#jack x you x javier

[sugadolly]

i think i need someone older ⸜❤︎⸝‍

[hihomeghere]

Little Things | Arthur Morgan / F!Reader

Word Count : 2k Warnings/tags : Slight somnophilia (reader wakes up), dubious consent, reader gave consent at an earlier time, unprotected piv, cursing, creampie, undressing Summary : Arthur returns from a successful job, and wants nothing more than to bury himself in you

Arthur couldn’t help but enjoy the little things in life. With the life he had, he didn’t have much to enjoy. Coyotes yipping across the plains, Violet snowdrop growing along the side of the trail. The serenity of an early morning sunrise, when the golden rays peak above the horizon, slowly catching everything aflame with its bright light.

On the other side of the coin, he was equally taken by the gentleness of the night sky. Stars speckled across the black expanse like they were left by a flicked paintbrush.

Riding home had also become one of his most treasured times. The anticipation of seeing you again, after being on a job for who knows how long. It didn’t matter if it was only a couple hours or a couple days. The thought of returning to you always sent a pleasurable tingle up his spine, and butterflies fluttering in his gut. Maybe it was because he knew how much you enjoyed the little things as well. How you’d greet him once he returned to whatever camp they currently resided in. Open armed and more likely than not, spread legs. To say it was always a warm welcome would not be doing you any justice.

You were so eager, pliant as he towered over you. Your hands, so soft and gentle as they removed his hat. Then moving to his suspenders, sliding them off his shoulders. His shirt was next, pushing the buttons through the eyelets, before it too was pulled off his body. The gun belt followed, set carefully off to the side, he worked on slipping out of his boots as you did this. The way you two moved together was like a well oiled machine. There was no need for words between the two of you. You knew each other so intimately, inside and out. But working together for years will do that, even if you had mainly given up on pulling heists. You were more than content to stay near camp, or whatever town was closest.

Although Arthur had to admit he missed when it would just be the two of you on a job. The thrill of a job well done flowing through your veins, sleeping naked under the stars, not having to worry about staying quiet.

But he didn’t blame you for not wanting that part of the life anymore. After a too close call which had left you nearly bleeding out as he rode as fast as he could back to camp, you had all but retired. Dutch would never have allowed a full retirement.

Arthur could see the line of trees leading to Shady Bell, that familiar tug in his stomach as he spurred his horse forward. If he had any dignity left he would have felt like a fool with how big of a smile split his face as he hitched his mare. Slipping her a sugar cube for a job well done before heading towards the house.

The fire was slowly dying, hot embers sizzling out. The only other noise was the snores of the other gang members. He made his way into the house, slowly shutting the door behind him. He tried his hardest to creep quickly and quietly up the stairs to your shared room. The door hinge whined as he pushed it open, wincing slightly as he shut it behind him.

There you were. Laid out in the bed, fast asleep. Your hair spread out against the pillow like a halo. Your chemise riding up your thigh, showing off a delicious amount of skin.

By now, Arthur was painfully hard, palming himself through his pants as he stepped closer. He toed off his boots, setting his hat down on a table nearby. He would have much rathered you undressing him, but he would have to settle for doing it himself. He shoved his suspenders off before his gun belt fell to the floor with a thud.

You stirred slightly, your brows pinched in an adorable expression. Obviously annoyed by the noise disturbing your peaceful slumber. He felt a twinge of guilt, he shouldn’t disturb you. It wasn’t often that you were actually at peace, only when you were asleep. You had been sleeping deeper ever since the gang settled here. The walls of Shady Bell offered you and its inhabitants more security than the canvas of a tent.

But you were so pretty, so soft and all his. You wanted this, his cock twitched at the memory. You had told him that if he ever returned when you were asleep, to take what he needed. He had never done it yet, something about it made him feel wrong, dirty. He would never do anything to take advantage of your trust or to harm you.

Your leg slid up further on the bed. Almost like you were subconsciously spreading your legs for him. His eyes went straight to your core, his knees almost buckling at the sight of your wet cunt. No bloomers. If that wasn’t a silent invitation he didn’t know what was.

He moved quickly, stumbling out of his pants. He was surprised he hadn’t ripped the buttons off his shirt with how hard he had janked them through the eyelets.

He was painfully hard, standing over you with his cock in his hand, red and leaking precum. You let out a soft sigh, your lips parting slightly. Any resolve that he had been holding onto was long gone. He knelt down on the bed, crawling towards you. His calloused hands moving up your calf and thigh, lifting the bottom of your chemise over your stomach. He slid his hands back down your belly to your core, running his finger through your folds before settling on your clit. He didn’t necessarily want to wake you, and if he did, he wanted you to awake to pure pleasure. He gave the slightest bit of pressure with his thumb, gently circling it. A small huff leaving your lips. His eyes flicked from your face to your pussy, unable to decide which one he wanted to watch more. He slipped one finger inside your heat, his lips quirked up as he watched your brows pinch together. He curled his index finger, rubbing up against your walls. A small moan left your lips, his cock twitched against his belly. He let out a small groan pressing his hips down onto the sheets, looking for any source of stimulation he could find. Not wanting to touch himself just yet, wanting to drag out your and his pleasure as long as possible.

He added another finger, licking his lips as he inched closer to you. If only he could move you to your back and bury his face into your cunt. But right now he needed you. He started to scissor his fingers inside you, making sure you were stretched out enough for him. Although with how wet you were and the soft sounds of pleasure leaving your lips, he was sure you were ready.

He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, smirking as you frowned, moving your hips up to try and follow his hand. “Give me a second darlin’.” He whispered, coating his dick with your slick. Pumping himself a couple times before spreading your legs a bit wider so he could fit between your legs. He bit his lip as he notched the head of his cock at your entrance, trying to stifle the groan working through his chest. Slowly he pushed in, your wet warm heat enveloping him.

Arthur was sure this was the closest to the pearly gates he’d ever get. His eyes squeezed tight as it took him everything not to blow his load right then and there.

“Arthur?” You gasped, a soft noise that had him squeezing your hips with a vice like grip.

“It’s me, sweetheart.” He said, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned over you. Sheathing himself inside you completely, his pelvis pressed against your ass.

“Arthur.” You preened, pushing back against him.

“Missed ya, girl.” He huffed, withdrawing his cock before thrusting back inside you. You let out a cry as his cock pressed up against that delicious spot.

“Ah-“ Arthur reached forward, covering your mouth with his hand to quiet your moan.

“Hush,” He groaned, leaving open mouthed kisses down your neck. You were trembling under him. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he snapped his hips into yours. “Can ya be a good girl and stay quiet?”

You nodded, whimpering against his palm. The smell of gunpowder and leather filling your senses, only heightening your pleasure. You bit your lip as he moved his hand lower, gently applying pressure to your neck. You whimpered as your body buzzed with pleasure, his cock rubbing up against your silken walls.

“Yeah, my good girl.” You could practically feel the way his chest puffed up with pride. You were dangerously close to the edge.

“I’m gonna-“ You whined, fisting the sheets beneath you.

“Gonna cum?” He smirked, his hot breath fanning against your shoulder. “Go ahead darlin’.”

Stars danced behind your eyes as you gushed around his cock. Your whole body trembling as your orgasm washed over you in waves. “F-fuck!” You hissed, biting down on your lip as you tried to keep quiet.

Arthur’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle as he looked down at you. Before it was replaced with a groan as you clenched down on him.

“Shit- I ain’t,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “ain’t gonna last long if ya keep squeezin’ me like that.” His breath fanning across your cheek. You mewled pathetically, unable to stop the whine that left your lips.

He grabbed your hips, pulling you up onto your knees. You gasped at the sudden change in position. Your breath being thrusted out of your lungs as he pounded into you. The rickety bed frame whining under the movement of your two bodies. His large hands dug into your hips, bruises would no doubt be forming in their place by tomorrow morning.

“Take it-“ He huffed, sweat dotting his brow as he bit down on his lip. “That’s right- fucking take it.” He laid his hand between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress. He can feel your pussy fluttering around him, making him groan again. “Yeah, ya close girl?”

“Uh huh!” Your cry muffled by the blankets.

“Go on- go on and soak my cock.” He pants, his hips stuttering as he nears his own release, “Ya go and I’m goin’ with ya.” He warns, slamming his hips into yours over and over.

You fall over the edge, not worried about staying quiet anymore. Tears blur your vision as you tremble under him. Your whole body went limp as you clenched down around him.

His head fell forward, pressing his forehead against your back as his hips stuttered. Rocking into you one, two, three more times before he’s gone. Groaning out your name as his cock pulses inside you, his hips giving tiny jerks as he empties into you.

You let out a soft sigh, turning your head to look up at him. Pride swelling in your chest as you take in his disheveled appearance. His honey brown hair, like a curtain in front of his eyes. He shudders as he withdraws his hips, his release slowly dripping out of your puffy cunt.

You roll over onto your back, reaching up to brush his hair back. He takes in a deep breath, lazily smiling down at you.

“Job go well?” You asked softly, running your thumb over his cheekbone.

“Very well.” He chuckles laying down next to you. Wrapping his arm around your waist as he lays his head against your breast. Listening to the rapid beat of your heart.

“Good.” You smiled, running your fingers through his locks, “Good night honey.” You said kissing the top of his head before closing your eyes.

“Night darlin’.” He said softly, the sound of your thumping heart the perfect lullaby.

[lionlena]

☆MASTERLIST☆

Pedro Pascal

One Shot:

♡A kitchen disaster

♡Just let it go…

♡New job, new problems...

♡Just breathe

Series:

♡His Curls - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (completed)

♡Hate run, love speed - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (in progress)

♡We don’t love each other - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 - Final (completed)

Request:

♡A perfect day for a perfect girl (It's your birthday and Pedro makes you feel loved and special all day)

Headcanon:

♡What sleeping position do they most like when you are with them? (Pedro Pascal characters)💤

♡How will they react to your makeup? (Pedro Pascal and his characters) 👁️👄💅

♡Headcanon: How do they behave when you have a migraine? (Pedro Pascal characters)🩹😴   (+ Dave and Marcus)

♡Headcanon: How will they react if you tell them about CDD? (Pedro Pascal characters) 👰💔😱🤕  

♡Headcanon: Who will be ready to kill for you? From most willing to least... (Pedro Pascal characters) 🔪💀☠️🩸

♡Headcanon: How do they cook for you? (Pedro Pascal characters) 🥕🧑‍🍳🍓

Joel Miller

One Shot:

♡This is just a nightmare… (The Last of Us ff/ Joel/Ellie)

♡Strong for both of us

♡Trouble with ex

♡Dyeing your hair…

♡Together in happiness and depression… (no outbreak)

Series:

♡Unforgivable mistake, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, (in progress)

♡I can't be everywhere (No outbreak!) Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5... (in progress)

Request:

♡You need a better place (Joel loving a girl with epilepsy)

♡Blue dress (Joel Miller x plus size!reader)

Headcanon:

♡When Joel goes limp… (JoelMillerxf!reader)🤷🍆🩹

Javier Peña

One Shot:

♡I’ll protect you… (bc you’re mine)

♡I’ll hurt you… ( bc you’re mine )

♡I’ll leave you (bc youre not mine)

♡I'll stay with you... ( bc I love you)

♡You’re hot…

♡A girl from the street

Series:

♡Dancing With Your Ghost - Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Epilogue (completed)

♡Too many shadows behind you - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,  Part 4, Part 5 (in progress)

Headcanon:

♡Nicotine (JavierPeña and You)

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels)

Series:

♡Dynasty - Part 1, Part 2, (in progress)

One Shot:

♡Mean (JackDanielsxf!reader)

♡Llamas don't drink whiskey...

Headcanon:

♡What does Jack's ranch look like? 🤠🐴🐓🐮🧑‍🌾

Javi Gutierrez

One Shot:

♡Too hot

Frankie Morales

One Shot:

��Lost cat

Marcus Pike

One Shot: 

♡"7.44 am"

Headcanon:

♡If Teresa tried to get Marcus back after years...

♡Marcus tells you about his meeting with Teresa...

Marcus Acacius

One Shot:

♡Even if you fall apart...

Oberyn Martell

Series:

♡Red Viper and Fox - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (in progress, soon english version)

One Shot:

♡♕Queen's Milk

♡I Hold You

♡Remember me… (ANGST!)

♡Leave... (ANGST)

Headcanon: 

♡Headcoanon: Oberyn's finger kink... 🤤💦🤌

The Old Guard (movie)

One Shot: 

♡ Amira

♡ It hurts like hell    

[ariyanaa]

Boyfriend<33

[anabdaniels]

Cowboytober 2024

Kinktober with Agent Whiskey ft Joel Miller, Pero Tovar, Marcus Acacius and Javier Peña.

Main Masterlist

Day 1- Feederism

Day 2- Somnophilia

Day 3- Body worship

Day 4- Massaging

Day 5- Face fuck

Day 6- Fingering

Day 7- Odaxelagnia (biting kink)

Day 8- Nipple play

Day 9- Praising

Day 10- Edging

Day 11- Cheirophilia (hands)

Day 12- Breeding kink

Day 13- Use of toys

Day 14- Cuckolding ft. Pero Tovar, Marcus Acacius and Joel Miller

Day 15- Watersports

Day 16- (Semi) Public sex

Day 17- Cock warming

Day 18- Anal sex

Day 19- Lactation

Day 20- Degradation

Day 21- Virginity

Day 22- Chrematistophilia

Day 23- Cheating ft. Javier Peña

Day 24- Nasophilia

Day 25- Movement restrains

Day 26- Daddy kink

Day 27- Body hair

Day 28- Exhibitionism

Day 29- Petplay

Day 30- Accidental stimulation

Day 31- ???

[loslentesdepedrito]

I'm Your Wife- Chapter Two

Bottom left gif by: @binary--sun , bottom right gif by: @interstellarflare

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter One

Next Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Three

Word count: 5.1k+

Chapter summary: Nine years later, unexpectedly, Jack hears from you. 

Rating: 18+ no explicit content but I'd rather not have minors read these types of subjects. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the Whiskey bottles.

Warnings: Angst, language used by the characters is harsh and contains strong emotions, mentions of cheating, pregnancy, divorce, and childhood disease. (I hope I didn’t forget anything, it’s been years since I wrote this.)

A/N: I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to everyone for the overwhelming support on Chapter One! I didn't have much time to work on the graphic for this chapter, so it took me a while to upload it. I have ADHD, and it's currently unmedicated, so that's also a factor. I find that I work best when the house is quiet, but with children around, getting them to sleep can be quite hard, haha! Again, I wrote this years ago, so I apologize for any and all mistakes because if I read this over, I’ll overthink and not post. So, thank you for your understanding, and I hope you enjoy the story!

As Jack's footsteps carry him back to his apartment from the Kingsmen agency, his mind is consumed by the weight of his day's work. An hour before he intended to go home, he found himself inexplicably overwhelmed by a sudden urge to rush to his apartment. It wasn't a foreboding feeling, but rather a strong sense that something good was on awaiting him. If anyone happened to catch a glimpse of Jack's somewhat clumsy dash out of his office, barely avoiding a slip on the freshly mopped floor- no one commented.

Now, in the lobby, with each step closer to his sanctuary, a glimmer of anticipation flickers within him, a faint hope that there might be a respite from the pain that has plagued his heart for years.

Reaching his mailbox, he pauses, his hand steady as he retrieves the day's mail. Among the advertisements, his eyes catch sight of a familiar return address adorned with the emblem of the firm that handled the painful dissolution of his marriage. The sight sends a jolt through his veins, instantly sharpening his senses. He feels a surge of joy and curiosity that threatens to overpower his cool demeanor. This, this is what I’ve been waiting for, he thinks.

