another day apart. Ernesto would be angry at first, but he’d understand. Hector began to pack, imagining the surprised looks on Imelda’s and Coco’s faces when he showed up at their casa the next morning, how he’d pick up Coco and spin her around…

“What are you doing, Hector? We’re not leaving for another two days,” came his friend’s voice. The grin slid off Ernesto’s face. “Hector? What’s going on?”

So he told him, and as predicted, Ernesto did not react well. Hector had prepared himself for anger, but he had no idea how to handle the pure devastation that came over his friend, like he’d been deflated. Ernesto pleaded with him even admitting how lost he’d be without Hector’s songs, how he couldn’t go on without his amigo at his side.

Hector felt the barest twinge of guilt to see his childhood friend so distressed, but it was not enough to sway him. Right now, Imelda and Coco were all that mattered.

“Hate me if you want,” he said firmly, “but my mind is made up.”

He turned to the door when Ernesto’s voice called him back.

“Oh, I could never hate you. If you must go then I’m sending you off with a toast.”

There was the Ernesto he knew, bouncing back already. He figured that he owed his friend that much, so paused to share a drink.

“I would move heaven and earth for you, mi amigo. Salut!” The glasses clinked together.

Hector downed his drink without a thought.

“Thank you, Ernesto,” he said, “but I need to catch the train.”

“Let me walk you,” Ernesto sprang to the door. “It’s the least I could do. Besides, I’m not going to be able to sleep any time soon.”

The cool night air hit Hector as soon as he stepped out of the door. He took a deep breath, savoring the knowledge that this was his last night away from home. From tomorrow on, he’d spend his evenings breathing in the smell of Imelda’s cooking, avoiding stepping on Coco’s dolls as he walked around the house, and playing music for his smallest audience yet.

As they walked, Ernesto filled the silence.

“Perhaps this is for the best. Seeing your family will do you good, and who knows, maybe it’ll inspire you to write more. But even if you don’t come back, Hector, I want you to know that it’s been a privilege playing with you. You’ve helped me more than you know…”

Hector barely heard a word. The more he walked, the more he noticed the pain in his stomach. It was gradual at first, barely distinguishable from the minor aches and pains that accompanied daily life, but with each footstep it grew worse. Hector tried to ignore it, but it became so intense that he couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

What the…? he thought. Did I eat something that had gone bad?

It was like he was being stabbed from the inside out. He hunched over, clutching his stomach, gritting out an anguished cry. He felt Ernesto’s arms around him, heard him say something about a chorizo, but he couldn’t focus on that. All he registered was the pain, and his desperate wish that it would end, for the love of God, please.

His legs were too weak to hold his weight. They buckled underneath him. He just needed to rest. Yes. He wouldn’t feel so weak if he could just rest for a bit, just until the pain went away. He closed his eyes, and felt everything else slip away.

#pixar coco #the life and death of hector rivera #hector rivera #imelda rivera #mama coco #ernesto de la cruz #fanfic

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