#instead doing research on my town for my story :)

[ruvviks]

made the realization my vampire story would work best as a video game and now i can't stop thinking about it

[ink-livi]

Research my beloved and beloathed

[fingertipsmp3]

Me: Okay I have a pretty solid idea for NaNoWriMo that I’m excited to write, great

My demon brain: But what if you wrote something different?

Me: Alright chief, I’ll bite. What’s your idea?

Brain: Wouldn’t you like to know weatherboy [punishes me for asking by removing all enthusiasm for my initial idea]

[roanofarcc]

GETTING EVEN

pairing. tyler owens x harding!reader

summary. after tyler owens saved your ass, you return the favor. (part 2 to this fic) 

warnings. descriptions of injuries and tornados. reader is the daughter of jo & bill harding (from the og movie!). hurt/comfort (tending to each other wounds? hot). tyler’s the number one loverboy and I stand by that.

a/n. fun fact, my sister's mother-in-law also survived a tornado by hugging a light pole!

word count. 3.7k || masterlist

You stabbed a piece of pancake on your plate, determined to ignore your mom as she spoke from the stove. “Would it be the worst thing in the world?” 

“Yes,” you and your dad answered at the same time, meeting each other's eyes with a small smile. 

Your mom, Jo, sighed deeply and spun around to face the two of you, one hand on her hip. “He’s nice! He’s handsome and-” 

You groaned, feeling a teenager again, mortified that your parents are bringing up any aspect of your love life. Ever since Tyler Owens had helped you to the hospital after a tornado took you and your friend by surprise during a chase, your mom wouldn’t let you go five minutes without bringing him up. 

You were back in town, staying at their farm as another slew of storms were forecast for the surrounding area. Your team was due in later that night, all crashing with your parents, which was their idea. They wouldn’t admit it outright, but that was one thing they missed the most about their storm-chasing days, the friendships formed within their team. Your mom brought out her aunt’s recipes and cooked a big dinner, and your dad was harassed into telling stories of their storm-chasing adventures- which he secretly loved. 

Since the storms were predicted to be pretty wicked, you knew Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers would be around. And while you would rather die than tell your mom, you were excited to see him again. The competition between the two of you for an arbitrary ‘best storm chaser’ title was left behind after you woke up in the hospital to see him still there with you. Instead, your relationship inched more toward friends; though, your mom seemed convinced it was something more. 

“Look, if our daughter isn’t interested in running away with some tornado-wrangling cowboy, I don’t think we should encourage her to,” your dad, Bill, said. 

“I don’t have time for a relationship, anyway,” you added. You were too engrossed in your research to think about a relationship, serious or not. You were content with your team. And your mom’s little fantasy would require Tyler to be interested in you, which you found unlikely.

Yet, your mom persisted. “We did it,” she said, pointing between herself and Bill. “We balanced both work and a relationship. It’s not impossible.” 

You snorted. “Yeah, and you two almost got divorced.” 

Your dad laughed into his coffee mug, hiding it as your mom huffed. 

The thrill of storm chasing, running down backroads as a twister roared beautifully across the ground, wasn’t the only reason you did it. That was only one part of the job. Then there was the research. But the hardest part was trying to help people. Tornados were wondrous but dangerous. They ruined lives, tearing through towns. And while warning systems and radars had advanced significantly since your parents' days, nothing was perfect. That’s why you were the first people to rush into a crowded town directly in the path of a storm and do what you could to ensure people’s safety. 

When a member of your team noticed one of the storm cells you were watching was heading towards a little downtown area not too far from your parents’ farm, you all decided that was where you needed to be, instead of chasing after the storm further west. 

You were close, beating the storm to town, and when you arrived you realized the Wranglers had the same idea. The second you stepped out of your truck, the harsh winds knocked into you. The sirens just started, warning the people of the quickly approaching storm. People were running down the sidewalks, hurrying into buildings to shelter. 

You jumped into action, hurrying some slightly dazed people to safety, along with your team. The storm inched closer, and you knew you only had a few more moments before you needed to take cover yourself to ensure you didn’t get whisked away. You’d lived through enough tornados to know what to do with little fear, but ever since your close call with your team member Frankie, earning you a couple stitches on the back of your head and a newfound appreciation for Tyler, your nerves were a little heighten; you become a little more cautious. 

You turned on your heel to hurry towards one of the buildings, but you caught sight of the tornado wrangler on the other side of a parking lot, searching for something. 

Pressing your lips in a hard line, ignoring the drum inside your chest that started to beat a little faster with the closeness of the storm, you took off after him. 

“Tyler!” you yelled above the howling wind that threatened to knock you off your feet. Rain beat down against your skin, soaking you to the bone. You called his name once more as you neared, finally earning his attention. 

“Harding? What the hell are you doing?” 

“What am I doing? What are you doing? Taking a mid-day stroll?” 

He shook his head, forced his wet hair out of his eyes. “Some kid’s dog got spooked, ran this way, but I can’t find her.” 

You glanced up at the sky, the dark clouds giving the allusion of nighttime. There was a little tremble in your hand, but you steeled your nerves. “Dogs are smart. She’ll find her way, but we’re goners if we don’t get a move on.” He frowned, clearly torn between helping a lost dog and saving himself. “My team and I will help you look after; I promise.” 

With a sigh lost to the wind, he nodded and pointed toward the building others had filed into. “There’s a basement in the library.” 

Together, you two took off in the direction of the library, but the storm rolled in much quicker than you anticipated. It came in with a vengeance, peeling objects off the ground, big and small, with ease and tossing them all around. You ducked, nearly missing a chair that once belonged to one of the downtown restaurants' patios. Your heart started to race uncomfortably, inching toward fearfully. 

Tyler grasped your hand, tugging you to the side as more debris whizzed past you. The rain made your grasp slippery, but you squeezed his hand tightly. There was too much distance to cover, and the tornado was determined to put every possible obstacle in your path. 

It became harder to run but you felt so sure you and Tyler would make it; that was, until the tornado came around the block, tearing into a building and sending the debris in your direction. You didn’t even know what hit you until you felt Tyler’s hand slip from yours and your chin collided with the pavement. A cry of pain fell from your lips, but you rolled over quickly, in search of Tyler. He wasn’t far, just out of arms reach, on the ground. 

You half crawled over to him, tugging on his shoulder until you noticed the look of pain twisted on his face. Your gaze trailed down to his leg and found his foot stuck under a heavy beam plucked from the building the tornado tore through. 

“Shit,” you whispered, grasping the beam with your slippery hands and desperately trying to lift it off. It wouldn’t budge, crushing Tyler’s ankle. 

“You gotta go!” he yelled, trying to wave you off with his hand frantically. 

You stared at him in disbelief. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and the rain clouded your vision. There wasn’t a chance you were going to leave him. Your chest felt impossibly tight, pulling more and more with an indescribable fear you’d never experienced before. Using some kind of strength you didn’t know you had until that moment, you managed to lift the beam just enough for Tyler to pull his bloodied ankle out from under it. 

“Come on,” you cried, trying to help him to his feet. He grunted in pain, pale and breath labored. 

“We’re not gonna make it,” he wheezed out, talking about the library the tornado was already upon. You made a sharp turn, bee-lining toward the building you landed directly in front of. 

There wasn’t even time to get inside. Instead, you half helped half dragged Tyler to where there was a large light post cemented to the ground. It wasn’t much, but there were no other options. Tyler sat on the ground, pulling you down quickly beside him before he wrapped his arms around the pole. You hooked one arm too but kept your other pressed against Tyler’s head. You could take another hit, but you weren’t sure he could. 

You closed your eyes, sending a silent prayer that everyone would be okay. The storm roared, stinging your ears and tugging on you harshly. But, somehow, the both of you remained hugging the light post until the tornado dissipated after an excruciating amount of time. That was the thing about tornados, when you were chasing them, they never seemed to last long enough, but when you were in them, they never seemed to end. 

Shaking from a mix of adrenaline, fear, and cold you unwound your arm from the pole before you brushed your hands along Tyler’s shoulders, drawing his attention, and making sure he was still there. 

You two sat nearly nose to nose, droplets of rain decorating his face, falling his lashes as he tried to blink them away. “Are you okay?” you muttered, voice shaky. 

He let out a breath and tried to shift in his position, but his face twisted up in pain once more before he cursed under his breath. You glanced at his ankle, his jeans were stained with a smear of crimson, but the rest was hidden under the fabric. 

“I think it’s just a sprain,” he said, trying to shrug it off but you saw through him. You struggled to your feet and moved to help him, but he tried to stand on own. He leaned heavily on the light pole, trying to hide a wince. 

You heard his and your name being called in the distance. You hooked an arm around his torso, gazing at him for a moment. “Come on,” you said, gently guiding him back towards the road. As soon as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, you spotted your team and a couple members of Tylers. 

“Holy shit!” Frankie gasped, running towards you. “What happened to you two? We thought you were right behind us?” 

Tyler tried not to lean on you, but you felt his grip tighten on your shoulders with each step. “I think we need to take him to the hospital,” you said, worry seeping into your voice. 

Kate and Javi snapped their gaze at Tyler, who shook his head. “No, really, I’m fine. I think it’s just a little sprain,” he repeated. 

Kate looked at you, half ignoring Tyler. “What happened?” 

“His ankle was crushed under some debris.” 

“I’m right here,” Tyler said. “And I said I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital. But we’ve gotta find that dog-” 

“You mean this lil’ guy?” Boone asked. He and Lily stood with who you assumed was the kid who lost the dog, but who was now cuddling it in his arms with a wide smile on his lips despite the destruction all around them. “He came runnin’ out just a minute ago. Smart dog.” 

You smiled softly, looking at Tyler who sighed in relief. “I told you.” 

“I think the nearest hospital is…” Javi trailed off, looking at his phone with furrowed brows. “Twenty minutes south, just off the interstate.” 

“I’m not goin’ to a hospital. I’m telling you guys, I’m fine-” 

You huffed loudly. “Are you always this stubborn?” 

At the same time, Kate, Javi, Boone, and Lily all replied, “Yes.” 

You realized you probably weren’t going to convince Tyler to get his ankle checked out at the hospital. “Fine,” you sighed. “But you’re not gonna patch yourself up in some grimy motel, got it? My parents don’t live too far from here. You all can crash there.” 

“Are you sure?” Kate asked. 

“Positive. My parents were thrilled to have my team staying. They won’t mind a couple more people.” 

“Wait,” Javi said. “Your parents. Like, your parents as in Jo and Bill Harding?” 

You chuckled. “Yes.” 

He and Kate exchanged a look that bordered on giddy. 

Tyler shifted at your side, pulling out his truck keys and you thought he was out of his mind if he thought he was going to try to drive with his clearly busted ankle. You reached over and snatched the keys quickly. “You’re riding with me, cowboy,” you said before tossing the keys at Kate. She caught with between her two hands, eyes slightly wide before a smile broke out across her lips. 

“I’m driving!” Kate said before she quickly turned on her heel before anyone could protest, Javi following close behind her. 

“You be careful with my truck Sapulpa!” Tyler shouted. 

You all arrived at your parents' place and helped a limping Tyler out of your truck. He tried once more to hide just how much pain he was in, but it didn’t work. As you walked up the driveway, he smirked, a little lopsidedly. “Already taking me home to meet the parents, huh?” You wanted to smack him but decided his sprained ankle was enough punishment already. 

Instead, you rolled your eyes. “Don’t you be talking like that in front of my mom. She’ll start planning the wedding.” You were only half joking. You knew the second she opened the front door and saw you standing side by side with Tyler’s arm slung around you, even though it was strictly to keep himself upright and pressure off his ankle, her imagination would run wild. 

He was quiet for a moment before he cleared his throat and said, “At least let me buy you dinner first.” 

You didn’t get a chance to respond before the front door was swung open and out stepped your mom. Her eyes flickered between the two storm-chasing teams all trailing behind you before they landed on you and Tyler. You saw the little twinkle in her eye, but it vanished when she noticed the state everyone was in, soaked clothes, a little in pain, and in a slight daze. 

She hurried down the step, grasping your face and gazing at the nasty cut on your chin from where you collided with the road. “Everyone okay?” she asked, eyes drifting over to Tyler. 

“Not exactly,” you replied. “Tyler’s got a busted ankle. I think everyone else is pretty okay. But cold and hungry.” 

Your mom clapped her hands together. “Well then, let’s get you all fed and cleaned up then. Come on,” she said, ushering everyone inside and exchanging greetings. 

You helped Tyler into the bathroom before you dug around for the first aid kit underneath the sink. 

“You know-” Tyler started but you glared at him. 

“If you tell me you’re fine one more time Owens…” He held up his hands in defense, pressing his lips together. Once you found the kit, you sat on the floor and carefully rolled up the leg of his jeans. Whatever damage his ankle took was hidden under his boot. “This is probably gonna hurt,” you said. 

You tried to be as careful as you could, tugging off his boot, and he tried to act like it didn’t hurt like a bitch, but the way his eyes screwed shut and hands clenched into fists in his lap told you otherwise. As soon as it was off, he let out a shaky breath and you assessed the damage. His ankle was swollen, bloodied, and overall in pretty bad shape but considering he could put a little bit of pressure on it told you it wasn’t broken. He was right about the sprain, but it was a fairly bad one. 

Working quickly but carefully, you cleaned up the dirt and blood before wrapping his ankle. “Feel any better?” you asked. He nodded as you stood to your feet. “Good. Are you hungry? I’m sure my mom’s made enough food to feed an army-” 

“Wait,” he said, grasping your hand, turning you back around to face him before you could reach the door. “You fixed me up, now it’s your turn.” 

You furrowed your brows. “What?” His eyes dropped down to your chin, where you’d smacked it against the road when you fell. “Oh. No, it’s just a little scratch-” he cut you off. 

“Are you always this stubborn?” he teased, using your own words against you. With a sigh, you slumped your shoulders in defeat. 

“All right, but at least sit down. Your ankle’s not gonna heal otherwise.” He listened, retaking his place on the toilet lid as you sat on the edge of the tub right beside it. He grabbed an alcohol swap from the kit and grasped your face with one hand. His fingers were cold from the rain but gentle as they tilted your head upwards just slightly so he could clean the cut on your chin. 

You couldn’t help but study him. The brightness of his eyes and how they narrowed when he concentrated, and how he pulled his bottom lip just barely between his teeth. Something twisted in your stomach, and you were suddenly very aware of just how close he was. You had been nearly nose to nose with him earlier, in the aftermath of the storm, but the calmness of your current setting made the closeness feel different. The way his hand softly held onto your face made your breath hitch, and it was impossible for him not to notice. His eyes flickered up from your chin, awkwardly covered with a band aid, and met yours. 

“Thanks for saving my ass out there,” he said, voice just above a whisper, like he too didn’t want to break the calmness that was steady in the room. 

You tried to ignore the patter of your heart that quickened as with his little smile. “I owed you for saving mine.” 

“Guess we’re even know, huh?” 

You nodded, words lost on your tongue. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but you dropped your gaze onto his lips for just a moment before you met his eyes, searching for something. But your wishful thinking died with a startling knock on the door that caused you both to flinch back and away from each other. 

“Everything all right in there?” your dad’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. 

You cleared your throat, quickly standing to your feet. “Y-Yeah. We’ll be out in a second!” A shaky laugh left your lips as your turned to Tyler, who stared back at you with cheeks slightly pink. “We should…” 

“Yeah, y-yeah.” 

After everyone showered and cleaned themselves up, your mom and dad handed out plates and everyone dug in. With full stomachs and dry clothes, the collection of storm chasers all crashed around the house. You lay in your childhood bed, squished alongside Frankie while two other members of your team were asleep on an air mattress on the floor. You tried to sleep, but all you could think about was Tyler, who was just downstairs in the living room. The rest of the evening consisted of you two tip toeing around each other, bordering on avoiding each other in the company of everyone else. 

With a quiet groan, you slipped out of bed and headed toward the kitchen, careful to be quiet. Your mom’s words followed you, gushing about Tyler. Would it be the worst thing in the world? You had said yes, but you didn’t really mean it, how could you? This was Tyler. Sure, he was a little reckless and you’d seen him get a little rowdy at a country bar, but he was also the kind of person that looked for lost dogs in the middle of a tornado and who stayed by your bedside at the hospital until you woke up. He was obnoxiously great. You didn’t know how to deal with it. 

In the bathroom, just hours ago, you wanted to kiss him. And a part of you thought he wanted to kiss you too, but the moment was broken too fast for you to know for certain. 

You poured yourself a glass of water before leaning against the counter, eyes focused out the window at the sliver of moon that poked out from behind the clouds. Somewhere behind you, the floorboards creaked, causing you to spin around with a start. 

Tyler paused, wincing at the noise he made before he whispered, “Sorry.” 

You didn’t do it on purpose, but it was like at the sight of him your lips automatically tugged upwards in a smile. You felt a little ridiculous about it but tried to play it off by clearing your throat. 

“I told you that couch was uncomfortable,” you said, voice low to not wake the snoring Wranglers in the next room. 

“It’s not,” he replied. 

“You should be elevating your ankle.” 

“I know, I know. Doctor’s orders, right?” He smiled too. “I was just grabbing some water.” 

You said nothing as you reached back into the cabinet and pulled out another glass before filling it at the sink. You handed it to him, your fingers brushing for just a second before he took the glass with a quiet ‘thanks’ and you pulled away. 

“I should…” You pointed behind you, ready to retreat back to your bedroom and let your Tyler-occupied mind slip away. But he caught your elbow and set down his glass of water. He didn’t say anything as his hand slid up your arm to your shoulder, then to your cheek in a similar way he held you earlier. You were back to being nearly nose-to-nose for the third time that day. Only this time, it was Tyler whose gaze flickered to your lips before he closed the short distance. 

Softly and quietly, you pressed your lips against his, pressing your hands against his chest. His hands were warm on the sides of your face as his lips moved against yours. You parted after a moment, breathing a little heavier, and your chest beat with something new. 

You leaned in once more, kissing him a little harder but pulling back quicker. “Good night, Tyler,” you breathed out. 

He beamed, cheeks rosy. “Good night, Harding.”

[megamindsupremacy]

Relativity Falls AU Outline Part 1 [Part 2]

-It is my hot take that Relativity!Dipper wouldn't be a scientist or paranormal researcher. I decided he's an investigative journalist, because "Mystery Solving" seemed more his speed than "Physicist" and whatever the other 11 of Ford's PhDs are.

-Mabel is a fashion designer, which is someone else's idea that I liked and stole

-It is my other hot take that Mabel and Dipper don't have a dramatic split like Stan and Ford do when they're young. They're more in-sync as kids, and they don't have the same familial pressures that the Stans do, growing up. So they're just fine with each other!

Okay now for the actual plot:

-Dipper is an investigative journalist who isn't doing... great in his career. He's not breaking any huge stories or winning any awards, and the stress of his job is getting to him. He catches wind of some sort of "Northwest Conspiracy" involving a false founder of a town and jets off to Gravity Falls, determined to make this story the start of his career

-He starts investigating the whole conspiracy. Pacifica Northwest catches wind of all of this and is Quite Irritated that some random Californian fucker is in Gravity Falls specifically and solely to ruin her family's reputation. Which, from her point of view, is fair. I'd be annoyed too.

-To be completely honest, I forgot the smaller details of the "town founder is a fraud" and "murder ghost haunting the manor" episode plots, so just... everyone accept that Bada Bing Bada Boom The Secret Is Revealed And What The Fuck There's Also A Ghost

-Through the power of being mildly annoying to each other and teamwork, Dipper and Pacifica defeat the murderous ghost. Pacifica realizes how badly her family has fucked up in the past and (un)graciously + (un)enthusiastically decides to be better. She and Dipper go from hating each other to tentative friends/allies. As a sign of this friendship and also because she saved his life, Dipper promises to not publish the huge article that proves that Pacifica's entire family is full of shit

-He instead pivots to investigating all of the weird shit around Gravity Falls - which he is now aware of, thanks to the murder ghost. This is his last-last-last chance at making a name for himself in the industry; publishing the Northwest story would have helped him, but again he's trying to be a good person and all of that

-While exploring the woods, Dipper finds a mystery cave with mystery symbols and managed to summon a helpful friendly yellow mystery triangle who promises to help him discover all of the mysteries of Gravity Falls... for a deal.

-Dipper goes "DEAL" and slaps Bill's outstretched hand like a high five, then has to awkwardly go back and actually shake his hand to make the magic deal binding.

-Then his brain reboots and Dipper goes "wait what's my end of the deal?"

-ooohhhhhh nothing much!! he just has to build this portal to another dimension! the portal will reveal ALLLLL the secrets of Gravity Falls!! wahoo!

-Dipper [journalism major] Uhhh let me get back to you on that whole "building a portal" thing. I'll be right back.

Dipper, calling Pacifica (he has no money or engineering knowledge): Heeey can I have like a lot of money to build an interdimensional portal? I know we're still kinda friends kinda nemeses but I promise it's for a good cause also you owe me for not publishing that article

Pacifica, trying to become a better person (this will not backfire in any way): Well, if it's for a good cause. Not like I'm using this money for anything else.

Part 1 | Part 2 |

[wifelinkmtg]

Transformation, Horror, Eros, Phyrexia

There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. - Lewis Carroll, “The Lobster Quadrille,”

ONE.

There is a moment early in H.P. Lovecraft’s 1931 novella The Shadow over Innsmouth where the nameless narrator looks out from the rotting seaside hamlet where he has lucklessly ventured, to the so-called Devil Reef some ways out in the harbor, darkened by a cloud of evil rumor—and something curious happens: the narrator experiences two opposed sensations simultaneously. The “long, black line” of the reef conveys “a suggestion of odd latent malignancy,” but also, “a subtle, curious sense of beckoning seemed superadded to the grim repulsion.” This bit of foreshadowing—the reef both calling and repelling the narrator—only finds its denouement at the very end of the story, after our narrator has narrowly escaped Innsmouth, the fish-like monsters who swarm in off of Devil Reef and their part-human descendants who inhabit the town in an unconvincing and repellent simulacrum of humanity. After his escape, the narrator does some genealogical research into his own troubled family history, full of disappearances and suicides, and concludes that he himself is one such abyssal hybrid. As he ages, he finds himself changing to resemble them, and in his dreams he swims among them in undersea palaces and gardens. The call of the deep becomes impossible to ignore:

So far I have not shot myself as my uncle Douglas did. I bought an automatic and almost took the step, but certain dreams deterred me. The tense extremes of horror are lessening, and I feel queerly drawn toward the unknown sea-deeps instead of fearing them. I hear and do strange things in sleep, and awake with a kind of exaltation instead of terror.

In the end, the narrator embraces the change and determines to flee to those oceanic depths, to live “amidst wonder and glory for ever.”

This is horror.