With the letter clutched tightly in his hand, Jack climbs the staircase, his heavy and rushed footsteps echoing through the empty building stairway. As he reaches the sixth floor, he pauses for a moment, catching his breath and steadying his racing heart. Fuckin’ hell, I’m really starting to get old. 

His apartment building's signature aroma, a mix of aged wood and Reed Diffusers, drifts through the air and the illuminated corridor, offering a soothing moment. With renewed determination, he strides towards his apartment, the key ready in his trembling hand, eager to discover the message held within the white envelope.

Taking the letter inside, he fumbles to close the door behind him, his focus solely on the contents of the envelope. It feels like an eternity as he tears it open, the sound of the paper ripping echoing through the room. Throwing away the torn envelope, his hat, his phone, and his keys on the coffee with disregard, his gaze locks onto the words that lay before him, ink etched upon the pristine white surface.

With each sentence, the gravity of the situation becomes clearer, the weight of the words pressing against his chest. His heart beats faster, his breath growing shallow. The letter, written in a professional tone, contains the invitation he had never anticipated but always hoped for. She wants to meet me. The delicacy and urgency of the matter are subtly emphasized, practically begging Jack to meet you.

Jack's eyes scan the lines, his mind working swiftly to decipher the unspoken pleas hidden within the formal language. He can almost hear your voice, strained and vulnerable, begging for a chance to talk. 

The letter extends an offer of legal representation, a reminder that the cold machinery of the law can mediate their meeting. But Jack's resolve is unwavering. He wants this to be personal, as personal as it can get. I can finally clear everything up with her. Tell her what I never said. The opportunity to talk face to face with you without the barrier of attorneys fills him with a mixture of hope and anxiety, like a tightly wound spring ready to unfurl.

A surge of emotions floods his being, the years of longing and unanswered questions vying for attention. He clings to the flickering flame of possibility, for within this letter lies the chance to reclaim what was lost, to confront the lingering ghosts of his past, and maybe, just maybe, you could love him once more. Throughout the past nine years, when Jack basically pushed you out of his life, he lived in constant regret. He promised himself if he ever got a second chance with you, he would take it and do everything in his power to ensure you never felt the same pain as you did during your marriage.

Jack can't help but feel a glimmer of optimism as he sets the letter down. The future is uncertain, but the mere fact that you have chosen to reach out stirs hope deep within him. It's a fragile hope, like a flickering flame in the darkness, but it burns nonetheless.

As the weight of the letter lingers in Jack's hands, his gaze drifts toward his phone. Resting on the table beside the torn envelope lay a familiar device—Jack's unchanged phone, a device that held precious moments. He had never upgraded it because it carried countless memories. It was the very phone into which you had entered your number when you first met. It was the same phone that had kept him up on calls until the sun peeked over the horizon, the same phone that had exchanged texts with you at all hours of the day. It was the very phone where you introduced him to the world of sexting, etching those intimate moments into his memory. Jack found himself continually revisiting these cherished memories, and he never changed his phone number. Perhaps, in the recesses of his hopeful heart, he believed you might someday reach out. Even though the years following the divorce had passed without your contact, he couldn't bring himself to give up hope.

He reaches out for his phone and picks it up, his fingers gliding over the familiar touchscreen. With a deep breath, he dials the number to the firm, his heart pounding in sync with each number pressed. 

The sound of the dial tone echoes in his ear, and before the receptionist has a chance to utter a greeting, Jack's voice resonates with urgency, cutting through the silence, "Good evenin’. This is Jack Daniels. I'm callin' for Mr. Raul Santos."

The receptionist, taken aback by his directness, responds with a polite tone, "Good evening, sir. Please hold while I transfer you." The hold music fills the air, a symphony of anticipation mingled with the echo of distant voices. Jack's mind races; moments feel like hours while he rehearses over and over what he will say.

Finally, the ringing ceases and is replaced by a voice on the other end. It's Raul, the person who holds the power to give Jack his biggest wish. Jack wastes no time, the words escaping his lips before doubt can creep in, "Raul, it's Jack. When can I meet with her?" His voice carries a blend of longing and urgency.

"Jack, can you meet tomorrow at St. Andrew's Hospital at 10 AM?" The words hang in the air, filled with anticipation, as Jack's breath catches in his throat.

Why the hospital? Jack's mind questions. Summoning his resolve, Jack finds his voice and responds, "I'll be there."

"Perfect," Raul replies, his voice a lifeline in the abyss of uncertainty. "We'll be waiting for you on the tenth floor of the East Tower. When you sign in on the first floor, tell them you're meeting Dr. Navarro." Jack nods to himself, memorizing all the instructions as if his life depends on it. 

Jack's emotions simmer beneath the surface as the call comes to an end, a torrent of hope, nervousness, and a glint of renewed longing. The image of St. Andrew's Hospital burns in his mind, a symbol of new beginnings and the coming together of their separate lives.

With apprehension and excitement, Jack sets the phone down, his hands trembling ever so slightly. Tomorrow assures a reunion, a chance for Jack to apologize for all of the suffering he has caused you. It is a moment he has dreamed of, yearned for, an opportunity to correct all his errors.

As he gazes into the distance, the fading daylight casting long shadows across his tired face, Jack finds solace in the glimmer of hope that glows in his heart. The road ahead may be filled with uncertainty, but at this moment, he dares to believe that the fragments of their broken bond may find a way to heal.

Despite his initial doubts, sleep had managed to find its way to Jack, offering him a few hours of rest. When he wakes, a surge of excitement courses through his veins, fueled by the knowledge that he will soon be reunited with you. The morning light filters through the window, casting gentle rays of warmth upon his face; as he rises with a renewed sense of purpose.

Determined to make a good impression, Jack steps into the shower, the hot water cascading over his body, washing away the traces of sleep and leaving him feeling refreshed. He carefully removes the stubble with each stroke of the razor against his skin, his fingertips tracing the sharp contours of his tanned face, ensuring a clean and polished look. The mustache, once untamed, is now meticulously trimmed, framing his pink lips.

Moving to his closet, Jack sifts through his collection of clothes; a rain of fabric and colors fall on his full-sized bed. He changes in and out of various combinations, looking for the perfect outfit. His fingers glide over the texture of his dress shirts, searching for the best one. Jack eventually settles on a deep blue dress shirt, a charcoal gray blazer, tailored pants that hug his frame just right, and a tie with subtle patterns.

Next, Jack turns his attention to his footwear, opting for a pair of polished black leather shoes. Would you examine his shoes with a magnifying glass? No, but that doesn't stop Jack from meticulously brushing off any lingering specks of dust, ensuring they shine in the morning light. As a finishing touch, he retrieves a felt Stetson hat, a prized possession that holds sentimental value because you gifted him with it. He tenderly cleans it, erasing any signs of wear, and proudly sets it atop his head.

Ready to see you- Jack leaves his apartment, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The crisp, chilly morning air greets him as he exits the lobby. I remember I met my sugar on a day like this, Jack thinks. He pretty much runs towards his car and turns the key making the engine roar to life. With each mile that passes throughout his two-hour drive, his mind remains focused on the meeting ahead.

When Jack arrives at the hospital, he hands his keys to the valet while scanning the surroundings for the reception area. He spots a man in a gray uniform and approaches him, his voice full of eagerness, "Good mornin’,” Jack begins, "I have a meeting with Dr. Navarro at 10 AM." 

"May I see your ID, please?" The man asks politely, extending his hand.

Jack hesitates for a moment and reluctantly hands over his ID, watching as the man's eyes scan the name. There's a brief pause, and then the man looks up at Jack, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Jack Daniels." The man says with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow at the name on the identification. 

Jack, sensing the unspoken question, clenches his teeth and responds with a touch of irritability, "Yes, it's real." The man understands the tone and directs Jack toward the appropriate elevator.

Jack complied eagerly and made his way toward the elevator. With anticipation, he reached out and pressed the button, making it glow orange. A ding echoed behind him in a matter of seconds. He hurriedly stepped inside the elevator and quickly jabbed at the close button, unwilling to wait for another passenger. Jack kept repeating a mantra of hurry, hurry, hurry in his mind. Without wasting a second, he confidently pressed the number 10.

Jack grows impatient inside the elevator, his fingers tapping restlessly against his hips as he paces back and forth. The rising numbers on the display screen get his attention, frows burring with each digit slowly increasing- reminding him of precious time slipping away. "This has to be the slowest fukin' elevator in the world." He growls in the empty elevator. Frustration lingers in Jack's thoughts; You should've taken the stairs instead of the goddamn elevator, his inner voice cursing the choice that delays the meeting with you. And when the tenth floor finally arrives, Jack leaps into action, his boots hitting the clean baby blue floor with a resounding thud.

Startling the receptionist, Jack raises a hand in apology and walks toward the front desk. He provides his name and appointment details, receiving a buzz of approval before being directed to his destination. Jack rushes forward, his heart pounding. Unbeknownst to him, the receptionist shakes their head, silently cautioning him to be careful, a concern in the receptionist's head so he won't stumble and falls on his ass because of his hurried run. 

The instructions echo in his mind, and he checks them off as he goes; walk to the automatic white doors, check, press the buzzard, check, walk to the end of the corridor, check, make a left, check, take one last left, chec-

And there you are, seated on a gray leather bench outside the meeting room, your eyes locked onto the black screen of your phone as if you’re waiting for it to light up, lost in a world of your own. Jack's breath catches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you, and his eyes well up with tears. Time seems to stand still as he stares at you, overwhelmed by the flood of memories and emotions that surge within him. Despite the passage of years, you still possess the power to make his heart flutter, your presence stirring a mixture of awe and love. She's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, he thinks.

However, Jack's expression falters as he realizes the missed opportunities, the unspoken words, the love not fully cherished. Regret taints his thoughts as he reflects on the path that brought the both of you to this moment. He wants to make amends for the pain he caused you, but Jack knows that this meeting has a different purpose; he doesn't know why the exact reason, but after everything he put you through, there must be a reason you need him. He's not going to let you down, not again.

Summoning his courage, Jack calls out your name. Your head immediately turns towards the voice, one that hasn't graced your ears in years, and for a quick moment, he sees a flicker of reluctance in your eyes. Seeing Jack again, admittingly, stirs up an overwhelming desire to hide from him. All you can see are the haunting memories. A flood of painful flashbacks that would bring you to tears in privacy. The temptation to approach him surges within you, but it's not for a hug or a kiss, no. Instead, you imagine the crimson mark your hand could leave on his cheek. But you take a deep breath, reminding yourself of the reason you reached out to him after all these years.

"I didn't think you were going to show." You finally say, your voice tinged with relief and guarded vulnerability. Rising from the bench, you stand before him, your hands tucked inside the comforting embrace of your black hoodie's pouch. 

Jack's heart aches at the sight of you, knowing that the pain he inflicted has left an unforgettable mark on you. Though he craves to erase the memories of hurt, he understands that redemption lies in actions, not words alone. Taking a deep breath, he suppresses his own desire to close the distance, touch you, and maybe taste your lips again. He mentally shakes his head, focusing instead on the reason for your reunion.

"Hi, Sug-" He stumbles for a moment, realizing he no longer has the right to call you by the affectionate nickname. "I mean, hello. I'm here." 

"I'm glad you came."

Jack nods, his throat tight with emotions he struggles to put into words. "I knew I had to be here," he says, "I couldn't let this opportunity slip away." 

"There are things we need to address, wounds that need healing. I want to make things right, to find a way to move forward together."

You want to interrupt, to rip the bandaid off, but Raul's advice rings in your ears, urging you to let the meeting room be the place to lay everything on the table. So you hold back and let Jack do the talking.

Jack takes a step closer, the distance between you shrinking. His heart pounds in his chest as he gets closer. "I know I've caused you so much pain," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm here today because... because I want to make things right. I wanna understand, I wanna listen, and try to heal the wounds I've caused. I wanna be there for you, to support you, to love you, and do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness. And if you'll let me, I wanna be a part of-" 

Just as Jack was about to request something that has always been on his mind, a door opening from behind you interrupts him. Raul with one foot inside the meeting room and the other in the corridor, calls out for both your names.

"We're ready for you," Raul announces a sense of urgency in his voice. He holds the door open, his gaze shifting between the two of you.

You exchange a quick glance with Jack, seeking reassurance, a silent confirmation that he'll follow through and both of you follow Raul into the conference room. The door shuts softly behind you, filling the room with the only sound. Your gaze sweeps the room, and you take in the white conference room with its black and white marble table in the middle and the soft glow of natural light.

Feeling a wave of emotions crashing over you, you instinctively shut your eyes for a few seconds to compose yourself. This is a lot harder than I expected... the thought lingers in your mind. Dr. Navarro's words echo in your memory, urging you to relax through the simple act of breathing. Breathe in, breathe out, you repeat silently, allowing the rhythmic inhalation and exhalation to steady your racing heart.

Choosing your chair carefully, you opt to sit with your back facing the window. It provides a sense of security and shields you from external distractions allowing you to solely focus on Jack. Your hand reaches out and lands upon one of the gray roll-on chairs, its smooth leather headrest cool against your fingertips. 

On the opposite side of the table, Jack is reluctantly guided by Raul to his designated seat. Oh, I can sit wherever I damn well please, he scoffs silently, but I suppose I can play by the rules for now. Just think about all the appointments with Dr. Reynolds and what-if scenarios. Don't mess this up. He takes a seat, begrudgingly accepting the arrangement, while his back deliberately faces the door. The positioning serves as a physical reminder of the boundaries and emotional distance that have grown between the two of you throughout the years.

Raul takes a seat at the head of the table. Clearing his throat, he breaks the silence. "Thank you both for coming today. As you may already know, the purpose of this meeting is of utmost importance. Mr. Daniels, the reason my client-"

Jack interrupts, his voice filled with a mix of urgency and vulnerability. "Stop. I don't want this to be an official meeting. I just... I want," he glances at you, his eyes searching for understanding, "I just want you to do the talking, please." He knows he has no right to make demands, but he wants to talk with you directly, to bridge the gap between you, if even it's just for a moment.

Raul looks at you briefly, to see how you're doing. "My role is simply to facilitate the conversation," Raul responds, his voice assuring and tinged with a hint of anger. Maldito inútil malparido (Fuking useless bastard). This asshole hurt her so much. How dare he make demands? Raul is well aware of the pain Jack caused you. He was one of the first people you confided in about the divorce, and he naturally helped you with the process. Raul cashed in many favors to expedite the process which would usually take time. In fact, he stayed up all night to ensure that he could serve Jack the papers the morning after you left him.

Truth be told, Raul initially liked Jack when you first introduced him to your friends. However, as time went on and you grew more serious, Jack's repeated slips of the tongue and thoughtless actions made Raul's opinion of him sour. The final straw for Raul was when Jack couldn't even give you the wedding you deserved. Raul knew how much you loved Jack, so even though he could see through your forced smile when discussing the wedding details, he congratulated you both and sent a gift.

You meet Raul's gaze, conveying your appreciation for his support. "Raul, está bien. (Raul, it's okay.)" You say softly, recognizing his concern and knowing that you need to have this conversation directly with Jack.

With a nod, Raul settles back in his chair, allowing the focus to shift solely to the two of you. The room is filled with a charged silence. As you prepare to speak, you take a moment to gather your thoughts and decide how you want to phrase everything.

"My baby... my baby has Fanconi Anemia and needs a blood donor." You explain, your voice trembling with desperation. "No one in the family has been a close match. Even among friends, no one is a match. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that almost everyone I know has been tested, but a donor hasn't been found."

You pause, the weight of the situation making your heart hurt. "Just a month ago, we were hopeful. A match was finally found through the National Marrow Donor Program. We finally felt like we could breathe, but then she was involved in a severe car accident. She was T-boned by a drunk driver, and her car fell into a ditch, causing a traumatic brain injury. Thank God she's going to be okay, but unfortunately, her condition disqualifies her from being a donor."

Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. "Now, we're back to square one, searching for a compatible donor, but it's going to take a long time again. Jack, I know you didn't love me or care about me, and I understand that you didn't want me to have the baby. But please, I'm begging you to get tested to see if you're a match. If you are, please consider donating."

A rush of emotions floods through you, a mixture of fear, vulnerability, and a glimmer of fragile hope. You gaze into Jack's eyes, desperately searching for a spark of compassion, a willingness to help. "I understand you still resent me for everything. If you do this, I promise it will be the last time I'll contact you. I won't ask for anything more. Please, Jack." 

Jack takes a moment to absorb your words, his eyes flickering with a complex mix of emotions. "What's their name?" He asks, his voice filled with curiosity and a hint of longing.

"His name is Ángel." You reply softly, feeling a bittersweet ache in your heart.

Jack's eyes widen, and a myriad of emotions passes over his face. "Ángel." He repeats and although he can't quite replicate your pronunciation thanks to his accent, it's still beautiful to him.  "I have a son." He whispers, his voice barely audible.

A flood of thoughts and emotions washes over Jack, overwhelming him. He shuts his eyes momentarily, attempting to process everything. This newfound knowledge stirs something deep within him, a sense of responsibility and a longing to be a father. I lost a son before he was born, I missed out on Ángel’s life when I said I didn’t want him, but I won’t lose him again. 

With determination in his voice, Jack looks at you. "I'll donate. I’ll do whatever it takes to help Ángel.”

He’s going to do it, you let out a sigh of relief. The alleviation that surges through you, washes away some of the anxieties that had been weighing you down. You're grateful that Jack is willing to take this step, to offer his help for the sake of your son. However, before you can express your gratitude, Jack's questions pour out in a rush.

“But... what is Fanconi Anemia? How bad is it? Is the procedure going to hurt him? Does he need surgery? What if I’m not a matc-" his voice trails off, uncertainty and concern etched on his face.

Realizing his anxieties, you reach out and gently interrupt him, calling his attention. "Jack," you say softly, trying to soothe his worries. "Breathe."

"I'm sorry. I forgot to explain Ángel's condition. His doctor was supposed to join us, but I can explain for now."

You take a deep breath, grateful that Jack is willing to help. "Fanconi Anemia is a rare condition where the bone marrow doesn't produce enough blood cells." You explain, your voice filled with sadness. "Ángel was diagnosed fairly recently because he didn’t have any physical abnormalities. But then, he started experiencing frequent nosebleeds, which was weird to us. We took him to his Pediatrician, who ordered blood tests. The results showed abnormally low blood counts, and that's when we knew something was wrong."

A twinge of admiration and pride fills your words as you continue. "He underwent a bone marrow needle biopsy to confirm the diagnosis. It wasn't an easy procedure, even though they numbed the area. I could see the discomfort in his eyes, but he never complained. In fact, he saw that my eyes were red and swollen, and he reassured me that he didn't even feel it. I knew it was a lie, but he just wanted to protect me."

Your voice trembles with a blend of love and admiration as you speak of your son's strength. The memories of his bravery since before his official diagnosis fills your heart with both pride and a deep ache. You pause for a moment, to regain your composure.

You are about to explain more about his condition and the procedure when the door behind Jack opens. Jack's gaze is solely focused on you since he assumes his son's doctor is the one coming in. Suddenly, you have a smile on your face when you look over Jack's shoulder, and he's confused until he hears the voice of the man that has given him nightmares ever since he got served with divorce papers.

“Cariño, Danny, and Heidi are staying with Ángel now,” Javier says as he makes his way to you, his presence a comfort for you and unease for Jack. "Sorry I'm late, I wanted to stay to see if he could keep his food down." He hovers over you and kisses the top of your head.

He pulls out a chair next to you, and that's when Jack sees it – a wedding band on Javier's left ring finger.

Fuck.

Unconsciously, you pull your hand from underneath the table and place your left hand on Javier's for comfort.

You had your hand covered the entire time, and that's when Jack notices it- your rings. 

Fuck.

You’re married to him? Jack seethes in his head.

“Jack.” Javier nods but Jack can’t respond. How can he respond when another man is married to the love of his life? 

In a moment of anger and hurt, Jack blurted out, "Did you cheat on me with him? Is that why you wanted a divorce?" Jack asks, the pain and jealousy bubbling to the surface.

Just like that, some of the gratitude for Jack shatters.

The response from you was immediate, “Jesus, no, you asshole,” you spit out, offended. “How dare you ask that?”

“You didn’t love me. That’s why I divorced you." You retort, feeling the anger resurface.

At that moment everything he discussed with Dr. Reynolds, all of the progress was gone. He did just find out so much within the past few minutes, and his usual coping techniques seemed to fail him in this moment of overwhelming emotions.

“Wait, if you cheated on me with him, that means he could have been the one to knock you up. How do I know Ángel is my son?” Of course, you remarrying was killing him, but if that on top of having his son snatched when he just got him back, it would end him.

“I never cheated on you, Jack.” You spit out, offended. “You were the one that was involved in another relationship, even if it was emotional. Not me. Don’t make me the villain.”

"You’re Ángel’s biological father, Jack." You emphasized, hoping to dispel any doubts he had. But he seemed stuck in his head.

Biological, the word echoed in his ears. It was a harsh reminder that he was just the man who contributed to Ángel's DNA. He hasn't been his dad, and if he keeps this up, he will never know his son like he wants to.

"You want a paternity test? Done," you offered, wanting to rid his doubts. "But if you don’t want to take my word for it, Fanconi Anemia is an inherited disease. Ángel has the FANCR gene, which is autosomal dominant. I got screened for it, and I’m not a carrier. Autosomal dominant means that a gene from one parent can cause the genetic condition. If I didn’t pass the gene, that means you’re the carrier. That’s how Ángel got the disease."

The reality hit him like a ton of bricks. I did this to my son. He’s sick because of me.

The room falls silent, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air. The pain and guilt wash over him, and Jack is overwhelmed by his emotions.

"Querida, calm down. This isn’t good for you. Te va ser daño. (It’s going to harm you.) This isn’t good for the baby," Javier tries to soothe you, his voice gentle and caring. Javier's dark eyes bore into Jack with rage. Jack can feel the anger emanating from your husband. Javi leans forward, his body language asserting his presence. His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck visibly tense, and his hands grip the edge of the table as he struggles to keep his emotions in check.

The baby? Jack thinks.

The hospital is always cold, which is why you always have a sweater with you, but right now, you feel like you're burning up. You lean back from the table and unzip your hoodie, instantly feeling cooler with your sweater out of the way.

Jack's eyes are drawn to your swollen and round stomach, and he's speechless.

Extended note: Just as I thought, Jack is more popular than Dave, so in the meantime, I'll be working on the graphics for this series instead of Eres Mía. Dave is one of my top 3 favorite Pedro characters, and I think he's highly underrated, but I get the love for the cowboy! 

I'm slowly adding titles of fics that I plan on sharing, so if you see something without a link on my masterlist, I'll get to it (eventually). After this series is completed, I think I'll post another Whiskey one-shot (he's been to therapy in this one :), but I'm not too sure yet.

If you've read this far, thank you, and have a great day 🤎

Please feel free to comment and reblog! I truly do love reading them!

Tag list: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy

[promisingyounglady]

javier peña. | NARCOS.

go back to bed.

accident.

[pedros-husband]

You have a big ass

pedro pascal characters x male/gn! reader

characters included: Javier Pena, Joel miller, Javi Gutierrez, Marcus Moreno, Ezra, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, agent whiskey, Silva, Oberyn Martell

javier pena: he loves a juicy ass so his eyes are constantly on yours, especially if you wear any of his 70's style jeans. he has no shame so wether your in the office, in town, or at home he will slap your ass or squeeze it. he especially likes it if your bent over someones desk trying to speak to them, he loves picturing how you'd look bent over his desk whilst he fucks you.

Joel miller: hes not into PDA so he'll only ever stare at your ass if your in public, but he'll still do it shamelessly. sometimes he'll let you walk ahead with someone else on patrol or by yourself simply so he can stare at your ass and they way your jeans cling to it, or the way yoour hips move at each step, making your ass jut out.

when yoru at home though, hes completely different. he has absolutely no self restraint when your in the comfort of your house and no ones prying eyes are on you. he'll smack, slap, kneed your ass, at every chance he gets, in the morning or evening thoguh he loves smacking your ass in the morning whilst you make coffee, making you stand up straight and let out a surprised snort, snapping you awake.

Javi Gutierrez: he’s a sucker for you in anyway possible and he loves praising you in any shape or form so he loves commenting on how much he loves your body, especially your ass. When your cuddling his hands will subconsciously move to rest on your ass, sexually and non sexually. If he’s feeling more frisky he’ll squeeze and/or slap your ass. He’s also a sucker for making you feel good and he loves eating you out. (I totally see him as a power bottom)

Marcus Moreno: he’s super cheesy and I can totally see him as that chest single dad so he’ll mostly make cheeky comments and jokes about your ass (In a cute way though) he totally loves eating you out and holding your ass cheeks as he does so, because like javi he’s all for making you feel good and giving you the pleasure, because he gets pleasure from yours.

Ezra: he is a man of words and poems so he’ll go on long tangents about how much he just loves your ass or he’ll talk in great detail about what he wants to do to your ass/ with it. He also likes smacking your ass when you don’t expect it.

Din djarin: he’s not very touchy especially because he’s spent most of his life alone, but he’ll admire the way your armour/clothes cling to your ass. He loves watching you work or train in silence, he is so grateful of his helmet so you can’t tell that his gaze is almost permanently on your ass. When you do get more intimate or touchy he’ll mumble about how sexy your ass is and if he’s feeling particularly bold he’ll grab it and pick you up, punning you against the wall.

Frankie morales: he also is shameless in public so he’ll smack/slap your ass as a greeting or in passing. He smirks when you gasp and smack his arm, smiling at your angry blushing face. In bed/cuddling he’ll

Agent whiskey: he’s got no shame as well, in public, at work, or at home. He loves if you wear tight fitting jeans and if you do he looses all self restraint. If it’s in the office he’ll fully pick you up by your ass and onto his desk, he can and will take you at work, tequila and ginger are used to it by now and have earplugs for when you do it. He’s slap your ass as he walks by you as reflex, sometimes he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

Silva: he’s so sweet and soft for you, but he worships you and your body so he’ll constantly mumble under his breath to you about how much he loves your ass, how it drives him wild. When cuddling on the bed/couch he’ll pull you into his chest by your ass cheeks and knees them softly.

Oberyn martell: everyone knows he’s a complete man whore with no shame at all. Hell fuck you all over the palace and in the garden. So sometimes he’ll slip out of meeting and duties just to watch you train, admiring the way your armour and underclothes excentuate your ass. Hell not necessarily slap your ass but he does like to knees it in his hands and watch as it goes redder with his touch. He also likes eating you out and holding your ass cheeks as he does so.

————————————————————————————

I didn’t include as many characters this time because this serves as more of a placeholder whilst I finish my main fic that hopefully should be finished soon. It’s already over 1.5k long and I’m not halfway finished yet 😅

[pascalsbby]

writing vile and nasty novels (smut) about him in great and poetic detail is not enough, i need to taste him.

[hihomeghere]

Charles fluff and maybe even a tad bit of angst given the prompts, who knows, but please write prompt 48 and 64 for Charles I will literally die of joy plus we need more fluffy fics of him <333

- ੈ✩ 🍡 ‧₊˚

Word count : 1230 Warnings/tags : love confessions, fluff, cursing Prompts : #48, You make me want things I can't have #64, I'm not sure what to do with these feelings for you hope you enjoy, smooches!

Charles was an enigma. Joining the gang nearly seven months ago, he seamlessly fit into the band of outlaws. He kept his head down, taking it upon himself to complete tasks before Miss Grimshaw lost her mind about them. 

Like a well oiled machine he moved around camp, fixing what needed to be fixed, getting done what needed to be done. Whether that be fixing a wagon wheel, or carrying bales over to the horses. He did it without complaint and unprompted. 

He moved like a shadow, silently, not speaking unless spoken to first. Even at that he would normally only respond with one word answers, yes, no. You had been wary of him at first. Not appreciating his almost cold presence. Although the longer you got to know him you saw through his standoffish persona, seeing the warm, passionate man underneath. To others he may have seemed unwelcoming, a puzzle that wasn’t worth solving. But you had always liked a challenge.

You couldn’t say what had first drawn you to him. It wasn’t like a moth to a flame, no. It was gradual, like a ship pulled towards a lighthouse. Something about him was like a beacon, calling to you across the stormy seas of life. Perhaps it was the way the morning light fell against his dark locs, deep golden beams cutting through his silky strands. Or the way the firelight made his umber skin glow as he sat around the fire. Always offering his assistance when anyone seemed to struggle. His near obsidian eyes piercing your very soul every time they found yours. You picked him apart piece by piece, longing for him to bear the most intimate parts to you.

Or maybe it was because he played so damn hard to get. You thought you were being obvious in your affection. If it was anyone else, even someone as daft as Sean would have realized your intentions.

Instead, when you asked for him to accompany you to the general store, or if he wouldn’t mind your company around the fire, he would only give you a small nod. It was infuriating. Either he was too kind to reject your advances, or he seriously couldn’t see how much you cared for him.

But you were not a woman to give up so easily, you doubled down your efforts. You would go out of your way to interact with him. Damn near running to grab a seat near him whenever you heard him start to play the harmonica. Your eyes constantly searched for him at camp, which did earn you a scolding or two when you were supposed to be doing chores. It was well worth Miss Grimshaw’s tongue lashing every time.

How were you supposed to focus when he would bring that axe down, his arms glistening with sweat. Or when his skillful fingers fashioned poisoned arrows, grinding up the Oleander he had carefully picked. 

He was kind, thoughtful with a dry sense of humor that never failed to make you laugh. You would consider him a friend even if you wanted something more. The thought that you could ruin what you had between the two of you, just because of your traitorous heart, ran a chill through you. A few times you had suspected he might feel the same, but nothing would come from a lingering glance or his fleeting touch.

Any time you had a free moment you would come up with something to talk to him about. Karen and the other girls had taken to teasing you. Although their words caused heat to flood your cheeks, you knew they weren’t wrong. You were sweet on him. Perhaps you weren't as clear in your feelings as you hoped, perhaps you needed to bite the bullet and just come clean about your feelings.

“Charles, do you have a moment?” You asked, giving him a small smile. Hoping your calm demeanor would hide the anxiety building under the surface. Butterflies erupting in your stomach as his dark eyes found yours.

“For you, always.” He nodded, setting down the piece of wood he was whittling. You discreetly wiped your sweaty palms off on your skirt as he got to his feet. “Lead the way.”

The two of you walked down to the sandy shore near camp. Staring out at the rippling surface of Flat Iron lake. 

“Charles I-“ you bit your lip, the words getting caught in your throat as you looked up at him. “I have to tell you something.”

“Alright…” His tone was apprehensive as he looked at you.

“I…” You picked at your fingers, sinking slightly into the sand below your feet. “I care for you.” You said raising your eyes to meet him. 

His face was near emotionless other than the small furrow of his brows. 