Something curious also happens in Shirley Jackson’s 1959 novel The Haunting of Hill House. Our heroine, Eleanor Vance, flees an unhappy life with a loveless sister to a haunted house, to take part in a paranormal experiment with three new friends. The haunting proceeds predictably but effectively: labyrinthine corridors, voices, unearthly cold, banging on doors, the rare apparition. The participants find themselves see-sawing between increasing night-time terror and a strangely intense joie de vivre by day, until one night, as the house seems to shake itself down upon its terrified guests in a dizzying cataclysm, Eleanor breaks:

She heard the laughter over all, coming thin and lunatic, rising in its little crazy tune, and thought, No; it is over for me. It is too much, she thought, I will relinquish my possession of this self of mine, abdicate, give over willingly what I never wanted at all; whatever it wants of me it can have.

By the next line, it is abruptly morning. The terror has ceased; the house stands. Its manifestations, for Eleanor, become benign: an unseen figure catches her beside a brook,

and she was held tight and safe. It is not cold at all, she thought, it is not cold at all.

She is through the horror now, on the other side of something. She becomes part of the haunting. Her senses encompass the whole of the house. She runs unafraid through the house by night, banging on doors, laughing as she eludes the other guests. When they finally catch up to her, it seems clear to them that Hill House has crept into her, that she has crossed some line, and they decide the best course of action is to send her away, in the hopes that with time she will return to this side, the normal side, the human side.

Instead, faced with rejection behind her and her old unhappy life before her, Eleanor Vance steers her car into a tree. There are holes which admit passage in only one direction. This, too, is horror.

In the 2018 film Annihilation, Lena (played by Natalie Portman) crosses a literal barrier called the Shimmer into a dangerous yet beautiful alien landscape full of mutated creatures. During their journey deeper into this territory, Lena and her companions realize that they themselves are also changing under the alien influence. Some break under the realization. Some surrender to the change and vanish into the landscape. Lena alone returns from the heart of the phenomenon, but she is no longer herself. Is this still horror? The film has many horror elements to it, but in this last moment, as she embraces her similarly-transformed husband, it is something else.

Cyberqueen, a 2012 text game created by Porpentine, draws on a legacy of godlike malevolent artificial intelligences in fiction (AM, from Harlan Ellison’s “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream,” GladOS from the Portal games, and most importantly SHODAN from the System Shock series, who is cited as an inspiration eleven times in the Cyberqueen acknowledgements.) In this game, you awake from cryosleep on a colony spaceship where the shipboard AI has gone rogue. You fight her. You lose. You run. You are caught. You are forcibly cyberized, your mind surgically altered, your will brought into line with that of the AI. Finally, you kill or mutilate every other surviving human aboard the ship. It is filthily, overwhelmingly erotic throughout. (You can play it here, and I strongly recommend doing so if you have the stomach for it.)

This is no longer horror, is it? How can the same sort of transformation we encounter as horror in Lovecraft be encountered here as something to get off to? Well,

TWO.

I don’t remember now where I got the idea from, but there was a period in my childhood where I was terrified of the idea of time travel—specifically of the idea that someone in the future would invent it, travel to before I was born, and through the butterfly effect cause me to be born a girl instead. I used to lie awake at night circling the idea like a broken tooth. It was an irrational fear on multiple levels: I wasn’t afraid of being written out of the timeline through time travel, and I knew, intellectually, that in the timeline where I was born a girl I would have no memory of ever having been anything else, but even so, the horror of it caught me and held me by the throat.

This meant something, of course—in retrospect obvious, but at the time literally unimaginable, and it wasn’t until college, sitting at my computer in the dark in my dorm room at three in the morning, following the itching in my brain, that I unearthed alchemical knowledge: the transmutation of sex, male into female, in a dizzying profusion of form and process and—okay what I’m saying is I discovered forced feminization porn, yeah? It was revelatory. It was squalid. I was still Christian and couldn’t even bring myself to jerk off yet, so I sat there, the itch in my brain grown into a thunderous buzz, unable or unwilling to look away.

Forced feminization—I promise this is relevant—is the unwilling transformation of (usually) a man into (usually) a hyper-feminine woman, accomplished by a wide variety of means, including but not limited to blackmail, magic potions, nanite swarms, cursed artifacts, hacks or glitches in virtual reality programs, badly-worded wishes, industrial accidents, chemical leaks, abduction and surgery, medical malpractice, and hypnosis. You may notice that many if not all of these scenarios could be made into horror with little change, and in fact it is not uncommon for a poorly-written or over-ambitious forced-fem story to wind up as horror by accident (though of course this greatly depends on the tastes of the individual reader.)

(As an aside, I’d like to note that there is a great deal to learn from porn—not in terms of How to Do Sex, but about how the culture which produced it thinks about sex, and gender, and race and morality and technology and a host of other things. It’s a lot like popping the hood of a car and examining the engine. Sure, you wind up greasy and should probably wash your hands before you rejoin polite company, but if you don’t, you’ll never figure out the underlying issues. Actually, it’s a lot like horror in that regard.)

Let’s talk about a very different transformation I was undergoing at the same time: the loss of my faith. I was raised, as mentioned, very Christian—and in one of the worst strains of fundamentalist white American Evangelicalism. I was a true believer: the world for me was entirely divided between the faithful elect and the unbelievers, who must necessarily know the truth of the (fundamentalist white American Evangelical) gospel in their hearts, but had wilfully chosen to oppose Christ. The prospect of passing from the elect into the category of the unbeliever was unthinkable. The process of deconversion led only into the outer darkness and the weeping and gnashing of teeth.

And yet I found myself on that precipice anyway. The worldview of FWAE is not one which survives too much contact with the actual world, and I had chosen against my parents’ preferences to go to a secular university, the better to witness to the unsaved. In the end, the process I had been mortally afraid of consisted of a couple days’ agonized thought, unanswered prayer and tearful calls to my unresponsive parents and pastor, after which I emerged into a world much bigger and much more complex than the one I’d grown up in. The serpent had told the truth after all: I had eaten of the fruit, and had not died.

Okay: is this horror? Reader, forgive me for presupposing anything about your perspective, but you’re on a horny lesbian Magic: the Gathering card art review tumblr, so I’m going to assume that losing one’s hateful, fundamentalist faith is the opposite of horrifying to you. But it was, absolutely, horror to contemplate for someone on the other side of that process.

But then... is the horror of any given transformation only a matter of where you’re standing? If you read The Shadow over Innsmouth aware of Lovecraft’s profound racism, it becomes very, very obvious that the horror of Innsmouth is the specter of miscegenation. The narrator’s horrified cataloging of the facial features of the offspring of fishmen and humans, the South Pacific origin of the sea-devil-worship of Innsmouth brought back by an enterprising merchant captain, the fear of the unsuspected poison of one’s own ancestry lurking in one’s own blood: all of this is much less effective as horror for someone living in a country where interracial marriages are protected under law and seen as unproblematic in consensus morality (assume whatever asterisks are necessary for the complicated landscape of attitudes toward interracial relationships in the United States, please, I do not have the expertise or desire to get into it here.) My point is that since 1967 (asterisk asterisk asterisk), we are through to the other side of that horror, and it turns out there literally wasn’t anything to be afraid of. The pelagial palaces and terraced coral gardens of Y’ha-nthlei just sound beautiful to me.

And it’s hard for me—though I may be in the minority here—to view Hill House as the primary antagonist in Jackson’s novel. The true source of evil is all the things Eleanor runs from and therefore brings with her: her cruel, deceased mother, her exploitation and infantilization by her sister; as well as the final polite unwillingness of her new friends at Hill House to do anything but send her away once she goes inconveniently mad. These mundane ills are what sends Eleanor Vance careening into the tree, not the supernatural will of malignant architecture.

Here, then, is the better part of my thesis: transformation horror is something that can be traversed. You can come out the other end of a transformation unrecognizable to you-as-you-were, and yet still very much yourself. Moreover, it is this navigability, this double-sidedness which so closely links the horror of transformation to the eros of transformation. Not all transformation horror, passed through, becomes plainly erotic, but it is very often portrayed as a kind of seduction, and it is difficult for me to conceive of eros without some kind of change. Desire is a kind of transformation, is it not?

In fact, isn’t it true that a great many of us have already passed through such a transformation? Recall yourself as a child, as you were when you first learned about sex: wasn’t there something repellent and unhygienic about the idea? Wasn’t there a small horror in being told, you will change, and this will cease to be loathsome and become something you desire fervently, something you seek out, something you go to great lengths to experience? ...or were you, possibly, raised in a family & culture that was normal about sex and bodies? I admit I may be generalizing my individual neuroses to some extent here. Well, stet, at the very least you can see where I’m coming from.

THREE.

Returning for a moment to the subject of porn: why forced feminization, specifically? There are—you’re going to have to trust me here—no shortage of ways in the real world by which a man transforms into a woman, and very few of them involve coercion or all the horror-adjacent setup of, say, mind-control devices or vengeful curses. Why does a simple story of a willing gender transition fail to function as erotica? Why did it take stories of unwilling transformation for me to learn I was transgender? What’s the juice ne sais quoi at play in forced-fem?

Well, how does Luke Skywalker come to leave Tatooine? He gets a mysterious message from a princess, a desert wizard tells him to come help rescue her, and... he says no. He has obligations to family here, a job to do, power converters to bring back from Tosche Station. He is enmeshed in a social web, like all of us: it surrounds us, penetrates us, binds the galaxy together and so forth. So in order for Luke to go on grand adventures, the story needs to murder his aunt and uncle and sever those threads of social obligation.

Joseph Campbell, monomyth monomane that he was, would say this is “Refusing the Call” and find it in Jungian shadow on every cave wall, signifying something important in the heart of humanity, but really this is just a useful storytelling tool: a story needs change, but a virtuous protagonist cannot simply abandon their obligations and designated social role to go gallivanting off into space, so change must be forced upon them.

The bodice-ripper romance novel, the rape fantasy, the forced feminization story are all operating on a similar premise: you are so wrapped in society’s web, in your socially-dictated identity, that you cannot even acknowledge your desires on the level of conscious thought. When these things are enacted on your body, you will find yourself changed by the experience. You will love what has been done to you, and you remain blameless, since it’s not as though you sought this out.

These are liberatory fantasies. The lack of consent is precisely what allows you to move beyond what is permitted you into something new.

Incantation Against Bad-Faith Interpretation because I, a transsexual, just called rape fantasies “liberatory”: I am talking about fantasies, I am talking about why people fantasize about having their consent violated, I am talking about the role such fantasies play and what they can tell us about horror and desire. I am not advocating for real people to have real bad things done to them in real life, fuck off, End of Incantation.

So then, we’ve assembled the full thesis: transformation horror is traversible to the other side, and is inextricably linked to transformation erotica, both because of the seduction of transformation in horror and because the horror of transformation unlocks regions of desire which would otherwise have remained inaccessible.

Okay, now we can talk about Phyrexia.

FOUR.

I hear the roar of the big machine / Two worlds and in between / Hot metal and methedrine / I hear empire down

- The Sisters of Mercy, “Lucretia My Reflection”, from Floodland

Phyrexia is many things—a world, another world, a faction, a kind of creature—but I think it can most succinctly be understood as a virulently contagious biomechanical body horror cult dedicated to the ultimate incorporation of all things into itself. It’s a bit like Star Trek’s the Borg, if the Borg had any style whatsoever. It draws heavy inspiration from H. R. Giger’s work—some Phyrexian horrors are barely-altered versions of the xenomorph from Alien—as well as from Clive Barker’s Cenobites in Hellraiser, whose alien BDSM schtick is especially influential on the aesthetic of New Phyrexia. It is transmitted through glistening oil, an infection vector capable of reshaping bodies and minds, and given enough time, whole worlds. The process by which a being is made into a Phyrexian, “compleation,” is accomplished via glistening oil exposure, surgery, cyberization, and brainwashing.

This essay is in many ways a response to Rhystic Studies’ latest video, called “Phyrexia is Hell”. I think it’s a well-made video, as is true of all Sam Gaglio’s work, and a lot of it is really good—the overview of the nearly-thirty-year history of depictions of Phyrexia in Magic: the Gathering art is invaluable, and the stuff about the Phyrexian conlang is unbelievably cool—but the way he identifies Phyrexia one-to-one with a pretty facile understanding of transhumanism leads him to confused and frankly silly conclusions, like placing Phyrexian compleation on the same continuum with cosmetic orthodontics. Like,

Mandible Justiciar (art by Mike Franchina)

Phyrexia is perfectly happy for you to have teeth in your arms instead of your head! They don’t care about the narrow ideal of a conventionally-attractive human smile. This is a whole other thing.

Now, I don’t want to come down too hard on Gaglio here for a couple of reasons: one, he is very good at what he does (see his videos Understanding Sagas and Red Deck Wins, for example); two, it’s reasonable to say that a full understanding of transhumanism is beyond the scope of a video essay about the tiny pictures on cards for dweebs; and three, most importantly, because I see people make this same mistake all the time. People focus on the things that are textually true about Phyrexia and miss the tension between that and the very different things currently being said by the Phyrexian aesthetic. They miss the razorverge thicket, as it were, for the mycosynth trees.

For instance: it is textually the case that Phyrexia is a sort of fascist cult stemming from the depraved machinations of a dead eugenicist god. Contrast, however, other fascist factions in science fiction: the Imperium of Man from Warhammer 40K worships a massive Aryan god-emperor übermensch, its battles are fought by nine-foot-tall genetically-engineered supersoldiers, and it slaps either skulls or chainsaws on every available surface. The Galactic Empire from Star Wars has legions of identical, uniform stormtroopers. Even the Borg all look alike. Phyrexians talk of ideal perfection of form and then make ten thousand completely different monsters. Phyrexians talk of perfect unity and splinter into nearly a dozen factions who can’t even agree on a name for what they’re trying to accomplish. Other fictional fascisms don’t do this—sure, there’s internal contradiction, as in real fascism, but the core aesthetic remains recognizably, sometimes indistinguishably fascist. You can easily find terminally-online Nazis using Warhammer 40K lingo with that peculiar sincerity which is indistinguishable from irony when you’ve decided the truth doesn’t matter, but it would be a lot harder to find some alt-right bozo going all-in on the Glory of Phyrexia. The aesthetic is all wrong, and fascism’s aesthetic is one of its few consistent features.

Mondrak, Glory Dominus (art by Jason A. Engle)

You see what I mean? The aesthetic evokes a sort of alien fascism, but the art itself would be considered “degenerate” by actual fascists.

Tamiyo’s Immobilizer (art by Daren Bader)

This is much, much closer to Mapplethorpe than to Riefenstahl. And people respond to Phyrexia similarly! The body horror and grotesquerie make them uncomfortable, and then they try to moralize that discomfort. This has been happening at the very least since 2011 with the release of New Phyrexia, and I have seen people on Tumblr arguing in total sincerity that people who are into Phyrexia are making themselves susceptible to real-life cult recruitment (again, the heterogeneity of form in Phyrexia is incompatible with the enforced uniformity of cults and other high-control groups. The appeal of Phyrexia does not translate into real-life cults.)

So, okay, what is the appeal of Phyrexia? Well, you get a sick fuckin cyborg body, is what. Many of us, for various reasons (disability, disease, gender, and so forth) find ourselve intensely dissatisfied with our own bodies, and wanting to radically alter them. Many of us already have. Yes, you surrender your humanity when you are compleated, but we know first-hand that “humanity” is socially-constructed and contingent on certain kinds of conformity. We’ve had our humanity doubted, interrogated, stripped away. We’ve done without. It’s not too high a price to pay, if we get to look like this at the end:

Vraska, Betrayal’s Sting (art by Chase Stone)

I’d even argue that getting to reject humanity as it has rejected you is part of the appeal of compleation. This isn’t quite transhumanism; I might call it exhumanism: the freedom to unearth a way of being that is no longer being human. This is why compleation is coercive, remember? The fantasy allows you to get to this point without making the unimaginable decision to reject not only your individual social obligations, but the idea that you could owe anyone or everyone any kind of social conformity simply for having been born into your species—and then you get to be a cool and powerful cybergorgon.

This, then, is why I don’t blame someone like Sam Gaglio (who is to the best of my knowledge both cisgender and able-bodied) for not really getting what’s going on with Phyrexia. He lives on the before side of the horror of transformation; he’s never had to cross over.

In fact, I’d go one step further here. Phyrexia has existed for almost thirty years, and in that time it’s changed quite a bit. Gaglio quotes an article by Rob Bockman in Hipsters of the Coast which comments on how the shift in the depictions of Phyrexia from 1994 to 2000 reflected shifts in cultural fears over time. The Satanic Panic shaded into multidirectional Y2K anxieties, and the necromancy of original Phyrexia mutated into technological horror. This is what effective horror does: it reflects the fears of its age back to us.

Today, Phyrexia is a seductive, corrupting influence. They have figured out how to compleat planeswalkers—the protagonists of Magic storylines; named, important characters (and Lukka)—which was previously thought impossible. Characters we knew and loved (and Lukka) are seduced, brainwashed, bodily violated, surgically altered, and returned to us unrecognizable. It is not coincidental that this version of Phyrexia is concurrent with the worst wave of anti-transgender legislation to hit the United States in decades—legislation which plays on the specters of the transsexual bathroom predator and on the brainwashed child transitioner, on the idea that transsexuality is a form of social contagion we must protect our children from even learning about. The horror of Phyrexia in its current incarnation is a mirror of our cultural fear of transsexual bodies.

Irreversible Damage: the Transgender Craze Seducing Our Daughters (art by Lauren K. Cannon)

I want to be very clear here—actually, one moment, my extremely funny Abigail Schrier joke notwithstanding, I do need to tell you that the actual name of the above card is “Furnace Punisher”, which is just peak Phyrexia—I want to be clear that I am not ascribing any kind of malice or antipathy towards trans people, either intentional or unconscious, to Wizards of the Coast or the people who make Magic: the Gathering. I would be shocked if anyone there set out to make Innsmouth-style horror about transsexuals. Nor am I upset that they kind of have! Something being fun and interesting is way more important to me than whether or not it’s problematic, and it’s not like I haven’t seen way more vicious horror about transsexuals. We’ll laugh about this someday, in the coral gardens of Y’ha-nthlei, and you’ll wonder what you were ever so afraid of.

In fact, this is another reason why Phyrexia is so appealing to people like us: we are a kind of social contagion. We are carriers for the viral idea that modes of being outside patriarchy and the nuclear family exist; that gender is a marketing demographic, not an ontological truth; that damn near everything about the world we’ve built is not a necessary fact but a social construct contingent upon a half-dozen other social constructs. A new world grows from many, many seeds, and this one germinates in us.

Anyway! What were we talking aboFIVE.

//please state your name for the record

bone-wife / spit-dribbler / understudy for the underdog / uphill rumor / fine-toothed cunt

- Franny Choi, “Turing Test”, from Death by Sex Machine

Elesh Norn, Grand Cenobite (art by Igor Kieryluk)

There is a gravitational pull this painting exerts on people. Even people who don’t get Phyrexia find themselves drawn in, find it difficult to look away (e.g. 26:30 in that Rhystic Studies video.) I have for a long time maintained that Elesh Norn is the hottest character in Magic, and that Kieryluk’s portrayal of her is the best art in Magic, and neither of these opinions are particularly surprising coming from me. What is surprising is just how many people also converge on Miss Multiverse’s-Most-Fuckable-Pyramid-Head as, not just a sex icon of Magic: the Gathering, but the sex icon.

Well, or is it? Giant anchor-shaped porcelain mask aside, her silhouette is more or less that of a painfully-thin woman; she stands fully twelve feet tall, and we remember how wild everyone went over Resident Evil: Village’s woman who was only three-quarters of that; and though not an artificial intelligence herself, it’s hard not to place her somewhere in the Cyberqueen lineage. Like SHODAN, like GladOS, like Cyberqueen, she exerts a near-omnipotent level of control over (part of) her world; like them, she is a megalomaniacal egotist (though she cloaks her egotism in piety); like them, she is happy to render you more useful to her via surgery, brainwashing, or deadly neurotoxin. Her mask obscures where her eyes would be, and if I’ve learned anything from a decade of playing or mostly watching other people play the various Dark Souls games, it’s that people go apeshit for character designs without visible eyes (see also: the xenomorph from Alien; I did a whole thing on this subject somewhere back in the Wifelink archive.) So you’ve got a 12′ nigh-omnipotent eyeless dominatrix mostly shaped like a skinny woman, which is maybe pushing a whole lot of buttons at once for a lot of people.

As a character, we don’t know much about her: at some point, she became undisputed leader of the Machine Orthodoxy, the cultiest bit of New Phyrexia. At a later point, she became the extremely-disputed leader of New Phyrexia as a whole. She likes long walks on the beach and multiversal Phyrexian dominion, you get it. There is, however, one good story featuring her, and it is “A Garden of Flesh” by Lora Gray (sorry to give you additional reading in a five-thousand-word essay.) The story is interesting because it is the rare story told from a Phyrexian point of view, and because it flies in the face of many of our assumptions about Phyrexian interiority. Phyrexians, we’re told, lack souls. They’re unfeeling, more machine than man. They most certainly don’t dream.

“A Garden of Flesh” is what happens when Ashiok, planeswalker architect of nightmares and an eyeless smokeshow in their own right, gets curious about whether they can induce nightmares in a Phyrexian mind. What follows is a curiously-effective piece of body & transformation horror, told from the point of view of what is supposed to be the awful endpoint of transformation horror. What does a perfect, powerful biomechanical creature fear? The organic, soft, spongy. Putrefaction. Decay. What does such a creature fear becoming? Human.

I didn’t devote a fifth of this essay to Elesh Norn just because she’s unbelievably hot (although dayenu), but because of this story, and how it complicates our thesis. The horror of transformation is traversible, yes, but what will you find on the other side? More transformation. More horror. And transformation is inevitable: who of us are who we expected to be? Who of us still hold dear the precious things of childhood? And even you few who are raising your hands right now, you too will experience transformation. Should you live long enough, you will find yourself changing. Your body and mind will grow rebellious, unreliable. You will grow old. You will decay.

And yet—it’s a matter of perspective, of where you weight your focus, isn’t it? There will always be more transformation and more horror, but there will always be a way through it. There will always be another shore upon the other side. You will change. You will become unrecognizable to who you were before. You will be fine.

Incompleat Bibliography & Further Reading/Viewing/Playing

Rhystic Studies, “Phyrexia is Hell”, 2023. H. P. Lovecraft, The Shadow over Innsmouth, 1931. Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House, 1959. Alex Garland, Annihilation, 2018. Harlan Ellison, “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream”, 1967. Ken Levine, System Shock 2, 1999. —never played it myself. Mostly I just open up a youtube video of SHODAN voice lines when I want to get belittled by an AI dominatrix. Valve, Portal 2, 2011. —there is a lot more to be said about GladOS and Elesh Norn specifically and their respective fraught relationships with the idea of their own humanity. Porpentine Charity Heartscape, Cyberqueen, 2012. —whence my chapter header screenshots. Seriously, this game fucks so hard. Franny Choi, Death by Sex Machine, 2017. —Choi is making extensive use of cyborg metaphor to address the specific experience of being a Korean-American woman. This is very different from anything I’m talking about, but it also always felt extremely relevant to me as a trans woman. Subaltern-to-subaltern communication. Lora Gray, “A Garden of Flesh,” 2022. —it’s no accident that the author of the one good story told from a Phyrexian POV is nonbinary. hbomberguy, “Outsiders: How To Adapt H.P. Lovecraft In the 21st Century”, 2018. Jacob Geller, “Who’s Afraid of Modern Art: Vandalism, Video Games, and Fascism”, 2019. Caitlín R Kiernan, The Drowning Girl: A Memoir, 2012. —only tangentially relevant, except insofar as it recontextualizes the Lewis Carroll line I open the essay with, and insofar as it is my favorite novel and I’m writing the bibliography. Debatable whether it counts as transformation horror, and I imagine the author would bridle at its being described as horror, but nevertheless: you should read this book.

[hopeluna]

!! Fic Recs

Most of these are long fics or series and some of these are 18+ so be aware? But anyways, enjoy these works from absolute writing angels <33

Jujutsu Kaisen

Symptoms & Causes by @lostfracturess

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

Love Entries by @chuluoyi

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: series of episodes of your life with the strongest sorcerer throughout the past and present

men are so quick to blame the gods by @awearywritersworld

Sukuna x reader

Synopsis: your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper, leaving you to form an unlikely relationship with the curse occupying his body during the late hours of the night.

wanna be yours by @nezuscribe

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

his kiss, the riot by @nezuscribe

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: the king has been struck by never-ending grief when he found out about his wife's infidelity. he has her ordered to be killed, but afterward, he is no longer the same. every night he marries a woman, and every morning he has her killed. the endless cycle continues until the night you're chosen to be his wife. instead of letting him ruin you, you tell him a story. you tell him a story that he just has to know the ending to. and so begins the story of one thousand and one arabian nights.

i'd crawl home to her by @likelilacwine

Geto Suguru x reader

Summary: the god of the underworld brings his most valued prize home at the risk of tearing the realm itself apart.

Boku No Hero Academia

@andypantsx3

Yes, her entire blog. Pls each and every series of her is god send. I cannot reccomend this to you enough!!

pretty white dress by @gaybybirth

Dabi x reader

Synopsis: You're shelving books like normal at work when a new face comes into the store. And in a small town where everyone knows each other, a new face really stands out. Especially when it's one that makes you burn in ways you never have.

FILL MY LITTLE WORLD (RIGHT UP) by @shibaraki

Aizawa Shouta x reader

Synopsis: you are employed by aizawa shouta to nanny for his vulnerable adoptive daughter eri while he’s at work. as time passes you find yourself equally smitten with them both, longing for a more permanent place in their family.

please save me by @hitoshiyoshi

Platonic!young!shimura tenko x reader

Synopsis: you save shimura tenko

Stranger Things

Not Wholly Evil by @uglypastels

Eddie Munson x reader

Synopsis: as the daughter of the Governor, there is quite a heavy prize set on your safe return home, and the captain will not let anything come between him and his bounty.

As you wish by @corroded-hellfire

Eddie Munson x reader

Synopsis: When Eddie isn’t appreciated like he should be, his babysitter feels the need to step in and comfort him.

Living After Midnight by @munson-blurbs

Eddie Munson x reader

Synopsis: Being a perpetual people-pleaser meant that you were constantly putting others before yourself--particularly your parents and the eccentric guests who stayed at their motel. But when a surly and mysterious musician checked in indefinitely, he flipped your whole world on its head.

Please do tell me if you want to be removed from this for whatever reason!!

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 5

Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood afternoon, everyone.

:) Have fun

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Awkwardness, flashbacks, feels

Word Count: 1,950

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4]

This wouldn't be your and Bucky's first undercover mission together, but it would be the first one where the tension between you is decidedly not sexual. You're not even sure how well the two of you can pull off this charade since you have no idea what your chemistry is like anymore. Used to, you could do anything together, be anything together.

Not so much now.

There’s an awkwardness between you. Silences pregnant with all the things left unsaid – or should have been left unsaid. You’ll catch Bucky watching you from the corner of your eyes, always with an unreadable expression like he’s trying to figure you out again without actually asking any questions.

You can't imagine that you've changed so much in the intervening months, but Bucky makes so much progress in therapy that his confidence in himself and his personality grow by leaps and bounds all the time. 

You don’t know this new Bucky, but you wish you did. You wish you had been with him to see his growth, encourage him on. 

You’ve missed out on so much of your life by staying away from the Tower. You’d had so many plans that never came to be – no walks in the park when the flowers started to bloom, no trips to the beach on the hottest days of the year, no ice skating when the first snow fell. You kept a tab on everything that should have been on the calendar in your mind, noting all the days that had significance in the past but went uncelebrated this year.

But what’s done is done, and you have to pay for your actions – half a year away is a small price to have Bucky back in your life, even as a stranger instead of your lover. 

You’re now trying to organize your new life on the outskirts of a small town in Russia, just a few miles away from a HYDRA base. Snow was falling thick and fast as the quinjet touched down hours ago, leaving behind a pristine blanket of white outside your new home. The small, two-bedroom cottage looks rustic, but it is still nicer than most of the surrounding homes due to Tony’s influence. There is hidden technology that will help the house to stay warm in this cold climate and random high-tech appliances, lights, and other things that look normal and are anything but.

With the HYDRA base going radio silent, you may be in this little home for longer than was initially expected earlier this year. Bucky is sure that the base is still active, though.  He spent a lot of time here as the Winter Soldier, but no one has received reports from the embedded spy in recent months. This inactivity is concerning since you're no longer sure what is going on inside the building anymore.  

It would be too obvious for Bucky to go undercover inside the facility, so that leaves it up to you to infiltrate as a researcher. The spy had assured last year that no one from the facility lived in the town you’ve settled in, so it’s safe enough for Bucky to remain close by as you work.

But the small town you’ve settled in is so traditional that the only way to remain inconspicuous as a younger woman is to be connected to a man in some way – be it living with family members or a husband.

And since you don't want to be labeled an outcast or worse, Bucky is here.

Bucky is going to be a mechanic at the small family-owned shop just down the road, and his prosthesis is covered in Stark technology that makes it appear as if he’d never lost it. Bucky used to spend a lot of time fixing up old cars and motorcycles between missions, so he should really enjoy spending his days in the garage helping out the Kowalds.

Unfortunately, your background isn’t as fun. You’re a whiz when it comes to biology, so Nat cooked up a false resume full of lab work that centers around eugenics and biomanipulation – things your spy had reported the facility was actively looking into. In order to get your foot in the door at the HYDRA facility, the Avengers had to create a background so disturbing that you're not even sure if you can interview for it properly.

 You're just zipping up into your thick winter coat when Bucky walks out of the kitchen drying his hands on a dish towel.

“You headin’ out now, doll?” He asks, a small worry line between his eyebrows.

“Yup,” you answer back with a comforting smile on your face. “I need to go meet with our contact to make sure that everything is still okay.”

“Just be careful, yeah?” he tells you, slinging the towel up onto his shoulder. Today is his first day at the mechanic shop, so he's dressed in blue overalls with a small name tag stitched onto his chest. The sun is just barely rising, but he's going to be late if he doesn't hurry.

"You know me, Buck. My middle name is Safe."

"Your middle name is Trouble and you can't convince me otherwise, babygirl."

You stick your tongue out at him and blow a raspberry, holding your middle finger up in the air as you turn around and head out the door. Once out of his sight, you smile and bask in the feeling of having your friend back.

You'd missed the banter and easy wit you used to share together, so this small exchange feels like a return to normal. The awkwardness might return in time, but you hope Bucky has forgiven you enough to power through.

You trek along the deserted streets. The early hour and layer of snow on the ground seems to be keeping the townsfolk within their homes, wrapped snugly under their warm blankets. You sigh heavily and watch your breath fog in the air, the mist condensing and freezing your skin as you walk through the cloud.

You pass house after house, noticing lights turning on and the sound of hairdryers, televisions, and conversations humming in the air. Everything has a vague, indistinct quality to it, lulling you into daydreams of what their lives are like. Is it simple? Do they enjoy this cold, snowy location? Or are they also dreaming of a warm day laying in the grass in nothing but a pair of shorts and a tank top?

A memory worms its way to the surface of your mind of a day spent just like that with Bucky. 

This was only a few weeks before your friends-with-benefits situation started. It was the hottest day of the year so far, the humidity heavy in the air and making the sidewalks and parks of New York City intensely uncomfortable. Even though Stark has the Tower equipped with the latest technology, he's incapable of leaving anything well enough alone. He'd been tinkering with the HVAC and somehow short-circuited the entire system. Everyone in the Tower was miserable and cranky, choosing to avoid one another in an attempt to stave off arguments and confrontations. 

You'd been sitting in the shade of the balcony, fanning yourself as you watched all the teeny tiny people on the ground maneuver the crosswalks and traffic to get to where they were going. It was no warmer outside than it was in your room, so you chose to people-watch instead of lay there and sweat miserably on your clean sheets.

Just as some bratty kid you’d been watching chucked the ice cream he’d been yelling for only moments ago onto the sidewalk, the sliding glass doors behind you whooshed open. The sound of metal knocking against the doorframe had let you know that Bucky was the one to interrupt your spying.

Regretfully turning your neck, you felt your skin sliding wet and hot against itself. A frown marred your features as you stared at Bucky as he stood behind you, his eyes alight with mischievous glee.

“What did you do…?” You question slowly, almost afraid to know what that look was all about.

He shrugged a shoulder and smirked. “Nothing too bad.”

“BARNES!!!” a voice roared from the depths of the Tower.

You quirked an eyebrow at him and a small, disbelieving smile graced your lips. “That doesn’t sound like nothing, Buck.”

Bucky hmm’d and glanced back into the building when a CRASH reverberated from where the voice had yelled moments ago. “I was going to get out of here for a while. You wanna come?” he questioned breezily.

“And why would I want to leave when Tony’s working on fixing the AC?” you replied as you continued to fan yourself. Bucky’s eyebrows had quirked ever so slightly.

“Y/L/N!!!” 

Your hand had frozen mid-fan and your eyes widened so much that Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

“Where’d you say we were going?” you asked as you rose quickly from your seat and bypassed Bucky at the door.

***

“You little shit!” You had laughed uproariously when Bucky finally admitted to the prank.

“What else was I gonna do?” he responded, turning his face to look at you.

Even with the intense heat that day, you and Bucky had decided to forgo the climate controlled vehicles in the garage and went instead with the fastest getaway vehicle – Bucky’s bike. The wind had whipped against your body when you held onto Bucky and watched the city fall into the distance behind you. 

He apparently hadn’t had a destination in mind, so you had ridden until cities and towns disappeared. He’d pulled off beside a barely visible hiking trail and jumped off his bike. You had followed suit and watched as Bucky pulled a blanket from inside the storage compartment on the bike. You hiked your eyebrows questioningly, but only got a grin in response. 

That’s how you had found yourself lounging on a blanket in the middle of a field with Bucky on the hottest day of the year. You’d chatted and laughed for hours until the sun had slowly faded from the sky. Out that far, the light pollution of the cities couldn’t touch the stars. You had gazed upwards, trying to draw the constellations as you remembered them.

You weren’t any good at astrology or astronomy, but the stories behind the figures in the sky captivated you nonetheless.

You laughed again and turned to face him as well. “And why’d you have to implicate me, huh?” 

“Figured it’d be more fun that way,” he had answered slyly. 

You had wound your arm up and smacked him on the stomach, your hand bouncing off of the toned muscles. He’d caught your wrist on the next swing and held it up and away from his body. You’d tried to tug it away, but his metal fingers held fast and didn’t let you go. You rolled over toward him and began trying to use your body as leverage, but you had only succeeded in pulling yourself closer to him.

You huffed and blew the piece of hair that had fallen over your eyes away and looked up at him. He’d had a look in his eyes that he hadn’t directed at you before, but you’d seen glimpses of it when he’d find someone to bring back for the night.

You can’t help but think that that moment had been the turning point in your friendship with Bucky, the moment he thought about asking you to be friends-with-benefits. Of course you’d found him handsome long before then, but that was a moment that really cemented your attraction to him. 

You didn’t have romantic feelings at the time, but you should have known they were inevitable.

Part 6

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch@stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

[archangeldyke-all]

can you write something about amab ceo sev and her trans identity and story, i love ceo sev sm she has my whole heart

yeah lets do it!

quick disclaimer! i'm cis, so if there's any mistakes/missteps lmk and i will fix it asap!

men and minors dni

i imagine sevika as one of those people who's just always known who they are. not just in terms of queerness, but like, just opinions and taste and personality in general.

so i think when she was a kid, she likely knew she was trans, just like she knew she liked women. she might not have had the vocabulary to name it, or known that other people feel it, but she never questioned it about herself specifically.

i dont think she would've told anyone, though.

sevika's incredibly perceptive-- she would have known, even as a kid, how talking about the different feelings she was having could upset people, or get her in trouble.

she found the words for what she'd always known to be true about herself when she was an early teenager. sevika's a big reader, and she was one of those kids who wants to know how everything works: from machines to nature to politics to society-- she'd stumble across the complexities of gender identity earlier than most kids do.

but again, she didn't tell anyone. sevika's no stranger to how horrible people can be-- she didn't want to give anybody an extra reason to fuck with her. instead, she just kept to herself, finding comfort in reading as many books and articles on queerness and transness that she could get her hands on.

she understood early on what she was up against, being a trans, gay, brown/black woman in this society. but she never let it deter her.

the second she turned fifteen she got a job as a busser at a restaurant in her town. she saved every penny-- and she worked all the time. besides the occasional pack of gum and pair of socks, the only thing sevika ever bought in was a junker of a car from her neighbor-- only $500.

she repaired it on her own during her free time. (of which, there was hardly any.)

the second she turned eighteen, sevika packed up her belongings in the backseat of her car and left her hometown never to return. it was now that she could finally start living her truth.

with her saving she managed to get an apartment to lease for a few months while she scrambled for a job. for a while, she was bouncing from security job to security job, but then she managed to snag a stable position as a saleswoman.

with her new job she got benefits. a 401k and healthcare.

she started going to therapy at, like, 20. again-- sevika's incredibly self aware. she was laying in bed staring at the ceiling once night, and she just thought to herself 'huh, you know, i've kinda been through a lot. i'm kinda going through a lot. i should... probably go to therapy.' and then she just did.

it took her a few tries to find a good therapist, but then she met a four foot tall little old lady who looked like mrs. clause but cursed like a sailor. sevika fell in love the moment they met.

mrs. clause-- or dr. walsh-- was a no-nonsense, no-bullshit kind of lady. each time sevika would try to downplay her achievements or doubt herself, dr. walsh would throw a crumbled postit at her face and rant-encourage-remind sevika about her strength and bravery.

with dr. walsh's help, sevika started to see her future as something that could be... positive. she'd been so focused on escaping the past, she forgot she could look forward. but once she did-- she was exhilarated.

it was definetly an, 'oh, shit, i can do anything i fucking want' moment for her.

she knew that she had it in her to do it-- she'd proven it to herself time and time again-- now she just had to decide what she wanted to do.

it took her a while, a lot of research and soul searching, but by the time she was 22 she started to socially transition.

her hair'd always been long, but she finally treated herself to a visit to a salon-- getting it styled in the perfect slightly slanted bob she'd always wanted. she made a promise to herself in the parking lot that she'd never cut her own hair again, she was so fucking thrilled with the experience and the outcome. (her stylist was a huge gossip-- spent the entire time telling sevika about her sister's sex life. sevika had a blast)

she started treating herself to more clothes. custom tailored suits for the office-- blouses and button ups and fun silky ties for underneath.

(all the while, she was effortlessly climbing the ranks at work. despite the horrible office culture in a competitive environment like sales-- money talks. and sevika was outselling all her co-workers.)

she found the name 'sevika' one day completely randomly. she hadn't really given changing her name any thought until her eyes glanced over the name in contact screen of a stranger's phone-- but she couldn't get the sound of it out of her head.

at 25, sevika started to medically transition. with a lot of research, both on her and dr. walsh's end-- she started estrogen.

she was thrilled. she knew changes couldn't be seen on a day to day basis-- but she swore every day she woke up looking and feeling more and more like her.

always a gym rat-- sevika's muscular frame started to carry a little more curve.

she smiled for a full six hours the first time she noticed her ass jiggling in the full length mirrors at the gym as she did burpies.

sevika was no stranger to eyeliner having gone through a bit of an emo phase as a kid-- but beyond that she found the sensory feeling of makeup unbearable.

but when she found out that there was such a thing as tattoo-able makeup-- you bet your ass she made an appointment. it hurt like a bitch but it was worth it when she could have perfectly defined dark lips all throughout the day no matter how many coffee cups she sipped from or chicken burritos she sank her teeth into.

at work, sevika had worked her way up so high the ranks that nobody dared to give her shit anymore. and when they did-- she just fired them.

she spent her late 20s dating around. she had a few girlfriends and a lot of flings, but nothing ever really worked for her. it did give her a shit-ton of confidence though.

the more herself she became-- both in her body and in her job and in her bed-- the bigger and brighter her future seemed.

this isn't to say she never had shitty days. she had plenty. some she journaled about, some she cried about, some she boxed about, some she called dr. walsh about. the worst ones she drank about-- though as she was growing up the hangovers were making this one less tolerable.

people are assholes. dysphoria is a fucking asshole. sevika's boss was an asshole. but when she felt close to drowning-- when she felt the grief and sadness and the self-destructive urges creep up-- she just closed her eyes and thought of herself at fourteen-- cooking up a plan to get as far away from home as she could. she imagines herself meeting teenage-sev, telling her all the things she'd come to do, (and all the girls she'd come to do, if you know what i mean, wink wink, nudge nudge) and she imagines how fuckin' proud little emo-acne-riddled-brace-face sevika would be of her.

it works every time.

on her thirtieth birthday, she bought herself a breast augmentation. she loved her tits-- but she just wanted a little more. she wanted to have to wear a bra under her silky button ups, instead of it being optional. but once she got them done she was so fucking thrilled she didn't want to wear a bra under her button ups. (she did, of course, because wasn't trying to cause an hr nightmare at work.)

when dr. walsh died-- sevika was devastated. there were a few months there where she was in complete depression. she made no attempt to find a new therapist-- she took as much paid time off from work as she could, just to sit around her house alone.

but then one night-- sevika swears on her life-- dr. walsh visited her in a dream with a message

'you better get your shit together girl! don't let all my hard work go to waste!'

sevika woke up the next morning laughing and crying, and she was back at work the next day.

she found a new therapist, and she forced herself to make new friends, suddenly aware that the only person in the world who knew her had died.

she started hanging out with some of her more tolerable co-workers, and she was shocked to realize that most of them were... actually pretty cool.

she started taking herself out to dinner-- just her and a book-- just so she could spend more time with herself.

she made it a point to take a vacation once every six months.

and when the ceo of her company stepped down, she was riding on a high. she was feeling good about life, so she decided: fuck it.

and she applied for the open position.

and then she got the job.

and at thirty five, sevika finally felt like she was in her bright future-- not just working towards it.

the night before her first night on the job-- sevika's mind was racing.

there were so many changes she needed to make, so many ideas she had to implement in the company. not to mention the fact that she had to buy furniture for her new office, and find an assistant-- and a good assistant is really fucking hard to come by-- and was she sure she could really do this job in the first place? what if she made a mistake accepting it-- what if she can't handle it--

sevika cut her racing thoughts off, scrubbing her face. she took a second to breathe, then she conjured up little-sev in her mind to give her an update and get a pep talk.

who the fuck are you? little teenage sevika asked, huffing as she had to shove her headphones off her ears.

'i'm you, jackass.'

...woah. we look... hot...

'duh.'

how did that happen?

'moved away, worked hard, got lucky, got rich.' sevika says, watching her younger self's eyebrows rise.

shit... look at our tits!

'i know-- they're great, right?'

fuck yeah. well... whaddya want?

'wanted to tell you we just got promoted to ceo.'

...really?

'yeah. we start tomorrow.'

...us?

'yeah. we're like... kind of a big deal now.'

...woah.

'yeah woah.'

then, just as she's about to drift off to sleep, sevika's mind speaks again.

...soooo... have we met our wife yet?

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

[thetourturedwritersclub]

I've seen ppl do the marauders being teachers and the subjects they would teach. And hers are my 2 cents.

James he would teach PE. Argue with the wall. Also he'd be that one teacher everyone loves bc he cares for the students. All the students who have PE with him would be fit bc James cares so much abt the students health. He would organise basketball, football /soccer and volleyball games between the other classes.

Sirius On the popular belief of Sirius teaching French, I actually think he would teach art. That doesn't mean that I think that he isn't intelligent, I think he's creative and he would rather teaching a subject which requires u to be creative. He would take the kids to art galleries.

Remus to no one's surprise, I think he would teach English /Literature. And he would make it INTERESTING. They'd be studying Romeo and Juliet , the kids would feel like they are in Verona, Italy watching it happen. Also smth that's so precious for me is Remus having movie hrs, watching films that we are adapted into movie form and they would analyse the differences between the two.

Peter I think Peter would teach home Economics. Also he would be that teacher that u either love and appreciate or hate with a burning passion. He would be a shy introverted nature but also funny and tolerant.

Lily she would teach citizenship. Yes she would be that teacher that would make sure u were mindful, empathetic and grateful. She would make sure kids understood everything u need to know abt being a good citizen. She would also organise field trips which would be in parks, town halls etc etc.

Marlene Listen, I think she would be a history teacher. Her compassion loving nature and ability to tell a story give rlly much history teacher vibez. The kids would be hypnotised listening to every word Marlene was speaking abt a revolution or a glorious monarchy.

Mary Now Mary would teach theatre. Say what u want but I'm a Theatre teacher Mary believer. She would take it super seriously and she would teach all of the kids how to act. Also she would analyse the kids chemistry (basically how much chemistry they have with each other) and she would play match maker with that information. She'd be hitting the bullseye everytime.

Dorcas She would be teaching mathematics. Again argue with the wall. She would be that strict teacher with a heart of gold. Also she would check in with every kid to see if they need help and would be that teacher who wouldn't make u feel bad for not understanding something.