“I care for you and-“

“Don’t.” He cut you off, his jaw clenched as his hands landed on his hips. “Don’t say anymore.” You swallow thickly, trying to get past the lump that’s growing in your throat. Your heart sinking like a stone into your stomach.

“I just- I don’t know what to do with these feelings for you.” You said softly, his rejection stinging like a slap to the face. He squeezed his eyes shut, like your words were physically paining him.

“Damn it you-“ He sighed, shaking his head, “you make me want things I can’t have.”

“What?” You asked, your brows knitting together as you stared at him. 

“You. You make me want you and I- I can’t have you.” He huffed, running a hand through his hair. He wanted you. Your mouth fell open, stunned to silence by his confession. He let out a frustrated sigh, turning to walk away from you. You reached out, wrapping your hand around his wrist.

“Why the hell not?” You asked, shaking your head.

“Y/n, look at me. Look at us. We’re from two different worlds and I won’t- I won’t subject you to my suffering.” He finished, anguish shining in his eyes. 

“When have we ever played by the rules?” You scoffed lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t care. I don’t care where you come from, I just care about you. Who you are.” You raised your hand slowly, giving him all the time to pull away. You cupped his face, running your thumb over his scarred cheek. “I- I’m falling for you Charles.” You admitted.

“Damn it.” He sighed, his eyes shut tight as he looked down. As though he was wrestling with himself, eventually one side won. His eyes raised to meet yours, nearly taking your breath away as he caught your gaze. 

His hand wrapped around the back of your neck as he crashed his lips against yours. You squeaked, your body tensing before you melted into his embrace. Your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him close.

The two of you parted for air, his forehead resting against yours. “You have no idea how hard this has been, trying to avoid you, ignore you, your touches,” He mumbled against your lips. “You’ve driven me crazy.” A smile spread across his lips.

“Drove you crazy? I was suspecting you might just be oblivious.” You chuckled breathlessly, shaking your head as you cupped his cheek. He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. 

“Not oblivious, just a fool.”

[thosewickedlovelies]

Ride | Javier Peña x Jack Daniels (x Reader)

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: Jack finds Javi in his favorite spot

Tags: gay cowboy porn was my placeholder name for this; i think some domesticity snuck in tho; SMUT: dry humping, hand stuff, frottage, uhh discussion of having to clean up two horny cowboys’ worth of come if that bothers anyone. Reader appears only briefly in this but fem pronouns are used to refer to them.

Words: 2,012

Note: This is set in the far future of Rancher Boys, but it’s mostly pwp so you don’t have to have read anything else to enjoy it lol. Reader’s nickname is Silver.

Masterlist

Up in the hayloft, Javier dozes.

Or rather, he’s on the cusp of dozing. The air is sun-warmed, dusty and hay-scented. An old blanket cushions his back against the wood boards. He’s pushed his hat down over his eyes, blocking out the filtered light. The ranch’s usual animal noises are distant and muted. 

This has become a favorite spot of Javi’s (and not least because you spend most of your time here). This barn is generally unoccupied, peaceful, and most everyone else forgets about it, which means Javi isn’t usually found if he doesn’t want to be. 

So Javier lies warm and drowsy and on the cusp of dozing, his thoughts drifting like a butterfly on the breeze. He’s not trying to nap, necessarily- he wanted to see you, and knowing you were slated to be here today, figured he’d take a break while he waited for you to arrive.

The barn door opens below. His awareness stirs, but his breathing remains deeps and even. He doesn’t have to see you right away…he’s so comfortable, his consciousness slowing, saturated, bleeding at the edges like a sheet of paper about to dissolve.

“Javi? You in here?” 

The voice that calls his name is not yours.

Javi inhales sharply. It’s as much as he’s able to do, heavy as he is under the weighted blanket of comfort and sleepiness.

Booted feet clunk against the rungs of the ladder. “Are you nappin’ up here again? I swear, I oughta dock your pay…”

Javi’s mouth curves upward. As his hat is flicked off his head, his eyelids flutter, slow and heavy.

Golden light seeps in around the edges of a shadow. As Javi blinks the blear of sleep from his eyes, the dark splotch resolves into the familiar face of one Jack Daniels.

“And just what do you think you’re doin’, cowboy? Napping, in the middle of a workday? Shameful.”

“Dock my pay any more and I won’t be making anything.” Javier’s voice comes out gravelly with sleep.

Jack scoffs. “And you wouldn’t deserve it, neither.” 

Jack swings a leg over Javi’s hips and settles into his seat. He leans down, taking Javi’s face in his hands, and plants his mouth on Javi’s. 

Javi grunts, tipping his face up into Jack’s kiss. His fingers fumble with Jack’s shirt, eventually untucking it and reaching the warm skin beneath. He tries to arch up so his chest is pressed to Jack’s, letting out a whiny grumble. 

Jack releases his mouth with a huff. He stares down at Javi- ruddy flush in his cheeks, hair mussed, brown eyes liquid and hazy- and a smile cracks across his face. “You’re real fuckin’ cute all sleepy like this, you know that?”

Javier’s smile wavers between smug and bashful. “You’re real fucking cute all over me like this.” He adjusts his hips, unconsciously attempting to ease pressure on the erection that’s growing with every shift of Jack’s weight.

Snorting, Jack tilts his head, eyes dark and amused. “That so? You got proof of that, cowboy?” Sitting up straight, Jack trails his fingers down, down Javi’s chest, until he reaches the seam of his jeans. He presses down, and Javi’s hips lurch. His cock swells to fill Jack’s palm.

Javi licks suddenly dry lips. “That’s my line.” He tries to grumble, but it comes out more like a croak.

“Hmm?”

Jack’s eyes never leave Javi’s face. His hand works, firm, rubbing at the length of Javi’s cock beneath his jeans.

Pleasure clouds the edges of Javi’s vision. “Cowboy,” Javi grits. “You’re the cowboy.”

Shivers race up and down his spine. He groans helplessly, his head twisting to the side. 

One corner of Jack’s mouth curls up; his eyes are intent. “I reckon that’s true,” he agrees. “Riding this bucking bronco I got here.”

Jack grasps Javi’s hips suddenly, using them to brace himself as he leans forward. His own hips move, sinuous as a bull rider, rhythmically pressing his bulge into Javi’s.

“Fuck, Jack,” Javi gasps.

His hands splay and grip Jack’s thighs. Jack jerks forward, his palm slapping the floor next to Javi’s head. His breathing gusts against Javi’s neck. “If you want, sugar,” Jack croons.

It’s like all the pleasantly sleepy, content feelings that had been coating Javi were now concentrated, burrowing into his skin and arrowing straight to his dick. He wants more, wants to feel Jack’s skin, the hard-and-softness of Jack’s cock in his hand.

Jack’s tongue is in his mouth; his chest is pressed to Javi’s. He can hardly breathe. More. The tightness of Jack’s jeans has never been so aggravating, preventing Javi from getting a grip on the button. Catching on to Javi’s intentions, Jack stills, just long enough for both of them to rip open the other’s pants.

Javi wraps his hand around Jack’s cock, tight. His chest heaves as Jack does the same to him, tugging his cock carefully through the gap in his boxers. A groan escapes between Javi’s gritted teeth.

“Glad to see you takin’ my advice.” Jack manages to sound both stern and amused, only the barest bit breathless at their activities.

“..What?”

“About protectin’ your delicates?” Jack nods down at Javi’s unfamiliar undergarments.

“Oh, yeah. Well I, uh- I got a UTI. Before, not now,” Javi mumbles.

Jack lets out a bark of surprised laughter. “No kiddin’? Aw, Jav. Is that why you were so cagey about sex for a minute there?”

“Yeah. Just..felt stupid.” Javi looks away from Jack and his kind eyes and loving hands, stroking, stroking, evoking feelings that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Happens to everyone, cowboy. You just let me know your favorite brand so I can get you more for Christmas.”

Jack twists his wrist and Javi chokes on a shout, nearly writhing out of his brand new boxer briefs. Any lingering embarrassment is driven clean from his head. All that’s left is Jack- Jack’s work-roughened hand wrapped around his cock, Jack’s mouth on his again.

Jack leans down and then their fists are bumping, knocking into each other as they jerk each other off. Jack partially releases him only for Javi to feel Jack’s fingers nudging his; Javi retreats, and then Jack’s hand is enclosing both their cocks, and it’s rigid fire, slickness over callused palms, heat racing up through Javi’s body like wildfire. He’s gasping. “Jack-” 

“I know, baby, I know. You close?”

“Yeah.” Javi can’t seem to make himself move. He’s helpless to the pleasure Jack so expertly draws from him, only able to keep his hand in a loose grip around the base of their cocks, keeping them upright for Jack to manipulate. Jack’s hand brushes Javi’s with every stroke. 

A fist tightening around the base of his spine, coiling, winding all that pleasure up somewhere between his hips. Sweat flushes and prickles his skin. Jack squeezes them, his cock rigid and throbbing against Javi’s….and Javi snaps. His head tips back, his eyes squeeze shut as pleasure barrages through him. Ragged moans catch in his heaving chest.

“Fuckin’- sexy, Jav-”

Jack sounds pained. His hand keeps moving, faster. Javi’s release dribbles over his hand, hot and sticky, and Javi squeezes spasmodically. 

His eyes open just in time to see Jack come. Curved over Javi, Jack goes stiff and shuddery as a drawn bow. His eyes catch Javi’s half a second before they slam shut. Javi’s cock twinges at the prolonged contact, but he ignores it, instead focusing, fascinated, on the round of Jack’s mouth and the crimp in his brow as he comes.

When Jack finally relaxes, Javi’s hand is substantially stickier than it was before. Their combined release drips over his knuckles where they rest against Jack’s fly; Javi dreads to think of where else it ended up.

With a gusty sigh, Jack opens his eyes. Strands of hair, normally gelled flat, have fallen over his forehead. Javi’s fingers itch to smooth them aside before he remembers: he can. Javi lifts his free hand and gently pushes Jack’s hair back into place, skimming down his temple and past his jaw. He lets his hand fall and rest beside Jack’s, their fingertips brushing.

Jack’s eyes crinkle. “Hey, baby.” He leans down and kisses Javi again, so thoroughly it’s hard to tell if he’s satisfied or hungry for more. Could be both. “Good ride, cowboy?”

Javi’s heart is still thumping, and Jack’s kiss hadn’t helped. “Mmmm.” 

Javi glances down their bodies. Jack follows his gaze and grimaces slightly, tacky fingers flexing. He harrumphs. “The only disadvantage to male biology, I reckon. The mess.”

Mess, indeed. Javi’s shirt is beyond saving, splashed with come nearly three buttons up. Jack’s t-shirt had dipped in some of it when he leaned forward, but he could probably hide that by tucking it in. Although that would leave his jeans exposed, and, well…what goes up must come down. White stains are already evident, much more obvious against the dark denim.

Javi’s mouth twitches. “Silver has tissues in her office. Some towels too, I think.”

Jack huffs. “And how are we supposed to get there, walkin’ around like this?” He gestures to their very exposed and come-streaked groins. “I don’t think so. Here, you can’t wear that shirt outta here anyway. We can clean ourselves up with that and go from there.”

“And what am I supposed to wear out of here if we do that?”

“You can wear my jacket.”

Javi stares at Jack. “Your jacket,” he say flatly. Jack’s jacket and nothing else. It would be less obvious if he simply walked out shirtless. “If you wanted to see me in your clothes, you could have just said so.”

“Fine. I want to see you in my clothes.” Jack sits back and smirks at Javi, brazen as they come (ha). He still holds their cocks carefully, but the softer they get, the more difficult it will be to keep come from spilling anywhere else. “I’m sorry, Jav, but it don’t seem like we got any other options.”

Javi shifts in discomfort, knowing that Jack is right. The floor feels like it’s getting harder against his back, despite the blanket.

The blanket!

Through no small amount of wiggling, swearing, and teamwork, they manage to pull the blanket out from under them without getting come everywhere (else). 

Javi sets the very used blanket aside with a grimace. “I hope this isn’t a blanket she cares about.”

Jack flops onto his back with a sigh, sprawling on the bare wooden boards without any compunction “I’m sure it’ll be fine. C’mere.”

Javi obliges. Bare-chested, he settles into Jack’s side. All the tension seems to leech from his bones, and a sense of deep contentment replaces it, grounding him. Jack strokes his back soothingly, languishing in the afterglow. Javi’s eyes flutter shut.

It feels like they’ve had only seconds when the barn door opens again. Javi tenses; Jack only turns his head.

“Javi? Are you in here?”

This time, the voice that calls his name is yours.

Javi can feel Jack’s grin begin.

“Jack was looking for you,” you continue. Footsteps scuff toward the ladder. Javi’s face starts to warm. “He does know about this spot, you know. It’s only a matter of time…Oh!”

Your sound of surprise echoes over them as your head clears the floor of the loft.

Jack is grinning broadly. “Not to worry, sugar. I found him.”

“I see that,” you laugh.

For you can see, with crystal clarity, the pink in Javi’s cheeks and the flecks of straw in his hair as he props himself up from Jack’s chest. “Hey, baby,” he says, low and almost shy. “I was waiting for you up here, but then Jack came-” 

“Now just a second there, Jav,” Jack interrupts. “You came first, if I recall.” His drawl trembles with laughter.

Javi scowls, turning a glare on his masculine partner. His other partner is giggling, kneeling down to join them, radiating adoration like the sun’s warmth. 

“Now, now, boys. The real question is-” you stop suddenly, your attention snagged by something else. 

“-Is that my blanket?”

---

Thanks for reading! ❤️🧡

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Pre-TLOU Writers Archive

A resource for finding pre-TLOU Pedro Pascal characters fics

Part 2: I to O

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ARCHIVE MASTERLIST

[pedroshotwifey]

Badly described WIP poll

Ty for tagging me @nerdieforpedro!! ❤️

Gonna cheat a bit and use some of my idea that aren’t 100% in progress yet

Tags: @kewwrites @princessanglophile @superhoeva @sweetercalypso @survivingandenduring @callachloe @yorksgirl

[anabdaniels]

Cowboytober Day 23- Cheating

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female reader x Javier Peña

Word counting: 2.3k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, established relationship, reader speaks Spanish (translations at the end) unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), reader and Jack are two little bitches with no much morals.

A/N: Javier Peña girlies please don't hate me for this, I know dear boy Peña deserve better.

Main Masterlist | Cowboytober Masterlist

You hated those stupid parties—not the party itself, but the fact that your husband would spend his whole time working and getting stressed, giving you free time enough to remember how long it had been since the last time the two of you had a real parting time or an actual date.

“Those guys are unbelievable.” Javier grumbled while approaching you with a dose of whiskey.

“Are you done with the interrogation?” you questioned exasperated, hoping to have at least a bit of fun with him, and sighing when he shook his head.

“There’s a lot of people here that may know important information, I have to take the chance.” He explained while rubbing his thumb against his bottom lip.

“¿En serio, Javi?” you pulled out the Spanish, not wanting anyone around staring at the scene “Es una puta noche de sábado.” you rolled your eyes, taking a long sip of your sparkling wine.

“Corazón, por favor…” Javier sighed and leaned closer to you “Esta es una buena oportunidad que no la puedo desperdiciar, además…”

“Vale.” You didn’t wait for him to finish the explanation, quite done with all that “Voy a buscar alguna manera de soportar el aburrimiento.” You sighed in frustration and walked away, changing your glass for a full one when the waiter passing by offered and kept walking, looking around to distract yourself, only looking back to what was in front of you when you felt your shoulder stumbling in someone.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” The man apologized with a warm tone and sympathetic smile.

“Oh no, it was my bad for not looking at my way.” You recognized with a soft smile “Got caught by the ambience.”

“May I assume you’re enjoying the party then?” he asked slightly raising one eyebrow.

“I think so. And the buzz is everything people talk about.” You said raising your glass slightly.

“Well, I’m glad you have good opinions of our product and environment. “

“So, you’re part of the business.” You tilted your head slightly, interested in the matter.

“Well, where are my manners?” he chuckled and took off the Stetson hat “Jack Daniels, chief executive officer of Statesman & Co. at your disposal.” He said in a politer tone with a soft nod, making you smile involuntarily before telling him your name.

“I’m quite embarrassed to get to meet the CEO of the company hosting the party after almost spilling a whole glass of drink on him.” You joked despite being true.

“Don’t be.” He spoke while putting his hat back “These are generally the ones that end better.”

“You might be right; I wasn’t having much fun ‘till now.” You admitted while the two of you started to walk around the room.

“Now you made me curious.” Jack kept his attention on you, interested in what would be your answer.

“Let’s say that my companion is more interested in useless gossip than making me company.”

“Their absolute loss. A good party with such a gracious company it’s the best thing that could happen to someone on a Saturday night.” He said naturally with a slight smirk, making you chuckle and look at him.

“Where’s your company then?”

“I wish I could’ve one, I mean, I was lowkey running away from the work when we stumbled, y’know these are more like a job meeting with some buzz. I’d let my company planted in the same place all night,” he admitted sincerely, making you laugh quietly at the irony of the situation.

“I wish my husband had such a perception.” You vented involuntarily.

“So, he’s the one who left you to gossip around?” Jack concluded easily, getting even more interested as you nodded “Well then, I think we have something to improve this party for both of us.” He said with an inviting tone, reaching out a hand to you. Not caring about anything else, you accepted the offer, letting him take you wherever he was planning to. The two of you walked through a corridor, entering a room with built-in shelves filled with bottles of all kinds of drinks that, even not being a big connoisseur of the matter, you knew were expensive.

“I could enjoy a sincere friendship with someone who has access to this kinda stuff.” You joked while making yourself comfortable on the couch near the big windows.

“Just to let you know, I’m available.” Jack answered with a chuckle while getting a bottle of sparkling wine and two glasses, moving to sit near you.

“I’ll remember that.” You answered before finishing the drink on the glass you brought and letting it sit on the coffee table. Jack shook his head with a smile and opened the bottle, filling both glasses and handing one to you. You smiled before taking the first sip, looking at Jack with a surprised frown. “This one is somehow even better than the party one.”

“Precisely why I chose it.” He admitted with a smirk. You smiled and looked away when your phone started to vibrate, making you sigh before declining the call. “Something wrong?”

“Just my husband.” You answered frustrated and leaned back on the sofa.

“And you don’t seem pleased about it.” He pointed sincerely, observing you.

“And I’m not. I’m tired of being put aside because of work, but still don’t want to leave him.” You shrugged.

“Seems like a fair union then.” Jack stated making you laugh and look at him.

“You’re sounding way too judgmental for someone not caring about being in a quite discussable scenario with a married woman.” You pointed with a slightly sarcastic tone.

“If you do not care about being married, why should I?” he retorted with a smirk, letting you in a mix of shock and satisfaction.

“You might have a point.” You let your glass sit on the coffee table and crawled to mount on his lap “So I think we can ignore it together.” You said calmly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Now that’s an idea.” Jack agreed with a husky tone, leaning to kiss your neck while putting his glass away either and grabbing your waist. Both of you stopped before anything else as your phone started to buzz again.

“Fuck…” you rolled your eyes and put your phone on airplane mode before turning back to Jack “We’ll have to be quick.”

“Almost sounds like a challenge.” He joked while squeezing your hips.

“If it’ll give you motivation…” you chuckled while sliding your hands under his blazer, groping his torso softly.

“Let’s see what we can do.” He leaned forward and kissed you, one hand going to your back to open the first half of your dress’ zipper, easing the fabric so he could sneak his hands into it to grab your breasts.

Forgetting about the whole scenario for a moment, you melted on his lap, sinking your fingers in his torso and squirming softly as he went further, teasing your nipples and going down to nibble your jaw and kiss your neck.

Letting your anticipation and eagerness take the best of your self-control, you moved your hands to undo Jack’s belt and unzip his jeans, taking his hardened cock into your hand, softly squeezing and stroking it, feeling unfairly desperate to have it inside you. Noticing your desperation to release the length of your dress from under your legs to lift it, Jack promptly directed his hands to help you roll it up, chuckling as he realized you had nothing under it.

“This only gets better hum?” he teased and softly nibbled your chin.

“In my defense, it would mark under the dress.” You chuckled too while settling yourself better on his lap.

“Let’s pretend this is true.” He mumbled against your skin, wrapping one arm around your waist as he moved your body down, burying himself to the hilt inside you, taking a unison moan from the two of you.

“Oh, c’mon…” you whined with your forehead resting against his when Jack moved his fingers to between your legs steadily rubbing on your clit.

“You said our time is short, I’m using the resources I have.”

You would’ve retorted, but it was all too much; the adrenaline, the awareness that it was a mistake, feeling wanted for the first time in weeks, you could only concentrate on the moment and try to enjoy every second of it, which wasn’t a difficult task while being so well fucked. Your hands gripped Jack’s shoulders to keep your balance as your hips instinctively moved against his, the junction of the moving from both of you making it feel like heaven.

Jack wrapped one hand in your neck and pulled you closer, kissing you to silence your increasing moans as he picked up the pace at the very moment he felt your muscles starting to slightly spasm around his cock. Despite wanting to make it last, you also were unable to do it, once it had been a considerable time since your needs had been met, after all, the unmeasurable amounts of stress Javier lived under didn’t make any favor to your bedroom life in general, yes, there was those days when he would get rid of his frustration by fuck you, but when it was just average annoyance, you knew nothing would happen. You didn’t try to fight that feeling growing in your womb, wrapping your fingers on Jack’s collar as you melted on his lap, doing the best you could to keep your noises under control as you leaned to hide your face on the curve of his neck, trying to put yourself together.

“You’re okay, dear?” Jack asked quietly, pressing a kiss on your shoulder.

“Yes.” You answered still panting a bit while straightening yourself to look at him “Just not quite feeling my thighs, but fine.” You smiled when Jack chuckled and cupped your face.

“C’mon, you’re telling me that just this is enough to destabilize you?” he teased while brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“You’d be shocked with what need can do to someone.” You joked despite being true “But I fear we’re ain’t done yet.” You didn’t give him time to question what were your plans, dismounting from his lap and kneeling on the floor between his legs “You’re such a hospitable host, only fair to be properly thanked for it.” You leaned in, running your tongue along the underside of his cock from base to tip. The salty taste of his pre-cum mixed with your juices, making your mouth water for more. Wrapping your lips around the head, you began to suck gently, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip.

“Shit, darlin’…” Jack's fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your movements. You hummed around him, the vibration giving him a slight shiver. You concentrated in bob your head, setting a steady rhythm as you sucked and licked him, eager for the taste of his release. Jack's grip tightened, his breath growing irregular.

You could only increase your efforts, determined to bring him to the limit, daring to move your free hand to cup and massage his balls, wondering if it would add to the experience.

"Fuck, you’re being unfair here. I’m gonna fill this pretty mouth of yours.” he warned, giving you the chance to pull away, but you didn't, instead keeping your consistent work on him. With a husky groan, Jack got to his limit, his hot seed shooting directly on your tongue and the back of your throat and you made sure to swallow it greedily.

Jack fell backward against the backrest of the sofa, chest moving up and down. You released him with a soft pop, licking your lips and smiling smugly while you sat next to him, wondering how you’d act naturally after what just happened.

After a couple of minutes, the two of you were able to think clearly once again, starting to fix the “damages”, helping each other to align your clothes back in place, then it took another couple of minutes to clean all your burgundy lipstick from Jack’s lips.

“Your business partners must be wondering where you are.” You said jokingly while checking if your makeup and hair were well retouched on your phone’s camera.

“They’re probably way too drunk by now to notice I’ve left.” He answered in the same tone as he finished aligning his tie.

“Hope you’re right.” You chuckled and shook your head.

“Before I forgot…” Jack calmly handed his phone to you, already unlocked on the “create a contact” screen.

“You’re quite bold, hum?” you laughed and shook your head while saving your number on his contacts.

No much later, the two of you left the room, walking calmly through the corridor while still talking, distracted to the point you only noticed Javier approaching you two when he was just a couple of steps away.

“Where have you been? I called you a hundred times.” Javier sounded truly concerned.

“I got lost on my way to the restroom and my signal is a bit shitty here.” You lied without even blinking, sounding quite convincing and hoping he wouldn’t ask anything else.

“Hi, Peña” Jack greeted with a smug grin, making you wonder what was the situation between the two of them.

“Hi, Daniels.” Javier also didn’t sound very pleased with Jack’s presence, everything only making you more tense.

“Well, we’re going, right?” you broke the tense silence and Javier nodded slightly “Great. Bye, Jack, was an amazing party.” You smiled politely and turned to leave, but Javier softly held your elbow.

“Wait, since when do you know each other?” usually Javier would try to figure out such answers by himself, but all that was way too weird for his taste, and the suspicion in the back of his mind was only growing bigger.

“I found her lost on the corridor, just doin’ my job to keep my guests comfortable.” Jack said cynically and if you didn’t know the truth, you’d believe in his version.

“Hum.” Javier didn’t seem convinced while looking at both of you and slightly twitching his jaw.

“Let’s go, Javi. I’m tired.” You said while entangling your arm on his and pulling him with you, aware that you might be in trouble but choosing to ignore it.

Translations: “Really, Javi? It's a fucking Saturday night." "Love, please... This is a good opportunity that I can't waste, besides…" "Okay. I'm going to find some way to endure the boredom."

Tagging: @missladym1981 @alex-does-art-things @beefrobeefcal

[loslentesdepedrito]

I'm Your Wife- Chapter Seven

Javi gif by: @skyshipper Jack gif by: @javier-pena My Masterlist

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Six

Word count: 9.2k+

Chapter summary: It's time for Ángel's surgery and the transplant preparation. Following the procedure, Jack visits his son, providing some closure regarding your marriage.

A/N: This chapter concludes the final installment of the series and stands as my penultimate post on this blog. Next week, hopefully, I'll be sharing one more post—a Din piece—officially wrapping up this blog. I intend to maintain my writing for another two weeks before ultimately closing my account. Thank you to everyone who has supported me!

Rating: 18+ No explicit content, but this is an 18+ page. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the Whiskey bottles. Also, Jack's texts are in bold.

CW: angst is back again, but a happy ending is guaranteed, some science, mentions of surgery, chemotherapy, and stem cell transplant, Jack cannot use an iPhone, Javi and Jack tension, jealousy, pregnancy, divorce, and childhood disease.

Your conversation with Jack three hours ago left you drained and exhausted, and now you're perched on the chair in the corner of your son's hospital room. You're engrossed in watching Ángel and Javi talk about an upcoming soccer game and the probability of their favorite team winning the match when your phone vibrates underneath your thigh. With a subtle shift, you reach for it and once it’s in your hand, you flip it over. Your phone is illuminated with a family picture of you with your husband and son in the background and there’s a message on your Notification Center. 

Jack Daniels: HI. TEXTING YOU FROM MY NEW PHONE.

Another vibration follows, prompting a second message.

Jack Daniels: WHY DID THE TEXT SEND IN UPPERCASE?

The sequence of messages from Jack continues, each notification accompanied by a vibration.

Jack Daniels: HOW DO I TURN THIS OFF?

Jack Daniels: HELP me. Wait, I figured it out. Sorry.

You haven’t clicked on the messages to take you to the chat. Instead, you hold and press, sending him a brief response:

Hi, Jack.

He doesn’t send anything back, and you turn off your phone. As soon as the screen is black, it lights up again.

Jack Daniels: I went to the store and picked up a new phone.

A second later, an image comes through.

You hover over the message once more, and it’s a front selfie Jack took. Well, it’s not quite a full-face selfie. It only captures just beneath his eyes, and his eyes and face are not looking directly at the camera, so you guess he was looking down trying to take a picture of something else.

You’re proven correct when a second picture comes through. This time it’s a box of an iPhone.

There’s a bubble on your text chain, and this time you fully click, opening the message thread with Jack.

Sorry, I don’t know how this phone works. I just didn’t want my phone to fail, and you didn’t have a way to contact me, so I got a new one. Did I miss anything?

You reply back with:

Ángel is already ready to go, we’re just waiting for a room to open up in the OR. Could take hours, though.

How did he take the news?

Very well, actually. Saying he’s excited to go home is an understatement. He sensed that we were worried about his surgery and he kind of gave us a lecture on how important it is to listen to doctors and gave us a small list of the benefits of chemo ports. When we asked him how he knew about the port, he said, and I quote, "some light reading."

Jack doesn’t take long to reply:

Smart boy. He definitely got that from you.

A smile graces your lips at his message, but you decide to shift the conversation:

We never talked about it, but do you want us to tell Ángel that you’re his donor?

Your nerves are on edge, and waiting for Jack’s response heightens your anxiety. Glancing up from your phone, you see Ángel still in deep conversation with Javi. Your phone vibrates again, and you look down at Jack’s response:

No. I don’t want him to want a relationship with me because of the donation. If he wants a relationship with me, I want it to be because he truly wants it, not because he feels any obligation.

You exhale, relieved, and reply:

Okay, we won’t tell him.

Thank you.

A text bubble appears:

How do I send the accent on his name?

Suppressing a laugh, your fingers glide over the keyboard:

Press the letter A for a good two seconds, and a whole lot of options should appear. Click on the third one.

It doesn’t take Jack very long to send a single:

Á

He follows with:

Be honest, does it sound a bit funny when I pronounce his name?

You weigh your options, lie or be honest. You decide to go with the latter:

A little bit.

I remember when you used to make fun of my accent…

Liar. I didn’t make fun of you.

I miss that...

Oh, God, not again.

You’re about to reprimand him when, by some divine intervention, a fist knocks on the door, followed by a man in a polo and khakis. Quickly, you turn your phone off, redirecting your full attention to the man.

You’re about to reprimand him when, by some divine intervention, a fist knocks on the door, followed by a man in a polo and khakis. Quickly, you turn your phone off, redirecting your full attention to the man.

“Hi, I’m Will. I’m with patient transport services, and I’m here to take Ángel down to the OR,” he says.

“Come in,” you invite.

Javi stands up and retrieves your thick to-go bag from underneath the sofa. It's filled with water bottles, a variety of snacks, sweaters, sweatpants, and a few changes of clothes—because, as Javi says, uno nunca sabe (one never knows).

Will walks over to Ángel and looks at his hospital bracelet. He takes out a phone with a bulky blue case and scans the ID barcode. Will asks to no one in particular, “Can you please confirm his full name and date of birth.”

Javi does that for you.

Will nods and types something onto the phone. After a moment, he looks at Ángel, “Hey, little man, how are you doing?”

Ángel smiles, “I’m good, sir. I'm just waiting to get my chemo port. After that, I can get chemo and then a transplant so I can go home.”

Will chuckles, “That's a great plan, buddy. We’ll get you down to the OR, and they’ll take good care of you so you can go home soon. Ready to go to the sixth floor?”

Ángel nods enthusiastically, his eyes filled with trust.

“Great,” Will says, glancing at you and Javi. “If you guys are ready, we can head downstairs.”