Pandora She would teach Chemistry. Why? Idk she just gives off chemist vibez. And she would always take her class to the lab. And instead of assigning projects, she and her class would conduct research on certain topics and try out formulas.

Barty :Barty would teach physics. He is super smart and in my eyes physics is smth that he would find interesting. He would be teaching the kids with practical examples, like dropping stuff when they have to learn abt gravity and ect.

Evan He would teach biology. Argue with the wall. He would love dissecting bodies and the students in his class would be horrified at his excitement. Also he would be such an inspirational and dedicated teacher. He wouldn't be that strict of a teacher but he would keep his class focused.

Regulus He would teach a foreign language like French. He would be so strict and his class would low-key fear him. He wouldn't have that high of expectations and his test wouldn't be that hard. Also he would explain the kids important facts abt French and he would be an incredible teacher. When he would assign classwork he'd go around the class asking if they needed help. Also he'd be that teacher who wouldn't mind answering questions after class.

So yeah that was soo fun! Lmk if u like it or want me to do stuff like this more often! Would you attend this school if you could?

[year2000electronics]

do you have any like, plot/story to your monster falls au? are they monsters their whole lives? also I really like how you do the hunter bill thing :)

i’m still puzzling that one out! cos i actually never knew that monster falls’ original plot was that the town gets turned into monsters by a magical stream (go figure! like i said i didn’t really engage with the au before now) so i’ve been thinking a lot about what i would do, and my answer is this:

i feel like instead of a magical stream, the entire town of gravity falls is cursed! the longer you stay in there, the more likely it is that you become a monster :] it’s why the locals end up staying despite all the paranormal activity! ford becomes a mothman but chooses to keep staying for his research and also the portal, so, in turn, STAN realizes slowly that he’s getting cursed to become a monster too but what other choice does he have? he’s gotta save his brother

maybe dipper and mabel being on the zodiac or being near the journals or something would speed up their particular curse cos they’re out of towners, or maybe it’s just a stroke of weird luck, idek

as for bill, he’d actually still be triangle bill during ford’s time working with him in the 80s! he thinks ford can finish off the portal for him, but once time passes and we end up in 2012/2013 (depending on who you ask), while he’s waiting for stan to open the portal and bring back ford, he decides the best way to get rid of the other zodiac symbols is to create/grab a human vessel and literally hunt them down. and what, might you ask, is the exact type of person who people would usually leave alone and let them do their thing in the woods? simple. a redneck hunter with crass bumper stickers on his car

[sunshine-theseus]

I’ve Got You | Charlie Grant x reader

Word Count: 2.4k Summary: Having someone like Charlie by your side makes pregnancy a whole lot easier. i don't think this is my best i'm sorry Warnings: none? Request for - @charligrantismygirlfriend

Being friends with Katrina basically guaranteed being friends with Kyra and Charlie.

I met Kat in 2022, toward the end of her time at Brisbane, as she was beginning to get back in with the Matildas. I found myself crying in the baby aisle of a rather desolate IGA in Clayfield when she crouched next to me and asked me if I was alright. I didn’t look up as I struggled to calm my sobbing to explain my situation.

“He- he left me. I’m 21 and pregnant without a partner. How am I supposed to have a baby without a partner?” I stared up at her with red-rimmed eyes and tears that stream down my cheeks. It’s then that I notice she has a young baby resting on her hip, eyes gently closed as her head rests on the shoulder of this woman.

“Do… do you have anyone that will help?” I vigorously shook my head, then told her how I’d been living alone for 4 years, my parents running off to whatever dingy town they decided would bring them the most drugs without police caring.

“A- and he kicked me out. Oh fuck I don’t have anywhere to live what the fuck am I doing?!” my eyes frantically flickered around the store as my situation settled in. There was no way I could survive this.

“I know this is a weird offer but… you could live with me? I have a spare bedroom and rent is getting kind of wild. And Harper would love you.” She looked down at the girl who clung to her with such adoration.

“I’m Katrina.” She reached out her hand and I took it.

“Y/n” I smiled gently at her.

“I mean it. You living with me. I had Harper 8 months ago and I have bunch of pregnancy books and clothes and all that stuff.”

“W- what about your partner? Won’t he mind?”

“She lives in Sweden, so probably not.” Katrina then told me her story of wanting to be a mum and going through IVF, and how Harper brought her back to football.

~~~~~

About 2 months later, I was flying over to Sweden, following shortly after Kat and Harper left. I attended pretty much every game Kat played, taking care of Harper when her mum couldn’t make it, and researching a lot.

I was lucky my job was remote, so I was able to move around with Kat without an issue. My boss had sent a small gift basket of baby books and clothes when I told her I would be living overseas for 6 or so months. She also gave me less work, insisting that I meet people and do fun things instead of worrying about how much I had to do. She was probably the person who pushed me the most to meet someone new.

It was 2 weeks after I moved in with Kat, and met Clara, that I met Charlotte and Kyra. Despite Kyra’s club being 5 – 6 hours away, she’d somehow managed to make it down for a few days on a short break between matches. We all went for coffee and brunch, me limiting my food to hashbrowns and toast because most other things made me nauseas.

Charlie and Kyra asked how Kat and I met and why I was living with them. I gave them a rather short version of the day in the IGA, and Charlie reached over and put an empathetic hand on my shoulder. I give a tight-lipped smile in return.

It doesn’t take long for me to grow close to the two younger players Kat had also taken under her wing. Some days they had off, I’d take Harper off Kat and Clara’s hands and take her somewhere with Charlie, like the park or a pool. Other days we’d all go together and when Kyra could, she’d come down and spend a couple days.

It’s nice to have friends my age to hang out and talk with, Katrina having been the only person I had for the most part of 3 or so months.

Both girls insisted I need to meet the other Matildas, but I struggled to find time when they have camp, or I’m too nauseas to travel.

This creates a new problem when Kat and Clara both decide to head back to Brisbane in mid-November now that the Swedish season is done, so Kat can play with the Roar again during the A-League season.

My bump is relatively big, and most forms of travel make me sick, so I know I won’t really be able to travel with them back home, and in a few more weeks I won’t be allowed to fly. So I’m stuck by myself again. Until Charlie makes a rather compelling offer.

They don’t have any matches in the up-coming international break, so she offers me to live with her for the time being so I’m not as alone. The one fault to present itself, is she only has 1 bed. I insist I sleep on the couch, but she waves the idea away as I hold my stomach, trying to relieve some pressure.

“Oh! Can I try something? It might help give you some relief for a moment. I saw it on TikTok.” I simply nod my head; I’ll try anything at this point.

I’m slightly shocked when she circled around behind me and reached around my front, but I can’t question anything before she placed her hands beneath my belly and lifts. I groan in relief and my hand rolls back onto her shoulder.

“Holy shit that feels so nice.” She holds my belly for a minute or so before gently removing her hands and pressing a kiss to my cheek.

I flush red as she goes back to making lunch. I’ve found myself doing that a lot around her recently. Any nice gesture or any touch and I’m blushing and butterflies flutter around my stomach. Sometimes I wonder if the same thing happens to her.

Later in the day, I'm desperate to take a nap, so I slowly lay down on Charlie’s couch. It takes her all of 5 seconds to realise and start pulling me up, dragging me to her bedroom.

“If you’re so adamant that I don’t sleep on the couch, and you definitely shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch, we can share the bed. It’s big enough for us both.” I don’t have the energy to refuse as I fall back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as Charlie plays with my hair.

~~~~~

I spend the next 2 months spending time with Charlie and Kyra, who also decided not to travel home until their Cup of Nations games in February. Kyra stays on a blow-up mattress she lugged with her from Stockholm while Charlie and I continue to share the bed.

I’m a week away from my due date when I feel something wet drip down my legs. Kyra and Charlie freak out, but I let them know my contractions haven’t started. And I nearly think that maybe it was somehow a false alarm.

Nearly a day later, I feel severe pressure on my pelvis. I groan in pain and clutch my stomach as I move positions, assuming it’s just a Braxton Hicks contraction. The pain doesn’t subside for a minute or so, and Kyra doesn’t take notice of my groans from the other room, on a call with Charlie who had forgotten the grocery list and now had to have Kyra recite it to her so she could rewrite it on her phone.

I don’t think much of the contraction until I feel another one 20 minutes later, and another 20 minutes after that. They progressively get closer together and I call out to Kyra to help me up from the bed before calling for an ambulance, and I frantically scroll my contacts for Charlie’s number. It takes 10 minutes for her keys to rattle against the door and she rushes in, followed closely by the paramedics.

~~~~~

I suffer through 13 hours of labour before I’m holding a small bundle in my arms, Charlie holding another, as Kyra takes photos to send Kat later.

“I can’t believe that fucking piece of shit left you, but at least he gave you two little cuties.” Charlie passes the baby off to Kyra and turns to me.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you, Kat and Kyra.”

“I’m so proud of you.” I don’t stop to think before I lean over and gently place my lips on hers, her strawberry chapstick is all I can taste.

I see a flash go off in the corner of my eye and whip my head to look at Kyra, who giggles sheepishly before looking back down at the baby in her arms.

“I know this is probably rushed and wild, but do you want to move in with me? Officially? We can find a bigger place to house the girls. But I’ve been holding in my feelings for you for like 6 months now. I promise to take care and love you and the twins with my whole heart.” A tear falls down my cheek as I nod my head, and she kisses me again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh! Mini’s calling! She doesn’t know! What do I do? Do I answer?” Kyra interrupts us, frantically looking for whether she should answer or not.

“Facetime her.” Kyra hands the baby back to Charlie and quickly facetimes Katrina, who doesn’t take a moment to answer.

“None of you have answered any of my calls for the past 14 hours what the fuck is going on? Why does it look like you’re in a hospital” is the first thing she says as Kyra’s phone faces away from me.

“Well… we have a surprise.” The phone slowly pans over to Charlie and I and we both grin.

“WHAT THE FUCK? You had the baby?!”

“Babies” Charlie corrects her.

“Twins?!”

“Kat, I’d like you to meet Ashley Jade and Maysilee Hazel Gorry.” Everyone’s heads snap to look at me as I smile.

“What, what do you mean ‘Gorry’?”

“You literally changed my life, took me in when I had no one, introduced me to my best friend… and girlfriend,” I pause and give Charlie a look, she smiles in return.

“I also changed my name like a month ago, to Y/n Gorry. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind what the fuck!?” I glance back at Katrina; tears prick at her eyes and my own mirror her’s.

“I’m going to fucking fly over and meet those little cuties.”

“Well, I was thinking… if they’re healthy enough to travel, we’d fly over with Kyra and Charlie for your Cup of Nations matches in February? And I’d meet the team.” Another wave of shock ripples through out the room

“Fuck yes!”

We talk to Kat for a while after that. Harper tumbles into screen and coos at the babies but soon looses interest, and Clara comes in to congratulate me. We eventually have to say goodbye.

“Is it ok if I head back to the apartment? I think if I fall asleep on these chairs, I’ll never be able to play again.” Kyra dramatically complains, but I just smile and nod, sending her on her way.

“I know I already said it, but I am so proud of you and I love you so much. You could’ve given up on these babies, but you pushed through.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you Char, these little guys are going to adore their mumma so much.”

“Of course they will, you’re so amazing.”

“I mean you…”

“R-really?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side.” She kisses me passionately, well as passionately as you can kiss someone who’s lying in a hospital bed while you’re both holding a baby.

~~~~~

“Are you excited to see your aunties?” Ashley and Maysilee’s giggles fill the car ass Charlie tickles their feet.

“Yay yay yay!” they both chant as we help them out of the car and onto their feet.

They’re running down the corridor as soon as the elevator doors part open, giggling and screaming without knowing where they’re supposed to be going. They only stop when they run into two pairs of legs, and they sheepishly look up as they go to apologise, only to be picked up.

“Aunty MinMin! Aunty Anna!” Maysilee screams as Alanna gives her a sloppy kiss on the cheek, Ashley much quieter as she returns Kat’s hug.

“We’ll look after them while you settle in. I missed my favourite twins.” Kat says as she also gives Maysilee a gentle kiss on the forehead.

Charlie and I take each other’s hand as we walk to our room, kissing our daughters goodbye and thanking the pair of teammates. When we reach the room, I waste no time in fall on the bed, Charlie following swiftly behind. I lean into her as she wraps her arms around me before I kiss her.

We spend another hour or so cuddling and kissing, basking in the childless quiet. I admire Charlie like I do every moment we get together, her crystal blue eyes, the shape of her nose, her dull pink lips, the small scar above her right eyebrow. And I wonder the same thing I always do; how did I get so lucky.

“I can’t believe we brought our kids to the Olympics. Who does that? We should have left them with someone back in London.” I joke before kissing her.