Javi, lifting the heavy bag over his shoulder, nods in agreement. He glances at Ángel, a mix of tenderness and concern in his eyes, and then turns to Will.

“He’ll be under anesthesia, right?” Javi asks, his voice a bit gruffer than usual.

Will offers a reassuring smile, “Yes, sir. That's what his chart says.”

Javi nods, visibly swallowing some of his worry. “Okay, let’s get him down there.” He moves to help his son get up from the bed. Will positions the wheelchair closer to Ángel's bed, and together, they carefully lower Ángel onto the wheelchair. You reach for one of the blankets—a gift from your father-in-law—and drape it over Ángel. Will takes the IV wire and secures it on the designated hook at the back of the wheelchair.

"Are we all set?" Will asks.

"Yes," you affirm, and then Will wheels Ángel toward the door. Javi, anticipating the need, beats them to the exit, opens the door, and holds it wide open to let them pass. Stepping into the corridor, Javi instinctively reaches for your hands, intertwining fingers not just for your comfort but for his own solace as well. Together, you trail behind your son as Will expertly steers Ángel's wheelchair through the hallway. 

Descending from the tenth floor via the patient elevators, you and Javi follow Will, who scans his badge to usher you through the double doors into the pre-op room. 

Guiding Ángel to the left side of the room, Will selects a quiet corner and draws back a side of the arctic blue diamond-print curtains, revealing an unoccupied bed. Positioning the wheelchair beside the bed, he assists Ángel in transitioning onto the soft mattress.

"Alright, good luck, buddy. You'll do great in there," Will encourages, raising a fist. Ángel meets it with his own, and as their fists connect, they both playfully mimic the sound of an explosion.

"Thanks, sir," Ángel replies, his voice carrying gratitude. Then, in a quiet and unsure tone, he adds, "I'll see you after?"

Will's smile is reassuring. "Absolutely. I'll be the one taking you back up."

With that, Will takes a step back, giving Ángel some space. He turns to you and your husband, saying, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Peña, Mrs. Peña. Someone should be with you shortly."

"Thanks for everything, Will," you say, watching as Will, with a warm smile, exits and closes the curtain, providing you with some privacy with your son.

With only one chair in the room, Javi insists you take a seat, not wanting you on your feet.

"¿Y tú? (what about you?)" you ask, concern etched in your voice and face. Maybe it's because you went so long without a partner prioritizing you, or because in the time your son has been in the hospital, Javier has really taken care of almost everything. Sometimes you can't help but feel guilty that he always puts your comfort above his own.

"Me paro (I’ll stand)," Javi shrugs his shoulders as if it's the most obvious choice in the world.

"Papi, you can sit here," Ángel offers, patting the mattress.

"Está bien (it's okay), mijo, I can stand for a while," he smiles, loving that his son is always considerate.

"Baja ese bolso (put down that bag), at least," you plead with him.

"I'm good, someone should be here soon," Javi reassures.

"Pero, Javi- (but, Javi-)" You're interrupted when you hear a woman asking if she can come in.

He smirks and whispers, "Ves (see)." Dropping his cocky look, Javi opens the curtain to let the woman in.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Gaddi. I'll be Angel's anesthesiologist. Can I please get a full name and a birthday?"

Your son happily responds to the doctor's requests while she verifies the information on the computer.

"Great, thank you, sweetheart. Mom or Dad, I'll need your signature on the consent forms. If one of you will please follow me," she says.

"I'll go," Javi says, and to your relief, he finally drops the bag from his shoulder.

"It's just straight this way," the anesthesiologist says, motioning past the curtain where the nurse station is in the middle of the big room.

Javier nods and follows the doctor. "Ya vengo mis amores (I’ll be back my loves)," he says with a big smile before closing the curtain.

Once on the other side of the curtain, where you and his son can't see him, he exhales a shaky breath. The fear is there, gnawing at him, although he doesn't want to show it. He wishes he could share it with you, as he normally would, but you're pregnant. The stress is already too much, and he doesn't want it to affect the baby. That thought terrifies him, and he can't risk it. Through the course of your marriage, he's come to understand that sometimes, marriage isn't a perfect fifty-fifty. There are moments when one partner has to carry more, and right now, he knows it's one of those moments. He must bear the fear and shoulder some of yours. While he wants to share these worries with you, a deep-seated commitment to putting family first holds him back. His protective nature takes precedence, always prioritizing his family.

Javier raises his head back up and quickly turns around to follow the doctor, who is waiting for him.

Once he catches up to her, she tells him the forms are for consent of treatment. The doctor reads the online document, informing Javi about the procedure, the benefits, and the risks it entails.

Dr. Gaddi must have seen the look on Javier's face after she listed the risks and the way he nearly crumbled when she said "or death" because she stopped and turned to him.

"But... everything will be okay, right? He’s in good hands?” Javi asks, his voice cracking as if he's on the verge of tears; even speaking those words makes his throat ache, causing a noticeable strain in his voice.

"Sir, I can't make any promises. Every surgery does come with risks, but my team and I have successfully done this procedure multiple times.” 

Javi tries his best to remind himself that everyone in the OR is experienced and has done this procedure before.

"Where do I sign?" he manages to ask, his voice slowly regaining its composure.

While Javi is with Ángel's anesthesiologist, a nurse, and another doctor come in to check on Ángel. He had only managed a short nap, so now, as he rests, you take out your phone and send a text to Jack. 

Hey. We're in the Pre-op area. There's a room in the OR now, and I've met his doctors. As soon as the anesthesiologist comes back, they'll take him.

Jack replies instantly as if he's been sitting by, waiting for his phone to ring:

Thank you for letting me know.

He sends a follow-up: 

His surgery is only supposed to take an hour, right?

That's what the doctors said. I'm sure he won't be in there for too long.

As Javi, Dr. Gaddi, and a nurse approach, you text Jack:

The anesthesiologist will be here soon. I'll send you any updates I get, and I'm going to send you Javi's contact info just in case.

After adding Javi's phone number and hitting send, your husband and the surgical team arrive.

Dr. Gaddi approaches, “Hi, Mom, everything is ready on our end to take the patient to the OR."

“Okay,” you say, rising to your feet. The staff gathers around the bed and begins to move it. Ángel stirs at the movement, calling for you and Javi before opening his eyes.

Javi quickly rushes to your side, closer to your son, and reassures him, "It's okay."

"Oh, am I going to surgery?" Ángel asks.

"Yes, you are, Angel," the nurse responds as he releases the brakes on the left side.

"Oh, okay, yay," Ángel smiles.

The nurse chuckles at his excitement, "You know, not many kids are excited for surgery."

"I'm excited because chemo ports look more comfortable than the IV. It gets in my way when I do, like, anything," Ángel explains with a huff.

"Well, I've heard from other patients that they prefer the port, so hopefully you will too," says Dr. Gaddi as she stands to the side, waiting to wheel Ángel out of the room.

She turns to you and your husband, saying, "You guys can follow us until that red line, and then you'll be taken to the waiting room."

You start feeling more anxious, and Javier senses it. He begins to rub your lower back, his warm hand moving up and down, offering comfort.

"Okay, ready," says the nurse.

With the curtain open, they go through first, and you and Javi are right next to your son’s bed.

You're so hyper-focused on your son that you don't realize you've made it right before the line that you can't cross.

"Love you, Mommy, love you, Daddy," Ángel says, reaching out for your hand.

You take his little hand in yours, and Javi covers both of your hands with his.

"Te amamos más, mi niño (we love you more)," Javi tells him in a soft voice. Everyone can hear the love pouring out of his words.

Ángel knows this and doesn't try to contradict his dad because he knows it would be in vain. Instead, he simply says, "Nos vemos en un ratito (We’ll see each other in a little bit)."

"Okay, mijo," you say, fighting back tears.

The doors open, and Ángel is wheeled in. You think the tears are coming, but when you hear the light sound of your son's laughter, you're able to compose yourself.

"Would you like to be taken to the waiting room now?" a non-surgical nurse asks.

Thirty minutes pass, and you and Javier are seated in the waiting room, the only occupants at the moment. Purple chairs surround you, and you're on a blue seat cushion against the wall, your attention fixed on the TV opposite. It's a modest 35-inch screen designed to keep you informed about the ongoing surgery. Your son's name is displayed in green, and the message changes from ‘Surgery in progress: Incision and Pocket Creation’ to ‘Surgery in progress: Port Implantation.’

"They're placing the port-disk-chamber thingy inside the incision they made on his chest," Javi says matter-of-factly, pointing at the text.

You turn your head toward him, an amused smile playing on your lips. "'Port-disk-chamber thingy'—is that what the doctor said, Jav?"

He bursts out laughing, placing his right hand over his chest, realizing he was mimicking the tone doctors use when imparting information: authoritative. "Casi me cago del miedo (I almost shitted myself from fear) when the doctor told me step by step what they would do, so I don't remember exactly what he said," he chuckles.

Javier's laugh is contagious, and you can't help but laugh too. Your laughter fuels his, and vice versa. The only thing that interrupts your laughter is when you feel the baby kick.

"Ay, me pateó (oh, he kicked me)," you exclaim happily.

Javi instantly stops laughing too and shifts his hand to rest on your bump. As soon as you feel the weight of his hand on your stomach, your son responds with another kick, right where Javi's palm is placed.

A boyish look crosses your husband's face. He always loves feeling the baby kick, reminiscent of the first time he felt his first son kick.

"¿Hola, mijo, ya te despertaste? (Hi, my boy, have you woken up yet?)" he hums softly.

In response, the baby kicks again.

"He loves your voice so much. I swear he only kicks so you could talk to him. A mi no me quiere, nomas le gusta que le cantes y le leas (He doesn’t love me, he just likes it when you sing and read to him),” you huff out in fake annoyance.

"That's not true. The second-born is always the momma's boy. So the baby loves you the most," Javi says.

"And the youngest loves daddy the most, so no," you refute.

"He won't be the youngest for long," he grins suggestively.

You gasp, “ya me embarazaste, sinverguenza! (You already impregnated me!)"

"But if it was scientifically possible..."

"Shut up," you playfully scold him.

With Javi's hand still over your stomach, your son kicks again, this time much lighter.

"He's upset you told me to shut up," his gaze shifts from looking at you to your stomach as if he could see the baby, and he lowers his voice, “¿verdad, mijo? Dile a tu mami que no sea mala conmigo (right, mijo? Tell your mom to stop being mean to me).”

He looks back up at you, "te acuerdas cuando Ángel hizo eso por primera vez? (Do you remember when Ángel did that for the first time?).”

“Jesus Christ, he scared me, and he made you cry,” you laugh, a smile on your face remembering.

"Oh shit! I forgot to update Jack," you realize and scramble to get your phone. As you start typing to let him know what's going on in the OR, you tell Javi, "By the way, I gave him your phone number."

Javier lets out an unenthusiastic and dry, "Yay."

“Mira (look),” he says while you’re still typing. You look up to where Javi is pointing, and the TV changes to Surgery in progress: Catheter Insertion.

You wince, "They're in his vein now."

"The catheter is the tube that delivers the medicine to his body, right?"

"Yeah," you mumble, typing the next update to Jack.

Javi reaches for one of your hands and rubs soothing circles, “Deja de pensar en eso. Él está bien con ellos (stop thinking about it. He’s safe with them).”

He removes his hand and turns his body to the to-go bag. Javi reaches for the zipper and undoes it. He digs in the back, and you see him pull something out. "Do you need a blanket?" he asks, with a large fuzzy blue blanket in his hand and his soft brown eyes looking at you tenderly. Before you can reply, he places it in your lap and goes back to the bag. Javi fights a little and finally tugs a pillow out of the bag, "a pillow?" he asks with the same puppy eyes.

“I- thank you," you accept both items. You put the pillow behind you so you won't rest your back against the hard and cold wall. You take the blue blanket from your lap and extend it to drape it over the both of you.

"¿Tienes hambre? (are you hungry?)" Javi asks adjusting the blanket.

"Sí" 

He goes back to the bag and pulls out some snacks: Goldfish, Chips Ahoy, granola bars, fruit snacks, dry plantain chips, and a pack of assorted nuts.

"Sorry, I don't have any actual food," he looks at what he's offered you and feels guilty at the limited options. Javi gets up quickly, "I can go get you real food. Are you craving anything?"

"Hey," you wrap your fingers around his wrist and grip somewhat tightly. You look up at him and push him to sit back down. "No. I don't want you to leave."

"Okay. I'll stay," he says softly, kissing where your hair and forehead meet.

A knock reverberates in the room, and a nurse comes in. "Hi," she says, closing the door to come closer to you. "Everything went well. There were no complications. They're ready to transfer Ángel to the Post-op room if you guys would like to follow me."

Both of you look relieved at the news, and you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

"Thank you," you tell her, and Javi can't get any words out. His eyes are watering, and he tries his best to not let them fall.

He starts hurriedly putting away the snacks, just keeping the bag of nuts, while you fold the blanket back up into the neat roll Javi had it in. After the snacks, blanket, and pillow are in the bag again, Javi helps you get up. You send Jack a quick text informing him that everything went well, and you're on your way to see Ángel. Javi puts the bag over his shoulder, and you both follow the nurse to go see your son.

Next morning - Day 1 of Chemo:

Hey, Jack. Ángel is awake and doing well. He asked about having visitors and hoped you would come see him. We explained that it's not possible right now. He understood but wanted to call. Would you like to FaceTime?

That's great. What’s FaceTime?

It's a video call.

Yes. How do I do that?

Instead of texting him back, you initiate a FaceTime call and hand the phone off to Ángel when it starts to ring.

As soon as Jack accepts the call and his face takes over your screen, Ángel's little face lights up. "Mr. Jack!"

Jack's face mirrors Ángel's: a smile so wide, eyes so soft looking at his son.

"I just started chemotherapy," Ángel blurts out just before Jack greets him.

Jack's heart glows watching his son's face. "How are ya feeling?"

"Mmm... I feel okay. Oh! I got the surgery last night, and look at my chemo port." Your son takes one hand off your phone and pulls his hospital gown just enough to show Jack his port. "Look! You can see the bump of the port under my skin. Eww, it looks gross. It's so cool."

Jack laughs, and that makes Ángel move the phone back to his face.

"Does it hurt?" Jack asks.

"Nope. It was a little bit like... sore when I woke up, but it doesn’t hurt now. I had chemo in the morning, and it pinched for a second, but it's wayyy better than the IV."

"It's not a pain to use the restroom, huh?"

"It's easier and faster to go now," his brows pinch in the middle, "I almost peed myself once 'cus I had to wait for the wires to detangle from the bed." Ángel trails off, tilts his head to the side, and squints. "What do you have behind you? Is that a needle?"

Jack turns his head behind to see what his son saw. He had picked up the prescription he needed to be Ángel's donor from the pharmacy the previous night. Jack opened the box out of curiosity and took out a needle to look at, but then he got caught up texting you in the morning and forgot to put the small vial and needle back in the pharmacy bag.

"Umm... yeah?" Jack says uncertainly, not knowing how to explain it to his son. He doesn't want him to know that he's his donor, at least not yet. "That is some medicine I have to take in two days," Jack says, trying to keep it vague.

When the words come out of Jack's mouth, Ángel's eyes show pure concern, "Oh, are you sick?"

"No, buddy," Jack blurts out immediately, "I'm not sick. I'm just takin' them for... to... Just takin' them to stay healthy. They're like vitamins."

"Maybe I should take some so I could be healthy. What's the name of the medicine?"

Jack's heart drops at his son's words. His mind starts spinning, but he takes a deep breath. He'll be healthy soon, he tries to remind himself. "You can't take this one, buddy. It's for adults."