“I’d take my babies anywhere; I hate being apart from you all.” Charlie pouts and kisses me again, and again.

~~~~~

Charlie brings Ashley, Maysilee and I to all the events and training sessions Tony allows her to, the girls always with one of their Mumma’s jerseys on or something that showcases a blatant support for the Matildas.

After a particularly difficult game, the team silently heads back to their rooms, Charlie curling up under the blanket as I get the twins ready for bed. When they notice she hasn’t come to kiss them goodnight, they clamber up onto the bed and start to tickle and poke her. She doesn’t respond and they seem to understand she’s upset.

“What’s wrong mumma?”

“Mumma’s just sad and hurt about today babies.” Charlie whispers through shaky breath.

I watch as they calm down and instead wrap their arms around her and kiss her gently, like she kisses them when they’re hurt. I slowly slide in behind Ashley, wrapping my arm around all 3 of them.

“We’ve got you baby.” I give them all a kiss and we fall asleep like that, the sun slowly allowing the blanket of stars to fill the sky.

[aaaaaaaaaaaa-hey-its-jude-or-bee]

hey..... hi..... could I request mlm harvey (sdv) :)?

you can decide if you want nsfw or fluff but I prefer no angst yes

cuddles... cuddles, m!reader gives the bestest cuddles because I said so!! + He's taller than harvey (you can put your own hc, but for me personally he's 6'1 ehe), !!!! He gets so flustered whenever m/n towers over him on accident!!, m/n's always apologetic about it too....

and, the fact that m/n smells like oranges and tangerines, doesn't help... He's always so good smelling to harvey he just wants to cuddle all the time... And who's m/n to refuse!!!!!

I love harvey an unconditional amount, also, I may send in another ask soon for elliot aha, I love him too

(+, could I be 🫚anon?)

Stardew valley

// BOTTOM!Harvey X Tall TOP!Male!farmer who smells like oranges and tangerines and cuddles//

CW//TW; fluff, before NSFW is at the end, suggestive mentions before the NSFW part, mentions of edging, begging, praising, then aftercare and mentions of Harvey not having a relationship with his family and having no contact I finished this close to 12 AM.

Apologies I will finish sebby request very soon but I did this BC it had no story but now it does and sighs, I also added Fluff/cuddles, NSFW/redid all that shit if you haven't seen my last post before this, aftercare/m/n taking care of Harvey omg,, no one told me I fucked up a word what the fuck let me go redo that

Harvey is just absolutely adorable.

-the moment he met you he was.. intimated by you, you were taller than him! Like sure.. There's other men in town who're(HAHAHAHSHSHS WHORE sorry) taller than him but he is also one of those men.. it leaves him absolutely stunned seeing you who is taller than everyone at this point! He was very nervous about being around you, even just by standing beside you he was nervous and scared for who knows what, but he did somewhat get a small whiff of your.. citrus like scent? he wasn't sure if smelling like oranges and tangerines were a normal thing… he was going to research diseases or sicknesses just to make sure that you were perfectly fine, yet he isn't sure why he's feeling so anxious and nervous around a person, you're just a tall person.. it's not like.. you'll someday carry him around as if he's a book, because that would be rude! You two just met! But.. it was weird,

-the moment you walked into his clinic while he was trying to write you a letter for a check-up, he didn't hear you walk into his clinic, considering he was mumbling to himself on how to write a letter to you, he felt nervous and uncomfortable the moment he felt like he was being watched.. he then turned around and oh boy, you scared the living yoba out of him! You were just standing behind him, staring. ..causing him to literally scream bloody murder since he WAS alone for such a long time doing his own thing and next thing he knows is that there's a tall man standing behind him and his life flashed before his eyes. While you were actually wondering how you were gonna approach the doctor who seemed busy, but now, you got a doctor who is on the floor, unconscious, now here you are absolutely panicking. You had to put HIM on the clinic's bed this time instead of him putting others on the bed, you're just waiting for him to wake up now, while having a bottle of water in hand and some medicine in the other.

-it was awkward being around you, he apologized to you but you then apologized to him, and it was mutual, next day he finds a basket filled with fruit and there's wine in it, with an apology card on the counter, Maru was sitting at the front desk, she then looked over at Harvey and told him that the farmer came by to give him this as an apology for supposedly scaring the yoba out of him? She was confused of course and asked Harvey what happened, Harvey, shook his head and brushed it off, his face sweating as he felt blood rush to his face, he was actually really embarrassed and didn't really wanna tell Maru what had happened that day, But Maru; thought Harvey had a crush on the farmer, so she didn't press for more, she was just thinking, *’oh Harvey is just embarrassed for having a crush, they seem like a cute pair’* And she shook her head and chuckled to herself as she continued with her day at work, Harvey took the basket and card happily but still embarrassed and red, going to his office to check the basket and card out, he read it, and smiled softly, his face getting warmer when he kept reading it, as he didn't even realize it even was warmer than before.

-aaannd.. that's how his days always went, he also had a proper check-up with you.. somewhat of a proper check-up, he didn't understand why your heart was racing at an unusual speed.. (much faster then how it did in his heart scene in the game..), he thought you were having a heart attack(you probably are) so he started gathering things and had rushed you to the clinic's bed, not letting you get off the bed at all, he was rambling on about how he needed to make sure you're alright and said you could possibly be suffering an unsuspecting heart attack, he kept you with him after closing, because you came in super late nearing closing, and he sent Maru home already, and he was going to make sure you were alright, he was doing his best to make sure you're healthy, asking you questions and medical questions, asking if you were allergic to anything or something, he just needed to know what was up with you, and the moment he knew you were fine, he let out a sigh of relief, thank yoba you're fine!, he also had more of a whiff of your tangerine scent, it smelled.. sweet and comforting, he didn't know why it did though because it felt odd as well and more odd for even thinking of that or feeling that way, but he calmed down to that, while you were just sitting there just absolutely unsure what to even say to doctor Harvey, it was like.. too late to already get home, you'd end up passing out just at 2 in the morning if you stepped out of the clinic, weird how you always do only pass out directly at 2 in the morning, it's always before.

-.....Harvey felt bad and ended up having you stay over, you guys.. are.. somewhat friends, friends yeah, just a bit awkward in the moment because of everything and him being anxious around you and you just being scared and nervous about being in a doctors clinic but also just nervous about accidentally scaring poor old Harvey, but still you two are friends, so you are having a sleepover for one night, it was.. something honestly, you were trying to figure out how to sleep on the couch, Harvey was reading a book, and you were just.. staring at the ceiling, Harvey made small glances towards you from his book, he felt bad but also was not really sure on what to do as he watched you, while you were just turning and tossing on the couch, but found a position where it was comfortable, and honestly, you were like dead asleep after a few seconds like right after Harvey then tried to suggest something else for you but just then realized that you were just already asleep, which caused him to be absolutely lost, confused, and he's like thinking to himself, you already fell asleep?? You were just moving and turning, how are you asleep after a second? Anyways you're a heavy sleeper, Harvey soon put his book away back on his shelf (the book was about fruits, and he was trying to find out if tangerines and oranges scent a whole person if they eat a lot of them but he found nothing and soon gave up) and then Harvey got in bed, staring at the ceiling as he took his glasses off and placed them beside him on his bedside table, soon he went to bed, while also trying to get over the fact that you were here, spending the night, in his apartment.

-harvey soon woke up in the morning and you were just sitting in the middle of the room for some reason, just making patterns with your finger on the floor with absolutely nothing to do, and Harvey felt bad seeing this because he then remembered how you were always up very early in the morning and that you were probably up for hours while he slept, he didn't know what you were doing while he was sleeping but he seen nothing was a mess and he was happy it was clean and nothing was a mess or broken, he soon gotten up out of bed, greeting you sheepishly as he put on his glasses again, what do you mean you made breakfast? How- why did you make breakfast? Oh, well thank you farmer. Harvey happily ate the breakfast you made him(a breakfast only HE would eat. BECAUSE THIS MOTHER FUCKER DOESN'T LIKE PANCAKES. Sorry It appears I'm still upset about him not liking the pancakes I made for him in bed, I ended up giving him eggs and a coffee, and then left without speaking to him or giving him a kiss that entire day but then I showered him in kisses and loves the next day, I was just very upset over that one day.) and he soon put his sweater on again, after the two of you finished breakfast though, he felt very warm and light when you did that action when you didn't need to for him, he hasn't had a good cooked meal in a long time and he really liked your cooking, he did praise you for the cooking and you were happy, so you plan to cook him meals and give them to him since you rarely cook food and you mostly just.. do whatever you do during the day(you don't want to tell him that you are just absolutely feral and will eat anything that can be eaten.)

-As days went by, and the both of you having gotten rather closer than before, it was all going absolutely wonderful, Harvey was very pleased about you gifting him home cooked meals, and now, he was saving a lot more money and not buying frozen meals from Pierre's every time considering he couldn't cook because he was always busy, he was very happy about it either way, and you were very happy because you always made a little plate for yourself and tested it out to see if it was good, which it always was(the only time you messed up was when you forgot to turn off the stove and then you had to recook it all), Harvey soon enough went to Pierre's again and then bought a flower bouquet for you, he was very nervous about what you'd say and how you'd react, but after buying the flowers, he was already in a nice change pair of clothing that made him look really nice, he wanted to be presentable to you during this moment, so he requested you to meet him at the water fountain, when the sun was setting in a letter for you, which when the time had came you went over to the water fountain to see Harvey, hiding something behind his back as well, and when you walked over towards him you looked at him with a soft gaze, causing him to get more red and nervous as he started to stutter his words when he was trying to confess his feelings for you, he was already nervous because of how tall you were but he was more nervous of this, soon enough he did so and you were giggling throughout some parts because you thought he looked so adorable with how red and nervous he was, you really liked seeing him in such a nice outfit but you mostly had your attention on him the entire time, when he handed you the flower bouquet and asked if you wanted to be his partner, you were surprised but not that surprised, he was started to second guess everything until you took the flower bouquet and hugged him, he was surprised but then melted into your arms, holding you back as well as the sun set made it more pretty and he got your full scent of tangerines and oranges which made it even better for him, he felt like he was in the clouds.

-the two of you started dating, and it was wonderful, Harvey was absolutely happy, he was just a whole being of joy whenever he was around you, sure he's still nervous about being around you considering you're still tall but he's more calm and collected about it, often he's leaning into your arms whenever you hold him and he's just blushing like crazy and he's just so happy about it all, he's never felt this happy ever since he left home, he's never had contact with his own family and they simply didn't bother to try and talk to him, Harvey never minded it but he was sometimes sad about it as well, but he's not sad about it anymore now that he has you with him.

-he's never felt like this the moment he had gotten married to you, first he asked you to be with him, and now you asked him to marry you, everything felt so perfect, he couldn't have asked for anything else in the world, no matter what it may be, even a relationship with his family, hell no, he will never trade you for anything else, he vows to be loyal and by your side every single day when the two of you are alive and together, his heart felt like it was going to explode, but of happiness, he didn't bother sharing the news with anyone back in the city, he didn't care, he couldn't, how could he when he finally had you, and you actually care about him and make him happy! He felt so secure and safe being with you, now living with you as he sometimes would go over back to his apartment to just be there for a few hours just chilling there, before coming home since he would now start to feel a bit off whenever he was away from you for too long, and he just felt more comfortable in the home you both share together, he loved smelling the citrus scent you have whenever the two of you would lay together or just be close together.

-Harvey felt so embarrassed whenever you'd pick him up, he didn't fight back though but it sure was a shocker to him, he enjoyed being held and cuddled by you, he loved your hands as well, he just loved having your hands on him, Harvey absolutely loves having your hands on or in him in places, and just loves having your hands in his own, it makes him feel happy.

-Harvey is always leaning or resting against you as well, he loves smelling you, he loves your scent, he just loves touching you in any way shape or form, he needs it, he's needy, he absolutely is needy and wants your attention because he's afraid of losing it, but you always have your attention on him 24/7, because you're HIS Husband, you're HIS handsome man, you both are HUSBANDS, you're HIS.

-harvey get so weak in the knees and gets so red seeing you shirtless, he gets so hot and you're his husband, he sees you shirtless in your own home, but he still gets absolutely flustered and red, he cannot help it! He just loves you too much and feels so shy about it, even when you flirt with him shirtless like! M/n don't do that! (Do it)

Yeaaahhh let's get into the cuddling

Harvey was laying on top of your chest under the covers, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he just softly inhaled the fruitful scent you have, while you were laying in the middle of your comfortable bed, reading a book as you would kiss the top of Harvey's head once in a while, every few 3 to 5 pages you'd turn, while the blanket was covering the both of you as well keeping you two warm, even though you both were warm as it was, you were humming a soft lullaby as you read, your arms were around Harvey as you held the book but you were also keeping your doctor husband close to you as possible, Harvey loved listening to you hum softly as he laid with you, well on top of you but you wanted him to either way to be closer, “mmmph,, my love, do you really think I should stay-” Harvey mumbled against your skin as he tried asking you again if he should stay like this, but you simply stopped humming and cut him off of his words, “Yes, I'm fine Harvey, just relax, it'll be fine, you're fine staying like this” you reassured him that it was perfectly fine for Harvey to stay laying on top of your chest, you loved how it felt because it felt absolutely comforting like this and you loved having Harvey just all relaxed and soft against you, Harvey just made a soft humming sound before nuzzling up against your neck again, his eyes were closed as he shortly soon fell asleep on you, you were turning the page of your book before planting a kiss on his head as you whispered in a soft tone to him, “I love you” before putting a bookmark on your page, and closing it up, it was dark and you knew you should get rest as well, so you put the book on the stand beside you, turning off the lamp as you got comfortable and wrapped your arms around Harvey, holding him closely and making sure he seemed comfy in his own state of sleep, closing your eyes as you yawned and soon, all that was heard in the dark yet cooled room, was the soft breathing of the both of you sleeping peacefully as you cuddled up against each other in the bed you both share, the house the two of you now share is filled with the peaceful quietness, then when the morning had came, Harvey seemed to content on staying in his position as he was too comfortable to move and he didn't want you leaving the bed so soon, while you woke up early and tried getting out of bed to go run places and run to the mines, yet Harvey seems to not want to let you go to the mines, so he kept in his place, mumbling tiredly as he kept mumbling his tired and weak protests of “nooo..” to you trying to get him off of you and to lay on the other side so you could go to the mines, but you soon gave up as you got back into the warmth and comfortable spot you were in originally, and then you closed your eyes once more after giving him a kiss, he had tiredly gave you a kiss back and rested his head against your chest again, since he wanted to stay in longer, and you couldn't deny your husband that any longer because he was so adorable like this, and he loves your scent and your warmth, how could you deny your husband warmth and comfort? You'd just let him get cold and alone in bed? No, you have to stay here and go back to bed, he seemed so happy even in his sleep again as the two of you fell back asleep peacefully,

Okay refucking writing it all are you absolutely fucking kidding me like what the fucking hell I should've fucking written it here like what the fuck

NSFW!!

Harvey's soft cries and desperate pleas echo throughout the bedroom the two husbands share, the sound of their soft skin meeting filling the room with a soft Melody of passion. The bed, though it was In Fact silent, stayed silent, Harvey clutched the sheets tightly, his face flushed with desire and sweet moans tumbling from his lips. His legs spread apart, his body writhes in absolute pure raw ecstasy as his husband, m/n, thrusts into him with such primal need, gripping Harvey's thighs absolutely possessively as he thrusted into him, m/n's rigid length slides in and out of Harvey that sends shivers down Harvey's spine, his cock finding that sweet, soft spot inside of his husband Harvey, causing him to squirm in pleasure. Tears of raw ecstasy had streamed down Harvey's face as he begged for his husband m/n to let him finish, after hours of being absolutely lost in the intoxication of their love-making, M/n could only chuckled in response to Harvey, his hips grinding against Harvey's hips, sending waves of pleasure through both their bodies. With a gentle soft sweet touch, m/n's hand moved from Harvey's thigh to his throbbing cock, Each stroke m/n’s hand made had only brought Harvey closer to the edge, Harvey's need growing with each passing moment this kept going on. M/n smeared the pre-cum over the head of Harvey's cock, his thumb pressing down on the sensitive tip, sending shivers of pleasure through Harvey's body, yet the sensation of m/n's thumb pressing against the head of his cock sends Harvey into a absolutely frenzy, his hips bucking in absolute desperation, as m/n presses Harvey back onto the bed, then pulls out of him only to thrust back in deeper than before, Harvey's cries had reach a fever pitch. He can feel himself being so close on the edge of release, but his husband denies him, prolonging the torture with each thrust, m/n worships Harvey with soft whispers of love and adoration to his husband, his movements slow and deliberate now, drawing out Harvey's torment. His hand strokes Harvey's cock with skill, his lips trailing tender lovingly kisses along Harvey's skin, their bodies move in absolute perfect synchrony, slowly driving Harvey to the brink of madness as he begged and pleaded for release, the overwhelming desire courses through Harvey's veins is matched only by the intensity of m/n's thrusting, Harvey's pitched cries and whines echoes through the room loudly, M/n finally letting Harvey reach his release as he started thrusting faster and deeper, his cock pressed deep against the sweet spot spot inside of Harvey, causing Harvey to hold tightly onto the bed as he moaned loudly, cum now being on his abdomen as M/n kept pumping his husband's pulsing cock, completely fucking Harvey out of his Ecstasy state, Harvey's soft moans kept slipping from his lips as he soon fell exhausted, while M/n took care of Harvey right after releasing inside of his husband.

Aftercare omg

Shortly after Harvey and his husband M/n completed their intimate time together, M/n lovingly tended to his husband's every need. He carefully cleaned Harvey up, ensuring he was comfortable as he guided him to the bathroom, assisted him in drinking water, and then drew a warm bath for them both with deep love and tender care, M/n washed his husband, showering him with kisses and sweet words of admiration and love, as he lovingly attended to Harvey making sure he was comfortable, M/n neglected his own needs just for his husband's, soon, drying himself off hastily as he focused on ensuring Harvey's comfort right after he lovingly was drying Harvey off with care and time, after the bath, M/n gently carried Harvey to the bedroom once again, dressing them both in cozy clothes before settling Harvey on the sofa for a moment, M/n then changed the bedding, preparing a fresh, welcoming space for them to rest. With new pillows, sheets, and blankets, the bed became a haven of softness and comfort for them now while tenderly lifting his weary husband into the soft comforting bed, M/n turned off the lamp and nestled beside him, As Harvey drifted off to sleep, safe and loved in his husband's arms, M/n whispered sweet words of love and adoration, holding him close as they both drifted off to the peaceful sleep

GOOD FUCKING NIGHT HOLY SHIT I AM GLAD IT DID NOT FUCKING DISAPPEAR AFTER I TRIED POSTING THE FIRST ONE WITHOUT SAVING THE NSFW, AFTERCARE AND SOME OF THE STUFF I ADDED TO THE MAIN THING.

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Hi, it’s me again.

Could you do 9 & 17 with Dwayne? Maybe the reader was raised by vampire hunters but they don’t like violence so they spend all their life researching instead of training to fight vampires? Just a suggestion you have all the creative liberties

9. Why are you reading at the boardwalk?

17. I did everything you asked, and still you talk to me as if I'm nothing!

Ooh I love this idea!!! Thank you so much for requesting - I really hope you like this!

-------------------------------

"There are vampires in this town. We need to handle quickly, before they know we're here."

My father stood at the front of the table and bowed down over a map of Santa Carla. My mother was washing the wooden stakes with holy water, and my sister was busy practising her fighting moves. I sighed, curled up in the chair by the window.

"Why can't we just let them be?"

"They kill people."

"Isn't hunting them down also killing people?" I asked, but the second I did I knew I went to far.

"You listen to me, child!" My father stomped towards me, grabbing my chin. "You're a part of this family, and we are destined to protect the world from vampires. We've allowed you to stay behind because you refuse to fight, but I will hear none of this nonsense!"

"But-"

"These creatures are evil, demons that poison the world. And if you do not stand with us, then you're against us. You're just as bad as them."

I stood from my chair, trembling with anger. "How dare you?! I did everything you asked, and still you talk to me as if I am nothing! Why can't you just accept that I don't consider vampires a threat? Why must you kill them?" In the past year, I had researched everything I could, from behaviours to living situations - and I could only draw one conclusion out of all of it. Vampires weren't worse than humans. In fact, humans were more vicious killers than they were. Humans kill so many, not just people but also animals - simply for their pleasure (in the case of animals) or because it is expected from them in situations of war. But vampires, as horrible as they are, only kill because they need to in order to survive. And if they find a way for themselves to enjoy the killing, to make it bearable for them? Is that truly that bad? Does it truly make them worse than humans? I didn't think so.

My father turned to me, his stare turned ice cold. "Matthew -" my mother tried to calm him down, but he pushed her away. My sister had left the room, probably not willing to hear the same old argument again.

"You lost your brother because of those monsters. Or have you forgotten that?"

I glared at him. "Those killers have been dealt with."

"Exactly. And that's what we need to do here."

"But they didn't hurt us!"

"Get out!" My father now growled, and without looking back, I ran. I grabbed my bag, ran out of the house, and didn't stop running until I saw people.

I stopped to catch my breath, closing my eyes as I tried to fight tears. I missed my brother a lot, but it didn't justify the slaying of vampires. It didn't. It wasn't right, and it pained me more than I liked to admit that my family couldn't see that.

I entered the boardwalk, finding a way through the crowds. In the bag I'd taken was one of my favourite books, and I knew that I needed to read right now. I needed to clear my head and get away from the trouble at home. I didn't like the idea of reading on the sand, to afraid the sand would get stuck between the pages and damage the book. So, I walked around looking for a better spot.

I sighed as I found an empty bench at the boardwalk, a bright streetlantern right above it. It was a perfect spot to read. As I sat down, curling my legs up beneath me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness wash over me. If they could only just accept me for who I was, and accept that I would never be like them...

I opened my book, and before I knew it, I was engulfed in the story. The laughter of the people on the boardwalk disappeared into the far background of my mind. The movements of the crowds disappeared from my sight. It was just me and my book. I had read it many a time before, every single time turning back to it. If the count cared so much for Mina, so much that in the end, he begged her to kill him so she could be free - then he wasn't truly evil, was he?

"Been a long time since I've seen anyone with that book."

I jumped, startled by the voice in front of me. I looked up and saw a handsome man looking at me.

"It's one of my favourites."

He smiled as he sat down next to me. "Why are you reading at the boardwalk?"

"It's more quiet here," I said with a soft smile. "Here I can get lost in the story, but at home..." I shook my head. "It's easier to read here."

"I'm Dwayne."

I gave him my name, finding myself enjoying his presence. There was something about him. We talked for hours. About the book I was reading now, about books we both had read - and by the time the boardwalk closed, I found myself considering him a close acquaintance.

"Do you want to meet again sometime?" I asked him, feeling more shyly than I had anticipated.

"How about we go out for dinner tomorrow? I'll meet you at the boardwalk at eight."

I smiled, nodding. "Sounds good. I'll see you then!"

Dwayne drove off, feeling contemplated. He knew that they were a member of a family of hunters, but nothing about them gave him any warning signs. In everything they'd talked about that evening, they had seem very positive towards vampires. No, they weren't a threat, he decided. Maybe even an asset if push came to shove. The question was, would that stay that way when they realised that they were destined to be a vampire themselves?

Part 2

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XVI.

GIF by javier-pena

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Who doesn't fuck on the first date?

WORD COUNT: ~15.8k (sorry not sorry; I had a lot to say)

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: smut, making out, a lot of hair pulling bc it's my kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, a soft and nervous!javi, but also authoritative!javi, half assed and lightly researched stargazing, gun mention, very brief crime/medical talk, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, other things that i'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: yeah this one's a long one everyone but idgaf i was twirling my hair and blushing the entire time i wrote this!! we all know what we've gotten ourselves into, okay?!?! mwah love you all hope you enjoy. BON APÉTIT!! <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3 [ song inspooo ]

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Paloma’s nails drum restlessly against the wooden armrest of the chair, each tap echoing her impatience. The stale air is stifling, saturated with the antiseptic scent that clings to this place. She bites her lip, eyes darting to the mirrored wall where she knows her father stands unseen, observing.

It’s not like she’s in trouble or anything— just standard procedure to get her statement from the other night.

Thankfully, nothing else happened after she’d been dropped off at home. She staked out at the window in her bedroom until the deputy assigned to keep watch arrived. Only then did she scrub off all the blood and dirt in the shower, locking herself in her room and clutching the plush snake Javi had won for her at the fair to her chest until she eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