"Oh," he sounds disappointed, but his voice goes back to normal, "Well, that's okay. I can't take vitamins on chemo either way. I think. Vitamins can affect chemo because of cancer cells, but I don't have any so I don't know. I can ask later. How are the horses?"

Donation Day - Day 7 of Chemo:

Jack sat comfortably in a green chair, his right hand extended over a pillow, squeezing a small blue ball as his blood cycled through the machine. Two hours had passed since he settled into the chair. He arrived at the hospital early in the morning with the last dose of his five-day filgrastim prescription, and for the first time, someone other than him administered the injection. Throughout the morning, he had been texting you, checking in on his son, and, though he wouldn't admit it, checking in on you.  Of course, he cared about his son and wanted to know every detail of what he was going through, but this had been the only line of communication he had with you for years, and he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity while you were willing to entertain his conversations. From you, he learned that Ángel's last day of chemo had gone smoothly.

Jack's head spun when he heard a knock against the door. His heart thumped wildly in his chest at the thought of seeing you. When the door opened, a wave of disappointment washed over him. It wasn't you who set foot in the room; it was fucking Javier.

Jack instantly tenses and clears his throat as Javier walks over to him.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Javi crosses his hands over his thick biceps, "How's the donation coming along?"

"It's goin' well. They think in 30 minutes we'll have enough for Ángel," Jack fills Javi in.

"H-how are umm... how are you feeling?" Javi gets the words out, although with much effort. He sounds physically pained asking a simple question to Jack.

"You sound very concerned for my well-being," Jack quips sarcastically.

Not really, Javi wants to say. Instead, he tells Jack, "I’m trying really hard to not hate you.”

It doesn't faze Jack one bit. "Same."

"So just don't do anything to piss me off. More like don't do anything else to piss me off even more," Javi lowers his voice more, "She's my wife; she tells me things. Don't you ever dare call her ‘baby’ again. You're lucky she's not that uncomfortable with ‘sugar’, but if she ever shows one ounce of discomfort, you will stop."

"She never minded all those names before," Jack challenges, glaring at Javi."

Javi smirks, wearing a shit-eating grin as he nonchalantly shrugs. "Yeah, she never did lots of things before me."

Jack is furious. All he sees is red, and just as he begins to rise from his chair to get up, the nurse walks in.

"Oh! A visitor," she exclaims.

"Hello," Javi greets the redheaded nurse in blue scrubs with ducks all over them.

Seeing the nurse enter, Jack comes to his senses and sits back down. Subconsciously, he squeezes the ball so tight in his hands that his knuckles turn white.

"Mr. Daniels, are you okay?" the nurse questions with concern. All she sees is her patient gripping the ball so tightly that his nails are about to rupture through the material. She moves to him and checks his arm to see if there are any signs the needle is causing pain.

Jack's glare tears from Javi and shifts to the nurse. "I'm okay, thank you for checkin’ in on me," he tells her and moves his hand to signal for the nurse to release his arm. "Nothin’ hurts," he smiles up at her.

The nurse understands and checks the progress of the donation. While looking at the machine, she decides to make small talk with her patient and his visitor. "Are you Mr. Daniels' brother?" She turns to ask Javi innocently.

"No," Jack's words drip with disgust.

Javi smiles at how fast Jack denies the nurse's initial thought and says "Not related," under his breath, mumbling, "Thank God."

The nurse doesn't seem to pick up on their animosity and comments, "You two look alike, what a coincidence. Best friends then?"

"No, nothing like that. My wife and I know him, and he's giving our son a gift," Javi says 'our' while looking at Jack.

Suddenly, Ángel crosses their minds, and they both feel some shame for their earlier behavior. They know they can't go on still hating each other because it'll eventually turn into a fight. They just don't know how to set aside their differences.

"I'll call the doctor to get her thoughts, but it looks like we have what we need for the donation," the nurse says, taking note of the blood volume. "In a few hours, one lucky little boy will receive the cells, and he’ll be one step closer to being healthy."

After Jack was hooked up to the machine for two and a half hours, the staff deemed the collection enough and sent the blood bag to the lab to confirm that Jack’s procedure had collected enough stem cells. Four hours later, it was confirmed that there were the desired amount of stem cells, and the team took the cells to Ángel’s room. Due to your son being immunocompromised, he isn't allowed to have visitors other than legal guardians. So, you and Javi update Jack on the transplant.

Day 11 post-transplant:

Remember how I told you he started grafting on the tenth day?

Yes! How his body was accepting the stem cells, and the cells were growing and making new cells.

Mhm. Well, if everything keeps going at the speed it’s been going, Ángel gets to go home in four days!!

Oh, wow! It’s just day 11 after the transplant, and the doctors estimated it wouldn't happen until closer to day 25! Can I go see him then? I know I was cleared to go five days ago, but because I wasn’t feeling well, I didn’t go. My fever’s still here, but I’ll continue to monitor myself.

Sure! You need to be cleared of a fever for 24 hours and have absolutely NO symptoms.

You have my word, sugar.

Day 14 post-transplant:

You're packing all of Ángel's belongings to take home. It's been 14 days since your son's transplant, and he's cleared to go home. You don't know who's happier— you, your husband, or your son. But that doesn't really matter; all that matters is that your family is together. Just as you're collecting your son's toys and getting them ready to shove into the white personal belongings bag, someone knocks on the door. Javi stops placing Ángel's books into a box and hurriedly opens the door. He was expecting the doctor to come in with discharge papers, but it was Jack waiting on the other side.

"Oh, right, you said you'd stop by," Javi remembered.

When you saw Jack standing there not quite stepping inside the room with a red gift bag, you gasped. "Sorry, we forgot you were going to stop by." You turned your neck and saw Ángel reading the book Jack had gifted him, One Hundred Fun Facts About Horses.

"Come in," you usher Jack in. "Mijo," you call, and Ángel looks up from the book he's got his nose buried in.

"Mr. Jack!" Ángel's face lights up like a Christmas tree. He pats a spot in his bed as he tells Jack to sit down next to him. "I want to show you something," Ángel puts the book aside and lowers his shirt to show Jack that the port is gone. "They took my port out!"

Jack almost reaches out and touches his son's scar but settles for examining it with his eyes. "Are you sore?"

"Not really. I'm just excited to go to my house. Did my mom tell you I'm leaving the hospital today?"

"Yeah," Jack chuckles, "she mentioned it. And here I brought you this," he lifts the gift bag onto the bed.

Ángel tears it open and begins to pull the items out. The first gift he reaches is a book, Her Right Foot. "Oh, my God!"

You see the title and direct your question to Jack, "He's wanted that book for a while, how did you know?"

"Really?" Jack's smiling ear to ear. "I just went to the bookstore and thought he'd like that one." His heart feels like it could rip right through his chest because he feels like he knows his son. Jack had browsed many children's books and read the synopsis of every last book. The one he had purchased was the one he felt his son would love, the book his son is currently holding, and Jack was right.

The little boy takes out the next item, which is a box. "A Lego set!" Ángel flips the black box to the front, and he sees that this particular set is one of horses. The horse in the center looked similar to Andor, one of Jack's horses his son loved the most. "Is this an Andalusian?" Ángel looks to Jack, his eyes sparkling."

Jack nods his head, "It is, buddy. It's like a mini Andor."

Ángel seems pleased with Jack's answer and moves on to the last gift. It was another box, but this one was a shoebox. The little boy lifted the top off, and he was met with boots—dark brown leather boots with beautiful and intricate stitching all throughout.

“Is that a longhorn?” Ángel points at the center of the boots. He doesn’t wait for an answer before speaking again, “My grandpa has longhorns on his ranch. Do you have them on your ranch, Mr. Daniels?”

"I don’t have any longhorns, but umm... I have the same boots," Jack looks down at the floor like he’s suddenly interested in the simple pattern of the hospital floor. He wasn’t sure what reaction he expected, but when his son's sweet voice reached his ears, Jack looked up.

"You do?" Ángel was beaming, a smile brighter than the sun. He leaps to move sideways so his legs would hang from the bed. He took his left boot and put it on his baby blue non-slip sock-clothed feet and did the same for the right boot. When both boots are on, he pinches the tip to feel where his toes are. Ángel drops to the floor and begins to walk, showing all three of you his new footwear. 

"How did you get his shoe size?" You're amazed at how they seem to fit perfectly.

"I asked him," Jack nods his head towards your husband, who is smiling broadly, showing his perfect teeth. Javi squats down to Ángel's level and presses his fingers on his son's boot toe box to feel if they're pinching Ángel's feet. "Perfect fit," Javi smiles up at his son, dimple on display, still on the floor.

Once Javi's hands are removed from Ángel's boots, he runs to Jack, "Thank you so much, Mr. Jack," he says, jumping up and down. Ángel runs back to Javi, who is now standing up straight, "¡Papi, quiero una foto! (Daddy, I want a picture!)" Javi complies and takes out his phone from his back pocket.

You turn to Jack, and your voice falls to a whisper, "We're hosting a dinner in a few nights to celebrate Ángel coming home, and we'd love it if you'd join us."

Jack's head reels at the prospect of seeing you and Ángel in a few days, but beneath that excitement, there is fear, "Is your family going to be there?" he asks.

"Yes, and Javi's too."

"It's your family I'm worried about," he confesses, looking into your eyes.

You take in the way his face pales slightly, his eyes widen, and his eyebrows shoot near his hairline. "No. You're more than worried; you look genuinely scared, but you'll be fine."

"'Course I'll be there, Sugar," he says, looking at his son laughing while Javi takes his pictures. If Ángel was a happy and giddy boy before the transplant, Jack now sees how his innocence is amplified now that he's healthy, and Jack can't wait to see more of his son's childhood joy outside the hospital.

"Hey, can I talk with you alone before you leave?" Jack asks you, hoping you'll agree.

"Um, yeah, we can go outside," you agree, noting his urgent tone.

"Javi, Ángel, I'll be back soon. I'm just going to walk Jack out," you say, moving to the door with Jack on your heels.

"Okay, we'll keep packing, amor," Javi tells you, brushing his hand with yours. You lean into your husband for a while until Ángel and Jack say their goodbyes, promising they'll see each other at the dinner.

You and Jack exit the room, and you take him to a little corner further down the hall.

"What did you want to discuss?" you ask resting your back on the wall with brown and cream diamond wallpaper.

Jack's nervous to tell you what he wants: a father-and-son relationship with Ángel. You two never went into detail on how you would tell Ángel the truth about Jack and he's terrified of asking you for something this big so soon after a big weight of stress has been lifted off you. 

"Jack?" 

"Sorry," he clears his throat, "I wanted to talk to you about telling Ángel that I'm his dad- biological."

"Oh," you sound surprised. "Yeah. We didn't really discuss that, did we? I haven't thought about it in so long, I'm sorry. Maybe we can get some pointers from Ángels counselor?" You suggest. "Javi and I thought about making an appointment with a child therapist because of this entire hospital stay. We were hoping to get your opinion on that actually."

It's Jack's turn to be surprised. "I think that's wonderful, Sugar. Thank you for including me in the decision." 

"Of course. I think it would be great if we could get the counselor's opinion on how to best handle the situation. And we too can figure out how this new dynamic would work. For example, medical decisions moving forward. We'll tell Ángel about you and I have no doubt he'll want to have the relationship you want to have with him. We can talk more about the appointment in a few days. We haven't set an exact date for the dinner but it will probably be this upcoming Sunday." 

"I'll clear out my entire schedule," Jack says sincerely 

"We'll have food for you that won't send you into a choking fit," you tease. 

Jack covers his eyes with his hands, "God, 'M so sorry." 

You laugh at his embarrassment, "No, it's okay. I understand the food we serve can take some getting used to."  You continue to tell him about the plans for the dinner that is slowly turning into a party and he just stares at you while you keep talking he gets lost in the moment. He thinks about your laugh and the consideration you still have for him and suddenly Jack blurts out, “I love you."

The smile you had vanishes.

“Jack,” you warn dangerously. “We were doing so good, Jack.” You don't want to—can't see him now, so you close your eyes. The words only needed to be said once for them to threaten tears to spill. "How dare you say those words to me now?” You hiss, your tone now angry but more than anything, filled with frustration and pain. You thought you could handle seeing him, so you open your eyes. "What do you expect me to do with that? I won’t leave Javi if that’s what you’re hoping for.

"S-" Jack opens his mouth, but you cut him off immediately. "No, Jack, let me speak."

"Once, those three words would have made me the happiest person in the world, but now? They’re only causing pain,” you pause, exhaling a shaky breath. “You humiliated me, Jack. Time and time again. Even if I didn’t have Javi, I wouldn’t go back to you.” You sound defeated, your voice carrying the pain of past wounds, and it crushes you to keep thinking about the past.

“I did love you, through everything,” Jack whispers, his eyes searching yours. They are watery and dazed.

“I think…” you run your tongue over your lips and then purse them, “I think you loved me in your own way. But that’s not how I wanted to be loved. During our engagement, and more so during our marriage, I never really felt loved by you. Can you blame me for that if I can count with my fingers the amount of 'I love yous' you gave me?” Your words are like shards of glass, cutting through the air with the sharpness of your pain.

“When you did show me your love, I was so happy, Jack. So happy that I thought, hoped, you would give me more love, so I stayed with you. I longed for the morning you woke up and things would be different, better. Because that’s exactly what happened. You woke up after the night of our engagement, and you were a completely different person, and I couldn't comprehend what I did wrong. I was willing to stay with you forever for the odd chance one day you would feel for me how I felt for you.”

“And I stayed because I always hoped you would go back to your old self. Sometimes there were indications that you were going to become the old Jack. Well, I don’t know if I fooled myself, but sometimes I thought you were happy. Like right before I told you I was pregnant, you had this smile on your face….” Your voice trembles with the weight of those memories.

“Other times I genuinely thought you hated me, and then I thought that’s not possible. ‘Why would he ask me to marry him if he couldn’t stand me?’” 

“Did you always think that?” He sounds sad, a quiet plea for understanding. But your heart, scarred by the past, struggles to find solace in his remorseful gaze.

“Yeah. When… when we were together, it was rare you would look at me in my face. The majority of times you had me face down. How do you think that made me feel? You made me feel used and disposable.” 

“I wanted to be loved by you," you continue, your tone a mix of vulnerability and strength, "and you always made me feel like I was the other woman. Then I decided I should stop trying and let you go.” 

“What changed?” Jack's question hangs in the air. Everything you’ve revealed up to this point has felt like glass shards embedded in his heart. He knows you still have a lot left to say, and it will continue to hurt him, but he owes it to you to hear everything you went through.

“I was at a park one day after you didn’t come home," you recall, emotion tinging your words. "I came across this older man, and he showed me pictures of his family. When he talked about his wife…” you pause, emotion catching up with you. “It was beautiful. And I realized that would never be you. You wouldn’t talk about me that way. Since that day, I took off my rose-colored lenses and thought everything through."

"I thought about your behavior but also about mine. I hated who I was because it sounds ridiculous, but I was jealous of someone who wasn't here anymore. And I swear I never wanted to replace her or erase her from your life, I just wanted you to love me too. I loved you so much; I would've settled for half the love you had for Allison, but you couldn't even give me that. I never told you you couldn't love or mourn Allison. She was your wife, I get that... but I was your wife too, and knowing you would never love me like you did her was slowly killing me.” 