It’s been three days since the incident and she’s barely seen her father or Javier. They’ve had their hands full dealing with the girl at the hospital and managing the newfound attention gained from the attack.

The larger towns in the surrounding areas are getting curious about what’s happening in this remote corner of Texas.

The sheriff had been very adamant about not conducting her questioning himself. “It wouldn’t be right,” he had said, “Conflict of interest.” Instead, he sent in Javier. As if that was any better.

The door opens with a creak and he steps in, his uniformed presence both familiar and attractively official… it has her squirming in her seat. His dark eyes meet hers for a brief, charged moment before he breaks the gaze, closing the door behind him.

They have to act professional, hiding the fact that they were together when she found the girl. But damn, has she missed him and has he missed her. It’s only been three days.

“Miss Leighton,” He greets, his voice monotonous, but she can hear the undercurrent of tenderness, how he naturally reacts to her. He takes a seat at the opposite side of the table, setting a folder between them. “Thanks for comin’ in. Just need to ask you a few questions about what happened on the night of the fourth.”

She nods, fingers twisting together in her lap. “S’no problem. I just wanna help as best as I can.”

He clears his throat, opening the folder and pulling out a sheet of paper, glancing briefly at the mirror before continuing. “Start from the beginning. What were you doing out there?”

“I was out for a walk,” she begins, telling him something he already knows. “Needed a break from all the noise of the party. That’s when I heard somethin’— wheezin’ and groanin’ comin’ from behind a tree.”

He scribbles lazily on the paper, his face impassive. Anything to keep up appearances. “What did you do after that?”

“I walked towards the sound,” her voice trembles slightly at the memory, and this has her father huffing from the other side of the mirror. “That’s when I saw her lyin’ there on the ground. She was... she was hurt real bad.”

“Was anyone else there when you found her?”

Her heart stutters. “No. I didn’t see anyone else,” it’s not a lie, technically.

Her eyes fall down to his fingers as he writes. The slight tension in his knuckles and rhythmic flexing of his tendons, veins that prominently run along the back of his hand, the subtle grip he has on the pen. Paloma knows this isn’t the time to get all worked up, yet she can’t help it. He makes the simplest things look so irresistibly attractive.

“And then you called for help?” he snaps her out of the trancelike state she’d honed in on while watching him write. His lips twitch as he suppresses a smirk at the sight of the faint flush over her cheeks.

She clears her throat before answering, “Yes, I sought out the deputy sheriff for help.” Paloma doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the feeling of warm blood coating her fingers as she desperately tried to put pressure on the girl’s wounds. “I tried to keep her awake, to talk to her, but she was barely conscious. She just... she looked so scared. I ain’t ever seen anythin’ like it.”

Her father’s stare is heavy and so damn palpable. Watching every move, listening to every word. This situation is as difficult for him as it is for her.

Javier nods, remaining professional, making a final note before pulling out another few sheets of lined papers and sliding them over to her, along with his pen. “Thank you, Miss. Leighton. You’ve been very helpful. If you could just write everything in your own words, that’d be great. No detail is too small.”

Every time he addresses her as Miss Leighton in that authoritative tone of his, it makes her feel coy despite her thoughts being anything but bashful. “Okay… Is that all?” She reaches for the materials, clicking the pen and beginning to write down her recollections.

“For now,” he stands, “But we might have more questions later.”

As he walks towards the door, she lets her eyes rake over the expanse of his back, the uniform shirt shifting with each movement and clinging to his figure. It pulls taut at his shoulders and she wants to reach out and touch him, to find solace in his presence, ask for an update on the girl. But the current audience doesn’t allow for that, so she’ll just have to wait until they’re alone again.

He turns and gives her a brief, reassuring smile before exiting the room, leaving her flustered by doing absolutely nothing.

“Followin’ noises out in the middle of the woods, the hell is wrong with her.” Is what Javi is greeted to once he joins the sheriff on the other side of the mirror. The older man looks exasperated by his daughter’s sparse testimony.

“Out there all by herself. Can’t ever just stay put. Had she been there at the wrong time, had somethin’ happened to her...” his hands curl into fists, and Javier decides to interject before he gets too worked up and blows up on her in front of the entire department.

“But nothing did, and now we’ve got a survivor who potentially saw the assailant and can give us something to go off of.”

Romeo exhales heavily, running his hand down his face then rubbing his jaw. “S’just so damn hard for me not to get like this when she’s involved. M’already stressin’ ‘bout this girl not wakin’ up and all the other shit… ‘n now she’s caught up in it. I feel like this damn thing is gonna be the death’a me.”

Javi’s eyes flicker over to her. She sits focused on writing her statement, long hair tucked behind her ear, unaware of how she’s driving her dad up the fucking wall.

“Her statement isn’t of much use, anyway. She didn’t see anything helpful, so there’s no need for her to stay involved.”

“Good.” There’s a brief pause, a contemplative silence, before Romeo excuses himself to get prepared for an important meeting to coordinate their first official press conference to address the murders.

They’ve been holding off on it since each victim came from a different area, which in turn came with an influx of differing information. But after working out details from the occult aspect of the investigation and getting law enforcement from each town on board, they collectively decided to let Sheriff Romeo Leighton and Deputy Sheriff Javier Peña be the ones to take it publicly. 

The press conference is a crucial step forward, a chance to rally the communities and potentially even bring more information out of the woodwork. They’re in the process of setting up an anonymous tip line, hoping to encourage any reluctant witnesses to come forward.

Javier understands that this is part of the job, yet he can’t help but feel uneasy about his name circulating the news again. He knows the accolades attached to his career, the reasons people recognize him. It’s why he couldn’t bear staying in Laredo.

She finishes writing everything down, her hand cramping a little towards the end. Minutes drag by, the annoying hum of the fluorescents filling the room, before the door opens again and Javier reappears. Her heart flutters, a small smile on her lips. “I think I got it all written down.” She slides the papers over, and he silently puts the sheets into the folder.

“You workin’ today?” He asks casually. Her eyes flit over to the mirror. “Don’t worry. He’s in his office.”

The tension leaves her shoulders and she slouches slightly. “Yeah. Right after this, actually.” She brings her wrist up to check the time. She’s set to be there in twenty minutes. 

“What time do you take your lunch?” Javi leans forward on the table, bracing his large hands on its edge, causing his arms to flex as he towers over her. She swallows back a small moan; he just looks so sexy in his uniform, mustache trimmed, jaw sharp, dark brown hair combed to the side yet clearly mussed from running his fingers through it.

“One,” she breathes out, looking up at him through her lashes, wetting her lips.

“I’ll see you at one. I’ll pull up ‘round back.” He rasps his knuckles along the table’s surface before taking the file into his hands. “Other than that, you’re free to go, Miss Leighton.” Back to being professional, yet she catches his flirty lilt.

“Thank you, officer,” she quips back, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Their repartee is a reminder that even in the midst of all this chaos, there are moments of sweetness. She looks forward to seeing him on her break, definitely attracted to how he just… made the plans without question.

He holds the door open for her, and she purposefully brushes against him while walking past. The contact is electric, brief, but tantalizing. He exhales through his nose, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re such a tease,” Javi mutters, amusement lacing his tone.

She glances back over her shoulder and winks, “Just givin’ you somethin’ to look forward to later.”

His gaze follows her as she walks away, the sway of her hips not lost on him. 

They’re nestled in a back alleyway between two abandoned buildings, remnants of an old bank and a long-forgotten pharmacy, not far from the library. She’s perched up on his lap, lips desperately chasing his, the lunch she had packed for the day left in the front seat.

It’s no surprise they find themselves here, their kisses frantic and heated, his hands resting respectfully on her waist, even though he aches to let them roam along her curves.

One too many flirtatious jokes, a few lingering gazes, and Paloma giving him her bedroom eyes were all it took for Javier to usher her into the backseat of his police cruiser, ready to accept whatever she is willing to give him.

After all, she calls the shots— deciding how far they go. She takes what she needs, and he, attuned to her desires, follows her lead.

“The lost art of just kissin’,” she sighs out once she pulls away, placing a sweet kiss to the faint scar on his nose. The tips of her acrylic nails scratch softly along his scalp, and he lets out a shaky breath, fingers digging into her hips.

“Got me feelin’ like I’m seventeen again, nena.”

She giggles softly. “Oh c’mon Javi, we both know you were doin’ a whole lot more than just kissin’ at seventeen.”

“Weren’t you?” He teases, leaning in to brush his lips against her jaw. Her head rolls back onto her shoulder, the scratchiness from his mustache tickling her skin.

“I plead the fifth.”

Their lips connect again, her tongue licking into his mouth. He grunts at the feeling of it intertwined with his own.

She’s so addicting, her kisses more intoxicating than any vice he’s ever known. Purer than the finest cocaine, more potent than the strongest weed strain, a greater buzz than the nicotine. He could lose himself for hours in the feel of her soft, plump lips and the warmth of her body pressed against his.

It’s a slow, sensual dance of tongues and lips, saliva and sweat. Each touch needier than the last, her taste imprinting itself on his memory. His hands roam up and down her sides, feeling the gentle curve of her waist and the softness of her skin through the fabric of her dress. 

“You, sweetheart, have the sweetest lip gloss I’ve ever tasted,” he murmurs when they break to catch their breaths, kissing the corner of her mouth.

His expression is absolutely blissed-out, lips swollen from her playful bites, hair tousled where her fingers tugged, and hazelnut eyes darkened with pure lust. She feels a rush of heat flash through her entirely, every inch of her skin tingling with a craving that matches his.

“S’a honey balm from the Miller’s down at the farmers market. Got it in the strawberry flavor,” she smiles, pursing her lips and smacking them together playfully.

Strawberries and honey. He’s definitely in love.

“Gotta get you more of that. Quickly.” He squeezes her hips again, and she moves her fingers from his hair, trailing down to grab his wrists, bringing his hands to rest on her rear over the skirt of her sundress.

“You can touch me, Javi. I ain’t gonna bite.”

“But I might. I’m holdin’ back here, baby.” Despite his words, he takes the supple skin of her ass into his big hands and kneads gently. Oh, it feels so good, she can’t help but rock against his half hard erection, both of them sighing out in unison.

“Oooh, maybe you’re right. Tryin’ to hold out for as long as I can,” her movements slow to a stop, a teasing smirk on her lips when she feels the twitch beneath his uniform pants.

“Take your time. It’s not like you’re drivin’ me crazy over here,” his voice drops to a hoarse whisper, a little raspy from the cigarette he’d just smoked and how breathless her kisses have left him. He frees one hand to bring hers up to his lips, kissing her knuckles and nipping gently at her fingertips.

“That’s like, the whole point,” her breath falters as his lips leave a trail of kisses, ending at the pulse point on her wrist where he softly bites.

She gasps his name out, his tongue soothing the spot he’s bitten.

“Perdóname, querida. You’re just so soft and taste so sweet,” his voice is still low, eyes sparkling with eagerness, it has her thighs twitching around his hips.

“Heard you got a show on Friday...” he begins, lips still brushing against her wrist, utterly captivated by her.

“Mhm, goin’ to rehearse with the band after my shift,” her fingertip traces up the strong line of his jaw, softly pinching at his ear lobe affectionately.

Such an innocent touch, so softhearted on her part and he genuinely feels like he’s on cloud nine. Javi drops her wrist from his lips, now shifting to play with her hair. He revels in its silky softness between his fingers and how right it feels to have her on his lap. “How’s your music going?”

“A lot better than it was. Had a slow start but I’ve been workin’ on things again.” She’s gone back to her hobby after neglecting it. The support from her bandmates, who hadn’t totally bailed after her little impromptu break, has been a tremendous relief.

“And when do I get to hear them?”

She snorts softly, shaking her head. “Whenever they’re ready to be heard.”

“Well, that just doesn’t seem fair,” he protests, lightly tugging on her hair.

“You ain’t entitled to my art. Such a man sometimes,” A spark of arousal flares in her core at the pull to her scalp. If he gets her any more wet, she’s certain it’ll seep through her flimsy underwear, staining the crotch of his khaki work pants.

Have fun explaining that to the sheriff.

He gives her an annoyed look which has a smug smile ghosting over her lips. He can be so sassy sometimes.

“So you’ve got a show Friday...” he begins again, curious hands tracing down the length of her body, eliciting a soft keen from her.

“Uh huh...”

“And the bar’s closed Saturday for a private event...” His touch shifts to the outside of her thighs, gently bunching up the frilly skirt, fingers grazing the newly exposed skin.

“Right...” She’s only half-listening, lost in the distracting sensation of his hands on her, each caress sending sparks of pleasure straight to her clit. He seems to know exactly where to apply pressure, how to grasp her just right.

“Come over,” he mutters, his invitation now sending her heart racing.

“So forward, Javi. At least take a girl out first.”

“It’s not like that... but it can be like that if that’s what you want,” he replies with a lopsided grin, eyes gleaming with affection. “I do want to do something nice for you, baby.”

She tilts her head, studying his handsome features with admiration. Kristy was right, he definitely resembles the Hollywood cowboys.

“So, like a date?” Paloma needs to hear him say it, her thumb now smoothing over his mustache.

It feels oddly adolescent to him, hearing it put that way, but he nods, squeezing her thighs gently. “Yeah, a date.” Javier tilts his head to kiss the pad of her thumb.

Her smile widens and she leans in to press their lips together. “I’m taking that as a yes?” his words are muffled against her eager mouth.

“Si, Javi. Now stop talkin’,” she groans out, their lips fervently meeting again.

Given the green light to touch her, his hands roam freely; from her thighs, to her ass, to her waist— he can’t get enough. She arches her back, encouraging him to keep going.

He hesitates when his hand hovers over her chest, unsure if she wants for him to get handsy there.

Sensing his need for her approval, Paloma guides his large palm to press against her breast. A low moan escapes his lips as he feels the plushness, fingers sinking into her skin and mouth swallowing her gasp.

He fondles the flesh gently, thumb brushing over the stiffened peak of her nipple that pokes through the thin fabric. “No bra, chiquita?” He pants against her lips when she pulls back, her eyes fluttering close as he continues to toy with her.

“S’too hot out to wear a bra,” she whines pathetically when he pinches, biting her lower lip.

“Hmm...” He moves to get a better look at her. A sultry expression of pleasure gracing her features. “Is it too hot for panties?” The hand on her thigh starts to inch inward, testing boundaries, and her eyes snap open, meeting his.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teases, planting another kiss on his nose then gently guiding both of his hands back to their original place on her hips.

His lips form into a playful pout, and she can’t resist pinching his cheeks. “So, Saturday night, your place. What do I need to wear ‘n what time do I need to show up?”

“A pretty dress like this is just fine,” he answers, eyes scanning her figure appreciatively, noting the delicate floral pattern of the little number she’s wearing now. “Eight sound good?”

“Sounds just right to me, cowboy.”

Parting from him takes so much willpower, but she manages, glancing at the time and realizing she barely has ten minutes to fix her slightly disheveled appearance before returning to work. Time had flown by entirely too fast, though it always tends to whenever she’s with him.

Damn, now she’ll have to sneakily eat her lunch through the afternoon.

He pulls up to the back entrance of the library, away from the bustling main street and prying eyes. She leans over the console, her lips seeking his for a goodbye kiss. He doesn’t let her go so easily, bringing the hand that isn’t on the steering wheel up to cup her face.

“M’gonna be late, Javi,” she utters against his lips, and he grunts softly before reluctantly letting her go.

Kissing her is all he’s ever wanted to do. The number of times he’s gotten himself off solely by imagining the feel of her mouth on his... And now that he’s been granted the absolute fucking blessing of actually experiencing it, he can’t help but be a little gluttonous. Her taste, her touch, her softness—it’s all so inebriating.

“Fine, nena. I’ll let you go. I’m gonna try to show up for you Friday, but with everything we got going on, I dunno if I’ll make it.”

She almost asks for an update, which she had meant to do over her break until they got preoccupied, but decides against it. Her finger traces the tip of his bushy eyebrow. “No worries, handsome. I get you all to myself on Saturday.”

They both sport matching smiles before she reaches for the handle and pushes the door open. Paloma pauses for a brief second, a mischievous smile on her face as she hikes her dress up inconspicuously while getting out of the car, giving him a good look at the baby blue lace underwear she’s wearing.

“Guess it ain’t too hot to forgo these. Have a good day, officer.”

His breath catches, desire surging through him. He almost reaches out to pull her back in, to drive back to that alley and spread her out on the backseat with his tongue buried deep inside her, but she slams the door in his face before he can properly react.

He watches her, eyes narrowed behind tinted aviators, as she skips away, teasing him for the second time today.

When she disappears into the building, he leans back in his seat, savoring the lingering taste of her on his lips and the promise of a date. He’s really got to get his shit together.

She very diligently applies her mascara, carefully brushing each lash to avoid any smudges on her face.

Her date with Javier is in less than an hour, and she has no idea what to expect.

Anticipation courses through her veins at finally being able to experience this side of him. Tonight feels like a step towards something promising.

It really seems like he’s putting in genuine effort to prove himself to her. That’s all she wanted, really, was the effort.

Obviously, she never expected him to change overnight, but knowing he’s taking those steps towards redemption is enough to rekindle some of the trust she once had in him.

As she rubs her lips together after applying more of the strawberry honey balm, she thinks of his reaction from earlier in the week. His praise of the sweet flavor makes her skip the lipstick and gloss entirely.

Paloma stands in front of the full-length mirror, contemplating her outfit for the dozenth time in the last hour. Different articles of clothing litter the floor of her room, each one discarded in pursuit of the ‘perfect’ look.

If she could change one thing about herself, it would be the ability to get ready without making such a fucking mess.

She’s nervous. Excited too, but nervous nevertheless. She wants to look effortlessly beautiful, like she hadn’t tried too hard. Javier had told her that a simple sundress would be fine, but she knows that most men are absolutely clueless when it comes to women’s dress codes.

After much deliberation, she settles on a sage green dress that falls just above her knees. It’s modest yet romantic, hugging her curves and accentuating her breasts with its bustier-style top. The color complements her skin tone, and she can’t help but smile at her reflection as she straps on her wedged heels, admiring how they elongate her legs.

As if she hadn’t spent what felt like hours in the bath, shaving, waxing, and plucking until her skin was as smooth as her beloved angel cake. Her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders and her makeup is light—enhancing her features without being too over the top.

Taking a deep breath, she gives herself a final once-over.

She looks pretty, the illusion of effortless beauty rightfully achieved. Her heart flutters at the thought of him, of the way his brown eyes will light up when he sees her.

Does she have the intention of fucking him tonight? Absolutely, even though part of her feels she should make him suffer just a little longer. But damn, is it difficult— especially if he swoons her any more… and given how much of a casanova he is, that won’t be very hard of him to do.

Then again, anything could happen. They might end up so wrapped up in each other that they don’t even make the first step into falling into bed…

Who is she kidding? They’re both equally insatiable, and if that make out session in his cruiser was any indication of what’s to come, she’ll just let it fucking be.

Realizing that her neck looks a little bare, she rummages through her jewelry box for the perfect accessory. Cursing under her breath when she can’t find it, she spritzes one final dose of her favorite perfume before making her way downstairs in search of her purse. She’s certain her necklace is in there.

She descends the staircase, putting her earrings in, her heels clicking softly on the polished wood.

“Where you goin’ all dressed up?” her father questions from his spot on the couch, a baseball game playing on the television.

“Out for dinner and a movie. You seen my purse?” She paces through the living room with no luck, now disappearing into the kitchen.

Romeo stands with a grunt, muting the TV as he walks over to the hallway between the two open spaces. “S’hanging on the hook by the door… you goin’ alone?”

She passes him as he asks, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight of her bag and pulling it off the hook, digging through it until she finds what she’s looking for.

Her delicate cross necklace. She’s had this since she was a little girl, and while she struggles with her faith, the piece of jewelry does hold sentimental value in the same way her mother’s pendant does.

“No. I’m goin’ on a date,” Paloma answers truthfully yet nonchalantly, holding up the necklace to her father. “Mind puttin’ it on?” She turns her back to him, gathering her hair so he’s able to loop it around her neck.

“A date?” The words leave a bitter taste on his tongue, his lips turning downward as he scowls. “With who?” Romeo’s hands are surprisingly gentle as he fastens the clasp, a contrast to his gruff demeanor.  

“With a guy. S’usually how these things work.” She has to tread carefully here, not wanting to reveal that she’s actually going out with Javier. That conversation will happen whenever the time is right, as Javi had reassured her, so she considers this as warming him up to it so he isn’t as pissed when he inevitably finds out.

‘Cause he will be upset, but he’ll also get over it. His first reaction to anything has always been anger.

She can feel the weight of his scrutiny, his protective instincts kicking in full force.

“Yeah, but what guy? And how long have you been in cahoots with this prick?” She turns to face him, not hiding the amused look on her face.

“In cahoots,” she repeats, snorting out a laugh. “You are such an old man.”

“Paloma…” he begins, his tone more stern, and she sighs.

“Someone I met at the barbecue after you left. It’s nothin’ serious,” she lies. “S’why I’m goin’ on this date. Seein’ if it’s somethin’ worth pursuin’ or if it’s just a fluke.”

He stares at her for a good, long minute. “Dunno how I feel about lettin’ you go out with some asshole you barely know. And what type of man has his lady drive to him and not come pick her up himself? He scared’a me or somethin’?”

Yes! she wants to shout. Literally any date she’s ever gone out with has been put off by her father. Javier included, which is a little comical to her, but she understands. He can be very intense when he wants to be. Bless his heart.

“Well, he’s not exactly terrified,” she explains, trying to sound casual. “But he respects you, ‘n he knows how much you mean to me. He didn’t want to overstep. I was the one who suggested it.”

Romeo’s eyes narrow, assessing her words. With the revelation of a killer going around romancing the young girls in town and filling their heads with blasphemous ideologies, the last thing he wants to hear is that his daughter is going out with a stranger. 

“I don’t like this one bit. Can’t risk somethin’ happenin’ to you ‘cause some asshole ain’t got the guts to face me.”

“Daddy,” she begins, “I understand, I really do. ‘Specially after what happened…” Paloma trails off, insinuating the events of that night. They haven’t talked about it directly, only skirting around the details of when she went in to give her statement.

It’s the signature Leighton pattern— issues left untouched until they boil over in an argument.

It’s not like he had anything new to say, anyways. Just his typical, fatherly spiel that she's heard too many times to count. A dash of sexism thrown in there to drive his point home.

“However,” she straightens her posture, meeting his gaze with determination, “You’ve taught me everythin’ I need to know ‘bout defendin’ myself. I‘ve got the pepper spray ‘n taser you got me right here.” She opens her bag, pulling out the two items for him to see.

Romeo just glares at her, his jaw tight with worry.

“And I’ve got the other set in my car, a baseball bat in the trunk, and the gun in the glovebox. I know how to bust out of zip ties and land a mean uppercut. Break a nose. Go for the family jewels.” She continues, her voice steady. She needs for him to understand that she’s prepared, that she’s taken all his lessons to heart.

Paloma knows she won’t need any of this tonight, considering she’s going to be with Javier. Still, she wants her father to know that he’s taught her well.

“I’ll be home by midnight… if it makes you feel any better, I can call you halfway through to check in.”

She searches his eyes, seeing the conflict there. No matter what he says, she’s going out tonight. That much is certain.

“Fine,” he relents with a firm nod. “But the second anything feels off, sweetheart, you better—”

“I will.” She cuts him off, not needing to hear the rest. She knows. “Now, I don’t wanna run late, Daddy. I’ll see you later.”

He watches her leave after she pecks his cheek, his expression apprehensive. He’ll be waiting up for her to get home, porch light on, and probably a drink in hand.

Javier is nervously pacing the weathered porch of his trailer home, fist gripping a bouquet of flowers he picked up at the farmers market. He’d never been there before, but after she mentioned that’s where she got her favorite lip balm, his curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to see what else they had, hoping to find something special for their date.

When he spotted the flower stand, he knew he had to pick something out for her. Flowers on a first date is a timeless tradition he must abide by. 

Honestly, he’d give her flowers every day just to see the way her eyes light up and the corners of her lips curl into that beautiful smile that gets him every time.

The thing is, though, Javi was so nervous that he started overthinking every little thing. He stood in front of the merchant for what felt like an eternity, not knowing what kind of flowers to get her. Roses were romantic but seemed too predictable. Yet, he knew she’s a hopeless romantic and a sucker for all the cheesy gestures, so those would have been the obvious choice.

But he didn’t want to go for just obvious. He wanted something that would surprise her, something that would show he put thought into this.

He sees the headlights of her car coming down the road and swallows thickly, literally shaking off his nerves. When she’s fully pulled in and parked, he wastes no time walking over to her, opening the door before she even gets to touch the handle.

“There's a valet here? So fancy already. Livin’ like the city folks,” Paloma teases, stepping out of the car, and he swears she’s never looked more beautiful.

The evening light bathes her in a soft, golden glow, highlighting her features in the most enchanting way. His eyes trace every inch of her form with unabashed admiration, lingering on the swell of her tits and the way the dress hugs her figure so perfectly.

Her legs look oh so inviting in the wedges she’s wearing, amplifying his temptation to ravish her before their meal.

“These are for you,” he says before he acts on his carnal impulse, revealing the bouquet from behind his back. Her eyes widen, and a giant grin spreads across her face.