"I thought about one night, which I don't know if you remember," you confess, the vulnerability in your voice palpable. "But one night on her birthday, you got extremely drunk, and you kept slurring your words. I couldn't understand half of what you were saying, but I heard loud and clear when you yelled at me that you didn’t choose to stop loving her; you were forced to. And you said that you would’ve never looked at me otherwise. That you wish she came back and I disappeared… That we s- switched places,” you confess, exposing the scars engraved into your heart, and the pain of that night that is still etched in your memory—a wound that refused to fully heal. You were surprised that you weren't sobbing, because the night he told you those words, you felt your world had ended.

Jack was appalled, his face reflecting the shock and guilt that surged through him as he listened to your words. The heaviness of the past, the pain inflicted, all rushed back to him as a floodgate of memories suddenly opened, each carrying the weight of its own hurt.

"I always felt I was the third person in our marriage. You made me feel things I hated, and maybe even worse, I became someone I didn't recognize. After that day in the park, I was going to ask you for a divorce because I didn't want to be the person you settled for… then I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to give us one last try, and well, you remember what happened after I told you the news,” you say, the bitterness of the past lingering in your words.

"You kept hurting me, and you're smart, Jack. Did you not think I would leave you?" 

Jack exhales, the reminder of his own mistakes heavy on him. "I think I couldn’t let ya go, so a part of me hoped you would leave me if I treated you horribly. Every day I fought with myself to treat you like you deserve, but I wasn’t strong enough to open up to you."

The silence lingers, and Jack takes the opportunity to share a piece of his truth. "The night after I proposed, I had a dream about Allison. She told me I was replacing her, and I dunno, instead of working out through my issues, I took it out on ya.”

“Over a dream? You... you let our relationship go to waste because of a dream,” you say, a mix of disbelief and frustration in your voice. You want to be angry at him because such a trivial thing ruined the chance of happiness, but then you put yourself in his shoes. "Oh, Jack," you add, this time with a tone of understanding and sadness. 

“Have you been to therapy?” you ask him, your tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Yeah…” Jack admits with a small, self-deprecating laugh.

“Can I be honest?” you tilt your head, your fingers playing with the collar of your shirt.

He nods.

“I don’t think it helped.”

Jack smiles, a sheepish expression on his face, “If we’re being honest, I went in for two sessions and never saw my shrink again.”

“Well, your therapist probably knew what they were doing,” you playfully scold, but then your voice softens, "Please see a therapist so Ángel can get to know the best version of you. When I knew that Jack, he was amazing, and that's the man I want my son to know."

A sad smile greets Jack's face, "Yes, Sugar."

There's another thing you've always been curious to know but never had the stomach to ask, and this seems to be your window. "Can I ask, did you, um, did you ever sleep with someone else while we were married?"

"God no," the words tumble out of his mouth.

"Well, that's something, I guess," you say, a sense of relief evident in your voice.

"I'm really sorry about everything, sweetheart. I can't believe I ever hurt you. I just miss you so much. I’ve never regretted anything in my life as much as I do not telling you I loved you when we had a chance," Jack confesses, the weight of regret heavy in his words.

"It’s okay, Jack. I’m not your wife anymore, but we had some good times. Sometimes love doesn’t work out how we thought,” you tell Jack, your gaze turning when you hear footsteps that are familiar to you. 

And Jack would forever kick himself for driving you away and not accepting your love. The only piece of solace is that Ángel will have a happy and full life, and you finally got the love you deserved and dreamed of.

Javi starts calling your name, and you answer him so he can walk over to where you are. Once Javi comes into view, he tells you that Ángel’s been discharged and that they're ready to go home.

Jack looks at you once more, his gaze lingering, as if trying to capture every detail to hold onto. He sees the love in your eyes for your husband, a love he once had the chance to cherish but let slip away. It hurts, but at the mention of his son, it gives him the slightest glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he has learned from his mistakes, and he'll find a way to be a part of your lives, even if it's not in the way he once dreamed. The love of his life and his son are happy and healthy, and that will have to be enough for him.

"Bye, Jack. I'll let you know what time we're having the dinner," you say, while Javi wraps his arms around you—a protective gesture that Jack once held the privilege of doing, but did so sparingly.

"Take care," Javi tells Jack over his shoulder, his voice firm but not unkind. He then leads you to Ángel's room, leaving Jack standing alone in the corridor, grappling with the ache of what could have been.

You both start heading down the hallway, and Javi pauses halfway. His eyes search yours, concern written all over his features. 

"Are you okay?"

"I am now," you lean into him and smile. "Jack and I were talking about when we were married," you begin, and Javi tenses involuntarily.

"Hey, no, you don’t have anything to worry about," you reassure him, cupping his face with both of your hands. "Our talk was more about what went wrong, and the bottom line was that I‘m okay with the fact that he wasn’t the one for me."

Javi takes a deep breath, visibly trying to control the surge of emotions within him. "It’s just- me cae mal ese - (I don’t like that-)” You can't help but chuckle lightly at your husband's choice of words.

"As stupid as it sounds, I wanted to make it work when we were married. I saw it in his eyes, I felt it in his words and actions; he didn’t love me, and I couldn’t stay in a marriage like that. I wanted a life with him... It didn't work out, and it's okay. Everything I dreamed of having, I found it with you. I'm the happiest I've ever been at your side. You’re the love of my life and I love being your wife, don't ever doubt that, okay?" Since the beginning of your relationship, you always repeated your love to Javier, not because he was insecure, but because you knew how it felt to be second place, second best, a consolation prize, and you never wanted Javier to think that you settled for him after Jack.

"Say it again," Javi requests, a genuine smile softening his features as he looks down at you.

"What?" 

“That you’re my wife," Jack wants you to repeat the words that make his heart flutter.

“I’m your wife," you say.

Javi, still reveling in the warmth of the words, spins his finger in a playful circle, silently requesting you to say the words again.

“I’m your wife," you repeat, the pride evident in your tone. You take Javi's hand and begin walking to your son’s room.

"Again," Javi insists, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m your wife.” 

“Otra vez," he requests, this time in Spanish.

You comply, “Soy tu esposa," you tell him and drag him further down the hall to your son's room.

When Javi playfully asks you to say it once more, this time it's you who stops. “Por dios, Javi, ¿en cuántos lenguajes quieres que te lo diga? (My God, Javi, how many languages do you want me to say it in?)” you feign annoyance.

He shrugs, answering with a mischievous grin, “En todos (in all of them).”

Amused, you grab him by the collar of his blue button-down shirt and bring him to a level where you can whisper into his ear, “Ay, Jav, apenas y hablas español (Oh, Jav, you barely speak Spanish).” You kiss his cheek and pull back, leaving him slightly offended but oddly proud. He had hoped for a different outcome when he saw you pull him down; the glint in your eyes made him believe you were going to kiss him on the lips. But, to his dismay, you chose to tease him instead.

"Take it back!" he demands as you stand right outside the door.

“Si lo dices en español (if you say it in Spanish),” you tease with a grin. Javier contemplates for a moment, and in the brief silence, Ángel's laughter and Dr. Navarro's voice echo from inside the room.

"Please?" Javi implores, wanting to savor one more of those heart-skipping phrases before joining his son. Unable to resist his pleading eyes any longer and mindful of the precious moments with Ángel, you relent.

“I’m your wife.”

END

Extended Note: The end! Thank you, everyone, for your kindness throughout the series. I truly appreciate every interaction 🥹.

As for my departure, I'm unsure whether I should deactivate my account or just private my writing. There's one post I received only positive comments on, especially from people with SPD who found it relatable. Apparently, there's a shortage of such stories, so I'm conflicted. Hopefully, I'll have a definitive decision next week.

I'm planning to post the Din story next Thursday; it's just one part, a sex pollen with Virgin!Din, titled 'Paleta.' I'm a fan of El Alfa, and I recently discovered that a song in his new album was sampled from the one I used for the Din story. It got me thinking about what I had written, and I wanted to share it with y’all before I bow out.

Thank you for reading 🫶🏽!

Taglist: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy @mishasminion360 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @stileslvr @pedrostories

[lionlena]

Headcanon: How will they react if you tell them about CDD? (Pedro Pascal characters) 👰💔😱🤕

I accidentally found a website about CDD (Christian Domestic Discipline) and I read a few fragments of articles by a certain moron. And I don't know what scared me more. Lack of basic respect and love for wife. Spanking is a form of punishment to correct the wife's behavior. Or the fact that the wife is always supposed to be willing and obey commands like "kneel" and willingly take his cock in her mouth... 🤢 🤮 I just felt sick (like someone punched me in the stomach) and I needed some therapy, so I went to my "Pedro's boys' comfort zone".

Joel Miller:

Joel is shaking with anger. He clenches his jaw and fists. It's not just about you, but also about Sarah. His blood boils at the thought that his beloved daughter's future husband could be such an idiot as this Christians perverts. Joel feels like breaking something. He'd break that dick's hands if he even tried to touch his daughter.

Then he looks at you in shock and asks, almost pleadingly, "Tell me you don't believe this nonsense? That you would never want me to treat you this way... I'm your husband, not some fucking medieval pastor!"

So of course you assure him that you would never want that. You like the fact that Joel is sometimes dominant, that he is decisive, but... At the same time, you know that you can do what you want. Joel would never take away your right to be yourself.

Joel confirms all this. You are his Princess. He knows he's grumpy sometimes. He doesn't like it when you do something he thinks is unwise, but he would never dare punish you for it.

He has great respect for you. You are the woman who takes care of him, the house, and the children. And if you feel like having a little fun sometimes... If you don't make him dinner, or you oppose him, Joel will accept it with humility. He will wait it out because he knows that in the end, you will always be a married couple full of love and mutual respect.

Javier Peña:

Javier thinks you're joking at first. You must be joking, right? These are some erotic fantasies, not the truth...

When he realizes that some men actually see their wives this way, he is disgusted.

He always respected women, even those he paid for sex. He wouldn't force any of them to do anything.

Would he be able to force you, his beloved wife, to do anything?

He knows perfectly well that he is not a saint. He has many "sins" on his conscience. How the hell would he be the one to correct your behavior? Who would give him the right to do that?

He sees spanking only as a form of short play during sex (with mutual consent).

But as a punishment? Hell no!

He would never stand up to you. He treats you as an equal... In fact, he even thinks that he is the second in the marriage. He often thinks that he doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve your patience and care.

And if you get angry at him if you oppose him... You're probably right.

To him, these "Christians" treat their wives like slaves. He is disgusted by them.

And as for kneeling... He's the one who will kneel in front of you and make you scream with pleasure with his mouth.

Marcus Pike:

Marcus gets angry and raises his voice saying, "What fucking nonsense?! How can these morons treat their wives like this?! Don't they even have one brain cell?!"

You're really surprised by his outburst of anger, which obviously isn't directed at you, but it's still surprising that your sweet and calm husband could get so angry.

But that's because for Marcus, marriage is sacred, but not in a religious way... You are his wife, the woman who fixed his broken heart.

You gave yourself completely to him, not because he forced you to do it... He would rather shoot himself in the head than force any woman to do anything.

You gave yourself to him because you wanted it because you found him worthy.

That's why Marcus is ready to kiss the ground you walk on.

You are his calm, warm, and safe place. Your kisses calm him down.

So Marcus can't imagine himself raising a hand against you. Punish you? Treat you like a child or someone less than him? He can't imagine how he could take away your right to decide about yourself.

He's seen a lot of horrible things in his job, but this... It's really high on his list of disgusting things.

He can't stop thinking about these men calling themselves Christians...

Only your light kisses on his face calm him down. He also kisses you sweetly, assuring you that he will never be such a husband because you are wonderful to him. You are his soulmate.

But Marcus doesn't have to tell you that, you already know it.

Agent Whiskey:

When you tell him you found some nonsense on the Internet, Whiskey expects some funny nonsense. You always find them and you always laugh together.

He didn't expect that this "nonsense" would turn out to be some fucking bullshit that made him feel sick.

He feels disgusted, irritated, and angry at these men who call themselves Christians and do something that, in his opinion, has nothing to do with Christian love.

Sure, he likes to spank you, he likes to mark your ass. He's a territorial guy, but... For God's sake, you're his Sugar, his wonderful wife. He never spanks you without your explicit permission, and of course, he doesn't do it to punish you. He doesn't treat you like his property.

Jack loves you like he thinks any decent man should love his wife. You are his queen. He will never force you to do anything. In fact, your simple "no" would be enough to immediately remind him where the boundaries are.

He wants your marriage to be full of love, comfort, mutual understanding, and trust. He hugs you protectively and says:

"I never want to treat you like this and take advantage of you. I want us to be equals, lovers, best friends, and partners. But these men practicing Christian domestic discipline do not love their wives, they want control and domination over their wives. And the Bible quotes they use are probably taken out of context just to justify their own pathetic actions.”

Then he showers you with kisses and spoils you even more than usual throughout the day. This is the only way he can get rid of the thought that men who don't know manners have the nerve to walk around the ground his Sugar walks on.

Javi G:

If you want to give Javi a mental breakdown, then go ahead... But in general, yes, you will cause him to have a mental breakdown if you tell him about it. (So think carefully about it.)

The poor puppy will take a year to recover.

At first, Javi won't understand at all what you're telling him. "Is this a script from some crazy movie? Really distasteful."

When he realizes it's true, he still won't understand it.

Obedience? Duties? Humility?

Since you became his wife, Javi's only goal is to make you enjoy life, not fulfill some marital obligations.

You, according to him, have no obligations. Unless you consider laughing as an obligation. Because that's all Javi wants: to hear you laugh.

And raise a hand to you?! Javi wouldn't even do that in erotic play. He just can't. Just the thought of him intentionally hurting you brings tears to his eyes.

Once he accidentally hit you with the door when, as usual, he was leaving the room too vigorously and you were just about to go inside. Nothing serious happened to you. He punched you in the shoulder.

When he saw your red skin, he panicked. He kissed your shoulder and apologized over and over again. He felt like a husband abusing his wife. He even begged you not to divorce him.

It was downright funny for you. How could you divorce him for such a reason?

You calmly assured him that you were fine. But he still insisted on calling a doctor, who, of course, said there was nothing wrong with you and recommended applying a cold compress.

Javi, of course, obediently followed the doctor's orders.

And in the evening he would cuddle you on the couch while watching "Paddington 2" with you. But for the first time, while he watching this movie, he wasn't paying attention to the screen. Instead, he would glance at you, at your shoulder, and every now and then he would place a sweet, gentle kiss on your shoulder.

Oberyn:

Oberyn is shocked and disgusted when you tell him about the existence of a new sect in Westeros that practices domestic discipline.

Dorne is a land of great respect for women. In Dorne, from the very beginning, the oldest child sits on the throne, regardless of gender. Subjects respect princesses as much as they respect princes. According to the Dornish people, the dick between the legs doesn't matter when it comes to ruling.

Dorne is also the land of love. Even children here rarely get spanked. Most of the time, their parents let them run happily in the Dornish sun and splash in the fountains.

That's why what you say is a shock to him.

Would he treat you, his wife, this way? You are his Queen.

Yes, he is the Prince of Dorne, head of House Martell, but he has nothing against your desire to rule or dominate. And he's not going to correct your behavior. That's not what he is for.

Besides, why would he waste his time on something so nonsensical when he can spend his time making love to you?

Oberyn believes that he is created to satisfy your desires. To carry you in his arms and be your shield and spear if necessary.

He doesn't have to force you to do anything either. He is persuasive enough for you to always agree with him. What if you didn't agree?

He will respect that. He is a man of honor and will tell you:

“This is what the love of my life deserves… Always being there for her, always supporting her, always protecting her… My love… I can't always be in charge… I'm glad you feel comfortable enough around me to express your thoughts out loud. Because we are not just husband and wife. We are also friends and equal partners united by love.”