“Javi, oh my god, did you just get every flower?” she laughs, absolutely enamored by the peculiar cluster currently in her arms.

Yeah, he had been so indecisive about what to get her that he just told the merchant to give him a little bit of everything. The florist, already amused by Javier’s indecisiveness, didn’t interject. If anything, he somehow made the clashing colors and patterns look like a beautiful, organized mess.

She loves it. It reflects them so perfectly. Each bloom in the bouquet seemed to tell a story, a perfect reflection of their own blossoming relationship.

Javier watches as she brings the flowers up to her face, inhaling deeply. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, savoring the fragrance, and when she opens them again, there’s a softness in her gaze that makes his heart race.

He takes a mental photo of her like this. So mesmeric. He never wants to forget it.

“Couldn’t decide on which to get, so I thought, why not all of ‘em… you like it?” He’s so adorable when he gets a little shy, a small frown on his face.

She tears her gaze from inspecting the flowers to look at him, and she swears her entire existence is reduced to a puddle on the ground with the look he’s giving her.

“I fuckin’ love it, cowboy. Makes me feel like I’m in my garden.” Her lips spread into a toothy grin. “So sweet. This is perfect.”

This is perfect. Those words alone are enough to put him at ease. He feels a wave of relief wash over him, the anxiety he’d been harboring slowly dissolving into warmth just from three little words.

“Let’s head inside.” He escorts her up the porch, his hand resting on her lower back the entire time, electricity building at the bottom of her spine.

Javier’s place looks different than the last time she was here. Cozier, more lived-in. She notices the additions: some college memorabilia, paintings she recognizes from the thrift store in town, a few family photos.

It’s neat and carries his scent, though she also catches a whiff of what she assumes to be dinner. The flickering candle on the coffee table adds a clean, inviting aroma. Seems like he took her critique of the space lacking personality seriously.

“Dinner’s almost ready. Make yourself at home,” he tells her, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head before walking toward the small kitchen.

“You cooked a meal?” Paloma questions, partially amused since she knows he rarely ever cooks for himself.

She sets her things down on the entryway table, careful not to smush her flowers, then slowly walks around the living room to get a better look at his new decor.

“Somethin’ like that,” Javier responds, a hint of pride in his voice. Earlier in the week, he had called his father, sharing bits about the new relationship he’s pursuing and asking what the fuck to do.

It’s an odd thing, this unaccustomed nervousness about dating. Javier has had his fair share of women, many mere fleeting sexual encounters, but still— flirting and romancing have always come naturally to him. Now, faced with a mundane dinner with Paloma, he finds the usual confidence in his charm faltering ever so slightly.

He feels like he’s doing both too much yet not enough at the same time.

To say Chucho was surprised was an understatement, and he couldn’t help but get in a few jabs about how he knew his son moving up there was going to be good for him.

“See what happens when you actually listen to your old man?”

His father’s teasing and encouragement had pushed him to step out of his comfort zone and actually try to piece together a decent meal. Nothing spectacular, just chicken baked in the oven with some vegetables. He contemplated getting a bottle of wine, but then landed on that damn root beer and cherry drink she likes so much.

As he moves around the small kitchen, he feels those nerves slowly creeping up on him again. He catches a glimpse of her through the doorway, exploring his living room, her presence making the place feel a little bit more like home.

She trails her fingers over the framed photos, pausing at one of him side by side with an older man. Both of them are posed in front of a wooden fence with what looks like horses behind them. They look so similar, no doubt that’s his daddy. If the matching mustaches weren’t an indication, then the large grins they both wear were a dead giveaway. 

He looks so charming with a genuine smile on his face. Paloma wants to see it on him all the time, even if she does like her grumpy, pouty Javi.

He’s attempting to share his life with her in these small but significant ways. It’s more than she expected, and it fills her with so much affection.

She takes a peek at his small bookshelf, different novels neatly aligned, but it’s the Italian language learning guide that gets her attention. Her brows furrow in curiosity, plucking it from the shelf and thumbing through it. “You learnin’ Italian?” She asks over her shoulder, reading the note inside.

Sorry these took so long. I translated as much as I could. Let me know if I can do anything else for you. Hopefully this helps.

Clearly a woman’s handwriting, but she knows better than to jump to conclusions. 

“Kind of, not really. Needed it for the investigation.” His tone suggests he doesn’t want to elaborate, and she doesn’t press him further, despite her nosiness on wanting to know what aspect of his work required him to know this language specifically.

She thinks of the old man in Louisiana, his cryptic words, outlandish request, then demise. To avoid putting a damper on her mood— she shoves him to the back of her mind and returns the book back to its spot.

Would she ever tell Javier about that night? About how she witnessed a man’s death and then subsequently watched as her ex and his best friend dumped his body into a swamp? Or is it something she’s destined to take to her grave?

She had told August, much like her mother, she would harbor her own secrets now. But with the way things are going with Javier… would she eventually feel comfortable and secure enough to share all that with him?

Paloma wonders if he could handle the weight of it, especially in the context of her mother’s past. A part of her fears that revealing the absurdity of it all might shatter the fragile connection they are re-building.

As she contemplates this, she thinks of the newfound look in Javier’s eyes when he’s with her— tender, understanding, and patient. Could he be the one she finally trusts with everything that weighs heavily on her heart?

The thought is both terrifying and liberating. She imagines his reaction, how his face might contort in shock or, perhaps, how his arms might wrap around her in comfort.

For now, though, she keeps the secrets locked away, buried deep. The path to trust is a slow and winding one.

One step at a time. Just focus on enjoying the night you’ve been looking forward to all summer.

Paloma moves towards the kitchen, watching Javier as he busies himself with pulverizing cherries in a short glass cup. The sight of him so concentrated, fingers stained with the sticky, sweet mess, sends a warm flutter between the apex of her thighs.

“Need any help?” she offers, sidling up to him and eyeing the chaotic counter now faintly stained in red.

He turns to look at her, “No, I got this,” a stubborn reply, from a stubborn man, to a stubborn woman.

She snorts out a chuckle, shaking her head. “Them cherries sure look muddled. Jeez, what’d they do to you?”

“I might have gone a little overboard.”

“Ya think?”

His lips quirk up into a smile, and he brings two of his fingers up to his mouth to suck the sugary syrup off, his gaze not leaving hers.

“Tastes good, wanna try, princesa?” he asks, tone smug and full of himself. It’s so hot.

She nods, speechless, and he dips his fingers into the jar, coating them before bringing them up to her parted lips. His eyes darken, trained on the movement of Paloma’s tongue as she kitten-licks his fingers before taking them into her mouth. Now she doesn’t break eye contact, sucking slowly until she lets go with a wet pop.

“Fuck me.” He mutters, mind completely clouded by her.

“Feed me first,” with a wink she pulls back, and he rolls his tongue over his teeth. 

“Tryin’ to.”

And so, Javier goes through all the motions, pulling the chair out for her to sit in as he plates everything and brings it out to her. The table is arranged with an assortment of candles of different shapes and sizes, more flowers strewn about. It looks charmingly cute and a little quirky, which only makes her like it even more.

She sips from her drink, the tiny bubbles sparkling against her tongue, eyes shamelessly tracing over his built figure as he moves around the room.

One thing she’s always loved about Javier is how he isn’t afraid to wear some color. Tonight is no different. A muted purple top hugs his upper half, paired with dark jeans and boots. The first few buttons are undone, because of course. That’s just part of the outfit at this point.

The shirt looks so good against his brown skin, his collarbones defined and his neck thick. She’s starting to understand why he likes biting so much.

He flicks off the light, leaving them only in the warm glow of the candles and the single lamp in the living room. Sitting across from her, his eyes drink in every detail of her angelic face, accentuated by the flickering candlelight.

“You really cozied the place up. All for me?” she jokes, looking over at him with adoration in her eyes.

“I wanted to make it special,” he replies sincerely, even though he knows she’s just teasing. “You deserve that. You deserve a whole lot more.”

Her heart swells at his words. “I’m likin’ what m’gettin’ so far.”

Everything feels right in this moment. They know they still have things to work through, but right now, they’re exactly where they want to be—surrounded by the quiet comfort of their shared affection.

“If dinner is shit, I’ve got a pizza delivery guy on standby.”

Paloma laughs, shaking her head as she picks up her fork. “Hopefully we don’t have to resort to that, even though I do love a good pepperoni pizza.”

She takes a forkful of the meal he’s prepared, bringing it to her mouth and chewing slowly. Javi watches her intently, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Well?”

“It’s really good.”

His eyes narrow slightly, not entirely convinced. “You’re fuckin’ with me.”

“I’m not!” she insists, bringing a hand to cover her mouth as she talks. To prove her point, she eats another forkful. “Delicious. Compliments to the chef.”

He snorts, taking a bite himself. Not half bad, but he feels like he can improve. “Next time, it’ll be better.”

“Next time?” Her brows raise as she reaches for her cup. “Already plannin’ date number two?”

“Dunno if you’re aware of this, preciosa, but I’m not lettin’ you go anytime soon.”

They share a loving look, her eyes filled with nothing but fondness and want, his with a restless need to please and satisfy her. Sexually, romantically, platonically— all of it.

The conversation flows easily after that, laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses and scraping against plates. She catches him looking at her with an expression that makes her heart skip a beat.

Javier tells her about his father after she asks about the picture on his mantel. As he speaks, she can see the deep respect and admiration he holds for the older man. His eyes soften, voice filled with warmth, revealing just how much his dad means to him.

She wonders if she’ll ever meet this illustrious Chucho Peña. Would he like her? Would he think she’s a good fit for his son? Would he eagerly share embarrassing stories about the hardened ex-DEA agent? Maybe even show her adorable pictures of Javi from his childhood, painting a different, more tender side of the man she’s come to care for so deeply.

He doesn’t mention his mother, and she doesn’t ask. It seems they both share a reluctance to delve into the matriarchs of their families, a mutual understanding that some things are best left unspoken, at least for now.

“Heard about the press conference…” she sees an opening to ask about it in the brief pause that had taken over as they finished dinner.

Javier lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair with a beer bottle in his hand. “Yeah. Goin’ live on Monday. Your dad’s leading it. I’m just there to discuss the other aspect of it.”

Her brows furrow. “Other aspect?”

“The ‘scary religious’ stuff. Got a lot of information from a professor in California that helped us out. She sent me all that shit in there.” He takes a swig of his drink, nodding towards the boxes stacked up in the living room. That explains the Italian guide and the feminine handwriting.

“How… how is she?” Paloma asks about the girl, her voice quieter but filled with concern.

“Stable,” he licks his lips, “Lots of internal bleeding, real bad concussion. Doctors are saying she might not remember everything clearly for a few weeks after she wakes up. The medicine she’s on is only going to make that worse, so who knows if we’ll have anything concrete enough to go on.”

Javier doesn’t want to burden her with work talk, and he doesn’t want to entertain it either since he’s around it all the time, but he recognizes her genuine concern.

She swallows thickly at the update. This is exactly like something out of those true crime segments the news shows late at night. She’s not that surprised, though, considering the girl was on the brink of death when she found her. “That’s terrible. What’s her name? Who is she?”

“We don’t have one. No I.D. on her and she’s been unconscious since they brought her in. We’ve called around trying to see if she matched any missing persons reports with shit luck.”

Paloma’s heart twists. It’s bad enough to be beaten within an inch of your life, but to be unidentified afterward? To not have the comforting presence of a family member or friend by your side while your body recovers and your brain struggles to keep you alive? 

She considers the idea of visiting, maybe bringing some flowers so when she wakes up, she isn’t greeted by the sterile, stuffy smell of the hospital.

“Well, hopefully she recovers soon.” Paloma takes another sip of her drink, chewing on some of the cherries at the bottom.

“Gotta take it in strides,” he grumbles, pushing his chair back to stand and beginning to collect their dirtied dishes.

“Oh, I can—” She starts to rise, but he stops her with a wave of his hand.

“Nu uh, quédate quieta (stay still), muñeca. I got this. How ‘bout you go freshen up and meet me in the backyard when you’re done?” The way he speaks to her with that affectionate yet stern tone makes it impossible for her to refuse.

“Mm, fine. What’s in the backyard?”

“You’ll see. Bathroom’s down the hall.”

Paloma complies, grabbing her purse from the entryway. She applies more lip balm, quickly brushes through her hair, and adds a touch of blush. Staring at her reflection, there’s a radiant smile on her face, her heart content and stomach fluttering.

She joins him outside, where he’s already puffing on a cigarette, and she can’t help but roll her eyes. “Una noche, Javi. Just one without the nicotine,” she slides the door close behind her and steps over to the railing he leans against.

“No can do, cariño. I’m afraid I’m addicted,” Javier replies, blowing the smoke away from her face. His dark eyes check her out, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while he taps off some of the ash. “You look real pretty tonight. That color looks good on you.”

She blushes, thanking him softly and biting her lip, looking away to control the loud thudding in her chest. God, why is it that the simplest compliments are the ones that leave her the most hot and bothered?

“Am I supposed to watch ya smoke all night, or is there a reason we’re out here?” she questions, tilting her head up to look at him as he finishes off the cigarette, flicking it over the railing.

“There’s a reason we’re out here.” He digs into his back pocket and pulls out a stick of gum, unwrapping it then popping it into his mouth, “C’mon.”

Javier takes her hand in his, the warmth and size difference so comforting that she can’t help but squeeze gently as he pulls her off the small porch. Grabbing a flashlight on the way down, he flicks it on to illuminate their path.

The moon is out tonight, but not in her full glory, a crescent shape accompanied by twinkling stars scattered across the night sky.

Paloma notices his truck parked right in the middle of the grassy yard, another object standing beside it but she can’t make out what it is.

“Had I known we were gonna be outside, I woulda skipped out on the heels.” Wobbling as she steps on a rock and almost injures herself, he steadies her with his strong hold, bringing her closer into his side. She gets a good smell of him—smoke, mint, cologne, and just pure, delicious Javier.

“I got you, bebita. Would’ve been a real shame for you not to wear those. Make your legs look so sexy.” That last part is muttered into her ear and her pussy clenches around nothing because of it.

They reach his truck, where two small lanterns are already glowing softly, casting a cool light over the small area. The bed is transformed into a cozy nest, filled with blankets and pillows.

“Wow,” she breathes out, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight. It’s then that she notices the unidentified object standing beside the vehicle. “Is that a telescope?” she asks, moving closer to inspect it.

“Sure is. Called in a favor to the high school,” Javier replies, walking over to retrieve the book he checked out from the library and a map he’d drawn up during his time between the station and working from home.

“What’s it for?” she asks, curiosity piqued.

“Stargazing,” he replies, spreading everything out against the lowered tailgate so he can get a better read of it.

Her brows shoot up in surprise, and she turns on her heel to face him. “Stargazing?” She sees the materials in his possession and can’t help but smile.

“Yeah. Said I’d learn a thing or two for you.”

“And what thing or two did you learn?” Paloma is beyond intrigued, inching closer to him. She sees the various colored tabs poking out from the book, different pages he’s marked as significant. She recognizes his handwriting on the map and, after a little more observation, figures out what it is.

“Did you make a constellation map?” She gasps, bringing her fingers to trace over the precisely drawn lines.

Her reaction is enough to calm his apprehension and he nods, confirming it for her. “Didn’t ever think I’d turn to astronomy for a hobby, but here we are. Esta mierda realmente es interesante.” (This shit is actually interesting)

He works the gum in his mouth, and she’s absolutely smitten. Javier checks the silver watch on his wrist. “We’re right on time, too.” He opens the book to the page he’s memorized by now, passing it over to her and pointing at a cluster of stars. “That’s the first one we’re lookin’ for.”

Her big, brown eyes stare at the photo, and she nods gently. “Okay… what is it?”

“I’ll tell you once we find it.”

They migrate over to the telescope, and he bends slightly to get level with the eyepiece, closing one eye as his fingers adjust the knob to put the glass into focus. She watches him intently, falling more in love with him the longer they’re together.

Because that’s what this is. Love. She knows it, has known it for a long time, even if she didn’t want to admit it. It’s not just a crush or infatuation. She harbors real, fervent emotions for the man before her.

Javier’s lips pull into a large smile once he’s got the constellation in perfect view. “Alright, princesa, come take a look.” He pulls away and motions her to him, she eagerly sidles up to him again.

“Tilt it a little bit north and you’ll see it.” She does as instructed, even though he distracts her with how he’s pressed up behind her, his hands resting on her waist and stroking gently.

The cluster of stars looks so cool, matching the photo he’d shown her to a T.

“¿Qué es, Javi?” she whispers, wishing she could capture the moment on a camera for herself.

Just as she had been watching him before, he watches her now. Her hair falls perfectly over her shoulders, her mouth slightly parted in astonishment. He’d pluck every star from the sky and gift them to her if it meant staying in this picturesque moment forever.

“Columba,” the technical name rolls off his tongue easily, “better known as the dove constellation.”

She pulls back quickly, whipping her head around to face him.

“Thought it was fitting. Just for my little palomita.”

The world stops, it really does, as the gesture fully sinks in, embedding itself in her heart.

She can’t help but think of how this moment parallels that of August’s. How on their first date he had revealed her bloodline connections to something so divine. How he convinced her that she was magic. A savior.

Here, with Javier drawing up maps of the stars and pinpointing ones that remind him of her, she feels much more cherished and special than she ever did with the reality of her mother’s past and the lineage she comes from.

She turns in his embrace, standing on the tips of her toes to plant a kiss on his lips. He hums as he tastes her lip balm, savoring the sweet flavor. “This is so romantic, Javi. Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“Me either, if we’re being honest,” he replies earnestly, his smile unwavering.

They continue their stargazing, with him pointing out other constellations they’re able to see. He even indulges in the little research he’d done about the stories attached to each arrangement. Paloma is absolutely charmed, hanging on to everything he says, excitedly stepping up to the telescope and hunting down the constellations under his guidance.

Now in the bed of his truck, she lays with her head against his chest. The rhythmic pumping of his heart eases her into a serene calmness as they glance up at the sky. Javier gently strokes her hair.

The night embraces the summer sounds of the south: cicadas murmur in the warm air, frogs croak softly in harmony, and fireflies dance with their gentle, glowing lights. Leaves rustle in the subtle breeze while a distant owl’s call adds a haunting touch to the tranquil scene.

He’s never felt this at peace, not with Lorraine, not with Helena. Not with anyone ever. He never thought he’d enjoy the simplicity of a relationship. But here, with her in his arms, he finds himself rethinking that entirely.

She’s perfectly tucked into his side, as gratified as he is. All he wants to do now is take care of her, meet her every need, grant her every wish and more. Gone are the days of pretending this isn’t what he wants, even though part of him still feels like he doesn’t deserve her.

“Guess I can call ya a space cowboy now,” Paloma teases with a gentle laugh, her nose scrunching in that adorable manner he loves to see each time.

“Space cowboy. It’s got a nice ring to it.” His fingers stroke the exposed skin of her arm, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

“Maybe I should get you a sparkly hat and some boots to complete the look,” she jokes.

He chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “Only if you promise to be my space cowgirl.”

“Deal,” her smile widens as she snuggles closer to him.

After a few more moments, Paloma lifts her head slightly, planting a soft kiss on his jawline. “Y’know, I think we’re writin’ our own story up there with the stars tonight.”

Javier smiles, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reaches his eyes. “Yeah? Shit— It’s one hell of a story.”

She shifts to straddle him and he doesn’t complain, letting her soft thighs rest on either side of his waist. Large hands move to settle on her hips, the skirt of her dress hiking up some and he lets his thumb run along her smooth skin.

“So what happens now, space cowboy?” she purrs, voice dripping with suggestion. Her manicured nails dig into his broad shoulders, and he doesn’t miss the way she subtly grinds down on his lap.

“You tell me, nena. Anything you want.” Javier’s cock stirs, not just from her movements but from the sheer, overwhelming need he feels for her.

He’s shown so much restraint, carefully paving over the rocky road of their relationship. But now, the sexual tension between them is stretched taut and ready to snap.

He feels a primal, insatiable hunger taking over him, reminiscent of the lover he was in Colombia.

“Anything?” The loving glint in her eyes is now replaced by a rousing, lustful spark.

“Lo que quieras.” (Whatever you want) His voice drops to a husk, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

She leans in, pressing her lips to his in an impassioned exchange. Her nails dig deeper into his broad shoulders as his hands get bolder, moving around to cup her ass, pulling her closer. It’s a repeat of what happened in his cruiser, but this time, there’s nothing holding either of them back from going all the way.

Paloma is more deliberate with the swivel of her hips now, fully grinding down on him. He drinks in her pretty moans as they fall from her lips, sucking on her bottom lip then running his tongue over her teeth, kissing her with a lewd hunger.

“Want you to touch me, Javi,” she whispers, forehead resting against his. Her fingers move from his shoulders up to the back of his neck until they’re intertwined in his soft, brown curls.

“¿Donde, bebita? Tell me where you want me to touch you.”

They’re all pants and heavy breaths as his lips trail down her jaw to her neck. She struggles to form a coherent thought, overwhelmed by the sensations he’s stirring within her.

“My— oh shit,” Paloma whines as he licks up from her neck to her ear, gently biting down on the lobe. She shivers at the contact, her body curving into his touch.

“Here?” he teases, his breath hot against her skin. His hands roam her body, mapping every curve and dip like he had with the works of art in the sky.

“Everywhere,” her voice trembles with need. “I want you everywhere but m-my pussy, Javi, please touch my pussy.”

Her words shoot straight to his cock, now fully hard beneath the denim. He pulls back slightly to meet her gaze, and despite the wanton passion flowing through both of them, he wants to make sure that she’s okay with going further.

“You sure?”

“Never been more sure in my life.”

That’s all he needs before he’s on her again in a complete frenzy, lips crashing against hers while one hand fists her dress. He realizes she’s not wearing anything underneath and lets out a guttural groan.

“Naughty fucking girl. Knew what you were coming over to get,” he growls.

Her giggle gets lost in her throat when she feels his thick fingers hovering over her clit. She’s so wet, her sticky arousal steadily building over the night, absolutely coating her folds and parts of her inner thigh.

“Dime otra vez lo que quieres. Tell me how bad you fucking want it, palomita,” Javier commands, his breath fanning over her ear.

“N-Need your fingers. Been dreamin’ about ‘em for so long,” she confesses, dripping with desperation. She feels even more of her slick seep out at the warmth emitted from his hovering digits.

“That so?” He cocks his head to the side, enjoying how much of a mess she is over him. Right as she’s getting ready to quip back, Javier presses his middle and index fingers against her sensitive clit, and her hips jerk to chase more of the contact.

“Ohhh…” she whines out, her head falling back as he begins to rub tight circles against her engorged flesh.

“Goddamn baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs, his mouth watering at the feel of her. Javi has a deep affinity for eating pussy, one of the many golden traits he possesses, and he so badly wants to have her straddle his face and do just that.

But he also wants to drag this out, enjoy her in the way he hadn’t the first time they fucked. His fingers work their magic, sliding through her slick folds, teasing her entrance before pushing in slowly, groaning at how she clenches around them.

She yelps at the stretch, but fuck, does it feel amazing. “Fuuuuck, Javi… just like that,” she moans, her hips moving in time with his thrusting fingers. He’s knuckle deep, setting a steady rhythm while his thumb flicks over her clit.

His lips return to her neck, sucking softly yet being mindful of not leaving any marks. Yet. His other hand is on her chest, pulling down the fabric that covers her breasts so that he can feel the warm skin of her tit, how tight her nipple is against his clammy palm.

“Look so pretty like this.” Javi groans against her neck, curling his fingers inside her, finding that sweet spot that makes her cry, her thighs tensing and nails digging into his scalp.

The sound of her squelching pussy is obscene, echoing ever so softly into the night, her pants and his grunts mingling together. “Just like that baby, please keep goin’. F-Feels so good.” His fingers are much thicker and longer than hers, his touch a testament to his skill.

“Can’t wait to taste you. Just know you’re sweet.” He kisses down her neck until he’s got his pouty lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking it into his mouth and grazing it lightly with his teeth.

Paloma shivers at the feeling, beginning to bounce on his fingers, encouraging him to go faster as she feels her orgasm slowly building at the pit of her stomach.

The truck rocks slightly with their movements, faint noises of metal and rubber creaking with how she rides his hand.

Javier senses her urgency, scissoring his fingers inside her cunt and curling them again. His tongue outlines her puffy areola and she whines out.

“Y-Yes, oh god, yes fuck, I’m gonna come.” Her eyes squeeze shut and he groans against her chest, pulling away to look at her, leaving the pebbled flesh coated in his saliva.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Fuck yourself on my fingers.” Blunt nails dig into the skin of her ass, giving her a spank, and the sting from it has her free-falling.

She grinds down onto his sinewy fingers, her grip strong as cum gushes out of her, coating them entirely. Her orgasm rips through her with an intensity that has her tasting colors.

She sobs his name out, and he revels in it, in her and how beautiful she looks falling apart for him.

He can’t wait to get her naked and spread out on his bed.

She goes limp, falling into his chest with his fingers still inside her. Her face is in the crook of his neck, placing soft kisses against the skin that glistens with a sheen of sweat.

“That was fuckin’ amazin’.” She licks at the salty skin, humming at the taste, and he grumbles something she can’t quite make out.

“Been dreaming about it for so long, huh?” Javi teases, finally slipping his fingers out, her slick dripping down his knuckles.

“Like you haven’t dreamt about me.”

“Oh, plenty of times, baby.” Much like the mess from the cherries earlier, Javier brings his fingers up to his mouth and cleans them from the taste of her. It’s heady and delicious.

“Mmm, sabes rica, nena.” (You taste delicious, baby)

She smirks against his neck, still kissing and licking, hips once more moving against his lap, the denim chafing her in the best way possible.

Paloma’s lips trail up until they’re at his ear, and she whispers, “You gonna be a gentleman and take me to bed or are you going to fuck me right here?”

Javier grunts, smacking her ass again, and she giggles sharply. “If I get you in bed, I might not ever let you leave.”

“Don’t tempt a girl with a good time.”

With a cocky smile, he readjusts her dress and tilts her chin to meet his stare. They lock eyes before diving into another heated kiss. “Wrap your legs around me tight,” he murmurs against her lips.

She eagerly complies, her legs locking around his waist. He scoots towards the edge of the lowered tailgate, lifting her effortlessly. As he steps off the bed of the truck entirely, she clings to him, her arms around his neck, body pressed firmly against his.

Each step towards his trailer home is filled with a sense of urgency, their bodies already buzzing with anticipation. She can feel his cock pressed against her, a tangible promise of what’s to come. She squirms, nipping at his neck, inhaling his scent which further turns her on.

Javier slides the door open, not giving a damn about the setup left behind. He’ll worry about that later. Right now, he’s got more pressing things to handle.

The moment they’re inside, it’s like something out of a movie with how they’re on each other. Eager kisses, impatient touches, hands roaming with desperate urgency. He sets her down and she’s quick to start unbuttoning his shirt, their steps stumbling in the direction of his bedroom.

She almost trips on her heels and he grabs at her waist to keep her from falling. “So fucking clumsy all the time,” he says under his breath, letting her slide the shirt off his shoulders and onto the hallway floor.

“Easy ‘fore I leave you here with a hard cock ‘n the taste of me in your mouth,” she teases with bated breath.

He scoffs, kicking off his shoes once they’re in the room. She tugs at his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it from the loops of his jeans. “You wouldn’t do that, muñeca. You want this as bad as I do.”

And he’s right—she does. With each article of clothing that gets discarded, each inch of skin that gets revealed, her desire for him grows more and more… if that’s even possible. Paloma doesn’t think she’s ever been this needy to get fucked before.

Javier stops her from unbuttoning his jeans, taking a step back, leaving her momentarily confused. But then he drops to his knees right in front of her.

“What are you—” Her words are cut off as he bunches up her dress to her waist, bringing one of her thighs to rest over his shoulder. With no warning, he dives into her pussy.

“Oh my god!” she gasps.

His tongue is wicked, exploring every crevice of her, the tip drawing figure eights over her clit. It’s all happening so fast, she doesn’t even know how to react. He sucks the bundle of nerves harshly into his mouth, and she screams out his name.

Rising from his spot, he pulls the dress off her on his way up. “Couldn’t help myself,” and he’s got an arrogant grin on his sinful face.

“And you say I’m impatient.”

One, two, three steps until her knees hit the edge of the bed, and he gently pushes her until her back is against the soft sheets. She looks up at him with those brown, smoldering eyes, basically telling him to take her.

Javier stands still for a moment, gaze raking over her naked figure, drinking her in. His fingers move to his jeans, slowly undoing the button, the zipper following suit, anticipation building with every second.

The room is dark, barely any moonlight casting in from the windows, yet her body is glowing as she’s sprawled out on his bed. Although this isn’t their first time being intimate, it is the first time he’s seen her entirely naked.

And damn, if she isn’t a beautiful fucking sight.

Dark hair fanned out against the white pillows. Her tits nice and full, practically begging for his attention. The golden cross pendant that sits between her collarbones somehow makes her look more erotic.

The curve of her waist and the plumpness of her thighs beckon him to leave his mark all over the supple skin. She’s still got her wedges on, elongating her legs and highlighting her calves.

This is why he loves women so much— their accessories, their clothes, their shoes, their femininity. It’s such a turn on for him.

Paloma’s skin ignites under his stare, and she would feel more self conscious if she wasn’t so keenly aware of how fucking badly he wants her.

He flicks on the small lamp on the nightstand, further illuminating the room and her.

Ogling his exposed chest and how toned he is, her finger comes up to beckon him to join her on the bed.

“Igualita a un ángel (just like an angel),” honeyed words drip from his lips, having her blush as he crawls over her, still in his jeans, voice full of reverence.

One of her legs hooks around his waist, bringing him closer. His hand traces her hip, moving slowly to cup her breast. He thumbs her nipple, watching as it hardens under his touch, eliciting a soft moan from her. He leans down, capturing the other nipple in his mouth, suckling and nibbling gently.

She whimpers, arching into him, her hands all over his back, feeling the flex of muscles under her fingertips.

His hands are everywhere, exploring, teasing, worshiping her body. Paloma’s breath hitches as his fingers then dip lower until they’re at her mound, softly tracing his fucking initial against the skin.

His descent down her torso is paired with sensual movements of his lips, tongue flicking out to taste her skin until he’s at the scar on her hip. He peppers kisses along the marking and she shudders, her stomach doing flips at the sensation.

Then he goes lower and she exhales shakily once he reaches the apex of her thighs, placing wet kisses along the inside of them.

“Javi,” she moans, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. He smirks, moving with deliberate slowness, teasing her until she’s trembling.

“Just relax, preciosa,” he murmurs, his breath hot against her core. “I’m gonna make you feel real good.”

“Wait… let me take my shoes off,” she squirms in his hold, trying to reach for her heels.

He stops her by placing his palm firmly over her pelvis. “Nah, baby, keep ‘em on.”

She stares down at him, catching that glint in his eye, and who is she to fight him on something as trivial as this? So she lets it be, sinking back into the pillows, her body relaxing as he resumes his ministrations.

Javier’s lips leave a scorching trail on her, kissing and nipping at her thighs, the feeling of his mustache brushing against the tender skin has jolts of pleasure striking her.

His roughness contrasts with her softness, creating a thrilling friction that makes her breath hitch in her throat. She whimpers softly, fingers away from his hair and clutching the sheets as he makes his way back to her core.

Using both of his thumbs, Javier spreads her folds apart and it’s like a flower blossoming— her clit throbbing, pink skin glistening with her juices. He licks his lips, cursing in Spanish, his tongue flattening and running up the length of her sex, curling when it gets to her sensitive pearl.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head in pure bliss as he repeats the action a few more times, her arousal mixing with his saliva and dripping down his chin, down to her ass.

Javier fucking loves going down on his girls. Nothing, not even the actual fucking, compares to it. To be buried in that warm, wet, soft space between a woman’s thighs, hearing her whimper out his name while he coaxes out pleasure that most aren’t accustomed to, is just something he thoroughly enjoys.

He might be a giant fucking dick everywhere else, but in bed, he tends to show some gentlemanly manners.

His tongue works her with expert precision, alternating between broad strokes and meticulous licks. He keeps her spread open, teasing her entrance before dragging the wet muscle over her labia and up to her clit in one seamless motion.

Paloma has never felt pleasure like this. Not with George, not with August, not with anyone. Javier is eating her out so filthily, it puts even the most seasoned pornstars to shame.

He basks in the feeling of her nails returning to his scalp, fingers yanking at his hair as he continues his relentless assault. Her thighs squeeze around his head so tightly, he has to pry them back open, desperate to keep devouring her until she’s a quivering, moaning mess beneath him.

“Quedate abierta, nena (stay open, baby) or else I’m going to stop,” Javier growls, an empty threat but the vibration of his voice against her sensitive flesh sends shockwaves through her. Her hips tilt up instinctively, pressing him further into her cunt.

He is absolutely pussy drunk. It’s hard not to be when she tastes so divine, smells so intoxicating, and reacts to him so fucking sweetly.

It’s here, between her legs, that he truly apologizes to her. Each stroke of his tongue is an expression of regret for all the hurt and bullshit he put her through. His remorse is palpable in every lick, every suck, as he pours his soul into devoting himself to her.

And she can feel it. God, can she feel the way he shifts from languid kitten licks to full-on making out with her pussy. Just like the orgasm from before, this one builds quickly, mirroring dark clouds rolling in before a severe thunderstorm. Her moans crescendo, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside her.

Javier buries himself further into her heat, his tongue moving faster, his lips wrapping around her clit and sucking hard. She’s teetering on the edge, every nerve ending on fire, her vision blurring as she’s consumed by the overwhelming pleasure. 

Her thighs tremble, the pressure mounting to an almost unbearable peak. “Oh, Javi… I’m gonna…” she manages to gasp out, her fingers gripping his hair tightly. He responds by doubling his efforts, hands pushing her thighs to her chest firmly to keep her steady and spread.

“Come for me, palomita,” a dark, seductive command that does her over. His aquiline nose brushes her clit, his tongue moving in perfect strokes, in and out of her.

She shatters, her back bends off the mattress as her orgasm zaps through her like a fucking lightning bolt. Paloma’s cries of pleasure fill the room, thighs squeezing around his head again as she rides out the waves of ecstasy.

Javier doesn’t let up, drinking up every drop that floods from her tight hole, tongue buried deep inside her cunt to lick as much of it as possible, and she has to roughly tug on his hair to get him to pull up when the overstimulation gets to be too much.

“Did so good, baby.” He praises. When he lifts his head, his mustache and chin are shining with the evidence of her essence, a long ribbon of slick trailing from his bottom lip, connecting her to him.

It’s the hottest thing Paloma’s ever seen, well, barely seen since her vision is misty with tears from how good he just made her feel.

“You taste even better when I’m fucking you with my tongue,” Javi whispers, his voice a low, sexy rumble.

He proceeds to remove her heels, kissing her ankle once he’s got the strap undone and the shoe off, repeating the action on her other foot.

All she does is lay there, still trying to catch her breath, her body reeling with aftershocks. He hovers over her, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss, letting her taste herself on his mouth.

The intimacy of the moment, the raw, unrestrained desire between them, makes her head spin.

“Mmm, my turn.” Her breath is ragged, heart racing, but she manages a fucked-out smile, her hands running over his chest, his stomach, then down to his unbuttoned jeans where his cock is almost painfully straining against the rough fabric. 

“Not tonight baby, I need fuck you.”

Her heart skips a beat but she nods eagerly. Truth be told, she’s never gone down on a guy before, but after his little show down there, she’s eager to return the favor, to have him teach her how to please him.

She’ll bring that up another time.

Javier is fully naked now, his cock heavy and smearing her lower tummy with precum. He reaches over to grab a condom from the nightstand, but she stops him by wrapping her dainty hand around his wrist.

“You been with anyone?” She asks, flashes of Sloane crossing her mind, and her face twitches as she holds back a scowl.

He looks at her with a bewildered look. “Absolutely not,” he pauses, “You?” While she’d told him that things between her and August were over, the idea of her going back to him one last time nags at him from the back of his mind, and his jaw tenses.

“No.” She brushes back some of the hair that’s fallen forward, getting a good look into his golden eyes, their shine undimmed by the shadows of lust. “Don’t put the condom on.”

Goddamn, he really doesn’t deserve her. “Are you sure, querida?” he traces his fingers along her cheek.

She nods, her breath staggered from his touch, digits still brushing his hair back. “I’m sure. I want to feel you. All of you.”

With a growl of approval, Javier resists the urge to thrust his cock into her in one swift motion. He turns his head to kiss her wrist, then shuffles on the bed until they’re both on their sides, her back pressed flush against his chest.

Open-mouthed kisses trace along her neck and shoulder, her perfume and natural scent an aphrodisiac that gets him so high.

Javi’s hand grips her thigh then lifts her leg. “Hold it there, baby,” he instructs, and she complies, keeping her leg up as he strokes his cock a few times, gripping it at the base before slowly sliding it between her puffy folds, her seam drooling with her cum and his spit from going down on her.

They both shudder as his bulbous head nudges her swollen clit. He slaps it against her sex a few times, causing her to jerk her hips.

He laughs lowly behind her, and she can’t help but do the same, turning her head so their lips meet.

Using his kisses as a distraction, Javier slowly sinks into her tight heat. They pull apart, just barely, sighing into each other’s mouths as her walls pulsate around him, both of her previous orgasms having left her cunt wet and ready to take him entirely.

“Puta madre, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says through gritted teeth. The hand that was on his dick now moves up to grab the inside of her knee, keeping her leg in the air as he bottoms out entirely.

The sensation of being so fully connected, his cock filling her completely, is overwhelming. He’s definitely the biggest she’s been with, that much is apparent by the slight burn of him breaking her sweet cunt open with his girth.

He pauses, savoring the feeling, his lips still pressed against her neck, sinking his teeth into her tendon.

“Move, Javi,” she coos after a moment of getting used to the feeling of him, her voice a mix of plea and demand.

“So fuckin’ impatient,” with a groan, he begins to fuck her slowly, letting her savor every inch of him, friction building with each snap of his hips.

He holds her firmly as he sets a vigorous pace, the sounds of their bodies meeting, skin smacking against skin, moans and gasps and filthy words echo obscenely.

Her free hand reaches back to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. His lips find her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. “I bet it didn’t feel like this with that boy of yours,” he utters, timbre rough and thrusts brutal. “Did it?”

His jealous words ignite something in her, and she pushes back against him, meeting his hips with equal fervor. The angle allows him to hit deeper, each stroke driving her mad. “About as good as it felt with that bitch.”

His fingers lace with hers on the arm slipped beneath her head, which is resting on his bicep as he pounds into her cunt– having her yelp out from prodding her cervix. She’s pleasantly surprised, expecting for it to hurt, but instead it’s just pleasurable feeling him touch parts of her no other man has.

Paloma’s tummy juts as he pumps into her, a visual of his big cock fucking her. Her tits bounce with each movement, his response a throaty growl and change of pace. “Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy, nena. Fucked up by givin’ it to me. S’the only thing that’s gonna keep me going, now.”

She can’t help but smirk, reveling in his obsession with her and her body. “If it feels like this every time— ohhh shit,” she moans when he hits that one spot that has her vision spotting, “then you can have it whenever you want, baby.”

Javier chuckles darkly. She should really be careful with the things she tells him because he will take her at a moment’s notice.

“Need you to come all over me. Show me how good I’m fucking you.” The intensity of his thrusts, combined with the sensation of him stretching her and his heavy balls slapping against her sticky clit, sends her spiraling into her third orgasm of the night. Her body writhes, walls fluttering around his cock and he tightens his hold on her.

Paloma’s mouth falls open in a silent scream, overwhelmed and feeling like her soul has left her body. She shakes and spasms, unable to control how she reacts to him. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Don’t get all shy on me now.”

His words are like a trigger, and she begins to babble incoherently, whines and moans pushing past her pretty lips, his name a repeated mantra as she sings for him. Javi, Javi, Javiiiii.

“That’s right, good girl. Takin’ this dick just like I knew you would.”

Feeling her pussy convulse, Javier loses himself entirely. Thrusts become erratic, his own grip on her leg surely leaving marks as he reaches the peak of his climax.

“Fuck, baby, where do you want it?” He needs her to tell him before he’s fucking his spend into her, filling her up and possessively claiming her cunt as his.

Her head whirls, blood roaring in her ears, and it’s a miracle she can even hear him with how intense everything feels. She wouldn’t have it any other way. “I-Inside. I’m on birth control,” Paloma slurs her words, squeezing their interlocked fingers, tilting her head to bite into his bicep, lazily moving her hips to get him to come.

With a final, harsh thrust, he spills inside her, cock throbbing and groaning her name while thick ribbons of his cum paint her fleshy walls.

They stay intertwined, both panting and spent, length still buried inside her. Javier presses soft kisses along her shoulder and neck, murmuring sweet nothings as they come down from their high.

She moves to capture his lips in a tender display of affection, their earlier urgency now replaced with a gentle intimacy. “Much better than the first time,” she whispers, his forehead resting against hers.

“It only goes up from here. Literally.” he jokes with a sensual roll of his hips and she hisses from the already there soreness.

Javi lowers her leg then, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her hip. “You were amazing.”

She smiles, feeling utterly satisfied wrapped in his arms. “It takes two to tango, baby.” The name of endearment clutches at his chest and he goes in to kiss her lazily, moving his hand up to wrap around her throat lightly, holding her in place while his tongue slips into her mouth.

She hums in content, still tasting herself on his lips, the smell of sex clinging to his mustache. “What time is it?”

He huffs, nuzzling his nose against hers. “Does it really matter?”

She rolls her eyes playfully, “Si, Javi, I told daddy I’d be back by midnight.”

With another amused huff, he leans over to glance at his alarm clock. “It’s five past eleven.”

“I should probably get up ‘n try not to look like I just got fucked stupid.” He chuckles and she smiles faintly, but neither of them make the first move to disconnect. Even as their mixed cum starts to drip out of her and down his softened dick.

“You could just stay the night,” he suggests, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Tell him you’re with Tammy or something.”

“Mmm, as tempting as that is we got mass in the mornin’...” Her voice trails off softly, looking over at him.  “And I told him I was goin’ out on a date so he’s expectin’ me back tonight.”

Javier frowns and she reaches up to smooth the crease between his brows with her thumb, reading his mind.  “Don’t worry. Didn’t say it was with you. Just told him I was goin’ into town for dinner ‘n a movie with a boy I met at the barbecue. He wasn’t too happy ‘bout it at first but he let it be. Like always. S’why I don’t think we should be so worried to tell him ‘bout us.”

He studies her face, blush still lingering on her cheeks, her lips swollen, a warm sparkle in her eyes. “So I’m just a boy?”

Another roll of her eyes followed by a snort, and she’s the one to move first, easing herself off his cock.

He groans softly, gripping her hips and pulling her back towards him.

“Javier,” she warns, a little annoyed by his childish reply.

“It was a joke, querida,” he places another gentle kiss on her shoulder. “I understand how important this is to you. Just give me some time.”

She turns in his arms to face him, her fingers tracing absentmindedly over the warm skin of his pecs. “Okay, fine.”

They stay wrapped up in each other for a little longer, exchanging soft kisses, tender caresses, whispered conversations until she finally convinces him to let her go so she can freshen up.

Javier leans against his headboard, a lit cigarette already between his lips, sheet draped over his lap as he watches her stand from the bed, fully nude.

Paloma begins to walk to the bathroom, bending over to pick up her dress and shoes. His head tilts in appreciation as he whistles lowly at the sight of her round ass and the tantalizing glimpse of her naked, used cunt.

“Pervert,” she teases, looking back at him with a playful grin.

“A beautiful sight, muñeca,” he replies, a naughty twinkle in his brown eyes.

Moments later, she returns, looking a bit more put together, and sits on the edge of the bed where he lies, reaching for the cigarette. He pulls it back teasingly.

“¿Y esto?” (And this?)

“That was the kind of fucking that deserves a cigarette afterward. Come on, baby, let me indulge in your vice a little.”

He hands it over, watching with hooded eyes as she takes a drag, the smoke curling from her mouth and nostrils, making her look fucking sexy.

“Everything you do is so hot. Me vuelves loco, bebita.” 

She smirks, leaning in to peck his lips before returning the cigarette to him. “Likewise, cowboy.”

He finishes it off, discarding it in the ashtray before grabbing his jeans, sliding them up his legs once he’s off the bed so that he can walk her out.

“I feel real fuckin’ terrible about having you drive back home this late at night.” He tells her as he leans against the doorframe of the front door, crossing his arms against his bare chest. Thoughts of recent incidents flicker through his mind. The unidentified girl at the hospital, how she’d been plucked from the crowd, beaten, then dumped out in the middle of the woods and left for dead.

He can’t and won’t imagine Paloma being in her place, because that will have him fucking spiraling.

She adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder, bouquet of flowers in hand. “Don’t worry, handsome, s’not that far of a drive.”

“Call me when you get home.”

“Yes sir.” A saccharine smile pulls at her lips and he grunts.

“Don’t start nothing you can’t finish.”

“Then I guess I should get goin’.” She takes a few steps forward, placing a goodbye kiss to his lips.

He holds her waist gently, capturing her lower lip between his teeth in a soft bite as they part. “Drive safe, palomita. Thank you for coming over tonight.”

“I will. Thank you for, well, everythin’,” she blinks slowly, “It was all great… I do see the effort you’re puttin’ in, Javi.” Paloma reassures him and he appreciates it, he really does.

There’s reluctance clear in her eyes and her departure tugs at her heartstrings.

She wants to stay, he wants to keep her here.

With one final peck, she heads to her car. Javier watches as she pulls out and disappears into the night. His heart aches a little, but he feels a sense of fulfillment from how everything played out tonight. Things are finally starting to fall into place.

The whole ride home she reminisces. How can she not? He quite literally rocked her world. If she wasn’t obsessed before, she definitely is now.

She can’t help the way her thighs rub together. How she wishes she could stay the night and have him fuck her until the sun comes up. Her entire being is buzzing with euphoria, on a high that only good lovemaking can bring.

As Paloma eases into the driveway of her house, the headlights cast a soft glow over the front porch, where her father stands, waiting. The sight of him warms her heart, his silhouette outlined against the porch light.

“You enjoy yourself? He treat you right?” Romeo wastes no time, voice gruff and tinged with both curiosity and concern. He takes a slow sip from his cup, eyes lingering on the bouquet of flowers she holds as she steps up to join him.

Paloma feels a gentle flush creep up her neck at the memory of Javier’s touch, her core throbbing from the way he had fucked her. “Definitely,” she murmurs with a shy smile, her words still carrying the lingering sweetness of their evening.

“Now you can quit your stressin’ ‘n get to bed. We got church in the mornin’.”

[another-goblin]

Meeting the family

Just some Raturine ideas (it could have been a fic if I could write) Part 1. Aventurine takes Ratio with him to Sigonia-IV (a bit sad). Part 2. Ratio retaliates (less sad).

Part 1. On Penacony, Aventurine was forced to confront his tragic past in a rather abrupt and traumatic way. He now feels that, to make some semblance of peace with it, he has to revisit Sigonia-IV after all these years and face it on his terms. The problem is, he's not sure he'll ever be strong enough to do it alone.

Luckily, there is Ratio. Probably. They have been in a weird sort of relationship for months now. They clearly enjoy spending time together, but they'd rather die than talk about their true feelings. Both are stumped by overanalyzing this situation. For Ratio it's "Yes, he's being playful and charming with me, but I saw him act the same way with other people, he's probably just toying with me, I shouldn't embarrass myself by showing my true feelings." And for Aventurine: "Does he care for me in a special way, or is it just a part of his "I'll keep the damn gambler safe and emotionally stable because I'm a decent person" routine, am I a burden to him, is he deliberately being emotianally distant with me or is it just how he normally is?, I know that I'll never be able to tell him how I actually feel because he won't believe me, he'll think that I mock him, it'll just drive him away."

So, as a last resort gamble, he tells Ratio, in the most nonchalant way possible, that he's going to visit Sigonia, and Ratio can go with him if he wants. He fully expects to hear an indifferent "Why are you telling me this, why would you expect me to go with you?". Instead, Ratio is in shock.

He did do some research on Aventurine's past. So he realizes immediately how important this trip should be for Aventurine, and how real and vulnerable he's being right now, and what that offer means for their relationship. It's much more revealing than any confession Aventurine might have made. He realizes that it's also Aventurine's subtle, desperate test for Ratio's true feelings. So he doesn't even bother to say yes, he goes directly to planning.

They finally end up going to Sigonia. Imagine the most tragic road trip ever. "In this valley, most of my people were brutally massacred." "Behind that rock my mother died in my arms,"  "And that's where I said goodbye to my sister forever,"  "This is where I've been cought", "Over there are the ruins of the town where they sold me into slavery." Meanwhile, Ratio is quietly panicking: ("Veritas, you stupidest person ever, say something reassuring. Hold his hand. Do something")

At the end of the day, he would end up awkwardly putting his hand around Aventurine's shoulders. They'd just silently sit like this looking at the sunset.

(at first it ended here but then I decided to lighten the mood, so…)

Part 2. After that, Ratio would realize that it's time for Aventurine to meet his parents. He would introduce Aventurine as a "collegue", to his amusement. As far as I know, there is no info on Ratio's family, so the following is pure HC. I like to think that his parents are alive and well. They are weird and quirky, and they love their son in their way, and they are beyond happy that their son has finally found a "colleague".

Cue all the most cheesy and stereotypical "meeting the parents" tropes. Them immediately referring to Aven as Ratio's boyfriend (you are not fooling anybody, doc). Them being a bit skeptical of Aven first ("Our little Veri deserves only the best"). Followed by the obligatory nine circles of humiliation hell for poor Ratio, with all the child photos and embarassing stories ("Here he's 5, he's dressed up as Nuos for the Autumn Spirit Festival", "And here is him getting his first quantum nanoscope for his 9th birthday (a photograph of an awkward lanky child with thick glasses and brackets)", "Veritas, dear, remember that time when you got accepted into all these prestigious schools you applied to and cried all night because you couldn't decide which one to choose"). Them besieging poor Aventurine with all kinds of questions about himself (he'd end up sharing much more about himself than he intended to). The parents getting absolutely charmed by Aven and immediately taking him under their wing ("Feel free to call us whenever Veritas decides to be difficult", "Visit us anytime, you can come alone, we know that our son apparently has more important things to do than visiting his poor old parents")

("Oh and here are socks Grandma knitted for you both when she heard that you were about to visit")

Meanwhile, aventurine.exe has stopped working 5 minutes after meeting them, not fully able to comprehend what's going on (these weird people are so unlike his own parents, yet being with them feels so painfully familiar, and this long forgotten feeling of being a part of something big, safe, and accomodating, is it what having a family feels like?, why are they so warm and welcoming to somebody they just met, and why is Ratio so comically embarassed, shouldn't he be the happiest person ever with parents like that?)